I reviewed this blog post:
I'm in San Fransisco. I was with Ali and Charity today. I spent about three hours at Ali's side this afternoon after I arrived. She is in a coma.Here's what I recall:
This was one of the heaviest days of my life. The day started very early on a Monday morning. I booked the earliest flight I could get. My friend, Dave, drove me 60 miles to the Fort Lauderdale airport which wasn't the closest airport, but it was the only flight I could get on such short notice. This is when the Lord started to minister to me through friends.Related links
Dave and Lyette cried with me, prayed with me, and talked me through the first few days of this ordeal. Lyette, a true champion of faith, fed me a steady diet of faith-filled words. I kept up a tough front, but I was completely shattered; shell-shocked. I remember the first time I was ever around the thumping impact of a hand-grenade or claymore mine explosion in basic training. It was that kind of ear-ringing shock, only sustained. Dave and Lyette nursed me through it.
When I opened my back pack to run my laptop through TSA's x-ray machine, a cash-filled envelope fell out. Dave snuck $1,200 into my bag to help cover expenses while I was in San Francisco.
The plane ride was a blur. When I landed and my phone signal was restored, I noticed I had a voice mail. It was Timmy's father, John. His message was un-intelligible and frantic. I did not need this. But I dialed him back anyway.
John answered his phone after the first couple of rings. He was beside himself. My heart was broken but somehow from reserves I was unaware existed, I found empathy.
"I can't believe he did this!" John yelled. "I hope he rots in jail!" His words pummeled me. I was too dazed to think. I can't believe what I said back.
"John, your son needs you right now. You need to be the best dad you can be."