THREE ANGELS BROADCASTING NETWORK DEVOTIONAL
Never Alone.

By Jill Morikone December 16th, 2025

“For He Himself has said, ‘I will never leave you nor forsake you.’” Hebrews 13:5

I sat on the love seat and stared out the back door. The sun was just setting, turning everything a golden hue, but the house was quiet. Too quiet. If only he had cell reception and could tell me he was okay. Regardless, Greg had definitely prepared for this trip.​

Warm sleeping bag, rated down to 20 degrees. Check.

Water filter. Check.

Moisture-wicking clothes. Check.

Trekking poles and hiking boots. Check.

Dehydrated food, lightweight cooking set, spork. Check.

Backpacking is fun—so I’ve been told—but this was wintertime. Not my idea of fun, camping in the snow, shivering in one of those mummy bags in the middle of nowhere. We tried his new sleeping bag before this trip, laying it outside one night as the wind whistled, the temperature around 20. I wriggled into it as Greg zipped me up, leaving only my face exposed.​

“Okay, sweetie. I’ll be back in five minutes. Tell me how you feel then.”​

I don’t like being cold, but the bag warmed quickly. I was surprised how comfortable I felt, watching the stars overhead, hearing the wind blow, yet wrapped up in my own cocoon of down. When Greg appeared, I was a bit disappointed to leave my warm bed under the stars and head inside. Maybe that was the draw of this backpacking trip. Being outside in nature. Leaving everything behind and spending time with God. But wintertime?​

Greg left early on Friday morning. I hugged him tightly. “Be careful, I’m praying for you.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I’m going to miss you.”​

He nodded. “I’ll tell you which trail we’re taking, as I’m not sure how much cell reception we’ll have out there.” He picked up his stuff. “Always know that I love you.”

And now it was Friday night, and I hadn’t heard anything since noon, just as he and his dad were starting on the trail. He’d sent a final text. “There are at least eight inches of snow on the ground. In case anything happens, we’re taking Trail 220. I should be in contact with you by noon on Sunday.”​

If I could just know that he wasn’t injured or cold. Later, I knelt by our bed. We hadn’t missed a night praying together for the last 15 years. As I prayed, I thought of the times my Maker, my Husband, had wanted to call me. Often, I’d been too busy, too distracted, too indifferent to answer. And so, He’d sent me a text message, filled with the love and longing of His heart.​

And so, I’m trying to listen more. To hear His voice in His Word, to catch the slightest whisper of His Spirit. For it is in communication, that we stay connected.

Oh, by the way, Greg came home safe and sound. Thank You, Jesus!