Chapter 21

“Transitioning from childhood to adulthood can be a difficult time,” Greg acknowledged, “but it sounds like you had a solid support system to help you weather the rollercoaster of emotions and natural changes most adolescents go through.” His eyes held approval. “Appears you also formed a special friendship in the thick of it. That’s quite a gift you were given.”

“Yeah, Val was an anchor in my storm,” I agreed. “I never felt like a lost cause with her in my corner.”

“But…?” My pause seemed to entice curiosity. “Sounds like there’s more to this story.”

“There is,” I affirmed. “The intensity of my world back then didn’t make me the easiest person to be around. I take responsibility for that.” I drew in a deep breath then exhaled slowly. “I assume Val thought most of the drama of me heading into my high school years was normal teenage exaggeration; but, I promise you, it was not. Only reason I know I’m not crazy for believing this is because of what God allowed to happen next.”

Greg dipped his head forward, his eyes raising in anticipation. “Go on….”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

No cutting corners. No half truths. No cheating the system. Every “i” dotted. Every “t” crossed. Everything by the book. That’s how I lived life. That’s how I pressed on through the beginning of high school. Yet, in spite of playing by the rules, my life remained one gigantic, disgraceful mess. The target on my back seemed to scream, “Attention! She’s over here. Make the next attack your final blow.” But, giving up didn’t make my list of options; so, I fumbled and floundered and fought to keep my head above water, somehow surviving the onslaught of most incoming waves. However, this one evening, I found myself drowning.

Pressing the phone to my ear, I listened to the first ring. Silence. Second ring. More silence. I began holding my breath, anticipating Val’s familiar voice. Hope, this is a bad idea. It’s late. Your problems aren’t that important. Don’t be selfish. Hang up the phone and go to bed. You can deal with this tomorrow–whatever this is, I scolded myself.

Val’s unassuming voice interrupted my internal battle. “Hello?”

“Oh, hey, Val. It’s Hope. I didn’t wake you, did I?” Guilt churned my stomach, remorse muddying my thoughts. Glancing at the clock on my nightstand, I bit my lower lip and mentally grimaced. 10:05PM. Why didn’t I think this through before picking up the phone? Now, what am I gonna to say? How do I explain this call? Great job, Genius!

“Hey, Kiddo!” Val’s tone held acceptance, encouragement, promise. “I haven’t heard from you in a while. What’s up?”

My heart weighed heavy with anger and shame, and I struggled with feeling worthy of Val’s attention. “I apologize for calling so late. It’s just that, well, it’s been a rough night.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Val sympathized, “but don’t worry about me. I’m still very much awake. I also know I told you to call me any time, and I meant what I said. Is something wrong?”

I mentally stumbled over self-condemnation, grappling to find the right words. Swallowing hard, I finally forced myself to speak. “Remember how you told me to never do anything stupid?”

Val’s voice remained calm. “I do.”

“Well….” I stalled for time.

“Hope, what’s going on? What stupid thing are you thinking about doing?” Her concern heightened my anxiety.

“I’m not thinking about doing anything. It’s more like a feeling–a really bad feeling.” The hairs on the back of my arms prickled as the seriousness of the moment became clear. “I shouldn’t be bothering you,” I apologized again, “but I promised I’d call you if it ever came to this, so that’s what I’m doing. I think I’m at that breaking point you were talking about.” I paused and let out a deep sigh.

“I imagine that feels overwhelming,” Val answered. “Tell me what’s going on.”

I released a sarcastic chuckle. “I know you’ll find it hard to believe, especially coming from me, but I don’t really have words right now. I just feel completely lost. Everything feels…well…too much.”

“I hear you,” Val acknowledged, “but what do you mean by ‘too much’?”

I flipped off my bedroom light and crawled into bed, pulling the covers up around my legs. Biting my lower lip, I focused on Colleen’s most recent despicable conduct that somehow included me. “Did you hear about the scene Colleen made this week at the day camp where I just started working?” Being friends with the camp director, I figured Val may have obtained some information through her connections.

“I may have heard a little something,” she confessed, “but I’m interested in hearing your side of the account. Why don’t you share the details with me?”

I wadded a handful of bedding into my palm, squeezing my frustration into the sheets. “I lost my job as camp counselor because of her,” I answered. “Two words out of Colleen’s mouth and my life is upside down again. Again! She marched herself into the camp office on Monday morning and threatened to picket the camp if they didn’t fire me. Just like that, I’m placed on desk duty far away from people and everything I love. Seriously? I didn’t sign up to push papers and answer phones all summer. I don’t get it. Alicia doesn’t even attend camp there.” I could feel my blood pressure rising, tightness forming in my chest. “I don’t understand why the camp isn’t defending me. How does Colleen keep getting away with stuff like this? It’s not fair!” I clenched my jaw, trying to control my indignation.

“The devil sure does seem to have it in for you, doesn’t he?” Val soothed. My grief seemed to pain her.

“Seems that way,” I huffed. Misery ate at my words. “Why doesn’t God just step in and make it stop? He could, ya know? That’s why He’s called God. He has the power, so why doesn’t He come down and show His authority?”

“I don’t know, but maybe He knows something you don’t,” Val sympathized.

“Yeah, right. Like what? What could possibly be so much more important than making this go away?” I defied her to answer. “I want out of this hell. I did AB-so-LUTE-ly nothing to be in the middle of this mess, and making me have to deal with it is just…uh…mean.”

Val’s words exuded deep care as she proceeded with caution. “Kiddo, I assure you, God sees the bigger picture, even if you and I aren’t being consulted on His plans. Have you ever thought maybe He’s sparing you from something?”

I copped an attitude and shook my head. “No. I have a very hard time believing this is for my good; but, regardless, He can go pick on someone else. I’m done being His test subject.”

Patience accompanied Val’s earnest plea. “Hope, please don’t give up on God. Just look how far He’s brought you. He’s the same God you’ve always known. Please don’t stop trusting Him. He’s still capable of taking care of the unknown.” An awkward silence followed.

Intense. Formidable. Aggressive. An undeniable presence infiltrated my room, a sudden staleness penetrating my surroundings. Blackness darker than night etched its way into every corner and crevice, a suffocating pressure weighing on my lungs.

“Hope, is the devil harassing you?” Val’s words seemed strange. Contorted. Out of place.

I struggled to make sense of her meaning. “Huh?” What felt like a physical blow to my stomach drowned out her concern.

“I asked you….” Muffled sounds replaced coherent conversation.

Mouth gaping open, I began to pant. I need air. I need to breathe. I can’t breathe. Why can’t I breathe?

Apprehension drifted over the line. “Hope? Are you still there? Say something.”

Of course, I’m here. Where else would I be? Can’t anyone hear me? What’s going on? “God?” I tried speaking. “Help me! Please! Something’s wrong. I need Your help. Now!” No audible words emerged.

A shrill cry pierced the darkness, and a swirl of motion materialized in the middle of my room. A demonic cackle rose above my numbness, saturating the atmosphere and blurring my surroundings. My breaths came in short, jagged intervals—pain in my stomach flaring, stabbing, almost burning from the inside. “What’s happening to me?” I gasped. “Where are You, God? Please! You promised. You promised You would never leave me nor forsake me. So, where are You?” I moaned and groaned, clinging to Deuteronomy 31:6 as though my life depended on it. Still, a deafening silence lingered, one that produced paralyzing fear.

Whimpering, I forced myself onto my side, wadding myself into a ball and securing the covers under my chin. I rocked back and forth like a seasick passenger, big red lights blaring 10:12 on the alarm clock on my nightstand. A few moments passed before I felt the devil’s presence again. He lurked in the shadows, his dark, beady eyes threatening to devour me.

“NO!” I screamed, lowering the sheets from my face. “You don’t get to win! I won’t let you.” Another jab in the stomach begged to differ.

My throat constricted and anxiety dampened my brow. Panic set in as my body yearned for air. “I don’t want to die. God, please stop him!” My body shook, and my hands trembled. I pulled the covers back over my face and squeezed my eyes shut. “We’ve come so far together. Please don’t let this be the end of our journey.” A couple tears strayed down my cheeks, wetting my hair and dampening the pillow, yet the room remained quiet. “Did you hear me? Are you even there? I need Your help! I’m all alone here. Please, do something!” Still, no answer. With heightened desperation, my panic turned to fear then fear to anger.

“You promised You would be here,” I lashed out. “You promised until the end of time. Well, this feels like the end of my world, and I need You. Now. I’m claiming that promise. That means You have to be here.”

I looked for a sign—any sign. Nothing.

The longer God refrained from responding, the more frightened I became. “I need You to intervene. Please send Your angels—ten thousand of them. I’m giving you my permission. Do whatever it takes, but pleeeeease! Do something.” My lower lip began to quiver. “You can take me right now—this very minute,” I continued. “I’m not afraid of dying, but I am afraid of living without You. Life’s not worth living if You’re not in it. Lord, please make this stop!” The agony reached deep into my gut.

I peered over the edge of my covers, a hint of courage wavering inside me. Inhaling a large portion of holy boldness, I looked the devil in the eye and poised for battle. “Satan, get out! You have no business here. In the name of Jesus Christ, GET OUT!”

An aura of light appeared at the foot of my bed. Its presence shattered all forms of darkness. “No! Not Christ!” The devil slurred his venomous words, his arms extending out to me. His fingers curled, grasping, reaching longingly my direction. “I want her!” he raged.

“No,” I whispered, drawing into myself. Squeezing my eyes shut, I turned my head and buried my face in my pillow. God didn’t say a word. In His presence, all hatred, anger, fear, and sadness disappeared. A calm filtered into the room, and the devil’s wounded shrill faded into nonexistence. My breathing returned to normal, and a blanket of peace cloaked me in warmth. It’s OK now. You’re safe. Rest. My soul resonated with unspoken words. Opening my eyes, I found the room empty.

For some unknown reason, I started singing to myself. “Jesus loves me this I know…. Jesus loves me this I know….” I repeated the words to the well-known Christian song, humming the tune quietly to myself while tears slipped haphazardly from the corners of my eyes. “Jesus loves me….” I sang again. Nestling deeper under the covers, I rocked back and forth and started to cry. “He’s gone. He’s really gone. The devil’s not here any more.”

“Hope, are you all right?” Val’s voice startled me.

“Huh? What? Oh. It’s you.” I stumbled over my acknowledgement, not realizing I still had the phone next to my ear. “You’re still there?” I questioned, amazed. “How long have you been listening?”

“The whole time,” Val acknowledged, “I haven’t gone anywhere, but you’ve been quiet. What’s going on?”

I tried bringing myself into the present, blinking to clear the fog from my brain. “Um…well…I don’t know what just took place.” My mind reeled, unable to sort the details. “Did you hear anything–anything that made sense?” Embarrassment pooled in my stomach as I remembered the yelling and demanding and bargaining.

Val’s tone turned serious, and she answered slowly. “Hope, you weren’t talking. You were moaning, making these deep, guttural sounds that were kind of scary. It was eerie, almost demonic.”

My brow furrowed as I adjusted the phone against my ear. “You mean you didn’t hear anything, nothing at all?” I tried wrapping my mind around her words, but they didn’t make sense. I screamed. I demanded the devil flee from my room. I begged God to intervene. Was that all in my imagination? I shook my head. It couldn’t have been. God heard me. I saw the reaction in the devil’s eyes. I witnessed him leave the room. My mind swarmed with disbelief. What went on here?

“You didn’t say a word,” Val repeated.

I continued shaking my head. “That’s so strange. I just don’t understand.” I dabbed at the wetness under my eyes, using the sheets to absorb my tears. “If I haven’t been talking, then why are you still on the phone?” Glancing at the time, I realized forty-five minutes had passed since I had placed my call. “Why didn’t you just hang up?”

Val’s tone held reverence. “I’ve been praying.”

I didn’t even try hiding my awe. “All this time? Really? For me?” Her love and loyalty outweighed my earthly comprehension.

“Yes,” she answered. “I have never prayed for anyone like I did for you tonight. Something told me your life was at stake, so I asked God to send His Holy Spirit to surround you, to protect you. I also asked for a hedge of angels to stand guard over you—lots and lots of them, as many as it would take. I then petitioned God to intercede on your behalf, to give you the strength and courage you didn’t have on your own, and then I waited.”

Tears streamed down my face. “He came through,” I finally spoke, air stuttering from my lungs. “My whole life depended on a decision I had to make tonight, and God was bigger than the devil. Your prayers saved my life.”

“I know,” Val responded. I could almost hear tears forming in her eyes. “Tonight the whole universe was watching you, and, WOW! What a demonstration of faith!”

“But it wasn’t me. It wasn’t me at all,” I stressed.

“I know that, too.” Pride reflected in her voice. “You made the choice to surrender to God, and now your life is never going to be the same. That’s a good thing. That’s a really good thing!”

“Yeah,” I echoed. “Life is never going to be the same.”