Uh oh, this is not good. Something had to have happened. Something within my ten-year-old body screamed, and my gut instinct told me to prepare for what was to come.

I heard over the intercom at school that I was to report to the front office. As I strolled down the hallway, I spotted a glimpse of my mom waiting to check me out. This is weird. I never leave school early. Ever since I was young, my mom had always inspired me to develop a love for learning and to embrace the opportunity to learn whenever possible. I knew something was not right. Her once ebullient demeanor was now sullen, and I anxiously awaited the bad news.

“We need to get your sister from school, and then I need to tell both of you girls something,” my mom uttered calmly. I knew, however, she was not calm. I knew she was trying to hold herself together for the sake of my sister and me. I couldn’t help but sit in silence and allow negative thoughts to take over my mind. All of a sudden, the sky turned grey, and the streets filled with the sound of rain. Great. Even Mother Nature knows the bad news.

A couple turns and moments of silence later, we pulled up to the middle school.  My sister Caroline hopped in the black Ford Explorer and cheerfully asked, “So, mom, where are we going? Today was a great day, and leaving early made it even better!”

My mom’s facial expression seemed to speak for itself. Caroline suddenly became aware that something had happened, and she grew quiet. “Girls, there really is no easy way to say this. Dad was in an accident because he was drinking while driving. He is in the hospital but refuses to eat, so the situation is not looking well. Doctors say he may even pass away.”

I felt my body go numb. How is a ten-year-old girl supposed to comprehend the fact that her dad, her first love, may not be there for her tomorrow? I had known my dad had an addiction, but I didn’t know the consequences of his addiction. Was I supposed to feel sorrow or anger? Was I supposed to forgive my dad or grow to resent him?

The news was too much to handle that a waterfall of tears began to stream down my face, and I wept. My mom tried her best to comfort me, but I knew she was the one who needed the most comforting. Reaching for a specific object in my bag, I moved my hand over various objects until I felt my rosary between my fingers. I took the rosary out and began to pray.

Even though I grew up Christian and my dad was a practicing Catholic, my family was never super religious. I did not attend a religious school, so prayer was not part of my daily routine. Yet, when I felt as if my entire world had fallen apart, I felt an urge to draw my hand into my bag and take out my rosary. I felt myself pray and turn to my beloved God.

“Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee,” I prayed quietly.

Fighting through their tears to help me finish the prayer, my mom and sister whispered, “Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.”

In what felt like a couple of hours later, I spotted the blue hospital sign followed by a visitors sign. As we were about to enter the hospital to visit my dad, I continued to pray that everything would work itself out as God planned. Praying was really the only thing I could do.

Before then, I had never been in a hospital before. As I roamed the halls, monitors beeped all around me, and doctors rushed from one room to the next. I inhaled a whiff of (what seemed like) a mixture of cleaning agents and people. I wonder if this is what all hospitals smell like. As the lady at the front desk directed us to my dad’s room, I started to get nervous.

Everything happens for a reason. Don’t be nervous. Dad is strong and will fight through this. In the end, he will be okay. Before I knew it, I was at his door. My heart thudded. I turned the knob and followed my family in. My dad laid on his bed blankly as if he did not notice.

The nurse pulled my mom, sister, and me aside: “We think Todd is getting better. He is now cooperating and seems to be healthier than before. Now, it’s just a matter of time.”

My mom, almost shocked at his sudden compliance, questioned, “How did y’all get him to cooperate? What made him start eating again?”

The nurse replied, “When we told him that he may not make it due to his terrible health, he agreed to do whatever he needed to do for the sake of his family. He expressed his need to survive for those he loves most. I assume he was talking about y’all.”

Woah, I was not expecting that. My dad, even when he hit his lowest point, was still thinking about me. He was still fighting for me. At this moment, the situation made perfect sense. God has a plan for everyone, and even though the plan may be hard to see sometimes, we need to realize that everything will work out as it should. From that day on, I began to give my total trust to God in all situations. Although I could have lost my dad forever, I never lost faith in God.

People say faith can move mountains, and, although I may not know this exactly, I do know that faith can heal my dad.