i was sinking into thicker, deeper mud, reaching for the shiny
bell around my grandma's neck, when the phone awakened me.
at 12:30 in the morning that is never a good sign.
"mrs. h.? this is officer jones from the 'xyz' police department,
and i have your son, max, with me."
my voice was trying to find its way around the immense wad
of cotton in my throat.
i finally choked out, "is he ok?"
"yes, ma'am, but he was driving after juvenile curfew hours.
what would you like me to do with him?"
hmm, i was tempted to say, "how about hog tie him to the
back of your car and drag him through the stock yards!"
this is how we began max's senior year. he was supposed to
have been at his all-night senior retreat. i was reminded of his
ornery three year old days, when i used to say, "if you weren't
so cute, i would strangle you!"
as we helped him pilot through the rest of his senior year, we
often wondered if he even heard our morning devotions or
repetitive encouragements. he sort of raced in and flew out.
one thing we never doubted, though, was his heart.
by the end of the year, he was encouraging his all state track
team at their pre-race pep talk. after hearing from so many
coaches and parents about it, i asked him what in the world
he had said.
"oh, i just told 'em what dad said at family devotions that
miracles never cease. don't give up or "become weary in
doing good." galatians 6:9