How I Became a Humanist #4: How My Sister and My Faith were Found

Fire pit on the campus of Rochester College

The summer after my freshman year of college, I spent most nights in my old room at my mom's house in Eastpointe.  I walked in one night around 10:00 pm to see my usually stoic mother anxiously pacing the living room floor.  Something was wrong.

My 14 year old sister hadn't returned home from being at a friend's house that afternoon.  In fact, she had never shown up to that house.  My mom suspected that my sister was with a man (Steve) that my mom had broken up with after finding out that he had molested his own daughter.  My mom couldn't go out looking for my sister while I was out on account of the fact that someone had to watch my terminally ill brother.  She also couldn't have called me on my cell phone, because this was 1998.

I stayed at the house while my mom went up to the Eastpointe police department.

While my mom was gone, my friend Phil called to tell me that it was his mom's birthday.  He could tell I was upset, and asked what was going on.  I explained the situation which he immediately relayed to his mom, Jill.  Immediately, she drove across town to my house.

When my mom returned, Jill and I went in her car to search the city for my sister.  We drove around Eastpointe hoping that she was walking around with her friends or something.  At the same time, we were also looking for Steve's car, a red pickup truck with the bumpersticker "No Jesus, No Peace."  This ultimately became the focus of our search.

Now, when we'd first gotten into the car - before we'd started driving, I'd said a silent prayer.  I told God that if he helped me find my sister that I'd believe in him and try to serve him.  It was a sincere prayer.

We drove down 9 mile towards Harper road looking for Steve's car in parking lots.  We were doing this because Steve was living in his car at the time.  Looking back, this whole episode was a joke.  His truck could have been anywhere in Metro-Detroit, an area that is the definition of urban-sprawl.

At some point, I suggested that we look at the 24-hour Meijer parking lot at 13 Mile and Little Mack, which we did.  Steve's car wasn't there.  The supermarket happens to be right next to I-94 and there were at least two hotels nearby, an EconoLodge and a Red Roof Inn.  Jill recommended that we check the parking lot at the EconoLodge.  When his car wasn't there, I gave up.  Jill wanted to at least try the other parking lot, so we did.

When we drove into the parking lot at the Red Roof Inn, I saw a truck that looked like Steve's.  Jill pulled in closer.  Sure enough, the bumper sticker was on the back.  We parked next to the lobby, walked in and called the police who came.  Steve had maps on him, lots of money and had bought her new clothes.

It wasn't long before Jill drove me home.  After things settled down, I went upstairs to my room and pretended to sleep.  When the stress was just too great, I snuck out the stairwell door and walked to the Elias Brothers on 9 Mile and Gratiot where I smoked cigarettes and drank coffee to relax.

I believed that God was real.  Now what?