Driving across that bridge, panicked about being suspended above a body of water that would certainly kill us all if the bridge collapsed, I glanced out over that menacing body of water. It was a beautiful day and the sun was high and bright in the sky. The surface of Lake Pontchartrain rippled with the breeze and the sun’s light reflected like diamonds. It was one of the most beautiful things that I have ever seen, and at that moment, I realized that my children and I were safe.
God was with us through it all: Battered women’s shelters, being tracked down like a fugitive, a bitter divorce, and court ordered visitation. How could I doubt God’s presence in something as insignificant as unemployment after everything else? Whenever I would get scared, I would just close my eyes and remember how the water of Lake Pontchartrain sparkled with diamonds and gold. I continue to pray, and often for a job. Sometimes, all I can do is say, “God, I’m scared.”
One morning after waking early, I took my coffee out onto the deck in my backyard. I stood in the cold morning air in my bathrobe, sipping my coffee and looking up at the stars. I had a nine o’clock appointment with my financial advisor. “God,” I whispered, “I’m really scared.” The stars sparkled in the still dark sky and I remembered crossing that bridge. We’ve come a long way in the past years, the children and I. My husband did find us, but the time we spend in southwest Louisiana gave us time to become a family and to learn to trust one another. After our return to Virginia, we settled into life and finally bought a house. “Never will I leave you or forsake you,” I recited to myself. I took a shower and prepared for my meeting. I walked into bank, prepared for the news. A familiar teller looked up and smiled, “Did you lose a bracelet?”
“Ah, yes …” I answered, mentally preparing to describe the missing piece.
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