Thank you all for your prayers. Our Little Miss Handbasket has returned safely to her dad's, and he is now on his way with her to the bus station. She'll be arriving in my neck of the woods tomorrow evening.
I'm manning the battle stations and battening down the hatches. And praying. Lord, keep me from aborting my teenager.
I tracked her down last night and called the police station this morning to find out how to go about getting her home. I was told that her dad would have to come in to the station to file a runaway report to get the ball rolling.
When I called to relay that information to him, he was receptive and gave me his word that he would do as I asked. He spoke with the Chief of Police, who assured him that she would be picked up and returned within a few hours.
In the process, he also discovered that she had beaten him to the punch and filed a report on him last night. They had sent her home with the boyfriend and told her to stay there until she heard from her dad.
The poor man can't get a break. He's retired, and he should be enjoying this time in his life, he says. Pardon my insensitivity, but we're parents. We don't get to retire until our job is done.
I'm just thankful that this life isn't all there is.