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I was raised in a fairly religious family. I loved singing the hymns and playing with the kids when the sermon would begin. However, I always wondered what other people felt when they were praying. I would dutifully say the memorized prayers every Sunday, before bedtime and before meals. Still, I could not understand why I didn't feel filled with the Holy Spirit.

Years would pass, I would attend church less and less frequently, always questioning if Jesus was really the son of God or if he was just an all around great guy. Did he have a girlfriend? These questions were not looked upon kindly by my Sunday school teachers.

December of 1989, everything in my life would change. My best friend had gone away to college. I was still a junior in high school but we kept in touch all the time. He was my best friend but there was never anything romantic between us. He had called me to let me know he would be coming to see his family for the Christmas break. His plan was to drive from college, three states away and break up the trip by staying in a hotel along the way. He said he should arrive on Thursday night if he made good time and perhaps Friday we could get together.

Wednesday afternoon I caught a glimpse of my friend walking down the corridor at school. He was a whole day early. When my class ended I bounded out the door and greeted him with a huge hug. "I thought you were arriving tomorrow?" I asked. "You know, I drove sixteen hours straight. I completely skipped my reservation at the hotel. Something in the back of my mind told me I had to come to you." Initially I wondered why I would be so important. I knew he had a girlfriend whom he adored so it was by no means a romantic impulse.

After an hour of catching up he asked if I wanted to get a coffee or something. I explained I just wanted to run by home and change, drop off my school bag and we could go. He walked me into my parents house and I called out to my mom. Every day she would sit on the back porch, smoking and drinking iced tea. I looked to the back of the house but she wasn't there. And just like a movie where the scene goes to slow motion, my friend was on the floor next to my mother, trying desperately to perform C.P.R. I picked up the phone which had been off the hook by her side, got a dial tone and called 911. Within fifteen minutes, the ambulance had arrived. My sister had come home from work accompanied by my Grandparents.

My Grandmother tuned to my friend and said thank you. He took my hand and said to me, "Whether you believe or not, something or someone made me be here with you today." And he was right. If he hadn't been there, I would have come home from school like I did every day and faced that situation alone. It's been seventeen years since my mothers death and I can only assume that divine intervention made sure I would have my friend by my side that December afternoon.

Learn more about this author, Julie Hartnett.
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