Two Steps Forward

by Sharon Garlough Brown

  Lord, help. “I’m not trying to impose anything on you. I just want so much for you to experience some of what I’ve been experiencing the past couple of months. To discover how near God is, how good God is. How much he loves you. I can’t even explain it. I wish I could. I’m not good with words.”

  Inhale. Emmanuel.

  Exhale. Come.

  Becca was quiet, so she pressed on. “I had this revelation a couple of months ago, when I first started thinking about your dad again. It was like I suddenly saw that as much as your dad loved me—and I always knew how deeply he loved and treasured me—as complete as that love was, I suddenly saw that it was only a shadow of how Jesus has loved me and I—”

  “Mom.”

  “I just want you to know how Jesus—”

  “Mom. Stop. Please.”

  Shallow inhale.

  Oh.

  Ragged breath.

  Come.

  Part Four

  Love Descends

  If then there is any encouragement in Christ, any consolation from love, any sharing in the Spirit, any compassion and sympathy, make my joy complete: be of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind. Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others. Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death—even death on a cross. Therefore God also highly exalted him and gave him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

  Philippians 2:1-11

  eleven

  Charissa

  Charissa and John walked hand in hand through the church parking lot, fresh snow creaking beneath their feet. “I want to do something nice for Mara,” Charissa said. “I sat there the whole sermon listening to how lavish God is and thinking about how stingy I am. I don’t want to be stingy. Maybe I need to start practicing the spiritual discipline of generosity.”

  “Awesome! So can I get an Xbox?”

  She elbowed him.

  “How about a new phone?”

  “I’m serious!”

  “New TV?”

  “John!”

  He slumped his shoulders forward in an exaggerated display of feigned disappointment. “What do you want to get her?”

  “I don’t know. I want to give a donation in her honor to Crossroads, because that place means so much to her. And then maybe give her something about being a grandmother.”

  “Like a ‘world’s greatest’ mug or something?”

  “Maybe.” She’d probably drink from it with pride. “Can we go shopping?”

  He unlocked the car and removed the snow brush from under the seat. “For Mara and for gadgets?” he asked.

  “No,” she said. “No shopping for gadgets. I’ve got something else I want to show you.”

  Open house signs for 1020 Evergreen dotted a neighborhood filled with old cottages, many of which had been renovated. When they arrived at the address, a single car was parked in the driveway. Theirs was the only car parked on the street. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?” John asked.

  “Honestly, I’ve been so preoccupied with everything else lately that I completely forgot about Meg’s email until yesterday. And then when I looked at the description and pictures online, I wasn’t sure you’d be interested. I wasn’t sure I was interested.” She peered through the windshield at the pale yellow gingerbread house with a white picket fence, window boxes, and a covered front porch. Charming, with character, the listing had said. The agent hadn’t lied. Though visibly tired, the cottage possessed a certain cozy appeal, even from the street. It looked like the sort of place where a young couple like Meg and her husband would have been very much at home. Where a young couple expecting their first child could be very much at home.

  “It’s small,” Charissa continued. “Only two bedrooms, one bath. And the listing said it needed work. But when I saw there was an open house today, I thought, why not?”

  “Yeah, why not?” John echoed. He leaned over and kissed her. “Thank you,” he said. “This means a lot to me that you would do this.” As they walked together to the front door, Charissa inconspicuously opened one of her hands and breathed a prayer.

  The realtor gave them space to meander unimpeded through the empty house. They did not comment to one another while opening doors into tiny closets; they did not remark aloud about dark cabinets, dated floral wallpaper, stained linoleum, and grungy carpet, some of which had come loose in a corner of the family room. John knelt down. “Hardwood floors,” he said, carefully lifting the corner. “It’s all hardwood under here. Original, I bet.”

  Charissa stooped to look, wondering which homeowner had covered up hardwood floors with cheap shag carpet. She bet it wasn’t Meg.

  “Well,” Charissa began, “the listing was honest. Lots of work.”

  “Lots of potential,” John said, still kneeling.

  “Do you like it?” she asked quietly.

  “Do you?” he replied.

  She did. But she didn’t want to sway him toward it when she knew the bulk of the renovation work would fall squarely on his shoulders. Saying yes to this house would be a commitment with a cost.

  “I do,” she said. “But I know it will be a lot of work. An awful lot of work. And a lot of it will fall on you.”

  John stared off into space. She knew this wasn’t the kind of property he’d been looking for. He’d hoped to find a gleaming, move-in-ready house with three bedrooms and lots of space. So had she. But something about this unassuming, imperfect house beckoned to her as home.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking,” she said.

  He smiled and took her hand. “I’m thinking that the front room there could be our baby’s room.”

  Mara

  When the doorbell rang at three o’clock on Sunday afternoon, Mara figured Tom had decided to pull some unforeseen stunt. Peering out the kitchen window, she saw an unfamiliar white sedan in the driveway. Great. Now what was he up to? She opened the door prepared for a confrontation and instead found three smiling people, one of whom was carrying an infant car seat covered with a pink plush blanket. “Madeleine wanted to come say hi to her nana!” Jeremy said, shaking the snow from his hair.

  “Oh, my goodness! Come in!” Mara held the door open for Jeremy, Abby, and Abby’s mother, Ellen. “What a wonderful surprise!” She hadn’t seen Ellen since the wedding. No wonder she hadn’t recognized the car. Must be Ellen’s rental.

  She reached for the car seat while Jeremy and the others removed their coats and boots. Evidently Ellen had already managed to stitch “Madeleine Lee” and a bouquet of flowers onto a blanket. Figured.

  “My mom wanted to come by and say hello,” Abby said. “Hope that’s okay.”

  “Of course! Of course.” Mara wasn’t sure if she should hug Ellen or shake her hand. Abby whispered something in Chinese to her mother, who smiled at Mara. Jeremy took the car seat from her and removed the blanket. Madeleine was fast asleep in her reindeer suit. She looked adorable in it. Absolutely adorable. Mara wondered if Ellen thought so. “Please,” she said, motioning toward the kitchen. “Come in and sit down. I’ll put some coffee on.”

  “We can’t stay long,” Jeremy said. “Ellen’s flight leaves in a few hours. This was just a quick trip.”

  So she wasn’t staying through Christmas. Good. It had been hard enough for Mara to give the other grandmother space to bond with Madeleine the past two and a half days.

  While the rest of them sat down around the table, Mara arranged some cookies on a plate and turned o
n the coffee pot. Or maybe they’d prefer tea. She asked; no takers. “So how’s our tiny angel doing?” She gestured toward the car seat, wishing she could pick her up and cradle her. Her little face had such squishy cheeks, and baby drool dribbled from her chin.

  “Everything’s great. She’s perfect,” said Jeremy.

  “Of course she is!” Mara cooed.

  Ellen smiled and said in halting English, “Beautiful baby. Very happy. Very proud.”

  Abby reached into the large multi-pocketed diaper bag and removed a package and an envelope. “A gift from my mother,” she said. “And a card from me.”

  “Oh! You didn’t have to do that!” It had never occurred to Mara to buy something for the other grandmother. Fabulous. She curved her lips into what she hoped was a grateful smile, took the gift, and opened it. Framed in glass was parchment paper with Chinese characters drawn in beautiful black pen strokes and English words written in swirling calligraphy. Madeleine Lee Payne: For this child I prayed, and the Lord has granted me the petition that I made to him. (1 Samuel 1:27)

  Oh.

  Oh, Lord.

  Mara’s eyes brimmed with emotion. “For me?” She pressed her hand to her chest.

  Ellen was beaming. “Grandmothers,” she said. “And sisters.”

  Sisters.

  Ellen began speaking in rapid, animated syllables. Mara waited for Abby to translate. “My mother says to tell you that she was very excited when she learned that you’re a Christian and that she’s so happy that both of Madeleine’s grandmothers are praying for her.” Abby paused, looked at her mother, then back to Mara. “And she wants you to know that she’s been praying for me to go back to church.”

  At the word “church,” Ellen smiled, nodded, and pointed to Abby.

  No translation necessary. Mara perfectly understood the longing of a mother’s heart.

  “Jeremy and I talked about it,” Abby continued, “and I told her we would go with you to church on Christmas Eve. I haven’t been in a very long time.”

  Oh, Lord. What kind of unexpected and outrageously generous gift was this?

  Unable to speak, Mara clasped her hands together in a gesture of prayer and nodded to Ellen.

  Ellen motioned to the frame, then to Abby, Jeremy, and Madeleine, each in turn, saying, “For this child, we pray.”

  Mara swallowed her tears. “Amen.”

  She reached for Ellen’s hand to squeeze it, then opened the gold envelope on her lap. Inside was a Christmas card with a handwritten note from Abby.

  Dear Mom,

  If she choked up at the first line, she didn’t have much hope for the rest, did she? She cleared her throat before starting to read silently again.

  Dear Mom,

  Thank you so much for your special gifts to Madeleine. We are so happy you are able to share in our life together! Thank you, too, for all of the ways you sacrificed for Jeremy. He always tells me how he knew, no matter what happened, that you loved him more than you loved yourself. You made a good life possible for him, and I am very grateful. I know he will be such a wonderful dad for our daughter. He already is a wonderful and loving husband to me.

  Please know that we love you and we are with you, no matter what.

  Merry Christmas.

  Love, Abby

  As Mara rose to embrace her daughter-in-law, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the corner china cabinet. Jesus loves me, she declared to herself. He has chosen me, and he will never reject me.

  And nothing, no one, could take that away from her.

  Hannah

  “I can’t believe I was so small and petty!” Mara said to Hannah. She had a toilet brush in one hand, a spray bottle in the other. “Here I was, jealous like crazy, only thinking of her as some kind of rival grandmother or threat, and it turns out she’s a fellow believer who has been praying for her family. For our family. How cool is that?”

  Hannah wiped down Meg’s bathroom mirror with a paper towel. “Pretty cool,” she said. Over her right shoulder she saw Mara’s beaming reflection in the mirror and knew what she was silently declaring. In fact, Hannah could join her. She stared at her own image as she wiped in counter-clockwise circles. Thank you, Lord, that I am your beloved, infinitely loved. Thank you for Nate and for the ways he mirrors your loving kindness to me. Thank you for revealing your love to Mara. Thank you that you love Meg and Becca. Help them know your love. Thank you for blessing Charissa and John. Please guide them into a good home. Thank you for blessing Heather and her work at Westminster. Thank you that we are each the ones you love. Laura also came to mind, but Hannah still couldn’t bring herself to thank God for blessing her. Sorry, Lord. Can’t.

  “Any more news from Meg?” Mara asked.

  “Not since she emailed to say she was coming home.”

  Mara put the spray bottle back under the sink. “I’m planning to make a couple of casseroles tomorrow morning so that she’ll have something in the fridge when she gets home. Or you guys can freeze them if she’s not hungry. Her flight gets in at seven, right?”

  “Right.” Hannah finished the mirror and sprayed down the counter.

  “Well, I’ll be at Crossroads serving with Kevin at noon for a few hours—pray for us—and then once the boys and I finish dinner, I’ll head over here to meet you. Is Nathan coming with us?”

  “No. He didn’t want to overwhelm her. He figures she’ll be exhausted enough.” Poor Meg. What a way to come home.

  “I told Charissa I’ll let her know about when we can all get together. She said either Tuesday night or lunch on Christmas Eve works for her. And I told her we’d be praying for them while they wait to hear about their offer. I think it’s so amazing they might be moving into Meg’s old house.”

  Hannah agreed. “I wasn’t even thinking about her house being for sale when I wrote to her about Charissa and John looking for one. Don’t know why I forgot, but I’m glad Meg let them know about it.” Talk about a step forward, Hannah thought. One more significant step in the process of grieving and letting go.

  Mara sat down on the closed toilet lid. “I hope Meg likes the decorations we put up.”

  “I’m sure she will.”

  The house, so desolate the first time Hannah entered, now felt festive and warm. Hannah had even bought some firewood, just in case Meg confirmed that the chimney was sound. Few things brought Hannah more enjoyment than a crackling fire, a cup of tea, and a good book. She’d already burned through quite a few logs—and tea bags and books—at the cottage.

  “You should’ve seen our church this morning,” Mara went on. “I told you how our pastor preached this message a couple of weeks ago about Jesus being born into the mess, right?”

  “Yes. Sounded like it was powerful.”

  “It was,” Mara said. “But when I got there this morning, I thought something had happened. Like vandalism or something. The whole stage was a mess. An absolute mess. Paint cans, trash, beat-up car doors and bumpers, overturned shopping carts, scraps of paper and wood. All the poinsettias and Christmas trees that were up last week were gone. But there was a manger near a trashcan, and this light was shining from the manger up to a big wooden cross. And it cast this huge shadow of a cross on the wall. It was powerful, Hannah. Ugly and awful and powerful. Pastor Jeff said he wanted to make sure we were getting the message about Jesus entering into the mess and chaos and sin in the world and what it means for us today. So he gave us a picture of it. A really unforgettable picture. I can only imagine what some people were thinking. There were probably some people who were offended. Really offended.”

  Hannah smiled wryly. “I can imagine. Not the cozy, Hallmark-card version of Christmas, huh?”

  “Nope. Don’t get me wrong. I love the pretty stuff. I love the lights and trees and wreaths—like all the decorating we’ve done here. But I can’t tell you how encouraging it was to see the mess. I just sat there staring at that cross. Just so grateful, you know? For everything Jesus gave up for us. I’ll never forget the ima
ge. At least, I hope I don’t forget. He’s with us. In all the crap.”

  Mara’s phone buzzed with a text, and she reached into her pocket. “That’s Kevin,” she said, reading the screen. “Tom’s going to drop them off at the house in an hour.”

  Hannah turned on the faucet and rinsed out the sink. “Will you be okay?”

  “I doubt he’ll even come in.”

  “Do you want me there?”

  Mara shook her head. “No, thanks. I’ll be fine.” She paused, her brow furrowed. “I bet Tom’s spent all weekend buying them expensive gifts.”

  Hannah noticed there was only a mildly bitter and resentful edge to her voice. Definitely not as hostile as it had been.

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about what Dawn said about ‘Poor Tom’ and his empty life,” Mara continued. “I’m sure not gonna say I feel sorry for him, and I still want him to suffer as much as possible. That’s the honest truth. But I’m beginning to see how rich my life is. Crazy, huh?”

  Hannah nodded and said, “Sounds like the Spirit’s work to me.”

  Sunday, December 21

  6:30 p.m.

  Okay, Lord. I hear you. You’ve got my attention.

  I’ve been praying diligently for Tom the past week, even though he has sinned against someone I dearly love. I’ve been praying for Mara not to become consumed by bitterness and anger and resentment, and I see how you’re working with her, moving her forward step by step and giving her the gift of a joyful distraction away from some of the stress right now.

  But whenever Laura comes to mind—and she’s been coming to mind a lot the past couple of days—I refuse to pray for her. Not because she’s wounded Nate, but because I don’t want her to flourish. Forgive me. Mara’s description of their sanctuary really gripped and convicted me. You withheld nothing from us. Absolutely nothing. And that stage was not only a picture of the world you entered, but the hearts you enter. You entered the mess of mine. And you are determined to make me like yourself. So please give me the desire and the power to do what I so deeply resist doing. Help me to pray your blessing upon Laura. I’ll write the words here in faith and then trust that somehow you’ll be at work in the deep recesses of my spirit, freeing me as I offer words I don’t yet mean.