The Strange Story of Help for My Son

A person is starting out at a city with their back to the camera

By Flow, Illinois

I was a recently divorced, single mom. My seventeen-year-old son, “Josh,” was a senior in high school and seemed not to care about much. He especially did not care about graduating, and he often got in trouble for skipping school. Eventually he was suspended, and when that didn’t work he was placed on probation and independent study. One more misdeed and he would be permanently expelled.

I remember sincerely asking the Mᴀʜᴀɴᴛᴀ for help—to please help Josh graduate from high school, if it’s for the good of the whole.

A few weeks later, one spring evening when it was so warm I opened all the windows, I left for a part-time job. Once I was out of the house, Josh put his earphones on, cranked up his music and focused on his homework, not realizing he hadn’t switched off the speakers. They were now blaring loud music to the whole neighborhood. Apparently the neighbor across the street came out and started yelling, “Turn that sound off!” But the earphones prevented Josh from hearing the shouting coming from across the street.

A little while later, Josh looked up and noticed a police car had pulled up in front of the house. Curious, he turned the radio off, took off his earphones, and went outside to see what was up.

By this time the teenage neighbor next door was blaring her music. The two policemen went up and started to knock on her door. But then the neighbor from across the street yelled, “Not her, HIM!” pointing to Josh. The police then proceeded to handcuff and arrest Josh. When I returned home, a police officer came to the door and told me I needed to go to the juvenile hall to pick up my son. He had been charged with carrying a weapon.

In his pants pocket, Josh carried a large box-cutting knife, which he used for work.

I was shocked. All the way to the jail I sang HU and opened my heart to the Mᴀʜᴀɴᴛᴀ’s guidance. Josh was OK but a bit shaken up. He said the only thing they took was the knife to hold as evidence. Evidence of what? I wondered to the Mᴀʜᴀɴᴛᴀ.

The next day I phoned the district attorney’s office to sort things out. I got to speak to the DA himself, which I thought was unusual.

The DA said, “Well, ma’am, your son shouldn’t have had a knife at school.” Surprised, I said, “But he wasn’t at school. He was at home.” Equally surprised, he replied, “He wasn’t at school?” I assured him my son had been at home.” The DA said, “I’ll have to look into this,” and he hung up.

The next day, when Josh came home from work, he said, “Guess what? Today while I was on campus to pick up my independent-study work, the school had a security search going on. They went through my pockets and backpack. I had to work this afternoon, so I would’ve had my box knife with me. Pretty interesting, huh?”

I knew in that moment that my request to the Mᴀʜᴀɴᴛᴀ had been answered in this roundabout way. Some might say, “That’s terrible what happened.” But I knew it was the safest and best way to protect my son so he could graduate. If security had found that large knife on Josh, he would have been arrested and expelled.

Josh graduated, and many years have passed. He is now married, with three children. I am grateful every day for the Master’s blessings of love and protection.

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