So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross,
Till my trophies at last I lay down;
I will cling to the old rugged cross,
And exchange it some day for a crown.
The words stung. She had no more trophies. And she hadn’t really had the opportunity to lay them down before the Lord. No, she’d clutched at them and held on to them until they’d been ripped from her. Eliza bit the corner of her lip. How was she ever going to face anyone again?
All the events of the past week scrolled through her mind. All the times she should have done something different, said something different. All the mistakes.
“What are you so afraid of?”
Devin’s question was like a pebble in her shoe. Irritating and rubbing her the wrong way.
Yet it was the question at the heart of the whole mess.
Foolish. She was foolish and silly and look where it had gotten her. Alone.
Her eyes burned. Exactly what she’d been afraid of.
And her own actions had driven her there.
“The LORDbless thee, and keep thee: the LORDmake His face shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee.” The recitation of the service benediction drew Eliza from her thoughts.
Her face burned. She’d missed the whole message! She dropped her head in her hands with a groan. Was she so self-absorbed that her problems were more important than studying the Word?
Ugh. What a wretch she was.
Eliza felt the seat next to her shift and she looked up. Mrs. Winters sat beside Eliza, her brow furrowed. “My dear Miss Mills, I couldn’t help but notice how pale you are this morning. Are you all right?”
“I am.” Eliza gave the kind woman a thin smile even as her heart clenched. Yet another lie? What was wrong with her?
Mrs. Winters’s brown eyes seemed to bore into Eliza’s soul, as if the woman knew all her secrets. “Hmm ... It looks as though you have the weight of the world on your shoulders, Eliza. You don’t mind if I call you by your given name, do you?”
Eliza shook her head, unable to speak past the lump in her throat.
“Good.” She patted Eliza’s hand. “You can call me Mary. Now, why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you.”
The lump broke into a sob. Eliza buried her face in her hands. How she still had tears left after the last week was beyond her. But here they came again, cascading down her face.
“Oh, my dear.” Mary slipped a soft arm around Eliza’s shoulders and pulled her close. “Whatever it is, it can’t be as bad as all this, now, can it?”
“I’ve m-made an a-absolute mess o-of my life.” Each word was a stab to her heart.
The woman’s arm tightened around her. “Well, who hasn’t from time to time? Here’s a hankie. Dry your face and tell me all about it.”
Eliza took the small cloth and mopped away the tears. The scent of jasmine lingered, soothing her frayed nerves. She took a deep breath and explained the events of the last few days to Mary, sparing no detail. Every bad decision and wrong move was laid out. After explaining how Devin’s declaration and probing question left her stunned, hurt, and confused, Eliza sat back in her chair with a sigh.
“I’ve let everyone down. Devin is gone. That horrid article is out in the paper. I’m sure Mr. Carnegie will be rather upset. I’ve brought dishonor to his museum. Who will want me representing them in any scientific field after this? And through all of it, I was afraid of being alone. But that’s exactly where my actions brought me.”
To Eliza’s surprise, Mary smiled and even chuckled. Eliza’s jaw dropped, then snapped shut. Well. She hadn’t just bared her soul to have this woman mock her!
Mary reached out and patted her arm. “I’m not laughingatyou, Eliza. I will say, I appreciate your flair for the dramatic. No, no. Don’t be offended. I can hear your pain and your worryand embarrassment. And indeed, it is quite the situation you find yourself in. But”—the older woman took Eliza’s hand in hers—“it is not insurmountable. You are a beautiful young woman. Full of life and joy. You’re clearly brilliant and successful. But you have put entirely too much pressure on yourself. We all do it. We put ourselves in a place where we thinkwehave to orchestrate our own lives. As if we are the masters of our destiny and not in the hand of the living God who loves us and knows what is best for us.” Mary squeezed Eliza’s hand, a gentle smile on her weathered face.
“Perhaps before you make all sorts of plans about what you should do, take some time and get alone with Jesus. Pour your heart out to Him like you just did to me. And wait on Him. He is faithful, Eliza. He loves you. And I think He wants to remind you that your life belongs to Him. Maybe He needed to get you alone so you wouldlistento Him. Wholly and completely.”
Eliza swallowed. Her heart constricted as Mary’s gentle words settled in her. It was true. She wasstilltrying to manage her life and fix the wrongs she’d done, all on her own. She twisted the hankie through her fingers. “You’re right.” She sighed. “But what if He’s disappointed in me too? If He’s decided I’m too much of a problem to redeem?”
