“What am I supposed to ask You? Can You hear me up there? I’ve not done anything to warrant Your attention, but I’m desperate. I have a little girl coming in a few months, and she deserves to have a daddy who’s whole, not broken in pieces.” He held his hands to the air, wrought with emotion and despondency. “How can I forgive myself for not being on that helicopter? How can I go back to the person I was before that crash? I don’t like this version of me, but I don’t know how I can change it. I don’t deserve Your intervention, but I’m crying out now for Your help. Not just for my sake, but for Sybil’s and our daughter’s. They need the best of me, not the worst.”
Emotionally spent, he lowered his arms to his side. He’d not intended to unleash the deepest recesses of his heart, but once he opened his mouth, it all poured out. A vulnerable feeling came over him. Part of him feared God wouldn’t answer. Where would that leave him? He’d reached his last hope and if that didn’t pan out, what would he do then?
He returned inside, dripping water on his kitchen floor. The air condition chose that moment to kick on, sending cold air through the vent and over his wet clothes. His entire body, from head to toe, trembled with a chill that penetrated to his bones. He had to mop his mess, but not until he’d changed into dry clothes.
In his room, he pulled out a pair of jeans from his dresser and a t-shirt from his closet. Dry clothes weren’t enough to ward off the chill. He needed layers. He went back to his dresser and opened the bottom drawer that stored his hoodies in the off-season. There hadn’t been a cool enough day yet to warrant bringing them out and adding them to his normal rotation of clothes in his closet.
He dug through sweaters he rarely wore to get to the sweatshirts. His favorite was on the very bottom, and when he laid hands on it, he yanked it from the drawer. Something fell on the floor.
It was a Bible. Not his normal Bible that he’d used before the deployment, but a military edition. Camouflage decorated the front design, and the flexible cover had small lines of texture. He’d hadn’t seen it in ages, had thought he’d lost it. How it ended up in his bottom drawer, he didn’t know.
“Is this Your answer, God?” A breathless laugh escaped. Hehadasked for answers. To ignore the Bible could very well mean rejecting the solution he’d asked for. “What do I do with it? Am I supposed to just open to a page and there will be my answers?”
What would it hurt? That was his phrase of the day, it seemed.
On his way to the kitchen, he turned up the air so it wouldn’t come on again. Then he made a cup of coffee. Rain continued beating down on his house, creating the perfect setting for quiet reflection. Granted, he’d never been one for reading, but if he was going to, a dreary day presented the perfect opportunity for it.
When the coffee finished brewing, he added sugar and stirred it before carrying the cup and Bible to the living room. He settled into his usual spot on the sofa. For a minute, he stared at the Bible, afraid of what he’d find inside. An odd thought since he’d read through it multiple times in his life, first as a pre-teen, then several times in high school. Not that he hadn’t cared about the contents, but he’d mainly read it because he wanted the rewards his youth group offered.
He tapped his fingers on the sofa’s armrest.Just open it. Holding the Bible by its spine, he let the book open and the pages fall. He glanced down. Psalms. Isn’t that how it usually went? But didn’t people always turn to the Psalms for comfort? He’d invested himself this far, might as well follow the course.
The first page began with the last verses of Psalm 138 and led into chapter 139. He skimmed the first few lines, then focused on the full chapter. When he finished, he went back and reread it again, not believing his eyes. Every word spoke directly to him, but one verse, in particular, jumped from the pages.
Your eyes saw me when I was formless; all my days were written in Your book and planned before a single one of them began.
Every. Day. Had. Been. Planned.
God. Knew.
This. This is what he needed to see and let seep into his heart. God had been in control. Not him. Not Mike. Not Wyatt. Not Evan. Not their pilot, or even the enemy that caused the crash. Only God.
He’d made a choice, but all the bad choices in the world couldn’t circumnavigate the plan God had set out for Mike’s life, or his. The truth of His Word broke through the fog of grief and guilt.
“I’m sorry, Lord. Forgive my doubts and my immature behavior. I don’t know why Mike died and I’m still alive, but I have to believe that was only one frame of the big picture. Show me Your plan for my life, so that I can live with purpose.”
Stillness came over him. The kind that only comes from inner peace and acceptance of what had occurred. Ownership of his part, but acknowledgment of a divine Force at work.
Life could never be the same as before Mike’s death, but that didn’t mean his life had to end. To live as he had for the last year and a half was to let Mike’s death count for nothing. That stopped today.
His future spread before him, a near-blank canvas for him to fill. It held a vague outline of fatherhood, left for him to fill as the years progressed. The rest he didn’t know, but at last he looked forward to what was ahead instead of dreading the approach of each new day.
Chapter Eight
The sweet aroma of cinnamon and pumpkin filled Sybil’s house. Fall had never been her favorite season—she preferred spring and summer. This year proved different. So much in her life had changed, and she wasn’t the same person she’d been in the spring.
Fall invoked sentiments of coziness. Staying home and drinking cider while watching old movies. Walks through the woods with leaves crunching under her feet. Autumn invited personal connections with those she cared about, created ideal settings in which to spend quality time with friends and family.
Perhaps that’s why she’d never cared for autumn—she’d never had anyone she’d been close enough with to desire that time together. Even the friends she’d cared most about, she’d kept at an arm’s distance. Letting people know the real her required exposing herself, and Mom had taught her the dangers of that.
Rysa and Jared were slowly changing her fear of friendships. She saw qualities in them that debunked her old beliefs that everyone’s self-serving. There were people out there who acted out of the kindness of their hearts without expecting anything in return.
She curled on her recliner and sipped her caramel apple cider. A vine of tiny pumpkins lined her TV stand. Their presence officially made this the most decorating she’d ever done for any holiday, and that wasn’t including the harvest placemats she’d bought for her table.
Since she became pregnant and stopped going out to the bars and happy hours, she discovered she liked being home. Staying alone with her thoughts wasn’t the nightmare it had once been, and Rysa and Jared ensured she never stayed alone for long. She’d come to enjoy, and even look forward to, their company.
If anyone had told her six months ago that she’d become a homebody, she would have laughed in their face. And it wasn’t as if she never left. She went to work every Monday through Friday. One or two nights a week she’d go out to eat with Rysa, but her activities were no doubt more subdued.
The old group of friends would call her boring. Actually, they had called her that. At least Liz had.Don’t let her get under your skin. She barely spoke with Liz anymore, and the last time she had, Liz made it clear their lifestyles no longer meshed for friendship. Whatever that meant. Couldn’t people be friends through different stages of life?
