God Does Not Make Mistakes?

I Hate Phone Calls From My Hometown

“God does not make mistakes.” My grandmother would repeat this message religiously when I began to doubt the actions of God. But I truly believe he made a mistake on February 4, 2022. I remember this day extremely well. The time was around 12PM. The only reason I woke up was because dog at the time whined extremely loud to wake me up to take him outside to use the restroom. My girlfriend at the time, Christin, woke up, put on some pajamas, and headed downstairs to take Niko outside to use the restroom. I eventually rolled out of bed and went downstairs to sit on the couch and complete some work. When Christin came back inside with Niko, she kissed me on the forehead and asked if I wanted her to make breakfast. I said yes, and with a big smile, she went to the kitchen and began cooking. Niko, who is an English bulldog, began excessively drooling on my computer I was not the biggest fan of this, so I moved from the couch to a bar stool that was directly in front of my kitchen Island. At this point, Christin was just about done with breakfast and began setting up our plates. After feeding Niko, she plated our food, and we began to eat and plan out our day. A few minutes later, I received a phone call from an unknown phone number.

There area code was 903 which was the primary area code from my hometown that I had not visited in over a year. I silenced the call because I was not mentally prepared to hear from anyone at that moment. I would usually silence all my phone calls until after I eat breakfast. A few minutes later, I received another phone call from the same exact number. I silenced the call and turned my phone face down so I no longer so the notifications. Halfway through my breakfast, I turned to Christin and asked if I should answer the call the next time the number called me. She quickly said yes with a look of excitement on her face. Maybe it was good news? A week prior I was accepted into Columbia law, so it was possible that I was due for more good news.

After I finished my breakfast, I turned my phone back over and saw that I had over 12 missed calls from the same exact phone number that had called me earlier. The excitement on Christin’s face quickly faded. She gave me a forced half smile and encouraged me to answer the phone the next time it rang. Roughly 30 seconds later, the buzzing began again. “Triston, I am so sorry to bother you, but I am worried. Have you spoken to your father?” His girlfriend said with a panic in her voice. I was extremely confused and unsure how to answer. I simply explained to her that I had spoken to him a couple days ago and everything seemed fine. She began to explain to me how my father complained about chest pains the night prior and had left to go to the gas station or pharmacy to grab some medication and he had not yet returned. I assured her that I thought everything was fine and to call me back if she received any update. I called my dad, and his phone went straight to voicemail. I then decided to call my immediate family and fill them in on the confusion surrounding my dad.

Roughly 5 minutes later, she called me again. “His car was found in a ditch, and he was rushed to the hospital… I don’t know how long he was there before someone found him.” She screamed into the phone. At this point, I had lost my appetite. Christin put Niko in his kennel and sat me down on the couch as I called my family to let them know what was going on. I called my aunt, who was closest to the hospital, and encouraged her to go and figure out what was going on. I then called my uncle who was able to coordinate with my dad’s girlfriend to figure out additional details. The next 10 minutes were the hardest of my entire life. Christin and I sat on the couch waiting for the next phone call. Little did I know, the next phone call was the last update I received regarding my father. This time, it was my uncle on the other end phone. “Tris, he didn’t make it man.” He sobbed on the other end of the phone.

“Faith is the substance of things hoped for, and the evidence for things not seen.” My grandmother would repeat this message religiously when I began to doubt God. I had all the faith in the world, believed in what I could not see, and trusted God blindly. However, I can’t help but feel that the untimely death of my father is somehow a mistake. I’m still waiting for that phone call.

-- By TristonFerguson - 16 Feb 2023

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