It was 5:30 when we received a frantic knock on the door. Jenna dismissed herself thinking it was the next door neighbor who had already dismissed himself three times when he did not get his way. I had thought the same thing – but at the same time it was a more aggressive knock – one of panic not childish play.
Jorge’s mother had a worried look in her eyes, “Is Jorge here?” she asked hopefully.
“No, I’m sorry. I haven’t seen him. Did he come home from school?”
Jorge and Jenna don’t even go to the same school. I had no clue how to help her. Her cell phone drowned out my question, “How can I help?”
I worried along with Jorge’s mom. And Jenna worried with me.
“What can we do?” she asked.
“We can pray.”
I said the prayer and pondered what to do – I didn’t even know their last name. Before involving anyone else, I thought it would be better if I had more information to share.
I do know where they live. So Jenna and I walked over to their house. Jorge’s mother opened the door – Relieved and Happy. She’d found Jorge! I don’t know where he’d been. The cell phone went off again and she jabbered into it in her native tongue. Jenna and I excused ourselves.
As Jorge’s mother closed the door, Jenna said, “Well, I guess our prayer worked.”