Proof The Bible Is True

“Tiki!” I yelled frantically.

 

Our little white poodle mix, Tiki, had slipped out the door earlier that evening while I was carrying groceries into the house. Now I was scouring the neighborhood trying to find him. My seven-year-old son, Jordan, and my three-year-old daughter, Julia, were in tow.

 

Please, God, I prayed. Bring Tiki home. The kids have lost so much already.

 

The last few months had been difficult. After getting divorced, I could no longer afford our house in Indianapolis. The kids and I moved in with my parents in northern Indiana, 150 miles away from the city. Change was easier for Julia at her age, but Jordan missed his friends and his old school. Losing his childhood dog was the last thing he needed.

 

We called out Tiki’s name and knocked on neighbors’ doors until it was too dark to see. We were forced to return home empty-handed.

 

Read More: How Finding Their Childhood Dog Became The Perfect Reunion | Guideposts