Today I got an urgent message from my daughter’s Christian high school.
Shelter in place.
And if you’re a parent in America, you know exactly what happens to your brain when you see those words.
Oh no.
I immediately checked Kolby’s location.
She was already off campus and down the street.
Thank God.
Then my thoughts went straight to everyone else’s kids.
Please tell me everything is okay.
I kept reading.
Apparently, there were coyotes on campus.
Coyotes.
Okay.
Not exactly what I was expecting, but still concerning.
Naturally, my brain immediately created an entire scene involving an angry pack of ferocious wolves circling the school while teachers barricaded classroom doors and protected children with dry-erase markers and whatever else happens to be available in a Christian high school classroom.
I pictured snarling animals roaming the quad.
Possibly several.
Definitely organized.
Maybe hungry.
Then another message came.
The kids were released.
Everything was fine.
Crisis over.
When Kolby got home, I asked her what happened.
Apparently, one of her friends saw a coyote.
One.
A single coyote.
And according to Kolby, he looked scared.
So now I’m imagining an entirely different story.
Maybe the poor guy just got lost.
Maybe his mom and dad were frantically searching for him.
Maybe somewhere in the hills there was a coyote Amber Alert going out.
MISSING: One teenage coyote. Last seen wandering onto a Christian school campus. Probably confused. Approach cautiously. Has not yet accepted Jesus.
Maybe his whole pack got the notification.
Little Kevin is missing. Everybody spread out.
Meanwhile, the humans got our own notification:
SHELTER IN PLACE.
To be fair, maybe there was more than one coyote.
Maybe there was an entire gang of them and Kolby only heard about the one.
Or maybe our school administration believes one slightly confused Southern California coyote is enough to initiate a full-scale lockdown.
I don’t know.
And honestly, I’m not complaining.
Because for those few seconds between seeing shelter in place and finding out why, my mind went to all the places parents’ minds go now.
A shooting.
A stabbing.
A bomb threat.
Something horrible.
We’ve lived through wildfire evacuations. When my kids were younger, their elementary school had its share of scares because of incidents and bomb threats at the high school across the street.
So I know what those messages can mean.
And I know what it feels like when your stomach drops before you even finish reading.
Which is why today, I am incredibly grateful that the big emergency was a coyote.
A possibly lost, possibly terrified, probably very hot coyote.
It’s the second week of school.
It’s 93 degrees outside.
Maybe he wasn’t trying to terrorize anyone.
Maybe he was just looking for some AC.
Honestly, buddy.
Same.
