Do it anyway?

Following is hard. Signing on to be the follower might even be considered a little nuts. That's what I think sometimes when I look at the military. I'm so glad for the people who sign up, but I think to myself, "I could never do that." The blind obedience that is required-- you pretty much give up all your rights. Where you go, what you do, even what you eat, all those things are decided for you. It's little like going to prison, though honorable, and the uniforms are definitely cooler. But you cannot discount the similarities and I have thought more than once, "I could never do it."

And then I think, is following Christ so very different? Because it shouldn't be. Much like those who enlist in the military who make a pledge to follow and agree to unconditional obedience, that's what following Jesus ought to resemble.

The bible says it like this, "bought at a price." When we say "yes" to Jesus we pretty much sign over the rights to our lives to Him. There's a popular Christian song right now that says something to the effect of "Where You go, I'll go; where You stay, I'll stay; when You move, I'll move, I will follow You." That's what saying "yes" to Jesus is supposed to be like.

And when I think about that, I think to myself, the military might be easier. Because in the military if you fail to "follow" the consequence is swift. You'll know it quickly, and you'll suffer accordingly. Getting back on track is something I'd be swiftly convinced to agree to. Not following would bring greater suffering than following, and I would acquiesce.

And in the military, I suspect the objective is clearer. Goals are defined, the desired result is more clear. I cannot always say the same when following Jesus, at least not in the way I would like to have goals, results and objectives clearly defined. In the military the picture is narrow, in Christ,the vision is broad, more broad than I can even comprehend.

Sometimes God asks us me to do things, and I don't understand. I look and I don't see the results I think I should, and I wonder why I'm doing them.

When you don't see an impact, do you do it anyway?
When you don't see a benefit, do you do it anyway?
When you can't grasp the purpose, do you do it anyway?

These are the questions I find myself struggling with.

I wrote a book. It's a good book, a story that I know has purpose and needs to be told. But I sell a couple dozen and then it seems like nothing else comes of it. And I wonder, what I felt while I was writing, the leading, the directing, the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, was it Him? Or was it just me?

Passion, purpose, talents and gifts-- all coming together, is it God's hand? His plan? Where are the results?
Are lives being touched?
Is it providing for my family?
Is it making an impact?

If I don't have the answers, or if the answer seems to be "no," do I do it anyway?

If it magnifies what seems NOT be happening and NOT going right in my life, but He still seems to be leading, directing, inspiring-- do I do it anyway?

I'm writing my second book-- more to the story of the first book that's "out there,"-- maybe or maybe not making a difference. It has social value, and the potential to touch a life, but I may never see it. So do I do it anyway?

The real question is, "how do I not?"

God leads, I have to follow, even if I don't understand. He never promised that I would. Even if I don't benefit, because it's not really about me. Because it might minister-- even to just one, and that is by definition what ministry is, at least the way Jesus did it.

So do I do it anyway? Yes, I must. Because it's all about Him. And if it brings Him any glory, then it was worth it.

And when I'm wondering why I'm doing it, that's what I need to remember, because following in obedience-- that honors Him.

Grace Moment

When I was writing my novel, my goal was to make it so vivid you could see it happening in your mind. It was definitely the case as I wrote it, I could see it, like a movie. As I was ending the creative process I was driving to pick my son up from school one afternoon and I heard a song for the first time. It was Kathryn Scott's "Grace Has Called My Name." As I listened to it, I could see a very particular scene in the book happening along to the song, and since that day, in my mind the song has been called "Taryn's Song" after the main character of "Homecoming."

This song now holds a really special place in my heart. It's a beautiful song, and whenever I hear it, I can see the scene in the book, over and over again. But today my heart has been feeling low, and I've been thinking about my own moment when "grace called my name."



It's interesting to me that so many people struggle with accepting God's love for them. For me that is never my point of distress. I am completely confident in God's love for me because of that moment in my life, and all that led up to it. My struggle is with the love and acceptance of others, but not at all is it difficult to comprehend Christ's love for me.

I was finally coming to terms with my abortion. I was seeking God, and growing in His word, and I was in a bible study with a group of women like me. Our stories were all different but we were all connected through the tragedy of abortion. The Lord was finally going to bring healing for to my heart, but it meant cleaning out the deep infection that had been buried for years. The pain was necessary, but it was great.

I was driving for hours, all over town. My heart was broken, and I was weeping. Honestly I don't know where I went or how I got there. I was wrought with brokenness and despair. Honestly it's probably a miracle I wasn't in an accident, I didn't have my wits about me in the least.

When my father and my mother forsake me,
Then the Lord will take care of me.
Psalm 27:10

I had heard the verse, and I desperately wanted to find hope in it. But my heart still ached from the choice I had been given when I was unmarried and pregnant just a few years before, "abort my baby or lose my family." And I hated the girl who chose her comfort over the life of her child. And part of me hated my parents for "making" me become her. And even though there was hope in this verse, it didn't alleviate the pain of the betrayal.

Exhausted from the tears I'd shed, I somehow managed to drive myself home. I was overwhelmed with pain, and guilt too. I had lied to Neal. He never knew about my abortion I had told him I'd lost the baby, when the reality was, I had lost myself. Oh the ache of betrayal, shame and guilt that needed to be cleansed from my heart.

Neal had forgiven me, and I had done my best to forgive my parents, but I was consumed with how unlovely I was, and I knew that I had sinned against God in the most heinous of ways. I felt so alone in my pain.

I walked into our bedroom and lay on the bed, the weeping continued. Neal was away for the weekend and I was alone in my guilt and grief. I collapsed across our bed and wept for hours.

That was when my Grace Moment happened, the moment "grace called my name." It was a supernatural moment, and one that I imagine many people won't even believe happened, but I know it did, and I know it was real. As I lay there asleep I felt held. I literally felt the embrace of heaven. God's loving arms around me. It was the moment I felt God's grace and forgiveness, and I knew it was mine.

Grace called my name.

Something solidified in my heart in that moment. I knew God loved me. And I knew the depth of agape, unconditional love. I knew, to the depth of my being, that He loved me because of Who He was, and not because of anything I had ever done to earn His love. And not only could I not earn it, I could not lose it, because God could not change Who He was, and He was, and is Love.

It was the way that issue was settled in my heart that led me to a place where I could truly forgive my parents, and even more, I could learn to "forgive myself," or rather, I could learn to walk in His forgiveness. I was His beloved, and I knew it. I still know it.

It is the most wonderful thing, and yet somehow,it never seems to be enough. Daily I still struggle to find my place in this world. I know my place in the next, but in this, I feel like such an alien- a square peg full of round holes. And every day, I battle the sense of rejection every day. I don't know what I would do if I didn't know the Lord loved me. I don't know how people get through this life without knowing God loves them. I am so grateful for my Grace Moment that settled that matter for me.

Oh how I wish that my confidence in God's love was enough to make me not care what others think of me. Oh to have as much confidence in who I am as I do in Who loves me. But I am thankful for this at least, grace called my name, and it is that "Grace Moment" that sustains me.

100 Verse Challenge - Week 24

Week 24 of the 100 Verse Challenge. Timely, timely, always timely- that's what I have found as we have wandered through this process of memorizing the verses from Robert J. Morgan's book 100 Verses Everyone Should Know by Heart. This week as we learn and memorize a passage of scripture about sacrifice, it feels very appropriate as I am observing my first Lent.

Morgan shares a story in his book this week about holocaust survivor Corrie ten Boom and a sermon she preached on today's passage exhorting her hearers to be "living sacrifices." Afterwards, the story tells us, she was invited by two nurses to their apartment for lunch. When she got to their apartment she found the women lived on the tenth floor and there was no elevator in the building. ten Boom, who was 80 years old at the time, struggled up the ten flights of stairs one step at a time grumbling and complaining to herself every step of the way.

Once she was in the apartment though, she had opportunity to share the gospel with one of the girl's parents, and she had the even greater joy of leading them to Christ. The story goes on to say that unlike her ascension up the stairs, on the way down every step was filled with thanksgiving for the eternal moment she experienced and the joy of it.

When God always asks us to sacrifice, there is always eternal benefit in it. It may not always be as clear and obvious as it was with Corrie ten Boom, but we can have confidence in God accomplishing hi purpose through us even when we cannot see it.

The second verse in this passage also speaks to me. I believe the reason God has called me to fast from Facebook during this season of Lent is because He needs to do some serious correcting in my way of thinking. The spirit of rejection that I battle in my mind needs to be dealt with, and there is no better way to do that than to renew our thoughts, which means purposeful and focused time in the Word of God, and sitting at His feet.

Morgan reminds us, "Every temptation comes to us via our thoughts, making the mind the battleground of the soul." Though I don't think Facebook itself is the issue, for me, it makes me too focused on self, and what I think of me rather than focusing on the Truth of who God says I am. Stepping away from the "faulty mirror" (for me) of Facebook and looking into the accurate reflection I find in God's Word is a much healthier place to be.

So here we go, here's this week's passage for memorizing (two verses), what do they speak to you?

Therefore brothers, by the mercies of God, I urge you to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God;
this is your spiritual worship.
Do not be conformed to this age, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may discern what is good, pleasing, and the perfect will of God.
Romans 12:1-2






PS. I have released my first novel. It is currently available on Kindle and in paperback on my website. You can find out more information by going to my website, www.dianadepriest.com - look around carefully and you'll find a discount code worth 15% that's good through Wednesday. Hope you'll read it!

Pride Slides In

A few days ago, I was worshipping in the shower. My prayer and praise closed is efficient, I get "washed clean anew" both spiritually and physically all at once. As I was singing to the Lord, the sound of my voice reverberated off of the tile walls, and I heard myself. I have a pretty decent singing voice, and I liked the way I sounded.

I kept singing, I even belted out a few big notes. I really started to listen to how I sounded, and tried to put on a good show for the loofah and the body wash. And then it was as though the Holy Spirit tapped me on the shoulder. "Remember me?" He seemed to be saying. And I stopped and I realized how quickly, effortlessly really, I transitioned to worshipping God, to being completely me-centered. Pride slid right in.

It was actually a profound moment for me. It was a huge "a-ha moment" broken down into the simplest of examples. I apologized to the Lord and asked Him to help me always see that prideful slide in my life as clearly as I did, quite literally, naked before Him.

I'm on a Facebook fast for Lent. Yesterday was the first day, and truth be told, I didn't miss it much at all. For me that ease was confirmation that the Lord has called me to this break. The only time I have ever effectively fasted (food, media, whatever) it has always been when the fast as God's idea more than mine, and it's never with an ulterior motive (like, "I'll fast sugar... and maybe I'll lose some weight.")

The first thing I noticed being off of Facebook was how I felt less pressed, less hurried. I didn't realize how strong my compulsion was to be "out there." I know I like to communicate, but I didn't realize how much I felt the need to. And with Facebook as a non-option, I just simply felt less pressed.

Until today.

Today I got a very exciting package in the mail. I have self-published my first (completed) novel, and when the books came, I was giddy beyond distraction. I had all sorts of intentions to accomplish certain things at work today and instead all I could do was think about the books I was holding in my hand. I left to go pick up lunch for Neal and I and my mind was flying. And I desperately wanted to shout from the rooftops about my accomplishment. I wanted to be on Facebook.

As I was driving back from Chik-Fil-A, I "felt" the Holy Spirit quicken my spirit again. It was like I was singing in the shower all over again.

You see, I've written this book, and it's good. That's not my opinion, that's the opinion of others. I wrote the story because I felt it was important to tell. There is a valuable message to be told. And even as I was writing it, I felt God's hand in it. The book has a purpose. And here I am at risk of getting in the way of it, because if I lose focus of that, I might just let pride slide in, and the book won't be about glorifying God, or ministering to others, but it will be about me. God forbid.

Promoting the book is going to be a careful walk, because promoting me is sometimes a part of it. But there has to be a way to do that, and not let the pride slide happen. It's not going to be easy.

And in as humble a manner as I can muster, let me tell you, for more information about buying my book, you can go to www.dianadepriest.com
(And contrary to alleged rumors, I did not go on Facebook at all today, in any way, shape or form. This fast is very serious to me, and obedience isn't optional.)

Convicted to Remember

Someone challenged me more than year ago to write a novel during the NaNoWriMo - National Novel Writing Month - Challenge. At the time I was dismissive, but I kept the idea filed away in my mind. This summer I remembered the challenge and decided to jump in with both feet.

I knew from the beginning what story I wanted to tell. All fiction is rooted in some truth. The story I wanted to share was part of my own testimony, part of the testimony of someone I love, but mostly parts of many stories I have known and heard. (For more on my personal Testimony, click: HERE.)

When I came to Christ, I came broken, destroyed even. Abortion had left a huge scar on my heart and my soul. In reality, God was gracious to me. I suffered that pain for only a few years, compared to women who God later brought into my life who suffered much longer, decades even, I was extremely fortunate. But God did not grant me that grace without a purpose.

For many years I had an online ministry to other women who suffered from post-abortion syndrome. It is like a form of PTSD, post-traumatic stress disorder, and it is much more common than one might think, or want to acknowledge. I was fortunate to be placed in the lives of hundreds of women through the anonymity of the internet in the early 90s. I had a ministry called Saving Grace Ministries, and we ran a group called PAWSE - Post Abortion Women, Support & Encouragement. Through this group God helped me to help dozens of women reach out for help in their own churches and communities. I had a front line view of the devastation abortion causes among women, and had the privilege of helping them find healing and wholeness in Christ the way I did, through other supportive women, and most of all through Christ's love and His Word.

In the late 90s I had the privilege to serve in a national ministry called Healing Hearts and was trained to lead a Bible study very much like the one I went through that led me to a recommitted life to Christ, and the healing and wholeness that can only be found in Him. I had the privilege also of facilitating one session of that study, and helping 5 other women find healing in Christ.

I knew the truth, and I did what I could to make an impact for Christ and help women find hope and redemption the way I had. But in 2001 I both adopted and gave birth to a baby in the same year. Two babies born (not quite) ten months apart had a huge impact on my world. The fact that my son's adoption was a nightmare did not help matters at all. For the next three and a half years till we finalized his adoption, it was all I could to to be a wife and mom and juggle life at home. I'm not making excuses, life is seasonal, and God is gracious, but in the process of working on this novel, I have realized how much I have forgotten.

In the 90s when I came to Christ, taking a stand against abortion was fashionable. The fact is, the last 10 or more years in the church, that's no longer the case. Abortion is the issue Christians may vote against, or even make a moral statement against, but fewer and fewer are actually doing anything to take a stand against. The frightening thing about that is that statistically, nothing has changed, the abortion situation is getting no better. The fact is, statistically speaking, in the ten minutes it takes you to read this blog, 23 babies will have been aborted, that's if you imagine abortion happening every minute of every day of the year. Over 2 unborn babies a minute, and not only is their life destroyed, the life of their mother is impacted as well.

As research I watched a 9 week ultrasound on YouTube. That's how far along I was when I had my abortion. Go to YouTube for yourself and see, watch a video from any first trimester ultrasound. These babies are aborted in droves. For every 3 children born in the US, 1 is aborted. As a mother of 3 living children, the irony of that is not lost on me.

The Lord has convicted me greatly these past few months, and especially the past few weeks as I have been writing my novel, that as Christians, we cannot turn a blind eye to the devastation of abortion. The fact is that statistically the percentages are exactly the same both in and out of the church. We need to take a stand for the unborn, but we also need to reach out to the hurting women who are siting in the pews of our churches feeling shame and fearing judgment. And I will tell you, it is not that the church is bringing the shame on women. As a woman who has had an abortion, I can tell you in all honesty, God has created in us an awareness of how unnatural it is to destroy life. Shame comes from the act, not its observation. But it is not God's will that these women continue in pain and shame, it is His will to bring the freedom and wholeness that can only be found in Christ.

Please take a moment to watch this video:



I call heaven and earth as witnesses today against you, that I have set before you life and death, blessing and cursing; therefore choose life, that both you and your descendants may live...
Deuteronomy 30:19

Just One More

Although it isn't actually reflected on the blog at all, I got a decent response and positive feedback on my Facebook page with curiosity about continuing the story. I actually need to go back and read all eight chapters that I've written to stir the creative juices, I'm just not there yet. On the other hand a friend of mine sent me a link today about a writing challenge for the month of November. You write a novel in the month of November, from the 1st to 30th at midnight. But it has to be a whole new project. The goal is 50,000 words in 30 days. Not sure if I'm up for the challenge, but the concept is intriguing.

But I digress, for now I am offering one more chapter of the "Story in Progress," as it's already been written. This chapter introduces more of the main characters, the "other side of the story," if you will. I'm still interested in feedback, be specific if you're so inclined. Tell me what you like, tell me what you don't like, but again be gentle, it's still my baby.

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Chapter 2

“Mama…” Chelsea was vaguely aware of Joshua’s little hand was reaching up and tapping her back. “Mama, breffast peeze.”

Groggily, Chelsea rolled over to greet her son. “Good morning doodle bug.”

She looked up that clock, it said 6:14. She reached down and pulling him up into bed, said, “You’re up early,” she said, pulling him under the covers. “The sun’s not even awake yet, buddy.”

“I hungry mama,” he said wiggling out from underneath the blankets. Clearly, he wasn’t going to be put off.

“Don’t you want to cuddle with Mommy?” she said hoping to entice him into a few more moments of rest before having to face the day. Joshua hopped back off the bed and ran out the bedroom door. Chelsea just laid there a little longer. The laundry basket was still on Jared’s side of the bed. It’s bad enough he’s hardly here and now he isn’t even coming to bed at night.

“Come on Mama! Breffast!” Joshua announced as his head suddenly popped back through the doorway.

Chelsea stood up and grabbed her robe. “OK buddy, come on, let’s get breakfast.”

As she walked down the hallway she noticed the blanket bunched up on the couch. Obviously Jared had woken up at some point during the night. He didn’t even try to come to bed. The least he could have done was fold the blanket back up. He’s so inconsiderate.

Making her way into the kitchen she reached for a box of dry cereal and a bowl. “Pancakes, Mama!” Joshua said.

“Pancakes? Aww, not this morning buddy. How about some Cheerios?”

“No, pancakes! Peeeze.” Joshua begged.

“Did I hear somebody say pancakes?” Erica said as she came into the room. “Yum!”

Chelsea shook her head, “No, nobody said anything about pancakes. Cheerios are on the menu for this morning. What are you doing up so early? It’s only 6:30, you don’t have to be up for school for another half hour.”

“Joshua came in and woke me up. He said ‘Mama pancakes and breffast,” she said imitating her little brothers toddler drawl. “Pancakes sounded better than sleeping in.”

“Well, I’m sorry he misled you. It’s Cheerios, I can add a banana if you’d like, but that’s about as fancy as it’s going to get today.”

“Aww Mom,” Erica whined, “you never make us pancakes anymore.”

“Honey, you know it’s a school day, pancakes are too complicated on a school day. Those are for Saturdays or Sundays before church for a big family breakfast, they’re a treat.”

Erica could tell there wasn’t any point in arguing about it. “OK, I’ll take the banana on my Cheerios, but Mom it’s been like a bazillion years since we had a family breakfast. You don’t even get up on Sundays and go to church with us anymore.”

Chelsea turned and picked Joshua up and put him in his high chair. “Mommy’s tired on Sunday mornings honey, it’s my only day to sleep in.” She set bowls down in front of each of the kids, poured the cereal and started slicing up a banana.

“We never do anything together as a family any more Mom,” Erica said as Chelsea dropped the banana slices in her cereal and poured the milk on top of it. “I wish you would go to church with us, my teacher has been asking where you’ve been.”

Chelsea thought it about it. It had been about six weeks since she had been to church. She had picked up a part time job working at Dillie’s, a local coffee shop, a few shifts a week and usually worked Saturday evenings. After the her shifts she usually found herself hanging out and socializing till late night hours in the Promenade. Nothing worth rushing home for anyway. She decided to make Sunday mornings her time for herself. Let Jared deal with the hassles of getting everyone up, dressed, fed and out the door. She’d stay in bed till she heard them leave and then get up and enjoy her coffee and a little time on the computer chatting or catching up on email. There’s nothing wrong with taking a little time for myself she thought.

“Will you come Mama?” she heard Erica ask taking Chelsea back out of her own thoughts.

“What honey?”

“I said my Sunday School class is going to sing in big church next Sunday, will you come?”

“Sure honey, I’ll come,” Chelsea smiled, though in her heart she was disappointed she’d have to give up her time.

Chelsea walked down the hall and knocked on Angie’s door, opening it slowly. “It’s almost 7 Ang, time to get up for school.”

Angie didn’t stir, Chelsea walked into her room. She saw a note on Angie’s desk. It read, “Marriage is unreasonable. 1. Old-fashioned 2. Stifling 3. Unfulfilling.” Hmmm, it’s like she’s reading my mind.

She sat on the edge of Angie’s bed. “Wake up sleepy head.” Angie shifted a little. “Come on girl, you’ve got school,” Chelsea said, tapping her backside.

Angie rolled over to face her mom. Peeking through one sleepily opened eye she asked, “What time is it?”

“Five after seven honey, come on.”

“Mom,” Angie groaned rolling back over, “I told you I have late start today, I don’t have to be at school till 10:30. I was up really late working on my speech project, didn’t Dad tell you?”

“I haven’t seen Dad honey, how would he know you were up late? He was crashed on the couch before ten o’clock last night.” He didn‘t even make it all the way through his football game.

“He came in and checked on me at like 1 something… Mom, please can I just get a little more sleep?” Angie pulled a pillow over her head.

Chelsea pulled the door shut and headed back out into the kitchen. That’s when she noticed she’d left her cell phone out on the coffee table the night before.

She picked it up and saw across the front screen that it said “Six text messages.” She flipped open the phone.

The most recent message was from Jared, she’d just missed it. It read, “Working late this afternoon, don’t hold dinner.” Sigh. It’s not even 8 am and already he’s making excuses about why he can’t be here for dinner. Figures.

The message before that was from Karen, her girlfriend. It said, “Hoping to get a little exercise, let me know if you want to meet me at the park to walk.” She laughed to herself, that Karen, she always has a plan, always on the go. It might be fun to get out of the house with Josh. The sun was up and you could already see it was going to be a nice day. Maybe she’d be willing to walk at the Promenade instead. She texted her back quickly, “I’ll call you after I get Erica off to kindergarten.

The other four messages didn’t have a name, just a number, but she recognized it instantly. The first one was time stamped at 12:45, it read “Hello.” The second four minutes later just said, “You there?” Stamped twenty minutes later the third just said, “Why aren’t you there?” And the fourth said it came through at 1:36, it read simply, “Missing you.”

A wave of guilt wafted over Chelsea. Had Jared seen this? I can’t believe I left my phone out here! She panicked for just a moment, then realized if Jared had read the messages it wouldn’t have still listed them as unread. Phew. The panic subsided a little and she just dismissed the tinge of guilt that remained.

Walking into the kitchen she told Erica, “Hurry up honey, you’ve got to get ready for school.” She grabbed Josh, who now had banana all over his face and in his little blonde tufts of hair; she lifted him up out of his high chair and headed into get him changed and dressed. Exasperated she thought, another day in Mommy world.

By Diana DePriest © 2009

Feedback Please - Be Gentle

Years ago I started writing a story. I wrote four chapters and then life got busy. I let a friend read it and she was unhappy with me at the time, so she kind of annihilated me with criticism. It was unfortunate, because if you're a writer, you know sharing your work is like putting your baby on display. It's hard to take criticism, and if it's given harshly, it can be down right painful. The book got put aside never to be picked up again.

Becoming a published writer would be a fulfillment of a dream for me. I really love to write and feel it's actually a gift from the Lord more than a talent. Back in April I felt inspired to start a new story. I'll be honest, it's been since August since I've done more than look at it, but I did get 8 chapters written this time, albeit short ones. I don't know, how do you write a book?

Anyway, I've been contemplating getting back to the task and have had mostly positive feedback from the few friends I have had read it, but for some reason today I am feeling really bold and ready to throw it out there for a larger consumption, but I'd like to actually hear back your thoughts. So, check it out, read chapter 1 and let me know what you think. But be gentle... it's my baby and all.

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Chapter 1

Jared was in a deep sleep on the couch as he heard the vibration on the coffee table. Rubbing his eyes he reached across and tried to make out the caller I.D. on Chelsea’s cell phone. Who in the world could be calling at this hour?

He flipped open the cell phone, “Hello?” He could hear noises in the background but no one answered. “Hello?” he said again the phone went dead on the other end.

He set the phone back down on the coffee table and uprighted himself on the couch. The clock on the VCR said 12:38. He’d dozed off a couple hours before while watching TV. Now the lights and TV were off. Chelsea must have headed to bed, he thought. Why does she just leave me out here?

He wandered into the kitchen for a glass of water. Who in the world could be calling her phone at this hour? he wondered. Maybe it was just a wrong number. Although he hoped it was the case, something in his gut told him it wasn’t.

Chelsea had seemed more and more distant lately. He knew she was probably angry with him for falling asleep on the couch in front of the
TV again. He was just so exhausted. The new project at work was requiring so many late hours. It wasn’t just physically exhausting, his brain was tired. He actually hadn’t been sleeping very well at night. When he tried to go to bed his mind would just start reeling. The thoughts would keep him up till all hours of the night, falling asleep in front of the TV seemed to be his only reprieve from the constant battle with insomnia.

Now the brief benefit of the nap was spoiled by the sudden late night disruption. Now he was wide awake and it was a good five hours before he should be up to start his day.

Sigh.

He walked quietly down the hall and looked into the bedroom where Chelsea was sleeping. She had left the basket of clean, folded laundry just sitting on his side of the bed. He wondered if there wasn’t a message she was trying to send that even if he did manage to find his way back to their bed, maybe he wasn’t really wanted there anyway.

No sense in getting into bed, he’d probably just toss and turn, then neither of them would get any sleep. He pulled the door quietly shut behind him as he headed back into the hall.

He decided to peek in on the kids. First he looked into Erica’s room. His 5-year-old was sprawled out, all her covers kicked down into a pile at the foot of the bed. She looked pretty adorable. He pulled her blankets back up over her and quietly moved into Joshua’s room.

Josh was two and a half. He’d just moved into his “big boy bed” a couple weeks before. Unlike his big sister he was curled up tight into a ball with his blankets pulled all the way up under his chin. He thought to himself how much their sleeping positions mirrored their personalities. Erica was open and outgoing, free and relaxed, Josh was shy and quiet, often keeping to himself. Funny how you could see it even when they were sound asleep.

Jared continued down the hall when he noticed the light shining out from underneath Angie’s door. Quietly he tapped on the door, not sure if she was awake or had fallen asleep doing her homework.

“Yeah?” her voice whispered out, sounding a little surprised by the disruption.

As he opened the door he could see her sitting at her desk, working at the computer. “It’s really late kiddo, don’t you think you ought to get to bed?”

“I know Dad, I’m just finishing up with this assignment. Then I’ll get to bed.’

Angie, such a bright young girl, Jared couldn’t believe she was almost 17. She wasn’t his daughter biologically, she was Chelsea’s daughter from a relationship before they met. It didn’t matter though, he loved her as much as he did the two children he and Chelsea had together. Really, Jared was the only father Angie had ever known. In the 14 years Chelsea and Jared had been together Angie’s dad had breezed through their lives maybe six or seven times. Jared couldn’t understand how any father could be so casual in his relationship with his child. Actually, casual was too generous a word, irresponsible was more accurate. It was Tom’s loss though, Jared was honored to fill the void he left, and that’s why when he and Chelsea got married ten years ago, he made the promise to love and care for both his wife and her daughter, their daughter now.

“Whatcha workin’ on?” Jared asked, peeking over her shoulder at the computer screen.

Angie turned her chair toward him with a smile, “It’s a presentation for my speech class. We’re doing a series of debates in class on different topics in the news.”

“And your topic…?”

“I’m debating marriage.”

Jared chuckled, “Really? I didn’t even know there was any special guy in your life.”

“Oh Dad!” Angie laughed, “I’m not debating the prospect personally! I’m debating the ‘logic’ of marriage. A lot of people consider it to be an antiquated concept. A lot of people don’t consider it to be feasible these days. They say it’s too much to ask of a person to make a lifetime commitment to just one person. So one of us is debating against the institution of marriage and the other one of us is debating that marriage does still work and is still important.”

“Sounds interesting, and which opinion do you find yourself holding?”

Angie smiled, “Well actually the assignment requires us to both prepare for both sides of the debate. We have to be prepared to persuade either viewpoint, you know, all in the name of having an open mind. I won’t know which side I have to argue until moments before the actual debate, which isn’t until the end of the semester. It’s going to count as 40% of our final grade.”

“Really? I’m fascinated. So is everyone preparing for this same debate?”

“No, there are 26 of us in the class and there are four different topics. There’s my topic, a debate on keeping abortion ‘safe and legal’; a debate on euthanasia and the fourth topic is prayer in schools.”

“Wow, those are some pretty heavy subjects. Did you get to choose or were you assigned the topics?” Jared asked.

“No, it was all by drawing, we actually pulled our topics out of a coffee can. There are six of us for each topic, except euthanasia, there are eight people on that topic. We don’t even know who we’ll be debating yet, we may not even know until the actual day of the debate in like late May or June.”

Jared stood up, “Well honey, it’s only January and the semester has just started, your debate is a long way off, I think you can afford to put the topic aside for the night and get a good night’s rest.” He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “You need to get to bed.”

“OK Daddy, five more minutes, I promise. Tomorrow is ‘late start’ because the teachers have a meeting, so I’ll be OK.” She turned back towards her computer monitor as Jared slipped out of the room.

As he came back into the living room Jared saw Chelsea’s phone face light up in the dimly lit room. He picked it up and saw it said “Four text messages.” He looked over at the clock that now read 1:36. What in the world? He resisted temptation to read the messages and set the phone back down. Finally feeling tired enough to doze back off he grabbed a blanket out of the cupboard and made himself comfortable back on the couch. He grabbed his own cell phone setting its alarm clock for 5:30am. He laid back trying hard to dismiss the uneasy feeling he felt beginning deep down inside himelf. A few minutes later he was back to sleep.

By Diana DePriest © 2009