Now there was a day when Job’s sons and daughters were eating and drinking wine in their oldest brother’s house, and there came a messenger to Job and said, “The oxen were plowing and the donkeys feeding beside them, and the Sabeans fell upon them and took them and struck down the servants with the edge of the sword, and I alone have escaped to tell you.” While he was yet speaking, there came another and said, “The fire of God fell from heaven and burned up the sheep and the servants and consumed them, and I alone have escaped to tell you.” While he was yet speaking, there came another and said, “The Chaldeans formed three groups and made a raid on the camels and took them and struck down the servants with the edge of the sword, and I alone have escaped to tell you.” While he was yet speaking, there came another and said, “Your sons and daughters were eating and drinking wine in their oldest brother’s house, and behold, a great wind came across the wilderness and struck the four corners of the house, and it fell upon the young people, and they are dead, and I alone have escaped to tell you.” —Job 1:13-19 (ESV)

Click here for a YouTube video recording of me reading this poem.

Panic rushes through the door
the moment I see the blue screen of death on my laptop.
“Why did you push that button?
Everything is lost [on your hard drive].
I alone have surfaced to tell you.”

The next day, I get an email from WordPress
telling me to URGENTLY repair the PHP,
whateverthehell that is.
Is it a scam?
I have a moment of hope until my friend tells me she heard about it in the news.
It’s a BIG, COMPLICATED problem.
Fred, my husband and IT and LIG (Life In General) support,
is focused on the patient dying on his operating table and can’t help me.

I hear Panic pacing,
turn up the music and eat something.

Three a.m. the next morning, I drop Fred off at the airport.
He’ll be gone for five days visiting his 93-year-old mother in Ontario.
Meanwhile, I have
work to do,
guests coming, 
beds to make,
meals to prepare–
not to mention the contempative event I’m hosting and cofacilitating
for the first time
in a new place on Saturday.

Panic, breathless and unable to restrain his… well… panic, says,
“You better do something NOW
or you could lose all the writing of the past thirteen years!
That’s 750 blog posts.
I alone have surfaced to tell you.”

I shove him out the door and lock it.

Three o’clock Saturday morning,
he’s picked the lock and glaring at me.
His warning is on endless repeat.
“Do something. Do something. Do something,
or you’ll regret it.
You WILL regret it.”

I get up, turn on my mom’s Chromebook and research.
Fifteen minutes later, I discover
my website has been unaffected.
I copy the comforting message,
paste it in an email to my IT/LIG support
and to my friend who’s been following the drama,
and schedule my good news to arrive at a decent hour.

But Panic doesn’t leave.
“The voicemail from the nurse practitioner at the High Risk Cancer Clinic
that came in on Friday at 4,
the phone call you should’ve taken…”
He shakes his head and looks at the ceiling.
“What do you think she meant by ‘incidental findings’ on your MRI?
This could be bad, bad, bad.
What if she calls back when you’re in peer supervision
or giving your talk to the Ignatian retreatants?
You’ll be hooped.
Did you really think you could escape getting cancer because you don’t eat meat?
Seriously. This is bad, bad, bad.
I alone have surfaced … ”
His nattering fades as sleep rescues me.

Saturday’s event goes well.
My guests devour and ask for the recipes for the Buddha Bowl and the Yam and Chickpea Curry I serve.
Sunday, I leave a voicemail about my availablity for the nurse practitioner at the High Risk Clinic.
Monday morning at 8:30, she calls back.
No bad news. Just confirming what I already knew, which wasn’t an issue.

Panic is nowhere to be seen.

Maybe he’s sleeping,
because Sunday night, he was on high alert.
He visited Fred and me simultaneously.
How can he be in two provinces at once? Sheesh.
“Via Rail is notoriously late. No guarantees that Fred will arrive at the airport on time.
He could miss his non-refundable flight.
This is going to cost a lot of money, not to mention the inconvenience.
You’d better do something and fast,
or the world will come to an end.
I alone have surfaced to tell you.”

By morning, Fred and his wonderful sister have come up with a plan
to get Fred to the airport on time.
It’s going to work.
“Text me when you’ve checked in and are waiting for your flight.”
He does.
But doesn’t press send.

Panic is now climbing the walls.
I’m in peer supervision watching the clock,
checking my phone.
Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
At one o’clock/four p.m. ET, the gate closes.
He’s on the place or …
“He’s had a heart attack, misplaced his phone and boarding pass, lost somewhere, or had an accident and is on the way to the hospital.
Get out. Get out of your body
or jump into the raging river of anxiety.
I alone have surfaced to save you.”

I keep breathing,
barely holding on to a song that might ground me:
We will not fear, though the earth gives way.

I strain to hear: God is within her; she will not fall.

At 2 p.m., I get a text:
“I’m thru security and sitting at the departure gate one hour before it leaves.”
and another:
“I’m on the plane.”

A tidal wave of elation catapults Panic into the universe.
Euphoria floods my veins.

“That was a lot,” said my friend and another when she, too, heard about my stress attack.

“That was a lot,” said the deer who came right to my window one morning.

“That was so hard,” said my Christmas cactus bursting with buds.

Not one recriminating word from Jesus.

Fred gave me the biggest hug when I met him at the airport.

“I have the best friends,” I told Panic.
“Job would be jealous.”

You have many names, so many names I know.
I woke up today calling you faithful.
–Dee Wilson and Orlando Palmer, Many Names

Credits and References:
Windows 7 Blue Screen of Death by Billy Bob Bain. Used with permission.
Job Would Be Jealous by Esther Hizsa, 2026
Photo of deer by Esther Hizsa,

© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2026.
The unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2026.  http://www.estherhizsa.com