by Chris Fabry
The room quieted and Hannah watched Rose wheel her father to the van parked outside. Hannah wanted to go with him, but Rose said she could see him tomorrow. Coach Harrison and his boys helped Rose get her father into the van. While they did, Mrs. Harrison and Mrs. Brooks prayed.
“Maybe he shouldn’t have come,” Hannah said to her grandmother as they watched the van pull away.
“Your father wouldn’t take no for an answer. He wanted to give you this party if it was the last thing he did. He had Olivia buy that dress for you.”
Hannah turned to Mrs. Brooks. “Is that true?”
“I took my phone to the store and described all the dresses I thought you might like,” Mrs. Brooks said. “When he heard about this one, the pink-and-white flowers on top of the blue, he said, ‘That’s the one for my Valentine. I don’t care how much it costs.’”
Hannah and her grandmother drove home in silence, the rest of the cake in a cardboard container in the backseat. When Hannah was in bed, her grandmother came into her room and sat.
“I just got a text from Rose. She says your father’s resting. He’s fine. Like he said, it was too much excitement.”
Hannah opened her nightstand drawer and pulled out her blue box. It was now filled with pictures of her and her father that they’d taken in the past weeks.
“He’s not going to get better, is he?” Hannah said.
Her grandmother stared at her hands. “I could make something up to help you feel better, but you’re old enough for the truth. Rose doesn’t think he has much time left. That’s partly why she worked it out so he could be at the dinner.”
“Do you still hate him, Grandma?”
She looked at Hannah with sad eyes. “No, baby. I spent the last fifteen years hating him. I made a vow he would never come into your life. But that was before I saw what God can do on the inside of a person. I had no idea how He could change your father. I had no idea what He could do inside of me, either. Your father is a different person. And so am I.”
Hannah stared at the photos and felt the emotion creeping up on her. “I don’t want him to die. It doesn’t seem fair that God would bring him to me and then just take him away. Does that make sense to you?”
“I don’t have a good answer for that one, baby.” She took one of the pictures from the stack and studied it. Hannah and her father mugging for the camera. “I keep wondering what would have happened if he hadn’t been brought here from Fairview. Or if your coach hadn’t stumbled into his room and struck up a conversation.”
“Maybe instead of feeling bad about the little time I have, I can be thankful for the time we do have together.”
“You need to feel whatever you feel. This is hard all the way around. But it’s good, too. And you’re right about it not making sense. I feel that too.”
“Daddy says you don’t have to understand everything God does in order to believe Him or trust Him.”
“I think he’s right. God wouldn’t be God if we could understand everything, would He?”
Hannah put the lid on the box and placed it in the drawer. “I used to keep all the things I stole in there. You never found them.”
“Did you really give all of them back?”
Hannah nodded and closed the drawer. Her grandmother smiled. “I never told you what happened that day, did I? The day your mother died.”
“You’ve never told me anything about it.”
“Thomas brought you to me. T-bone is what we called him. You were wrapped in a blanket. It was the last thing he did before he ran away. I was dealing with the hospital when he banged on the door. They had called about your mother being there. He put the blanket down in front of me on the floor and you pushed your tiny fist through the folds. I picked you up.”
Tears came to her grandmother’s eyes and she looked away for a moment, then continued. “Even then, he cared about you. Even though he was out of his mind with the drugs, you know. He could have left you at the hospital. For some reason he drove all the way over here.”
“I think it’s because he loved me.”
“No doubt,” her grandmother said. “I’ve never been able to think about that day without having it bring up all the pain of losing your mother. But when I thought about you and that blanket just now, it didn’t stop me in my tracks.”
“Maybe it’s because you’ve forgiven him.”
“I never thought I would. Never believed it possible.”
“How did you do it?”
She handed the picture back to Hannah. “I think somehow forgiveness is a gift you have to open every day. First, you open it for yourself and receive it. Once you do that, you wrap it up and give it to somebody else.”
Her grandmother rose and looked down at her. “I’m sorry for all the times I yelled at you. I’m going to try and do better. I’m asking God to help me with that.”
“I forgive you, Grandma. And I’m sorry for making you worry so much.”
She laughed. “Worrying was a choice I made. But I forgive you.”
Her grandmother paused at the door, her hand on the light switch. She looked like there was more she wanted to say.
“Good night, baby.”
“Good night, Grandma.”
CHAPTER 46
Barbara sat by Hannah in the front pew of the Harrisons’ church. Pastor Latimer had opened its doors for Thomas’s funeral. It was his last request that they have the funeral in Franklin. The pews were full of people from Brookshire and the hospital staff. She thought it was fitting that in death, Thomas had brought together people of such different colors and backgrounds.
They sang songs Thomas had chosen—all of them praising God for His mercy, love, and forgiveness. They sang, “Open the eyes of my heart, Lord,” and Barbara smiled at the thought that Thomas was seeing again and how wonderful his view must be.
Reverend Willy Parks, the pastor of Thomas’s church in Fairview, spoke of meeting Thomas for the first time. “I didn’t know him before he met Jesus. I only met him after he had lost his physical sight. But this man had spiritual sight and a hunger for God the likes of which I have never seen.
“On the day I met him, he told me he was going to pray for me every day. And he did that. I asked him if there was something I could pray for him about and I thought he would ask me to pray for his healing. But he didn’t.
“On that first day I met Thomas, he had one prayer request. He asked me to pray that his daughter would come to know Jesus as Lord and Savior. I didn’t even know he had a daughter. And in time, he told me the story. It’s a sad one. It’s heartbreaking in many ways. It was hard for him to tell it because of the guilt he felt.
“I prayed with him for almost three years about the daughter he left, the regrets he had, and this unfinished chapter of his life. We prayed together and wept together. He struggled with whether he should reach out to her after all these years and what the possible consequences of doing that might be. I have to be honest—I wanted to pick up the phone and call. But I honored his request, for the most part.”
Reverend Parks looked straight at Barbara and smiled. She wiped away a tear and hugged Hannah.
“Now I look at the fruit of the prayers we prayed and the work of God in our hearts,” Reverend Parks said, looking at the front row. “Hannah, your father loved you deeply. And he wanted you to know the heavenly Father’s love personally. He was so proud of you. I wish you could have heard him on the phone telling me about the day you stood by his bed and told him that God had forgiven you, so the least you could do was forgive him. I got down on my knees that day and prayed with thanksgiving. God is still in the miracle business. Our God is a forgiving God. He is a loving God. And I praise Him today for you, Hannah, and for your father, Thomas.
“So now the last page has turned in the life of Thomas Hill. And the words The End appear on that page. But I submit to you, this is not the end of Thomas Hill. Thomas Hill is more alive now than he ever was. Thomas Hill is enjoying the relationship he began by
surrendering his heart to the God who gave His only Son for him. Thomas had only one thing he wanted me to do today. He gave me only one directive. He told me to tell you about the great grace of God, who can forgive you and change you on the inside. He told me to let you know God wants to make you a new creation in Him.”
Toward the end of the service, Reverend Parks gave an opportunity for Hannah to speak. Barbara told her she didn’t have to, that she might not be able to get through it, but Hannah was determined, just like her father.
She rose and walked to the pulpit and spread a sheet of paper in front of her. Her voice shook as she read the words.
“I want to thank God today for my daddy. I want to thank God for the time we had together. It was short, but I’ll treasure those talks and the love he gave.
“I want to thank God that He blessed my daddy in Christ. That He chose him before the foundation of the world. That He adopted him, redeemed him, and forgave him. God sealed my daddy with His Holy Spirit. God saved my daddy and made him His child.
“God created my daddy and planned ahead of time for him to do good things. And, Daddy, because you are in Christ, you were made totally righteous in God’s sight. And because I am in Christ, the next time I see you, you’ll see me, too.”
There was not a dry eye in the church. As Hannah sat, Barbara turned and caught Coach Harrison’s eyes. They were filled with tears but he was smiling.
At the graveside, a smaller group gathered. Reverend Parks stepped to the head of the casket to deliver final words.
“Thomas Hill’s life is a testimony of redemption, of the grace of God and His power to change a man’s heart. So we take comfort today that he no longer suffers and is now alive and well in the presence of the Lord. For Jesus said, ‘I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live.’”
Barbara stood next to Hannah. For years she had thought this would be a day when she would dance, finally free of the man who had shattered her life. But instead she was shedding tears—for Hannah, for Thomas, and for a deep loss she felt in her own heart.
After the service, Mrs. Harrison approached her. “Barbara, please let us know if you need anything.”
“Thank you. We will.”
She put a hand on Barbara’s shoulder. “I know today has been one of mixed emotions for you.”
“Yes, but I’m at peace,” Barbara said. “I know without a shadow of a doubt that Thomas truly loved Hannah. And I can honestly say forgiveness is beautiful.”
CHAPTER 47
Hannah stood by the grave, staring at the pretty white carnations and ferns arranged on top of her father’s casket. This was the first funeral she’d ever been to and she hadn’t known what to expect. The laughter at her father’s humor had surprised her—and she was glad people could smile in the midst of the grief.
She thought it fitting to wear the dress her father had picked out for her birthday party. Her grandmother agreed.
In her hands she held the folded slip of paper that contained the eulogy she had written on her own. She had thought about putting her running medal in the casket before they closed it, but she forgot to bring it. And that was fine. She would think of her father each time she saw it, remembering the look on his face when she had presented it to him the day of the race.
“Hannah, are you okay?” Coach Harrison said as he joined her.
She nodded, still staring at the flower arrangement. She wondered what they would do with it when they lowered the casket into the earth.
“I want you to know your dad was a very good friend to me. And I grew to love and respect him very much.”
“Me, too,” she said. “For six weeks, I had the best dad in the world.”
He put an arm around her and hugged her. “I think your dad would be proud of what you said today. Proud that you stood up there in front of all those people and talked about him. And talked about your faith.”
She nodded. “I think the pastor was right.”
“About what?”
She put a hand on her necklace. “When he said this is not the end of the story. His life is going to speak through all of us who knew him. His story doesn’t end here, Coach Harrison.”
EPILOGUE
Hannah kept her father’s CD player on her nightstand and wore out his collection of worship music. She continued running cross-country for Brookshire Christian School and won the state championship again her senior year.
Mrs. Brooks called her into the office on the day she received a full-ride scholarship from Newhart College. Robert Odelle happened to be in the office that day. He stared at the floor as she passed him. Some things in life got better, some got worse, and others seemed to stay the same.
Curiously, Hannah’s grandmother was offered a job at Brookshire Christian School at the start of Hannah’s junior year. Mrs. Brooks said she was exactly the person they needed in the admissions department.
As soon as Hannah got settled in her college dorm as a freshman, she joined a Fellowship of Christian Athletes group and got involved in a Bible study. The leader of the group, Ethan Harrison, who was a walk-on for the Newhart basketball team, suggested she tell her story at a meeting of several campus Christian ministries. Hannah agreed, though she was nervous about public speaking. She was surprised at the response. She didn’t know there were so many who would connect with her story.
Her appearances led to other opportunities to speak in front of high school groups and assemblies. She ended each talk, whether to a large or small group, with a challenge.
“At some point, you will ask yourself who you really are. I used to struggle with that. I felt like I was a mistake and had no place in this world. I felt unloved and unwanted. I got so many mixed messages from the world around me that I lived in confusion most of the time. But when I met the One that created me, I found my identity. It doesn’t come from what the culture says to me, or even how I feel at any given time. The Creator is the One that gets to define His creation.
“I still have good days and bad days. I still have struggles. But through all of that, I know that the One that loves me and died for me is with me. He overcame everything for me. Sin, suffering, and death. So I walk with Him every day. I trust Him every day, no matter what. And since my identity is found in Him, I know exactly who I am.”
She ran each race with the possibility of a visit from her nemesis, asthma. But she came to see even asthma as something God had allowed. He used her condition to help her depend on Him for every step, every breath.
The greatest feeling Hannah had wasn’t winning races, though she did win a few in college. The times she felt most alive were when she saw that spark in some young girl who understood who she was “in Christ,” as Hannah had discovered when she was fifteen.
As for John Harrison, he returned to coaching basketball. His son Will gave up his Tackle Ball Extreme idea and played point guard on the team.
John began a new tradition that first season. It seemed strange to the players that he would begin their first practice not with a drill but with a question.
“If I asked you who you are, what’s the first thing that comes to mind?”
Eventually he told them the story of Thomas Hill and the impact the man had on his life. And as the seasons progressed, each player would answer the question for themselves. Each player would come to understand the power of knowing their true identity and the power available to be an overcomer.
It was on Hannah’s sixteenth birthday that she discovered the surprise her father and Coach Harrison had secretly planned that Saturday morning.
On the Valentine’s Day after her father’s death, Hannah opened the front door to find Coach Harrison standing on the porch with a small, wrapped package. He handed it to her and said, “Happy birthday, Hannah. This is from your dad.”
She opened it and found a USB drive. What in the world?
“Load it on your iPod and go for a run.”
She copied the file to t
he device, plugged in her earphones, and ran through Webb Park. She was near the basketball court when she hit Play.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Hannah,” her father’s voice said. She had to stop, the emotion overwhelming her. “It’s your sixteenth birthday. I want to tell you that I love you and that God loves you. And I’m so excited about what’s in store in your life. Here’s what I’ve already prayed for you for this next year.”
She would receive a new birthday message from her father, his words blessing her as he prayed for her, for the next fifteen years, the amount of time her father had missed before he had returned to her life. She treasured those gifts and kept them safely stored in a blue box in her nightstand.
Miss Clara
She was an old woman with gray hair and dark skin, and she gave a sigh of relief as she pulled into the cemetery parking lot, as if just being able to apply the brake was an answer to prayer. She shuffled among the tombstones resolutely, nodding in recognition as she passed familiar names. It was becoming difficult to dredge up faces along with the names. Her gait was steady, and each footstep took her closer to her destination, a tombstone that read Williams. When she reached it, she stood and let the fresh, earthy smell wash over her. It felt like rain.
“You always loved the rain, didn’t you, Leo?” she said aloud. “Yes, you did. You loved the rain.”
In these sacred moments of Clara Williams’s life, she knew she was not talking to her husband. She knew where his soul was, and it was not under the green earth below her. Still, the exercise cleared her mind and connected her with the past in a way nothing else could. She could look at pictures of Leo in his military uniform and a few tattered photographs he had carried with him after he’d come home from Vietnam, and those brought her closer, but there was nothing like the feeling of running her hand across the cut stone and feeling the carved-out name and adjusting the little flag on top of his grave. There always had to be a flag there.