Part I -- The Impossible Phone Call

I scooted my chair up to the keyboard, and then I scooted it back. I reached for the phone, and then I folded my hands. Promptings from the Lord have to be followed and you have to believe what He's telling you. I know that is true. But, I couldn't help be timid, for some reason: for just one second.

Then I remembered the day an elderly gentleman who always stopped by my office shuffled in through the door. He moved so slowly and speaks even slower. To my fast-paced brain and work schedule, the minutes I spent with him felt like an extended warranty on a Nalgene bottle (i.e. "forever"). This time he pulled up the little chair at the other side of my desk, as I meanly thought to myself, "I'm going to have to get rid of that chair. People keep coming and sitting in it." Instead I said aloud, "Mr. G-! How nice to see you!" Because I knew inside, it was indeed good to have his calm presence there.

"I want you to call this girl, Johanna. I don't know why, but here is her number." He spoke slowly, shakily holding out a pink sticky note with his scrawled handwriting and a number. "Ok! I'll give her a call." I said quickly, hoping that would speed the day back up to par. But, I didn't call her. I meant to call her, I just didn't "get a chance." The pink note stuck to my phone for four days and fluttered everytime the fan turned towards it across the busy room. The day before I had to shoot out of town for the conference I had been coordinating in Nashville, I saw the note again and remembered my promise. I heard God's prompting to "do it now."

With a tiny bit of timeline frustration, I picked up the receiver and dialed the number. "Hi there! Is H- available? I don't know her, but I wanted to talk to her today and just tell her how valuable she is--and see if there is anything she needs." I told the motherly voice who had just answered. H-was indeed home. Her mother walked in on her with the phone and told her a random person was calling  who wanted to talk to her specifically. I didn't know anything, but God did. We talked for four hours: laughed, cried, and decided that she would come out to the conference that next day, so we could get together and talk about some more serious things. Her mom called me back that night and told me that her daughter was about to commit suicide when I had called that afternoon. Though tears, she wanted to thank me for saving her daughter's life, by just caring. I swallowed hard and realized how narrowly I didn't make that phone call.  After that, how dare I ever ignore God's direction?

So I scooted back up to the desk and reached for the phone.