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“Yes… but be careful, sweetie. Go ahead. I'm watching," I replied, trying to sound as calm as possible.
As Amanda made her way toward the slide, I sat down on a nearby concrete bench and watched her with a mixture of pride and anxiety. So many times, I had doubted myself as a parent, thinking I couldn't raise a child on my own. But seeing Amanda play and explore, I knew I must be doing something right.
However, as I watched her climb higher and higher, a sense of fear and protection began to creep in. What if she fell? What if she got hurt? I tried to push these thoughts away, reminding myself that Amanda was a strong and resilient little girl.
But then other worries began to surface. What kind of future was in store for her? Would she grow up to be a responsible and kind person, or would she turn into a lowlife like her father?
I shook my head, trying to dispel these negative thoughts. Where was this sense of doom even coming from? I had gotten a good night’s sleep the night before, after all.
I looked around, wishing there was something more for adults to do at the playground. Maybe a book or a board game? I sighed and pulled out my phone, which I had turned off earlier to disconnect from work.
I turned it on, hoping that nothing important would pop up. I really didn't want to deal with anything work-related until Monday. Just then, Amanda's voice interrupted my thoughts.
"Come drink some water, Daddy!" she called out, waving from afar.
"No, darling! Don’t drink that water," I shouted as I got up to bring her a bottle.
As I walked through the playground, my eyes scanned the area, taking in the sight of kids running around carefree. It is a beautiful day, with the sun shining brightly and the breeze blowing softly. I couldn't help but feel a sense of envy toward these children. They had no worries, no responsibilities, and no baggage to carry.
I smiled at the thought. Just then, my phone beeped, jolting me out of my reverie. My heart skipped a beat when I saw the message.
Laura: Hi. Laura here.
My hands trembled as I read the words on the screen. I stared at the message, my heart racing with anxiety. I wanted to respond but didn't want to at the same time. I thought I would know what to do when it came to this, but I needed more time to give it some serious thought. I was worried about what James had said, and I really couldn't afford any more drama in my life. I was scared.
I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself down.
How did she get my number?I wondered.
Did she ask James for it?The thought sent shivers down my spine. I knew I had to be very careful with him and tread lightly.
Part of me wanted to text her back, to hear what she had to say, maybe to pursue a relationship with her, and, most certainly, to finish what we had started in the garage the previous day. But the other part of me, the more reasonable part, wanted to just steer clear of her.
As I sat there, lost in thought, I weighed my options. I knew that if I gave in to temptation, I could end up ruining my career and perhaps even endangering my and my daughter’s lives. But at the same time, I couldn't bring myself to just delete the message and forget about it. I knew I had to be strong and disciplined, to resist the urge to text her back until I had more time to think.
I rubbed my forehead, feeling the weight of the situation bearing down on me.
My daughter ran towards me. "Daddy, Jordan's mommy," she said, pointing towards a group of young women gathered together. "She said we should come to their church tomorrow, and I want to go, Daddy."
"Daddy,” she continued to chatter, “I’ve wanted to go to church for a long time. One time, Mrs. Tom invited me to her church, but I like Jordan's church now."
At first, I was hesitant. I hadn't been to church in years, and I wasn't sure if it was something I wanted to do. But then I thought about how much it seemed to mean to my daughter, and I knew I couldn't say no.
Maybe I should take my daughter's suggestion formysake? I certainly could use some divine assistance right now. We should go; I really needed Jesus.
"Yes! We will go to church tomorrow," I replied, trying to sound as enthusiastic as possible. It was almost too much, and it scared me a little. "Hurry, baby, go say goodbye to your friends and get your water bottle. Let's head home."
I watched as my daughter ran off toward her friends, her little legs carrying her as fast as possible. I could hear her shouting something about going to church tomorrow, which made me smile.
As I waited for her to return, I couldn't help but think about which church we would go to. I wasn't specifically planning on attending Jordan's mom's church, but I figured that was probably where we would end up. I didn't know much about it, but I hoped it would be a welcoming place.
When my daughter returned, she was practically bouncing with excitement. She waved goodbye to her friends, and as we walked back to the car, she chattered about everything she wanted to do at church.
It was a done deal then. I mentally made a note of what I needed to prepare for church the next day since it was such a big deal for my baby.
***
The next morning as we walked into the church, I couldn't help but feel like a fish out of water. The pews were filled with families all dressed in their Sunday best, greeting each other with hugs and handshakes in hushed voices. But my daughter Amanda was different. She was practically bouncing with excitement as we made our way to our seats, pointing out the stained-glass windows and the intricate carvings on the wooden pews.
