The elevator
stopped at
Betsy’s
floor. As
the doors
opened, she
made her way
to her
cubicle
inside the
law firm.
She paused
to look
outside to
take in
another
breathtaking
view of the
city. This
was just
another
typical
weekday,
just like
any other
EXCEPT Betsy
couldn’t
shake
something
from her
mind.
“Dad…
Dad…Dad…boy,
I sure hope
he’s all
right,” she
kept
thinking.
She couldn’t
help but
wonder why
he was so
heavy on her
heart.
Snapping
back to
reality,
Betsy turned
on her
computer.
She logged
in and did
her normal
routine of
opening up
to a
Christian
website to
fill her
area with
music. Next,
she opened
her email
and
proceeded to
pull up all
necessary
desktop
programs she
would need
for the day.
Then she
opened her
Bible
programs and
read the
verse for
the day from
2
Corinthians
6.1:
“We then as
workers
together
with Him
also plead
with you not
to receive
the grace of
God in vain.
For He says:
In an
acceptable
time I have
heard you,
and in the
day of
salvation I
have helped
you. Behold,
now is the
accepted
time;
behold, now
is the day
of
salvation.”
Being
burdened
more than
ever, Betsy
felt a tear
trickle down
her cheek as
she lifted
up a quick
prayer,
“Heavenly
Father,
please save
my dad.”
Betsy opened
her email
and hit the
compose
button:
“Dear Dad.”
Typing a
letter that
had been
years in the
making, she
poured out
her heart
and pleaded
with
everything
within her,
for her dad
to hear her
heart and
ask Jesus to
come into
his life.
Finishing
her closing
plea, Betsy
resolutely
hit send.
Then pausing
for a
minute,
Betsy bowed
her head
again to
pray.
Suddenly a
light
flashed into
her office
area.
“BETSY LOOK,
that plane,
it’s headed
right for
us!” she
heard her
co-worker
say.
Across town,
Harold had
just
finished his
morning
coffee. He
sat down at
the computer
and pulled
up his
homepage. He
noticed an
email from
his
daughter,
Betsy.
Looking for
his glasses
to help him
read, a
jarring
interruption
came from
the TV…
“This is CNN
breaking
news, an
airliner has
just crashed
into one of
the World
Trade Center
Towers.”
Harold froze
as he
watched the
horrifying
scene
unfold.
Glued to
every word
and every
camera
angle, he
felt his
heart beat
faster. He
began to
breathe
anxiously,
“Oh Betsy!
Please God,
if you’re
out there,
please
protect my
daughter!”
Racing to
the wall and
picking up
the phone,
he looked at
his old
scrabble
scratch
writing and
began to
dial her
work number.
There was no
answer, only
voice mail.
Over and
over Harold
repeated the
process. As
he listened
to the news,
a deeper
panic sat
in. He again
frantically
dialed
Betsy’s
number and
listened.
All he could
do was to
listen.
Helplessness
and despair
were
becoming
more and
more his
companions.
Over the
next few
hours and
into the
early
morning as
emergency
calls
overwhelmed
the phone
lines,
Harold got
the news
that he
hoped he
would never
have to
hear. Betsy
didn’t make
it.
Dropping the
phone onto
the counter,
he fell to
his knees in
deepest
anguish and
cried out
with all
that was in
him. Harold,
in his late
fifties, lay
prostrate as
a little
kid. Not
moving an
inch for
what must
have been
hours,
Betsy’s
entire life
flashed
across
Harold’s
thoughts.
Her first
birthday…her
first day of
kindergarten…seeing
her off to
prom and
college.
The images
kept coming
and then
there was
the time
when she
begged him
to come
watch her be
baptized.
Harold
remembered
the day
well. He
recalled
telling her
he’d never
step foot
into a
church.
Hundreds and
thousands of
thoughts
raced
through his
mind as he
just lay
there. Then
one thought
screamed at
him…MY
EMAIL!
Racing to
his feet, he
headed over
to where
this
horrific
reality had
begun. He
slowly sat
back down
into his
chair and
clicked his
computer
back on.
There it
was: “Dear
Dad,” Harold
sat shaking
in his
chair. He
continued
reading…
Dear Dad,
I’ll bet
you’re
surprised to
hear from
me, huh?
Sorry things
have been so
busy and we
have been so
distant.
I’ve been
meaning to
drop by, but
after our
last visit I
have to
confess I
have been
afraid to.
Dad, to get
to the
point, I was
walking to
work today
and all I
could think
about was
you! I know
you asked me
to not
preach to
you anymore
BUT DAD,
PLEASE…I
LOVE YOU and
I love JESUS
and I
know you’d
love Him too
if YOU would
just lay
down your
pride and
listen to
what He’s
done for
you.
Not only did
God create
you, Dad, He
created me
through you.
He gave us
both life
and gave us
each other.
I know you
said you’d
never step
foot in a
church and
that’s NOT
what I’m
asking. All
I’m asking
is for you
to give me a
chance to
share with
you what
Jesus is all
about and
how He has
changed my
life.
Please Dad,
I beg you to
“stop and
think” and
to give your
life to
Jesus.
Please Dad,
let’s get
together
real soon
and
talk…Please
Dad.”
Love you,
Betsy
Harold sat
staring at
the monitor.
His initial
reaction was
that of a
familiar
reflex to
“shut it
out.” All
his life, he
could shut
out this or
that…this
message
would be no
different.
He always
had the
philosophy
that he
couldn’t be
persuaded.
He didn’t
believe that
“Jesus
stuff” and
for the most
part he
avoided ever
discussing
it.
But now,
today, he
sat reading
the very
last will
and
testament of
his very own
flesh and
blood. His
daughter’s
final words
come
SCREAMING at
him at a
moment in
time when
every part
of him
wanted to
pounce on
the very ONE
whom his
daughter was
proclaiming.
Harold took
the keypad
to his
computer and
violently
pulled it
from its
place. He
threw it as
hard as he
could
against the
nearest
wall.
“No God… NO!
Why? How
could you?”
Harold began
to pace back
and forth,
his mind
racing
faster than
his steps.
The noise of
the world
raced louder
and louder
in his mind.
Falling to
his knees,
clutching
his chest,
his heart
racing,
Harold
screamed
out, “NO
Lord, I
can’t take
this!”
Harold spent
the next
night lost
in deepest
anguish. His
eyes swollen
from tears,
his voice
raw from the
deeps wails.
Outside
distant
sirens rang
constantly
reminding
him this was
not a
nightmare.
This was his
reality. New
York City
was in
mourning.
The nation
was in
mourning,
along with
others
throughout
the world,
too. Inside
his small
apartment,
seemingly
left all
alone,
Harold felt
overwhelmed
by his
daughter’s
haunting
letter. A
cry from the
grave
spelled out
in no
uncertain
terms, a
harsh and
crushing
blow of
ideology,
begging
Harold to
ask this
question:
“Where is my
daughter
now?”
Just two
days ago he
would have
been
confident if
asked where
his daughter
was. “My
daughter
lives by the
park,” he
would have
told anyone,
“The one
down by the
station.”
Or…“She’s at
the gym in
her exercise
class.” Or,
“She’s at
work at such
and such law
firm.”
But where is
she now?
Harold
searched his
mind for
answers as
he tried to
cope.
Reading her
letter over
and over, he
couldn’t
help but cry
as he read,
“Dad, I know
I’m saved…I
know that
Jesus died
for me. I
know that
someday I’ll
spend
eternity
with Him…but
it will
crush me if
you’re not
there.
Please, Dad,
please give
your life to
Jesus.”
Harold
opened and
closed the
letter
nervously,
over and
over, as if
trying to
silence
those words.
Could she
really be,
with JESUS?
It had been
a long time
since Harold
prayed, but
responding
to that
thought, he
got down on
his knees.
Every part
of his being
shook as he
knelt and
prayed,
“Dear God, I
haven’t
talked to
you in years
and there’s
a big part
of me that
doesn’t want
to talk to
you right
now.”
Fighting
back tears
and raw
emotion,
Harold
continued,
“I want to
blame you
for all of
this! I
mean, I’m a
dad and I
would have
done
anything to
protect her.
God, why
couldn’t
you, huh?
Please tell
me that God”
Why couldn’t
you? Better
yet…WHY
DIDN’T YOU?”
Harold
quieted for
a second
soberly
being
reminded
that his
daughter
might just
be with whom
he was
talking.
Clutching
the letter,
he opened
his hand and
looked up as
if
acknowledging
how
profoundly
it was
resonating
with him.
He continued
in prayer,
“God is she
right? Is
she okay? Is
she with
you?
Please, I
have to
know. I just
have to
know.”
Harold sat
there
waiting for
a response,
but none was
given.
Numbness
swept over
him, as he
struggling
back up onto
his feet. He
crashed down
on to his
sofa and hit
the power
button on
his
television.
Flipping
through the
channels,
every stop
was a
constant
reminder
that he lost
his “little
girl.”
As Harold
clicked from
one channel
to the next,
one program
caused him
to pause.
“Pastor,
what would
you say to
those who
are trying
to cope?”
The pastor,
with great
compassion,
looked into
the camera
and spoke:
“To those
who lost
loved ones
who loved
Jesus, I
have good
news! Jesus
said, “Let
not your
heart be
troubled;
you believe
in God,
believe also
in me. In my
father’s
house are
many
mansions; if
it were not
so, I would
have told
you. I go to
prepare a
place for
you and if I
go and
prepare a
place for
you, I will
come again
and receive
you unto
Myself; that
where I am,
there you
may be
also.”
Instantly
upon hearing
those words,
Harold fell
flat on his
face down
and wept out
loud,
crying,
“JESUS,
please have
mercy upon
me! Please
save me.
Please come
into my life
and heal my
heart.”
Flooded with
emotion once
again,
Harold
poured out
his heart.
Only this
time he
wasn’t left
empty, as
Jesus heard
his cry. He
responded in
Spirit
embracing
this
desperate
man. Jesus
instantly
filled his
mind and
emotions
with
thoughts of
hope, joy
and healing.
Harold would
see his
daughter
again. His
life had new
meaning and
his heart,
though
broken from
loss, was
softened
with love.
If Jesus
were to
shout…“Come
up here,”
Harold too,
would be
ready.
Footnote:
This is the
fifth in my
series of
short
stories,
Preludes to
the Rapture
collection.
Please feel
free to
download the
stories as
formatted
and use them
as
witnessing
material.
Tim Cameron
timcameron@centurytel.net