Standby For Hope

My daughter shared in a December 2022 blog what she recalls from a dreadful night in Key West several years ago. Andrea's torment that night became mine also when the phone rang and woke me from a deep sleep at 1:00 a.m. I remember answering, "Hello?" and her boyfriend saying, "Mrs. Traugh, I'm sorry, but Andrea is locked in the bathroom with the biggest knife in the house." My world seemed to begin spinning, but in a way, seemed to stop in place.

Often, we can say 'nothing prepared me for something like this', but one of the million thoughts that ran through my mind in the next few minutes was the opposite. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I had been prepared for this. Although my mind has never been one to memorize scripture well, I had been 'brainwashed' in a good way the past few weeks using several Bible verses, the last sentence being Habakkuk 3:19 - "The Sovereign Lord is my strength." In this moment when my body was overcome with weakness, when the shell of me had no choice but to function, that sentence was my lifeline... and I desperately prayed it would be Andrea's, too.

Let me take you back a few weeks to when I sat in church looking at a leaflet describing the Bible studies that would be offered next session. Not one of them seemed to be just what appealed to me. I've attended church since I was an infant. As an adult I had been involved in women's ministries that usually included more than one series a year studying a book of the Bible, or some specific theme. I had already completed two of the studies being offered, so the obvious remaining choice was on the topic 'Anxiety'. Not to seem irreverent, but I was dismissive of this option almost to the point of rolling my eyes. Maybe I just wouldn't sign up to join a group this session. Why should I? I felt calm enough. Though much of my life had been relatively pleasant since birth, though I had my own family now, though we had raised a son and daughter who made my heart burst with love and pride, though I had all I needed plus more, I had experienced the harder sides of life, too. It was because of those tough times that I learned to pray in earnest. It was during those tough times I tried hard to ride out the storm peacefully, confident that calm was on the other side. Those were the benefits, but the loss was that I hid so much from nearly everyone, all the time. I shared the victorious part of my life, but not the battle. I shared that God was the answer, but I usually didn't hint that I had a problem.

From an early age I learned to camouflage what upsets others. I did it when I was an innocent victim. I did it when I was the one who sinned, when I caused grief and sorrow. And I was doing it at that time, hiding the facts, when my marriage did not feel like marriage. I prayed a lot. Every worry I had I turned into a prayer. I had never experienced what I heard people refer to as 'panic attacks'. And so, I couldn't imagine that I had any use for a study on Anxiety.

Each week of that Anxiety study I was 'brain washed' in that good way I mentioned, cleansed mentally of my wrong thinking that anxiety is not a part of every human's life. Had I overlooked mentions of that word as I read my Bible?  Our table of women was led by Robyn, one of the sweetest ladies I have met in my life. She was such a compassionate and insightful leader, as deeply spiritual as anyone I've ever encountered. I did not know her prior to this class. We had no interaction before or after class, although I hoped to get to know her better personally, as she was a gem, and we all knew it. Each week we had homework to practice praying the last few verses of Habbakuk, plugging in or substituting our own concerns and worries.

Habbakkuk says, "Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vine... yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior. The Sovereign Lord is my strength."  Using this as a template, our homework was to go home and write our own deepest fears, our greatest needs, our personal desperate pleas, ending the prayer with "yet I will by joyful in God my Savior. The Sovereign Lord is my strength."  I did this 5-7 days a week for several weeks before that horrible phone call.

Andrea was not in a state of mind to talk to anyone when he called me. She refused to speak on the phone. I heard her chaotic words in the background, basically saying to leave her alone. The crisis died down somewhat while I was on the phone but her boyfriend knew that a 911 call may be in order soon. I prepared to leave on a flight that would leave soon and was on the phone with them many times throughout the next several hours. As I packed, drove, walked into and through the airport, my zombie-like self prayed the Habbakuk prayer over and over and over, plugging in horrible images and words that I certainly had not written when I completed my homework.

The first of many times I had to completely surrender my daughter, my circumstances and the outcome to God that night happened as I pulled into the airport parking lot and realized that in the fog of confusion, I was focused on the clock time 4:30 a.m. Sickeningly it dawned on me that 4:30 was the flight time, not the time I needed to arrive at the airport. It may have been one of the lowest points of my life. I felt so out of control knowing that it was due to my own fault, and that I may not be there for my child, in time. Literally running to the desk, I asked if possibly the plane was leaving late; no, it had just left. But I was briskly walked to another flight that was detained so that I may enter... and take the one remaining empty seat. 

Jesus will walk with you, and I felt Him that night. He used my foggy-brained mistake and led me to sit beside a woman who I would argue was an angel sent for us, except for the fact that she wrote her name and other information on a piece of paper for me before we parted. As soon as I sat down, she put her hand on my arm and asked me if I was OK. I told her I was not, and why. She told me she works on a suicide hotline and had me write down questions to ask Andrea's boyfriend as soon as we landed. Depending on the answers to each, she had ready advice for the next step. She offered insight on behavior and what to expect. She gave specific instructions, what to say, what not to say. Such precision assistance can only be Heaven-sent. Such comfort only comes through the Holy Spirit. Often, as I looked back on that night, I wonder what passengers in the seats surrounding us heard and thought.  Before I even mentioned to this woman that Andrea was preparing to apply for nursing school, she told me she was a director of a nursing school in Arizona. That fact didn't play a tangibly helpful part like her suicide prevention knowledge and experience did, but it was a connector. It helped form that bond that told me, "You are sitting by a woman hand-picked for her experience. Trust me. I am your amazing Heavenly Father who can do this and more."  We spoke during the entire flight. I mentioned a complex concern I had about medication; it came as no surprise by then when she said her former job was a pharmaceutical representative. Her caution and strong advice she offered proved to be true.

Sitting beside that first 'angel' throughout that flight lifted me up and strengthened me. I had no doubt God was with me through this. I was flying stand-by, and that assurance was needed to sustain me through more hours of frustrations and delays.

During a layover in Houston my cell phone rang. Back then we rarely received calls from people we didn't know, so although I didn't recognize the number, I answered it. I vaguely recognized a familiar voice but was shocked to hear my table leader, Robyn, ask if I was at church and if so, would I like to go out to lunch with her?  Remember, I only knew her as my table leader. These groups always lead with prayer and most of us asked for prayer for our kids, including me. My prayer requests were pretty generic for a college-aged girl. I had mentioned nothing in my group to raise any eyebrows; in fact, a couple women laughingly said, "She is how old? That's minor! That's to be expected!" 

I told Robyn that I wasn't in Columbus, that I was in a Houston airport on the way to see Andrea, and about the phone call. I heard a kind of whimper, and she said, "Oh, Angela... I wanted to have lunch with you to tell you that the Lord woke me up at midnight to pray for your daughter. I haven't quit praying since." 

Wow. We both knew. God saw Andrea. Robyn heard God's whisper. Robyn was available to her Lord. Robyn was obedient. Robyn was my second angel that night.

There were other miracles that night. God was with Andrea and she heard Amazing Grace, the song, when she felt so lost. I could write forever about those 24 hours, and about the years since, about all we continue to learn about what we hide and how it helps to bring it to light. We want to encourage you to prepare ahead, to listen to what He whispers to you.

When I finally reached Andrea that day, many long hours later, it was as if my daughter was not behind those eyes, as if she had 'checked out'. It's been a long and winding road, back and forth, up and down, smooth and rough, but every day worth living, and every day more beautiful as I see more and more of the woman God created behind those eyes. You would think that after experiencing so many miracles you would be somewhat of a miracle yourself, but we can both laugh and cry at the wrong turns we've made since then. And you know what? God still turns foggy-brained errors into being in the right place at the right time, especially when our intention is a prayerful one.