Disclaimer: Courageous is the result of God's work in the people He gifted to make this great movie. I'm not one of them.


In the years of my short life, I've always trusted my daddy. I always knew he'd be there for me and that he'd look out for me.

Especially once I learned the details of a day that made precious little sense to me at the time.

My eyes fluttered open when I figured out what had changed: the truck's motion had stopped. I heard a door open and some beeping from outside. I looked out the window and saw my daddy standing nearby. My eyes might have closed again, but I heard my daddy get back into the truck and start it. Then he left again. I couldn't see him from my position, but I knew he'd come back.

That's when I saw something streak past my window and heard someone sitting in my daddy's seat. The door closed and we started moving. And moving faster than my daddy would normally go so suddenly. I was startled to begin with, but almost immediately, something told me that things weren't right.

My daddy's voice.

From outside the car.

A bump later, his voice was in the car, but he sure didn't sound happy. And I wasn't either when I heard another voice. "Get off! Get off!"

Need I tell you that I didn't know the other voice?

"No! No! Stop the car!" Daddy's voice. Not just unhappy, though. Panicked would be a better description.

Shouting. Both from my daddy and the other man. I couldn't help myself: I began to fuss. What was going on? Why was the truck swerving so much? Why was my daddy yelling? Why was the other man in our car? Who was he anyway? No wonder I fussed.

But if the fussing seemed bad, that was nothing compared to the moments in which my daddy's voice suddenly left the truck and faded… followed immediately by an awful jolt.

Confusion wasn't bad enough. Fear didn't cut it either. But that sudden jolting definitely started me screaming.

I didn't know what happened to the other man, but I had the feeling that I was alone. Alone and without the slightest hint as to where my daddy was. I thought I heard a woman's voice outside, but I didn't care. I was too scared to care. A very low, quiet voice answered the woman's – so I thought in the moment that I paused to take a breath. My door opened and there he was: my daddy. Close to me. Taking my hand. Telling me that everything was going to be okay.

It was a few years later – when I was old enough to understand – that I knew what exactly had happened that day. A gang leader had taken advantage of my daddy's distance from the truck and car-jacked it… unwittingly kidnapping me in the process. Daddy had caught him before we were long gone down the road and had fought for control of the truck. He suffered bruises and bleeding toes, but he told me that I was more than worth it. As he told the police officers after, "My son is safe; so today is still a good day."

I always knew I could trust my life to my dad. And knowing what happened that day only makes me trust him more, for I know that he'd never let go of the wheel.


Author's note: I don't normally write like this. And I think I shall try avoiding writing babies' perspectives from now on. All the same, please review.