*Rylyn*
"So Matthew never showed up! Loner, are you?" May states behind me, smirking. I don't say anything. Matthew is coming home from visiting family. It's the first day back, a Monday in January. I shut my locker door and start walking to the bus, clutching my three ringed binder to my chest. It wouldn't fit in my backpack, due to all the books. I have some studying to do. I forgot everything on break... And we got tests next week.
"I was asking you something!" she says, catching up to me. "Are you gonna answer or are you-"
"Save it," I say under my breath. If I'm being real here, I actually am starting to get used to this. It's a regular thing, just part of the schedule. Why should I try to change it if it's not going to stop? It's been happening for about two months anyway. Nothing works really. The best I can do is ignore.
"Why so quiet? Miss your boyfriend, do you?"
"Why do you care anyways?" I nearly say. Almost. It's on the tip of my tongue. I keep my mouth shut and keep walking. Matthew and I are not "dating". What's the point? We're only in seventh grade. Plus it'd be too... I dunno, awkward?
"So you're dating someone poor, being quiet, and acting like a nerd. I guess you got a personality, did you go and buy one?"
"Please leave me alone," I finally say.
"Why? Afraid?" she taunts.
"No, annoyed."
"Got an attitude, do you?"
"No, I got a brain," I reply, trying to be smooth.
I almost added something else. But it wouldn't have been smart to, so I didn't. Even with that small remark, she slapped the binder out of my hands and snatched it up. I lunged for it. Precious information lies in there. Like notes from some people wanting to be friends and my grades... My science ones. I panic. If she finds my science work and finds out I'm getting D's....
"Want this?" she holds it above her head. Fury rises inside me. I have to get that back. Now.
"Give it" -I jump for it- "back to me!" She laughs and tilts her head up to look at the contents above. "No!! That's not your's! I need it!"
"I'm not dumb! I know it isn't mine..." She scans the paper even more before flipping the page. Her eyes go wide with delight, a sly smile dancing across her face. Then she murmurs, "But apparently you are."
I stop trying and let myself slouch with humiliation, trying to hold back tears. My secret's out.
"Crosses all over the place... Christian, Rylyn? You gonna run to your preacher and tell on me?" she states, mocking my embarrassment.
"Just stop," I mutter.
"God ain't gonna help you now, is He?"
I clench my fists, suddenly at the boiling point with my frustration. She didn't- She can't just do that! Did she feel any guilt at all? Maybe God hasn't seemed to be answering me lately, but He has eight billion people in the world to worry about.
"Just shut up!!" I yell at her. She raises her eyebrows in surprise. I surprised myself a little bit. I don't really say that... I don't know what came over me to give me that sort of courage. But she was mocking my Father!
"Why? So you can meditate?" she says, coming back to her senses.
I open my mouth to say something but then clamp it shut. I snatch my binder from her. "She isn't worthy of your time," a voice inside whispers. Then I turn around and walk away. I almost run all the way to the bus, praying she isn't following me. I don't take the chance to look back as I climb on. I sit in a seat by myself.
"I'm okay, she can't hurt me, I'm okay," I repeat in my head.
But deep down it does hurt, because the biggest bully in school knows one of my major flaws. My lips tremble and I start to cry, silently. No one needs to know I'm upset. I'm invisible to most anyways. I bury my head in my hands. If only Matthew were here. If only Dad were here. "Nope, he isn't, I've moved on from that," I force myself to say quietly. It's true for the most part. I look up as the bus comes to a stop in front of our driveway and break into a smile. An eager hand waves at me.
I get off the bus quickly, not caring if I'm still crying.
"Hi," I say to Matthew. He's bundled up in a new coat and hat, looking as proud as can be.
"Hey," he says as the bus pulls away. "So? Why were you crying? You aren't that happy to see me are you?" he asks, crinkling his nose.
"Why were you standing in my driveway?" I say as a playful comeback.
"Cause you're my friend," he say, cheeks red. From the cold or embarrassment, we will never know.
"Thanks, you're my friend too," I say. Please don't blush cheeks, please don't. "May's just giving me a hard time..."
"Don't let her get to you. She doesn't know what she's talking about anyways."
"You sound like Landon," I reply, heading up the driveway. A cold wind blows, nearly taking my hat with it.
Speaking of Landon, most of the tension between us has dissolved. We're just friends now but he's still overprotective sometimes and always is rambling about how May doesn't really know when to stop and to ignore her. Honestly, Matthew and I tend to tune him out. But the words are helpful sometimes.
"Ha, I guess so," he replies, grinning and following me up. "Mind if I come with you and retrieve some homework?"
"Um... Sure you can come. I gotta check with David first," I answer, pulling out my phone. I'm sure he won't stay long enough that he would come home. We trudge up the driveway, the cold air stinging our faces. David said it was okay "as long as there was no kissing involved ;)". I smile and show Matthew the text.
"Parents these days...," he says, jokingly rolling his eyes. I laugh, not wanting to correct him. "So over protective."
"But that's a good thing sometimes," I say, thinking back to when Dad kept me under his wing for my whole life.
"You don't get to do what you want though! It gets kinda annoying..."
"I guess so." The trait kept me alive, I can't forget that. I pull out my key and unlock the door. I gasp when I see David sitting on the couch, watching TV. Wait a second, it's Monday. Aw man, how could I forget that he doesn't go in on Mondays? Oh my goodness, this can get bad fast.
"Hey guys! What's up?" he asks, getting up to come and meet us. My heart rate goes hurdling upwards as I try to think of what to do.
"Hi Mr..." Matthew steps inside after me, being unusually open.
"Just call me David," he says, shaking his hand. "You must be Matthew."
I watch in shock as the two meet. I gotta think fast.
"I hear your Rylyn's-"
"Do you want some hot chocolate, Matthew?" I interrupt quickly, pressing my glove covered hands together in anxiousness.
"Sure!" he says. I lead him into the kitchen, putting my backpack in a chair and peeling off my winter gear.
"Do you want any, David?"
"No, thanks," he says from the couch. "I just gotta finish up a few things."
After we drink our hot chocolate, I grab my books and show him around the house, ending with my room.
"Cool easel," he remarks, staring at my unfinished artwork propped up in the middle of the room. The picture will soon be finished as someone getting ready to snowboard. I think it's turning out all right. But let me share a personal struggle with you: people always ask me who I'm drawing and usually it's someone made up. Honestly, it gets on my nerves but I try not to show it cause we're all different and know different people.
"My mom's working late tonight, and Carson's cooking," he says after a while of him staring at it and me not responding.
"Is he a good cook?"
"Are you kidding? He burns no bake cookies!"
"We can work on homework here, if you want. I still don't understand science," I offer.
"Sure, I just need to go and get my notebooks. I'll be right back."
"Okay," I say, watching him leave. When I see him walking down the driveway, I fall flat on my back on my bed and groan. Why is he so friendly to adults? When was that established in his Matthew mind? My phone rings and I grab it from my nightstand.
"So how was school?" Kayla asks immediately. Caller ID just explains it all. It takes all the fun out of prank calls.
"Same," I say. "But now Matthew's over here helping me with homework and David's home. What do I do?"
"Look, I love helping you out and everything, but I can't keep this up. I've given you all the advice I've got."
"Kayla?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks for being here for me," I say, being genuine. That girl has probably spent more time on the phone with me than writing her stories about love. And that's a lot of time. "I know you've got your own life outside of me. So what's going with you?"
"Well, there's a dance next week and I was asked to go," she says.
"Oh really? Are you going?" I ask, standing up and watching Matthew disappear up his driveway.
"No, the guy's a snob," she says, laughing. "He was only asking me because his so called girlfriend dumped him and she hates me. It's revenge, you see?"
"That's dumb," I agree. "A guy should like you for who you are."
"Exactly! You should help me write the advice column for the school paper."
We talk for a few more minutes before hanging up. I sit down in the window seat surrounded by pillows. My heart threatens to pound my chest 'til it gets it's share of attention. I glance around and my prayer journal catches my eye. The bright blue cover has only been opened once, and that was Christmas Day. What are do you say to God anyway? Does He listen? And does He answer? I guess I've never thought about prayer too much, it's just something we do in church and before we eat. Maybe I'll write in it tonight, I've heard He answers.
* * * * *
I hold a pen in my trembling hand, right over the perfectly plain white paper with black, college ruled lines. What do you even say to God anyway? What's the stuff He cares about? "Well, He cares about you," says the voice again. "He died for you, didn't He?" So I just write about... Me?
Dear God,
Who are you anyway? Why am I here? Why do you love me? I've lied about myself and everything and you still want me? How is that? Why? I've made a total fool of myself. My dad is dead, and I'm unprotected from May, who by the way is getting on my nerves, though I don't acknowledge it. Is that wise? I know this wasn't a very "good" prayer... But I hope you hear it anyway.
Through Jesus' name,
Amen.
I carefully close the book and lay it beside my bed. I should've written more. "You know what you should also do? Get a life and stop bring the failure you are," a voice opposite the one that was in me earlier jeers. Then the tears start to come. I crawl under the covers and turn off the light, leaving the door open. I roll over on my side and cry for a good while.
"Rylyn?" David stands in the doorway. "Are you okay?" He comes over and sits on my bed and I pull myself up to face him. His face in the dim light looks exhausted.
"I-I keep getting D's on my science," I stutter. "And I know you expect me to do better, but I can't because I'm not better than that."
"Oh," is all he says. He leans back against the wall and I crawl over to sit with him. Putting an arm around my shoulders, he grins at me. He adds a moment later, "I think you're better than a D. And I can help you with it. Or someone else. You aren't alone."
"Are you sure?" Cause I sure do feel alone.
"Yes," he says. "I've been feeling the same way. I'm no better than a D."
"That isn't true," I protest.
"Thanks," he says, smiling wearily down at me. "But now we aren't parents of twins anymore."
"What do you mean?" I ask fearfully out of shock.
"You know the disappearing twin thing? Well that happened. There's only one in there," he sighs. "But we're blessed to only loose one."
"Could you've lost both?"
"I don't know. That would've been scary, though. It's a boy. I'm gonna raise a son," he replies, gratefully.
"Aw," I say, in conflict with grief and joy. "You should name him Noah. So his name'll be Noah Ark."
"Now there's an idea," he laughs. "Thanks for letting me get that off my chest. Anything else you got?"
"No, I'm good," I say. As usual.
"You sure?"
He looks right into my eyes and searches me. I know I look like guilty, that's why he's asking. He asks me this a lot. I nod. Of course, I'm okay, why wouldn't I be? I'm just driving along in life, getting pounding by insults. I bet everyone experiences that at some point.
"Well, goodnight," he says, getting up.
"Goodnight," I say. He looks at me again for another moment before officially going downstairs. I sigh. I miss Dad's protective hugs and kisses on the forehead. Honestly, I've been feeling sadder and lonelier without them. "God, please hold me," I pray, curling up against my pillows.
"I'm here, My Daughter."
I sit up suddenly, because I've heard that voice. I know that voice. That belongs to the person who loves me and won't hesitate to protect me. That's the one that pulled me out. That's Him. I glance around the room, hoping to see Him again. My heart is filled in this moment and in this very second I figure out that that's who God is to me: my Shield.
* * * * *
"Matthew, where you been?! I've heard Rylyn's missed you. She didn't have anyone to cheat off of for tests, seeing that she's nearly failing," May says, as we are, once again, start heading out into the early January air. Whoa, things got harsh fast.
Matthew stares straight ahead, trying not to listen, but he glances at me pleadingly. I shoot a look at the girl to try and get her to leave.
"What? Gonna try to get me in trouble with your preacher again?"
"No," I answer, being definite.
"Oh, so you and your boyfriend want to be alone?" she taunts.
"No," Matthew breathes, tensing up. "We aren't dating."
"Oh really? Then what's this about?" she asks, typing into her phone and bringing up a picture. She holds it out, stopping both of us in our tracks. I stare at the image of him waiting in my driveway for me to get off. What? How is this possible? She's not on my bus. Or at least, I hope not. Matthew looks at it wide eyed, shocked, and red in the cheeks. He glances down to the ground and holds his gaze there.
"Credit to my brother!" she says, bursting with this sickening happiness that makes me wanna slap her. "Gonna fess up? Or stand there like-"
"Give it up already, would you?" someone says.
All of us look up at the same time and I see Michael standing there like some kind of bodyguard. He takes the phone from her, taps on the screen with his fingers, then hands it back to her. Then, he steps forward and bends down until he's eye level with her.
"Don't you ever," he starts in a low, quiet voice, "ever treat my sister and her friends like that again. Don't take a single picture or receive one from someone else to get to them. You hear me? I will do something next time."
She studies him perplexed by his actions. With a huff, she turns away, knocking Matthew into me on purpose. Then she looks behind her shoulder, and calls, "Don't act so desperate, it's disgusting!" With that, she laughs and turns the corner into another part of the school.
"You okay?" he asks us.
"Thanks," I say.
"No problem."
"Wait, he's your brother?" Matthew asks, confused.
"Siblings through Christ, man. You in?"
"Oh yeah bro!" he says. Then they do this man hand shake/hug thing, that I honestly don't understand.
"See you around!" Michael says, walking away.
"Michael, wait!" I call to him, following behind. "Are you good with science?" I ask, thinking of all the times he's informed us proudly of getting all A's.
"I'm pretty good. I wanna try and make it as a science teacher," he replies. "Why?"
"Could you help me with my science grades?" I whisper. "I'm getting D's..."
"Of course! Text me and we'll figure out times. See you at church tomorrow?"
"I'll be there," I say, smiling with relief.
"Come on, let's go," Matthew mutters, sounding defeated, as Michael finally walks out the door to his bus. We start walking after him. "Can I sit with you today?" he asks, hesitantly.
"Sure," I say, smiling. Ever since last night, I've been wanting to know more about who God is. Why does He choose to protect me? He could easily take me out of this world at this very moment if He wanted to. Will He protect me if I ask? But that would be testing Him, right? The Bible says specifically not to do that. I guess I already did in my journal last night when I asked so many questions.
Matthew sits down with a heavy sigh on the gray bus seat, bringing me back to reality, and stares out the window. After the bus starts and five minutes of silence, he finally turned to me and says, "She practically called both of us failures. You know that right?"
Then I say something that surprises myself, "Does it matter? Why is her opinion so important anyway?" He squints at me before shaking his head in confusion. So I continue. "I mean, she's just someone who's obviously insecure about herself and wants attention, right?"
"Um... I guess so? But what are we suppose to do about it?" he asks, blinking a few times at me.
"Nothing," I reply, going with my gut. Maybe my gut's afraid.
"Nothing?! She calls us stupid and you expect me to do nothing?!!" he raises his voice. A few heads turn in our direction before he calms down and his ears go pink.
"What can we do?" I ask, quietly and set back by the volume of his voice. He looks at me apologetically, taking a deep breath.
"You're right. Sorry," he says. "I know we don't stand a chance against her." Whoa, he just admitted, out loud, that I was right. Is that an accomplishment?
The bus speeds to our stop, making everyone on board fly forward. We get off and, as the bus pulls away, he turns his back in silence and walks straight to his house. I watch him go, half of me in shock, and the other half confused. Because (1) what did I say that was any different from what we've been doing? And (2) is he mad at me? Did I just get rid of his hope for good? I stare after him as he grabs the mail.
"Are you okay?" I call to him, taking the slightest step forward kicking some frozen pebbles away.
"Yeah" -he turns around to face me- "I just hate letting her win."
"Then do something!"
"What's the point?! Rylyn, if I do something, I'll be a coward," he says.
"Maybe to her. If someone did something, I would call them a hero."
He cocks his head at me for a long time before finally responding with, "Then be your own hero." I open my mouth, then shut it immediately. Then I open it again, knowing what to say.
"I don't know how, because the thing is, I've dropped down so far into it that I don't know how to get out."
"So you want me to do it?"
"That's not what I'm saying. This isn't just about school," I say.
"What is it then?"
"Me," I reply. I hold his gaze for a few seconds before turning away and walking up my driveway.
I wrap my arms around myself, feeling burdened by all of the things I haven't figured out. I'm so used to just knowing. I don't know anymore! I don't know what to believe, my flesh or my God. May isn't helping at all. I'm lying to David and Mirissa AND Matthew. Someone seems to have control of me I just don't know who. The tears freeze on my face and about halfway up the driveway I hear,
"What do you mean?!"
"Figure it out!" I shout, not bothering to turn around.
Does he need to know my every thought? Perhaps I'm overreacting about all this and the answer is right in from of my face, written in the lightly snow covered ground. Or maybe I've already know it and I just don't realize. It's also very probable that my mind is a slave to myself. But that's ridiculous!
Isn't it?
*David*
You know what one of the worst feelings is? Having a freshly baked, half pepperoni, half sausage pizza riding in the passenger seat of your car without allowing yourself to take a slice. Not to mention not eating a thing for four-and-a-half whole hours. Anyone else feel my struggle? Boy, that sounded like a spoiled, all-American complaint. And it is. What's up with me getting everything I want? So maybe not everything... There aren't any tissues in my car for my worsening cold I'm catching.
I don't get to raise two kids. Only one son. But nations started with one son. Like all of those people in the Old Testament, like Abraham and Sarah, who were barren and weren't allowed to have children. But He gave them Isaac. Or like Hannah and Elkanah, who God gave them Samuel. But God allowed them one. So one isn't so bad, right? At least God is giving us this child. What am I doing? Am I regretting going with God's plan? Why? It's fit the right reasons, He loves us and wants to give us what's best.
So what am I doing?
"You're going home with this mouth watering pizza to feed your family."
Ugh, sometimes I can't stand my own mind.
I walk in through the front door, pulling it shut behind me. Snow shakes off my coat as I remove it. My head pounds hard and steadily. I press my bare hand to my forehead. At least it's nearly silent. Once again, and almost as always, a quiet house. I start to my room and nearly jump out of my own skin to find Rylyn sleeping on the couch, a text book laying across her rising and falling chest. That's what I'd like to do.
I get to my room and replace my jeans with sweatpants before exploring the internet. That thing where you never know when to stop. I watch some "recommended videos" on YouTube. What better way to spend an afternoon: listening to a high quality preacher online while it's snowing. Not to mention how fast the wireless internet is today and how I'm loving my fuzzy socks (Christmas present from Rylyn).
"David!!"
Startled, I straighten myself, not realizing that I had fallen asleep. Her voice rings out in my ears, it seems so loud. They begin to ache.
"Yeah?"
"Are we gonna eat the pizza?" Rylyn asks, standing in the doorway.
"Oh, yeah," I say, rubbing my eyes wearily. I cough a few times before finally being able to control it and get up.
"Are you okay?" she asks.
"I'm fine, I just have a cold," I tell her, thankful for her consideration. "Where's Mirissa?"
"She's coming home," she answers plainly. Then she pulls out a chair for me and has me sit down. "What do you want to drink?"
"It's fine, I can get it," I say, getting up.
"No, I got it," she responds with a smile.
"Okay," I sigh. I know I'm not gonna talk her out of it.
As it goes on, the night gets worse. For me anyway. I started to feel achy and I got a fever. I spent most of the evening on the couch, dozing off, answering a question or two, then going back to sleep. Mirissa got home soon enough and seemed to be having a difficult... Days.
"David," she says to me as Rylyn clears the table, after she got up to have a private conversation. "It's not going good."
"What isn't?" I ask drowsily.
"Work," she reminds me patiently. "Customer complaints, boss complaints, even wining from the other workers. I'm not doing anything to offend them, am I? I'm pretty sure I'm not. It's been the same way for the past couple months and now they turn on me."
She sets back on her heels in a frustrated sigh.
"That's how it's suppose to be, right? I mean, you are very strong in faith and maybe you can't help but show it. The world doesn't like that," I explain.
"What's it all about? Family? Church, work, friends, school, life?"
"How about Jesus?" I suggest. "And building a family on Christ, I think we're doing an okay job," I say. She puts a hand on the baby and I cover her's with mine. "We'll be okay."
"I needed that," she thanks me. "Do you need anything?"
"Mirissa?" Rylyn says worriedly from the dining room, "Do you think he has what Matthew did at the Youth Rally?"
Her face lights up with recognition and concern. "Maybe," she says, nearly completely preoccupied by her thoughts. A few moments later, Rylyn comes over and sits on the ground beside me. She studies me before talking.
"I uh... I got a tutor today," she says quietly.
"Who?" I ask, smiling weakly at her. I'm not exactly in a content mood at the moment. But it's good news. She'll start doing better academically. That could lift her shoulders up. Or she could just have bad posture. Just kidding she had very good posture
"Michael," she answers, glancing at the TV.
"Oh," I say.
"You're not happy, are you?" she asks, disappointed.
"No, no, I'm glad he can help you. Maybe he can help with some other things too," I respond, implying on the bullying subject.
"I'm fine, okay?" she says quietly.
"Are you sure?"
"I said I'm fine."
She raises her voice slightly and I see Mirissa look up at her from some of her papers, startled. She stands up, keeping her eyes to the ground.
"Sorry," she whispers. Then she turns away, hiding her face and runs up the stairs. Me and Mirissa make eye contact across the room.
"I just wanted-" I start to explain.
"She'll be fine," she says, trying to calm me down. "She is still figuring it all out. It's confusing."
Why do I keep messing up with her? Am I being a bad parent? Why isn't she happy, we try to give her a good life with a recovery of her dad. Is she'd mad at me or stressed out about something else? I need to know, but I'll leave her alone. If something's really bothering her, she will tell me, right? I want to care for her and be someone she trusts, but what if she never tells me? What do I do? I say a quick prayer for her.
But the thoughts swim around and collide in my mind. I take a deep breath and lean my head back. Rest will help.
* * * * *
"Hey, look at that," I mutter to myself a few days later. The people at a retreat house I was looking at emailed me back and said they had an opening two weeks from now. I feel much better after staying at home and working. The phone rings and I get up to get it. "Hello?"
"Hi, I'm Bethany. Is Rylyn there?" an unfamiliar female's voice says. I pause for a second to think. Has she mentioned a Bethany?
"I don't think so, sorry," I answer. Mirissa and Rylyn went to the store to get a few things after the snowplow went through.
"Oh, okay. Well, have a nice day," she sighs, disappointed. Then she hangs up.
Well, that was weird.
Bethany? I don't think any if us know a Bethany. What could she have possibly wanted Rylyn for? I ponder this for the rest of the time before Bible Bowl practice. It keeps distracting me, and eventually I have to ask her about it.
"Do you know anyone named Bethany?" I ask both girls at dinner.
"No," Mirissa says, swallowing a bite of green beans. "Why?"
"Someone named Bethany called and wanted to speak to you," I say, directing the answer to Rylyn. We both turn to look at her. She raises her eyebrows in surprise.
"I don't know anyone," she says, bothered by this. "Maybe they had the wrong number."
"They specifically requested for you."
"Huh," she says. "That's strange."
"Hey hey hey," Tyler walks right in the door without knocking as soon as the words came out of her mouth. "What's up?"
"Oh, nothing," I say, watching the other two boys file in.
"I almost killed myself snowboarding on Wednesday," Landon states. His glance wavers over to Rylyn and she smiles, letting out an amused breath. School was canceled Wednesday and Thursday. The reason I didn't cancel Bible Bowl tonight is because everything melted. Well actually, it all melted Wednesday and then it snowed again.
"Really?" I ask, grabbing his attention. Those two ain't gonna be flirting when I'm around. I was fine with Matthew, he actually keeps the conversation casually and not awkward with glances and stares like Landon did. Both good kids, just need the same intentions. To be friends with my foster daughter. And not share some cute secret.
"You did not," Michael says. "You just almost ending your life while breaking something," he says logically.
"That's the same thing!" he argues.
"Nu-uh. You didn't say you almost broke something."
"This guy sometimes, I'm telling ya," Landon says, collapsing back on the couch.
"Tell the people what happened," Rylyn volunteers him with a joking smile on her face. "We all want to know."
"I flipped," he says simply.
"Lies lies! That's a lie!" Tyler accuses.
"What's a lie?" Megan asks, walking on in, Lakin following behind her. "She decided to tag along."
"Cool," I say. Rylyn gets up to greet them both then Michael fills them in on what happened.
"What actually happened was that he saw a stick, swerved to the right, starting going between trees, hit a drop straight down, and landed in a pile of snow. Miraculously, he lived, without a broken bone in his body" Tyler explains.
"So it all started," Megan says, "with a stick?!"
"Um well-"
"YES," Tyler says, smirking. "That's how it was."
"Okay! Is everyone here?" I asked, getting the meeting started. They all find their seats while I take the plates to the dishwasher. I pull up a kitchen chair and grab my Bible. "Everyone turn to chapter twenty-one. Everyone read five verses each staring with Michael." I say, looking at Rylyn. She just smiles. I notice the slight bruise on her forehead, like it was meant to be there, but also an accident at the same time. Something's going on.
Let me rephrase that: something's been going on.
"Dear God, please let me figure out how to help her before it's too late. Through Your Son's holy Name, Amen."
The best thing to do when in doubt, is pray. That's what I think, anyway.