Nobody they knew had seen or heard from Adam. Larry was distraught and Janice was at her wit’s end. She kept telling herself that she’d felt this way before, that even though she would worry herself sick Adam was dead somewhere in a ditch, he always showed up. But they couldn’t—and Adam couldn’t—keep going on like this, so Janice and Larry sat down at their kitchen table to figure out a course of action. As Janice brainstormed aloud how they would save their son, Larry had an epiphany. Reaching across the table, he took his wife’s hand. “We’ve tried everything we can do,” he said. “We can’t fix Adam. God is going to have to fix Adam. We’ve got to go to church.” Janice hadn’t been raised to know God. She didn’t even think about God. With Larry’s words, however, a light bulb switched on. “You’re right,” she replied. Larry slapped both his knees and said, “We’ll go this weekend.” The next Sunday morning Larry found the Bible his mother had given them as a wedding gift, wiped some thirty years’ worth of dust off the spine, and brought it with them to Second Baptist Church in Hot Springs—the church Manda attended when she was home from college.
