Never Alone
“Herschel and Elizabeth” - photo by Elizabeth Watkins
“God said: Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.”
Hebrews 13:5
Snow squeaked under my tires as I pulled up to Katahdin Christian Academy. Herschel Hafford, the school’s founder, waved a snow shovel in greeting as I searched for a parking spot. Frosty puffs of air escaped his smile. The sun shone brightly in a clear blue sky, though the temperature lingered in the single digits. I parked, stepped out, and inhaled sharply as the cold froze the inside of my nose. I walked briskly toward the entrance.
“Thanks for coming over today!” Herschel said, pulling me into a warm hug. “Let’s get you situated.”
Inside the wooden double doors, he motioned to a table in the entryway. “You can set your things there. I need to clear the snow before students arrive.”
“I’ll help,” I said, spotting another shovel against the wall. I set down my purse, grabbed the shovel, and followed him back outside.
The entryway was buried beneath two-day-old snow, hardened into wind-packed ice. I slammed my shovel into the mound, chipping away at the frozen layers. Herschel glanced over and smiled.
“Looks like you’ve done this before,” he said with a laugh.
I grinned.
It was Friday, December 5, 2025—the day before the tenth annual Millinocket Marathon and Half. The race had drawn me home, but the weekend offered far more than miles on frozen roads. It marked the beginning of the Christmas season, and I felt deeply grateful to spend it in my hometown. Maine’s crisp air and snowy landscape set the scene, but it was the people—old friends and new—who filled the weekend with joy. From the moment I stepped off the plane in Bangor until I returned four days later, I felt welcomed, cherished, and known.
Visiting Katahdin Christian Academy was one of the unexpected gifts of the weekend.
“We’ve got a small group today,” Herschel said as we walked toward the auditorium. “Ages seven to seventeen. I’m especially excited for you to meet our seniors—there are four of them, and they’re really special.”
I had spent time thinking about what to share and settled on a lighthearted story called *Run Toward the Music*. It was the same one I’d written about in August—my daughter and her friends chasing an ice cream truck they couldn’t see. With Christmas approaching, I hoped the students would connect with its deeper theme of faith.
Everyone gathered shortly after 8:30. I took a seat and we began our informal conversation. Near the back sat two young women who immediately caught my attention.
“What are your names?” I asked.
“I’m Anna,” one said, smiling warmly. She carried herself with quiet wisdom.
“And I’m Grace,” said the young woman beside her, her face equally bright and attentive.
I liked them instantly. They were two of the seniors Herschel mentioned.
We talked briefly about hobbies—bike riding, video games, cross-country skiing—and then transitioned to families.
“How many brothers and sisters do you have?” I asked.
“Three!” “Five!” “Two!” the younger kids called out.
Anna and Grace raised their hands, waiting patiently.
“Anna?” I prompted.
“Seventeen,” she said.
“Oh my!” I laughed. “That’s incredible.” I turned to Grace. “And you?”
“Eight.”
After a bit more conversation, I shared my story. The students laughed and nodded along, easily relating to my daughter’s adventure. When I finished, I asked, “What do you think faith is?”
Hands shot into the air.
“Knowing something’s true,” one boy offered.
“That’s good,” I said. “Anyone else?”
Anna raised her hand.
“Believing in something you cannot see,” she said quietly.
“Yes,” I smiled. “Hebrews 11 says faith is being confident in what we hope for and certain of what we cannot see.”
As our time together drew to a close, I asked one final question. “What are some things you’re having faith for right now?”
With Christmas approaching, I expected answers about toys and gifts. Instead, the room grew quiet. Anna raised her hand.
“To not be alone,” she said softly.
Beside her, Grace nodded. “That’s what I’m believing for too.”
My throat tightened. The two girls with the largest families feared loneliness.
Other answers followed, but I barely heard them.
After a moment, I turned back to Anna and Grace. Searching for words, a familiar Scripture came to mind.
“Thank you for sharing,” I said, meeting their eyes. “You will have what you’re believing for. God will never leave you or forsake you. He is always with you.” The words felt simple, even inadequate, yet I hoped they carried comfort.
I wished I could the spend the remainder of the morning talking with the two precious young women. Yet after concluding with prayer, the students dismissed to their classes.
Herschel walked me to my car. “Up until recently, Anna was in foster care,” he explained. “She has many brothers and sisters but isn’t living with them. And Grace - she comes from a broken family. They’re amazing young women, excelling in academics, yet they’ve navigated a lot.”
As I pulled away from Katahdin Christian Academy that morning, Herschel stood near the entryway once more, this time waving goodbye. The sun glinted off the mound of freshly shoveled snow, bright and blinding. I thought of Anna and Grace—two young women surrounded by people, yet longing for assurance that they would not be left alone.
The author of Hebrews reminds us, “God said, ‘Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.’”
Faith, I realized, often looks like that morning’s work: clearing a path before anyone knows they’ll need it. Showing up. Making room. Staying present.
Christmas reminds us that God did exactly that. He stepped into the cold, into the mess, into the loneliness of a broken world—not from a distance, but up close. He came to dwell with us. To walk beside us. To ensure that none of us would ever be alone.
As this season draws to a close, may we carry that gift forward. May we be people who shovel paths, who show up, who offer friendship freely and faithfully. Because sometimes, the greatest expression of faith is simply being there—and sometimes, the greatest gift we give is reminding someone they are not alone.