Today at work a kid (okay, he was about my age, a bit younger perhaps, maybe 17?) asked to use the phone. I forget his name, but he said, “My phone just died, and I need to call my friend to pick me up.” So then I went about my business, helping other customers and pretending not to listen.
“Hey Emily? It’s [Kid’s Name Here]. Yeah, my phone died, and I need to call Lance. He was supposed to pick me up, like, an hour ago. … I’m at a Christian bookstore. …. He’s getting math tutoring right now. … Yeah, that’s what I was wondering. … Don’t worry, I’m gonna be at youth tonight. Yeah. … Could you give me his number? … Mmk… Thanks.”
[Call to Lance] “Hey Lance, man, I’m still at … … Dude, are you serious? … Where are you? … I mean, what happened? … Is everyone okay? … Alright then, I guess I’ll see you. … Bye.”
As I overheard this one-sided conversation (am I less suspicious if I say I’m an undercover reporter?) I immediately knew what was happened. Then this poor kid who was stranded at Mardel and whose name I have completely forgotten confirmed my suspicions – Lance had been in a wreck.
So Lance, if you ever by some odd chance read this, know that on the afternoon of July 9, 2008, I was praying for you. I was in a crash last December. It was my fault, and it was horrifying. I honestly thought I was going to die (then I started thinking about how this would screw up my parents’ auto insurance). God’s good, though, Lance, and my accident showed me very specific intricacies of his goodness. I’m praying you see them too.