It's been ages since I wrote on this blog. I wanted to share with you my fiction version of a wonderful story I witnessed years ago. I hope it encourages you and helps you to have faith through whatever may be going on in your own life. Prayer IS a powerful thing.

The following is a fiction story based on the true story of one woman’s prayer vigil to reach her son the only way she knew how.


I heard the front door open. I moved quick as possible from the back room to the entry way, but just as I got there, I heard the click of my son’s door from upstairs and then the sliding of the chain lock that he had recently attached to his door.

I wandered back to the kitchen, disappointed once again, a missed opportunity to speak with my son. The house that use to fill with laughter when my blond haired blue eyed boy would come home now seemed to become cold and empty. I began the preparations for dinner with the hope he may join us.

Several hours later I had the chance to hand my son the handset to our phone through the narrow slit of the door. That meant he would be leaving soon. I had no idea when he would return. To confront this behavior, could possibly mean, he would turn up missing for a day or two. At least this way, he came home, and I knew where he was, even if it was only for short periods of time.

I had no idea how long it would be before he slipped back out. So I moved to the kitchen to do my special nighttime ritual I’d started soon after his behavior had changed many months ago. I put water on the stove to boil and pulled out a package of hot chocolate powder, and then I started my prayers. “Lord, keep him safe from harm. Bring him back to you and me. I pray he knows and believes in the love we have for him. He has to believe it Lord.”

I poured the powder into his favorite cup, followed by the hot water. As I added the marshmallows and sprinkles I continued in prayer.

“Lord, be with Him tonight. Speak to his heart. Draw him near to You. Please keep him save.”

With care I went up the stairs to his room, speaking to God each step of the way. After I gave a gentle knock on the door, I waited and then gave a sigh of relief when I heard him remove the chain from the lock. The door opened just enough for me to pass the cup into his hand.

“Here’s some hot chocolate for you. I love you, son.”

“Thanks,” was his reply, click. The connection was gone. Tears filled my eyes as I stared at the closed door. Lord, be with him. I slipped silently back down to the kitchen, wiping at the tears that spilled from my eyes. Shortly afterward I heard him leave the house for the night.

This little ritual went on for months. My only connection was a cup of hot chocolate until one day I heard the front door open.

As usual, I moved as quick as I could to the entry way, only this time bam. I ran right smack into him. “Mom, watch where you’re going okay?” I apologized. He had a friend with him. I expected them disappear up to his room, but instead they followed me into the kitchen. He emptied a bag as he spoke about the wonderful food they had discovered. It was vegetarian.

“Eating meat is gross, Mom.”

“Oh.” Okay, whatever you say, just thank you God that he’s talking to me again. He’s actually smiling. What was that I just heard? Laughter? Excusing myself for a minute, I left the room, tears of joy pouring down my checks. Oh Jesus, he’s laughing. His eyes are bright again. It’s a miracle.

I returned to the kitchen. I didn’t want to miss one moment of this time with him. Through their conversations I learned they went to a coffee shop set up for kids. Some guy told them how much God loved them.

“Remember when we thought he was a Jesus freak?” my son asked his friend. Laughter followed. “Mom, he talked like you and your sister.” He rolled his eyes. A smile followed. “Found out you were right, Mom.”

I bit at my lip trying desperately trying not to turn into a balling baby.

“Hey Mom, could you make us one of your special hot chocolates?”

I could only nod as I turned the water on to boil and took out a package of hot chocolate powder. While waiting for his drink, my son spent the time explaining to his friend about my wonderful nightly ritual.

I prayed earnestly. “Thank you Lord, for being with him, for protecting him and bringing him back to You and me.”


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