As you know my life already is filled with travel, for that is the journey when one has so many loved ones that are part of our life. This summer, however, has been extreme even for me, for on the heels of the UMJC conference in NC, I was blessed with a beloved nephew’s wedding in VT immediately followed by two weeks in PA with Camp Or L’Dor with just a day between its end and more travel to our daughter’s wedding in Wisconsin. On even that day Sid and I made a one day drive to and from ME for an emergency medical appointment!

When I was still at the Milwaukee airport waiting for Sid’s wheelchair (yes, more challenges), I received an extremely disturbing phone call.

Some of you may recall that my then 38 year old daughter went missing in June 2020. Given her age, that would not normally cause concern were it not for the additional fact she had trouble living independently without her taking daily anxiety medication (which she didn’t regularly do) and my assistance. That year, while I was away, she bought a bus ticket to Los Angeles and has not been heard from since.

Feel free to read my Shabbat encouragements from those heart breaking days. Needless to say it was a devastating time for me. As the years have passed I have worked on processing my grief, clung to God, found so many reassurances my daughter is still alive and well living in LA, and yet have come to terms (I thought) that wherever she is, even with Him literally, I was fine.

That is, until I received that call.

The detective introduced himself as new on the case and asked me if I had her dental records or DNA samples. I told him I was at an airport and could we discuss this later to which he agreed. I do not need to describe my feelings. I think I went into shock.

Somehow I managed to get us home, well, to my sister’s home, and the next morning I quietly, gratefully listened to all her happy stories of what’s been new in her life for the last month since my travels began. Then she asked me how I was.

I guess I had no idea what that answer was, for as I started to describe to her the detective’s call, gut wrenching sobs escaped my body that wouldn’t stop. I now have replaced her title as the ugly crier of the family. Well, not to make light of it, she was there for me and knew just what to do and say.

As time passed and I was able to recover, I was questioning how I could have thought I was okay when clearly I wasn’t. Over the years I had told God so many times that if my daughter is with Him, that I am able to accept that fact. Had I deluded myself into thinking I was okay? Where was my faith? Did I never really grieve? What had been and is my interactive relationship with God? Were all of my thoughts about her disappearance just wishful thinking?

Yet there were so many reasons I believed she was still alive – sightings, signs, dreams that it was a shock to all of a sudden be presented with the thought that she was not alive, that perhaps something had been found that needed identification. I was completely down a dark hole, only one conclusion seeming logical. I was grieving all over again as if from the first day.

My sisters were so helpful to suggest possible other ways to look at the call, ones I never considered. Perhaps this was to get her information into the national data base for missing persons and is routine? I still couldn’t bring myself to call back the detective.

God even sent new signs – a seeming butt dial from our very own Ellen Gorsey whose relatable story of her grandson prompted her comment, “Never give up hope. God is always working in the background.” She shared this with us just in conversation and I never even had told her about what had happened to me to make her story so relevant!! Perfectly timed applicable songs of hope on the radio as Sid and I drove back to Maine to encourage my thoughts that my daughter is still alive. No matter what the resolution, after a few days of feeling God’s palpable presence, and my prayers of acceptance and strength, when I finally called the detective, he apologized profusely for scaring me. His questions were, in fact, to get information for the national database.

Grief was replaced with thankfulness that the bureau was taking an active interest in finding her. Hope is renewed. Random songs of hope are still playing on the radio. God seems so close.  As the days have passed and I await a meeting with the detective next week, I am renewed in prayer for I know challenges lie ahead once the new data is entered in the system. Yet once again, I am closely leaning into Yeshua’s Presence at my side.

The timing of the detective’s call and days of struggle were also a reminder of spiritual warfare, for the enemy definitely struck me when I was vulnerable – overly exhausted and dealing with some emotional and medical issues at the time for both Sid and me – a good reminder to stay vigilant with prayer for protection as well.

To this day, I am back in the unknown, the place of giving our burdens to our Creator knowing He has our backs, He is in control, He is in our suffering and in our joy, He has each of us, including my daughter in the palm of His Hand.

On my jog this morning, my playlist came to the “random” intro to Marty and Misha Goetz’s “The Plans I Have for You” (my anthem when she first went missing) which intro states, and once again gave me solace,

“I like to sing this song as a statement of faith of the prodigal son [daughter] coming home . . .”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EQx_FQS4A9w&list=RDEQx_FQS4A9w&start_radio=1

Shabbat shalom.

Diane