Two weeks before my tenth birthday, my parents had finally decided they were divorcing. I say “finally” because it had been in the works for months, separated since March, and it was almost September.
I was frustrated at my Dad’s apathetic responses to our (my sister’s and mine) desire to work things out. I was emotionally exhausted from my stepmom’s inability to navigate through this storm without pulling us kids into every discussion/argument that went on.
One evening, my stepmom decided “enough was enough” and we were going to stay with friends in town until he packed and moved out for good.
I’ll never forget saying goodbye to him that night. Slouched in his favorite chair, he looked so tired and defeated, much older than his thirty-four years.
“Good night, Dad. I love you,” I said. Then I followed my sister, little brother, and stepmom out the door.
The following afternoon, we were headed to my grandparents’ house to stay while my stepmom did some errands. On our way, we decided to stop at home to get my little brother’s tricycle from the garage.
After we pulled into our driveway, my stepmom, sister, and brother got out of the car to get the bike. I stayed in the car, but really wanted to go in the house and say hi to my Dad. I just kept thinking about how sad he looked the night before.
At that moment, the strangest sense came over me… like a heavy fog. I couldn’t lift my hand to open the car door. I just sat there staring at the door-handle, willing myself to open it, but I couldn’t move a muscle.
The next thing I knew, I heard their voices coming back. They quickly loaded the bike in the back, piled into the car, and we were on our way again. The fog lifted, but I realized I had waited too long and missed my opportunity. Not a big deal, I’ll see him soon, I told myself.
At my grandparents house a few hours later, our pastor came over and said he had something important to share with us. We, kids, were asked to sit down next to him. It felt big.
Finally, in his gentle manor, Pastor Howard told us that our Dad had taken his own life that morning. That same, foggy morning…
It wasn’t until years later I fully recognized what had happened to me in the car that day. God held me back from entering the house. If not for the Divine Interference I received, I would have been the one to find my Dad.
I don’t believe in coincidence, I believe in God incidences …
Still finding Grace in the fog,
Lisa Dobrich is a mom to three wonderful teenage/young-adult daughters and a retired homeschool veteran of fifteen years. After her divorce, Lisa started her own business, has gone back to school for her degree in teaching, and recently relocated to Washington state.
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