That time I was home alone for a weekend.

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Anyway, do you remember me telling you how I was a little more "on edge" immediately proceeding our first home purchase and move a year ago?

Well, I was.

Just not in my normal state of mind, you could say. A little "hyper alert" might be a good phrase to use.

It was Januray, and Greg had to leave me for a weekend youth conference about 30 minutes away. I've tried to attend and participate in as many youth functions as possible since having Darby, but this particular one would have been impossible.

So, I stayed home with Darby by myself ... for two nights ... in a strange old house ...with a scary movie basement ... in a new neighborhood where we learned there'd been a history of break-ins...

Fun, right?

When darkness settled in that first evening, I tried to ignore my impending home aloneness. I had rented a fun library chick flick, and watched it after Darby went to bed (I think I probably carb loaded too, in order to facilitate a drowsy and relaxed mood.) Then, after texting Greg around midnight and learning that he and the students were all about to head to bed, I locked every door in our house, and fell asleep.

Around 2am, Darby woke up crying to nurse (she was only 6 months old then) and I drowsily awoke, entered her room, shut her door behind me and sat down with her in the rocking chair.

After a few minutes I heard what sounded like some noise coming from our side kitchen entrance. I was a little weirded out, but figured I was just hearing things; after all, we were new to the place, and I wasn't familiar with all the "house noises" yet.

But the noise continued, and I started to have trouble convincing myself it was my imagination. Then it stopped. I began to breathe normally again, and almost fell asleep myself in the rocking chair.

Then I heard something unmistakable: a scraping sound at the window  right next to me.

I don't know if I've ever been as scared as I was that moment. I started to look around for a mode of escape. "How many were there?" I wondered. "Should I just grab Darby and run out of the house into the January night?"

I sat frozen, afraid to do anything, to move or make a noise, afraid that Darby would start fussing. After a couple of minutes, I heard it at the side entrance again, and bravely decided to investigate this time.

Darby was nearly asleep again, so I laid her in the crib, shakily opened her door, peered out into the darkness, and then started down the hall. When I came in sight of the side entrance, sure enough, I saw a form in the window...
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It was Greg. Yep, Greg. He had forgotten his pajama pants and phone charger, and come all the way back for them. Apparently he had texted me to let me know of his arrival, but my phone was in my room, and I was in Darby's room, so I didn't see it.

He couldn't get in because I had even locked the screen doors, for which we didn't have keys, so he had been trying to get my attention by quietly knocking at the door and windows.

What. A. Creeper.

I was also never as glad to see anyone in my life.

I was just so grateful to not be a victim of a home invasion or murder, that I couldn't even be annoyed at him for scaring me like that.

When I told my mom the story later, she said, "Can you imagine if he had made it into the house without your help?"

"Well, Greg can credit the fact that he's still alive to that not being the case, that's for sure," I asserted.


What about you guys? Have any "near death" experiences to share?