There’s a murderer on the run in Baldwin County and that’s where I live. And he’s killed three people… My mom is at work and I’m home with the flu. My aunt and I are locked in the bedroom watching TV and the weather’s getting really bad, too.
…I’m actually scared so much my stomach is truly, literally hurting. My aunt told me I should write you to take my mind off it…
SCARED IN BALDWIN COUNTY
I’m glad you wrote me. I have a feeling that as soon as I write back, authorities will have caught this joker and none of the following will apply.
Even so, here’s what you should know:
There’s no way in hell the peace officers in lower Alabama are going to let anything happen to you. Because they have guns.
And I know men from Baldwin, Escambia, and Santa Rosa County. These boys have been shooting dove, deer, duck, and wild turkey since they were old enough to say, “Look, Mommy, I make poopy.”
This dude’s in trouble.
But never mind. You asked for help getting your mind off this topic. So I’ll tell you what my mama told me when I was terrified.
There are angels around you.
Big ones. I know. You’re probably WAY too old to believe in magical things like Santa, Easter Bunnies, Saint Francis, or Nick Saban. But this is serious. I’ve seen angels with my eyes.
Once, we wrecked in North Carolina. Mama hit a deer. It was late at night on a very dark, empty road. A stranger from nowhere helped us. He even knew my name.
Then he disappeared.
Another story: I know a woman who went swimming in the river with her friend. They got swept into the current. They nearly died. A man swam to them and pulled them ashore. Then he vanished.
You want more? Fine.
My friend visited an interstate rest-area on her way home from Troy. When she walked to her car, a man followed. He held a knife to her throat and told her to, “DRIVE!”.
She screamed, “HELP ME LORD!”
Immediately, a big man busted into her car and (ahem) whooped the bad fella’s Blessed Assurance. When the police got there, nobody could find her hero.
Look, I know you’re scared. But the real enemy here is not a dummy with a gun. It’s what’s between your ears.
Fear is more destructive than tornadoes, rivers, or fugitives. I want you to remember that.
But for now, do something for me:
Drink plenty of red Gatorade. Rest. Quit watching the news. And most of all, I want you to know how loved you are, darling. Your family loves you. Folks reading this love you. I love you.
And so do the millions of invisible winged-creatures with you now—who shall bear you up in their hands, lest you strike your foot against a stone.
Say hi to your aunt for me.