16.It was the perfect weather for leaf watching, and my wife, Julie, and I were all set to spend the weekend with friends in the north Georgia mountains. “Don’t you want to come along?” Julie asked our 15-year-old son, Mark. He wasn’t interested. “Enjoy the leaves,” he told her. “I’ll be fine here by myself.” Julie and I drove up in our car after work on Friday. Saturday morning, we hiked along the mountainside, drinking in the dazzling colors. “I could spend all week out here,” Julie said. “Me, too,” I answered. We headed back to the cabin, had dinner, and then played cards by the fireplace. I stared at the smoke rising from the chimney. All of a sudden, I was overcome with a terrible feeling. Go home, a voice seemed to urge me. I couldn’t explain it, but I wanted, no, needed, to go home. “hal, you’re being silly,” Julie said. But the urge kept getting stronger and stronger. “I’ve got to leave,” I said. “If you want to stay, you can get a ride back with everyone else tomorrow.” Julie stood up. “No, I’ll go with you.” We barely spoke on the two-hour trip back. I felt guilty. We were missing the best leaf watching by driving in the dark. But I couldn’t ignore this urge. Finally, we pulled into the drive. The lights were on in the house, but something was strange. The windows seemed to be fogged up. Julie opened the door. Smoke poured out. “Mark!” she yelled. We dashed inside and found him asleep on the sofa. Shaking him awake, Julie grabbed him. I grabbed the source of the smoke—a pillow set too close to the fireplace—took it outside, and threw water on it. Mark had built a fire to keep warm, and some embers had flown out when he forgot to replace the screen. The whole house could have gone up if we hadn’t gotten there just then. I stared in wonder at the smoke hanging in the air. Just like the smoke that triggered the urge to go home. God please help me to heed those unexplainable urges, knowing they come from You.
16.It was the perfect weather for leaf watching, and my wife, Julie, and I were all set to spend the weekend with friends in the north Georgia mountains. “Don’t you want to come along?” Julie asked our 15-year-old son, Mark. He wasn’t interested. “Enjoy the leaves,” he told her. “I’ll be fine here by myself.” Julie and I drove up in our car after work on Friday. Saturday morning, we hiked along the mountainside, drinking in the dazzling colors. “I could spend all week out here,” Julie said. “Me, too,” I answered. We headed back to the cabin, had dinner, and then played cards by the fireplace. I stared at the smoke rising from the chimney. All of a sudden, I was overcome with a terrible feeling. Go home, a voice seemed to urge me. I couldn’t explain it, but I wanted, no, needed, to go home. “hal, you’re being silly,” Julie said. But the urge kept getting stronger and stronger. “I’ve got to leave,” I said. “If you want to stay, you can get a ride back with everyone else tomorrow.” Julie stood up. “No, I’ll go with you.” We barely spoke on the two-hour trip back. I felt guilty. We were missing the best leaf watching by driving in the dark. But I couldn’t ignore this urge. Finally, we pulled into the drive. The lights were on in the house, but something was strange. The windows seemed to be fogged up. Julie opened the door. Smoke poured out. “Mark!” she yelled. We dashed inside and found him asleep on the sofa. Shaking him awake, Julie grabbed him. I grabbed the source of the smoke—a pillow set too close to the fireplace—took it outside, and threw water on it. Mark had built a fire to keep warm, and some embers had flown out when he forgot to replace the screen. The whole house could have gone up if we hadn’t gotten there just then. I stared in wonder at the smoke hanging in the air. Just like the smoke that triggered the urge to go home. God please help me to heed those unexplainable urges, knowing they come from You.