I’ve known I wanted to be a writer since I was ten years
old. I got my start writing bad poetry in my pre-teen years and progressed to “publishing” my own pretend newspaper before becoming a journalist for "real-life" newspaper after college. It stands to reason that somewhere along the way I developed a love for
telling stories.
I love short stories in part because I’m a little ADD and
nothing seems to capture my attention for very long. For someone like me, short stories are perfect
for reading and perfect for writing. I’ve written a thousand
of them in my head that never made it to paper. A few did.
The following is a short story I wrote a while back. It recently won 2nd place at the Little Rock Chapter of American Christian Writers annual conference. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Like all my writing, I consider it one of my "babies."
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A Glimmer of Hope
Two things a single mother seldom has enough of -- money and patience. Unfortunately, Abby Green didn’t have much of either today.
She hurriedly got ready for work while her four-year old son, Dylan, played in the floor.
“Mom, I don’t wanna go to day care, today,” Dylan whined.
“Well, I don’t want to go to work either, kiddo, but we can’t always have what we want. Now, go get your stuff, OK?”
Dylan grabbed his lunch box and backpack and plopped down on the couch.
Life hadn’t been easy for Abby since her separation from her husband, Chris -- really since Dylan had been born and she had gone back to work part-time to help make ends meet.
Then Chris left her, and Abby found a full-time job as a receptionist at the local newspaper. It was the closest she feared she would ever get to her dream job, being a journalist. Her salary didn’t come close to covering her expenses, but combined with Chris’ irregular child support and an occasional check from her mother, it had miraculously kept them fed and in shelter.
Abby had met Chris in her freshman year of college. Not long after that, she discovered she was pregnant with Dylan. Her life with Chris fell far short of the fantasy she had imagined, but they loved each other. Then one day Chris came home from work and announced that he wasn’t sure he loved Abby anymore.
Abby had been pregnant and married at 20, and now separated at 25. So far, she didn’t see any happy endings in sight.
When she picked Dylan up after work, she was tired and he was a little cranky. One thing she was grateful for was that it was Friday, and she could possibly sleep in the next day. On the way home, she got a hamburger and fries for her and Dylan. That would make him delirious, and she could indulge herself in a meal out. After all, it was pay day.
At home, she and Dylan enjoyed their hamburgers in front of the TV until bedtime. Then she tucked him in bed and went off to bed herself.
Unable to sleep, Abby lay in bed thinking.
Abby had believed in God from childhood but sometimes felt He was avoiding her. Her mother had nearly had a stroke when Abby told her she was dropping out of college to marry Chris. The fact that he wasn’t a Christian disturbed her mother greatly, and since meeting Chris, Abby, herself, had quit going to church. When she and Chris separated, she thought it was time to include God in her life again, so she went back to church.
One Sunday morning, while waiting for the service to begin, she looked up and saw a familiar face, Susan Wells, who had been her junior high Sunday school teacher. Abby had always liked Susan, and felt warmed by her presence in the pew beside her. It was the first sign that maybe she belonged back here again. She and Susan became fast friends, and Abby could always count on Susan for encouragement. Now, on a lonely Friday night, this thought comforted her in her loneliness as she drifted off to sleep.
The next morning she woke and looked at the digital clock by her bed side. “Nine thirty!” She said to herself, “I DID sleep in!”
She listened for Dylan in the living room but didn’t hear a sound. Maybe he’s sleeping in, she thought. But Dylan never slept in. She jerked herself out of bed and called his name. No answer. And Dylan was nowhere to be found in the apartment.
Panic struck a chord in Abby that set her nerves on edge. The thought that Dylan might have gone outside made her equally angry and scared. He had done this once before, and she had told him not to do it again. But sometimes saying things once was not enough.
She threw on her clothes, ran into the living room, and saw a little table pushed up to the front door for Dylan to reach the deadbolt. She knew he HAD gone outside.
Abby ran outside, and into the parking lot which faced a busy street calling for Dylan. No answer.
Then she knocked on every neighbor’s door. No one had seen him. After nearly two hours, Abby had searched for her son around the apartment complex and in the neighborhood to no avail.
Disheveled and in tears, she called her mother. This horrid thought crept upon her and left her insides in jagged knots: Her son was missing.
Abby’s mother, Gail Weston, showed up at the apartment about twenty minutes later and they called the police. A female officer arrived a short time later. Abby felt nauseated and tired, as she began answering the officer’s questions: “How old is he? When was the last time you saw him? What was he wearing? Do you have any recent pictures of him?”
Abby answered the questions and then remembered she hadn’t had Dylan’s picture made since he was a baby. She never seemed to have enough time or money. Now, she hated herself for it. Then she remembered a Polaroid taken at Dylan’s daycare and fashioned into a magnetic frame made from Popsicle sticks and buttons. It was on her refrigerator.
The officer finished taking her statement, took the photo of Dylan and assured Abby that police would look for him. In the meantime, she or someone else should stay at the apartment waiting for word.
When the officer left, the thought occurred to Abby that she hadn’t called Chris. She had thought of calling him earlier, but dreaded it. Chris hadn’t seen Dylan in almost a month. Her first thought was that he might not even care, or would possibly scold her for being so hysterical. Then, she worried that he might think she was a bad mother.
But deep down, she knew she had to tell him. Dylan was Chris’ son. She found the number and dialed. No answer, so she left a frantic, wandering message and hung up. Typical, Chris wasn’t available.
Abby’s head was screaming so she went to her room for an Ibuprofen and paced the floor. It was now way past lunch time, and she knew that Dylan must be starved. He probably hadn’t had any breakfast, and now he was going to miss lunch.
Her mind was tinkering with thoughts about all the times she had wished she was somewhere else. Perhaps working as a journalist in a foreign country. All the times she just wished she could come and go as she pleased. What kind of a mother was she really? Was this God’s way of punishing her? She felt confused and helpless, because she was powerless to find Dylan. She thought of praying, but wondered what good it would do.
Then she heard a knock at the front door and her heart leapt in her chest.
It was Danny and Susan Wells. “We came as soon as we heard,” Susan said.
“How did you hear?” Abby asked. She hadn’t called anyone except the police and Chris.
Her mother chimed in. “Oh, I called the church while you were in your room and asked them to pray. Susan had heard about it from the church’s prayer chain.
“We thought we could pray with you and keep you company for a while,” Susan offered. Danny nodded in agreement. Usually very talkative around other men, Abby noticed he said very little around women.
“Thanks,” Abby said and she began to cry again. Susan put her arm around her, and said “Abby, I just want you to know Dylan is really God’s child and wherever he is, God is watching over him.”
This thought calmed her some, as she hung on the glimmer of hope it carried. But the guilt still plagued her.
“Susan. I’m a terrible mother!” She blurted out.
“Why do you say that?” Susan asked. “That’s not true!”
“It IS true.” Abby insisted. “There have been times when I wished I had never gotten married,” she began to cry hard as she fought for words. “Times I wished I had never had Dylan.
“Oh, Abby. That doesn’t make you a bad mother. I expect most mothers occasionally wonder what their lives would be like if they had never had children.”
Abby listened as her friend spoke words of encouragement.
“Dylan is a gift from God. Not a mistake,” Susan told her. “God created that child. He knitted him in your womb, and He doesn’t make mistakes. Let’s get down on our knees right here and pray. I think you really need that.”
The two women knelt down together and Susan began:
“Father, we come to You and acknowledging that You love Dylan more than we ever could. Watch over him and guide him back home. And Father, please help Abby know that You love her, and that You’ll never give up on her. In Jesus name...”
Susan squeezed Abby’s hand to let her know it was her turn to pray.
Through her tears, Abby prayed. For the first time since this terrible day began, she poured her heart out to God. She hoped somehow that would make God hear her better. Through her tears, she begged God to bring Dylan home. Afterwards, she felt like a small burden had been lifted from her, but it was going to be dark in a few hours, and the thought of Dylan alone and scared in the dark terrified her.
Abby was exhausted from the stress, and just when she thought it would engulf her, she heard a loud knock at her door and ran for it.
A middle-aged police officer was there smiling. Standing beside him in a green t-shirt and red shorts was Dylan, with matted hair and a dirty face. He ran to Abby and hugged her legs. She bent down and hugged him and kissed his dirty face. Words could not express the lifted burden.
“He’s OK, Ms. Green,” the officer said. “One of our retired officers, Doug Adams, found him playing in his vacant lot about a half mile from here. Dylan said he followed a stray dog and got lost. Doug found him sitting under a tree crying. Dylan knew his name but didn’t know his address. All he said was that he wanted his mommy, so Doug called us knowing somebody was surely looking for him.”
“I’m sorry, Mommy,” Dylan said. “I saw the dog out our window and he looked like he wanted someone to play with. So I followed him and got lost.”
“Oh, thank You God!” Abby cried. “I love you. You are a good God!” Then she looked at her son and said, “I love you too, Dylan.”
“I love you, Mommy,” Dylan said, gently sobbing. Then he looked up at Gail, and said “Hi, Grandma.” Everyone, including the officer, laughed in relief.
“Young fellow, don’t leave the house anymore without your mom, OK?” The officer gently scolded Dylan. Dylan nodded and shyly turned toward his mother. “Mommy, can I have a peanut butter sandwich?”
A short time later, Abby heard another knock at the door. Standing in the doorway was Chris, wide-eyed and out of breath.
“I came as soon as I got the message. Have you found him?” He asked excitedly.
Then he saw his son. “Dylan!” Chris exclaimed.
“Daddy! It’s you!” Dylan yelled happily and ran to his father.
“Yeah, it sure is.” Chris said as he knelt down, scooped the boy up and buried his face in Dylan’s hair, gently stroking it, he sobbed softly, “I thought I’d lost you.”
Chris still loved his son, Abby knew. She backed away and allowed them a moment.
She didn’t know where her marriage was headed, but she did know two things -- God was good. And He was HER loving Father.
