Steve

Steve was my difficult child while in his teens. He strove to be different. He was happiest when he could make people speechless. When in the 10th grade he even went so far as to wear a skirt and a wig to high school (I didn't find that out until I was at a church gathering.).
The summer that he was 18 he was going back and forth if he wanted to go on a mission for our church or not. His family was pulling him in one direction and his friends were pulling in the other. There was a week long youth camp held at a college campus in Indiana. There was also one close to home, but the kids in our church were going there and he did not to go with them. He said he would go if he could drive himself - in my new Cavalier.
I agreed because I so wanted him to be with kids who could influence him for good. He left on Monday morning.
I got a call around 1:00 in the afternoon from one of the councilors who was quite upset. He said that Steve had signed in but got upset and wanted to leave. If he were under 18, they had the right to keep him there, but he was 18 and could legally be on his own. I asked to talk to Steve. Steve was mad! He said he hated it there and that people were rude and he was coming home no matter what anyone says. I asked him to at least stay over night and that if he still felt the same, he could come home. He agreed. I asked him to call me the next day to let me know what was going on. Then I cried.
I was sitting on the couch by myself in the front room crying and praying. I had decided to fast and pray the rest of the day to see if Steve could get some guidance.
Someone knocked at my back door. I opened the door and our two missionaries stood there smiling. They can't come in if there is just a female in the house, so they stood in the doorway. It was pretty clear that I was crying, so they asked what was wrong. I told them and they both volunteered to fast and pray with me. What wonderful young men. I will never forget them for that.
After they left, I remembered that when you pray, you should be specific. So I asked God to send Steve an angel.
Steve didn't call the next day. Or the day after that or the day after that. I couldn't contact the camp, either. I was worried that my son and my new car was in Florida.
Saturday morning Steve finally called. He was in the best mood. He told me what a great week that he had had. I couldn't resist asking if he had met a 'special' person (the angel I had prayed for). He said no. He said he met a bunch of special people.
My heart soared! I knew that Father had answered my prayers. I knew that my son had gone to a great place and had a great time.