It's always a good idea to call home

Soon after I awoke on Sunday morning, I heard the news. There had been an earthquake in California. There is nothing unusual about earthquakes in California, but this one really shook things up. Not only was it the strongest experienced in 25 years, but something else about the situation really grabbed my attention.

It just so happened that my son, Zack, was currently traveling in that area. When I had spoken with him last, he was near San Francisco where he would stay for a few more days. I Googled to read more about the quake. Near the epicenter, significant building damage was being reported, fires had broken out, some roads had buckled, refrigerators had spilled their contents, toilets had broken lose from floors, and yes, there were injuries.

I called Zack even though I knew it was only 5 a.m. where he was. Surely with the earthquake everyone there would be wide awake, I figured. His phone went straight to voicemail.

Then that feeling came over me. If you're a mother and you've had a kid unaccounted for, even for a little while, you know what I am talking about: worry.

Immediately, my imagination took on a life of its own. In the few seconds it took to rein it in, it had done a pretty thorough job of imagining the worse. I could see my son trapped under a broken table surrounded by piles of debris from the room that had fallen down around him. He was hopelessly separated from his cell phone, which of course was uncharged anyway. The electricity was no doubt off, so even if he could get to his phone there was no chance to charge it. It would be hours before anyone finds him and they wouldn't know to call his mother in Arkansas.

Stop! It is useless to spend mental energy imaging bad stuff, I reminded myself. I worked harder at keeping the negative thoughts at bay. God's hand had protected that boy many times, and that is what I would dwell upon. Just for good measure, I turned to Facebook and tagged Zack in a short message that said his mother would like to hear from him.

By the time I arrived at church, there was still no response. I silenced my phone and checked again after the service. This time, the message I had hoped for waited. Zack reported that both he and Peanut, his furry traveling companion, were safe. He followed that with a joke about his tent being rated for stronger earthquakes that the one that occurred because he had slept right through it. He had dreamed, however, that there was some sort of eruption that shook the ground violently. He only learned from the park ranger later that morning that an earthquake had occurred.

"I knew then I better charge up my phone and get in touch with you," Zack told me when we talked a little later in the day, "I figured you'd worry a little."

He was right. He was so right. No matter a "kid's" age, there's a mother somewhere that just wants to know he's OK.

Son, it's always a good idea to call home. Always.

Annette Rowe is a freelance writer from rural Gentry and a speech-language pathologist at Siloam Springs High School. She may be reached by email at [email protected]. Opinions expressed are those of the author.