With a thick layer of frosting covering the angel, Jackson set it down and sprinkled colored sugar over its wings. “Austin’s not coming back, is he?”
Leah stopped frosting her own cookie and set it down, the heaviness of heart she’d managed to shake off for a short time returning. When she’d told Jackson two days ago that Austin had to go to Fort Benning, the boy hadn’t said much. But Leah hadn’t missed how many times he looked out the window toward Austin’s driveway.
Wiping her hands on her apron, Leah stepped around the counter to stand next to Jackson. “I don’t think so.”
She wasn’t sure she’d fully come to grips with it herself, but she was trying. Instead of being bitter about the time they wouldn’t have together, she was focusing on being grateful for the time they had enjoyed together. And for the fact that he’d changed her outlook on life―on love.
Even though she was in no rush to meet someone and get married, she was no longer so certain that God had written that out of his plan for her life. Maybe someday . . . if the right man came along. Although at the moment, the only face she saw when she pictured the right man was Austin’s.
Please be with him, Lord. She’d been repeating the same prayer constantly since Austin had left. She’d never stop praying for him, even if she never saw or heard from him again.
“Can’t you call him?” Jackson looked at her as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Tell him to come back?”
Leah sighed. It wasn’t like she hadn’t contemplated doing that very thing. Every. Single. Moment.
But every time she pulled her phone out to dial, she put it away. If this was what Austin felt he had to do, she had no right to make it harder on him.
“It’s not that simple.” She piled the cooled cookies into a plastic container. She’d bring them to Christmas at Dan’s tomorrow.
Jackson bit the head off a snowman. “Seems pretty easy to me. Call and tell him he’s being an idiot.”
Leah’s heart twisted for the boy. Just when he’d thought he finally had a steady father figure in his life. “Austin loves you,” she said quietly. “And so do I.”
Jackson looked at her expectantly. “So . . .”
“It’s complicated,” she repeated.
“Mrs. Jenkins always says a problem is never as complicated as it seems if you break it down into its smallest parts.”
Leah snapped the lid on one container and pulled out another. “Who’s Mrs. Jenkins?”
“My math teacher. I think the smallest part is that you’re scared to call him. Because you’re afraid maybe he might come back.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Leah pushed a piece of hair out of her eyes. “I’ll clean this up. You go get ready for church.”
Jackson popped the rest of the cookie into his mouth. “It’s simple,” he said as he trotted down the hallway toward his room.
Leah shook her head. She was so, so grateful for their wonderful day together. But this was not a conversation she wanted to have with him.
He was just a kid. What did he know about being scared to love people?
Probably a whole lot.
Wasn’t that the reason he’d tried so hard to push her away? Because he’d been burned by people claiming to love him so many times?
But that was different. Leah wasn’t afraid to love. She was just giving Austin the space he needed. She was completely willing to sacrifice herself for his sake.
That was all that was going on here.
Chapter 40
Austin threw his bags on the floor of the hotel room. After another whole day of driving, he’d made it back to Indianapolis. If it hadn’t been for the detour to visit Tanner’s family, he’d be in Georgia by now. But he couldn’t regret making the trip to see them. Knowing that they were okay―that in spite of everything they could smile and laugh and pray―had eased his heart at least a little.
He dropped onto the edge of the bed and rummaged in his bag for Tanner’s Bible. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to look at it last night, but the promise of a letter from Tanner had been hovering in the back of his mind all day.
He ran his fingers over the Bible’s soft leather cover. How many times had he seen Tanner do exactly the same thing, as if the book were an old friend?
Ignoring the tremor in his hands, he lifted the cover and inhaled as his eyes fell on the envelope. Despite Natalie’s warning, the sight of Tanner’s handwriting jarred him, and he had to look up quickly.
After a second, his heart rate slowing only slightly, he lifted the envelope out of the Bible and slid a sheet of paper out of it.
Hey Texas―
Austin couldn’t help the soft laugh at the nickname. He was from nowhere near Texas, and Tanner knew it, but for whatever reason, he enjoyed the play on Austin’s name. He let his eyes continue over the scrawled words.
So you’re reading this, huh? I guess that means I’m chilling in heaven right now.
Austin blew out a breath. It was Tanner’s voice, as sure as if he were sitting right here next to him.
I hope you know it’s pretty awesome here, and I’m happy. And I also know that you did everything you could to keep this from happening. You might be wondering how I know this, since I’m dead and all. It’s because I know you. And I also know that no matter how many people tell you my death isn’t your fault, you’ll insist it is.
Austin swiped at the tears blurring the words on the page.
Look, buddy, I’m sorry, but it wasn’t your choice when I went home. That was all God. And another thing: I suppose you’re using my death as one more excuse to harden your heart to him. Totally boneheaded move, man.
Austin shook his head. Even when he was writing his goodbye letters, Tanner couldn’t be serious.
That’s why I want you to have my personal Bible. I’ve been reading it and writing notes in it since I was thirteen. I hope you’ll read it and that you’ll let God open your heart through it. Because no matter how much you resist him, he loves you. He loves you so much that he sent his son to die for your sins so that you could come hang out with us here one day too. Looking forward to seeing you then.
Your brother,
Tanner
PS Check out Daniel chapter three.
For a long time after he read those last words, Austin sat holding the letter. How could one little sheet of paper covered with squiggles hold so much meaning? How had Tanner managed to capture the essence of himself in this letter? How had he known exactly what Austin needed to hear?
Finally, slowly, he opened the Bible and paged through it until he came to Daniel chapter three. He laughed as he read the heading―apparently Natalie knew her husband well. Tanner had directed him to the story of the fiery furnace.
With a sigh, Austin started to read it. He owed Tanner that much at least.
More than the story itself, Austin’s attention hooked on the copious notes Tanner had written in the margin. But it was the final note that stuck with him the most. “Faith isn’t faith if it only believes in God when he answers our prayers in the way we want him to. Faith is faith when we believe even if.”
As Austin closed the Bible, his head spun.
He’d had faith once. And he’d thought it was an even if kind of faith. But after the things he’d seen, after he’d lost one too many buddies in battle, he’d let go of that faith, pretended it had never existed.
Could he find it again?
Not on his own. That much he was sure of. Bible still clutched in his hands, he closed his eyes.
“Lord, help me.” He could only manage a whisper. “I need an even if kind of faith. I need faith to believe that you are with me even if things don’t go the way I think they should. That you love me even if I can’t be redeployed. That you are here even if something happens to Chad.” Saying it nearly destroyed him, but somehow he knew this was what he needed to pray right now.
Eyes still closed, he focused on regaining control of his ragged breathing. He needed peace.
>
His mind slid to the first sermon he’d ever heard Dan preach. About asking God for peace with the things he was angry about. He hadn’t wanted to be at peace then. He’d wanted to hold on to his anger.
But now he knew he couldn’t live like this, always angry with God. “Please give me peace, Lord.” His voice was stronger now. “Peace with Tanner’s death and Isaad’s. Peace with losing my leg. Peace with not knowing where Chad is. With all of it. Take my anger and give me your peace.”
At last, his breathing slowed, and he opened his eyes.
Had the prayer done anything? He didn’t feel different. Not really.
He reached for his duffel bag to put the Bible away and grab his sweats. He needed to at least attempt to get some sleep.
But as he reached into the bag, his hand fell on something sleek and thin. Another book?
He grabbed it out of the bag.
It was the church directory Leah had given him. He’d almost left it behind, but at the last minute, he’d thrown it in his bag. Even if he never looked at it, it was part of his family’s history.
But something compelled him to open it now. As his eyes fell on his parents, young and obviously in love, smiling at the camera as if they had no fears about the future, he realized they hadn’t known that their life wouldn’t turn out as planned either. And yet, even after his dad was killed, his mom didn’t turn away from God. She continued to bring Austin and his brother to church, continued to pray with them, continued to encourage them in their faith. She had been his living example of an even if kind of faith, and he hadn’t even realized it.
Setting the book aside, Austin reached for his bag again. Now he really did have to get to bed.
But as he tugged his sweatshirt out of the bag, something hit the floor with a soft thump.
A present, wrapped in blue and silver paper, lay in the middle of the floor. He stared at it, uncomprehending. That hadn’t been there when he’d packed.
And then he realized.
Leah.
As he reached for it, the ache he’d carried with him for the past three days of not being with her blazed into a need to hold her.
But that wasn’t possible―would never be possible again.
Maybe if he opened the present and got it over with, he’d get some closure.
He snatched the gift up and tore the paper off in one quick movement.
His breath caught. It was a ceramic ornament in the shape of a gingerbread house that looked startlingly like Leah’s house after they’d decorated it. But in place of the door was a picture―one they had taken during a walk on the beach last weekend. Austin stood with an arm around Leah, and Jackson stood in front of the two of them. There’d been no one else around, so Austin had extended his arm as far as he could to take the group selfie. The image was slightly out of focus, and he’d cut off the top of his own head―but the picture was perfect. All three of them were smiling as if there was nowhere else they’d rather be.
He ran his hand over the photo, regret slicing at him. If only things had turned out differently. If only he weren’t so broken.
Austin flipped the ornament over. On the flat white ceramic of the back, in flowing handwriting, Leah had written, “‘Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed,’ says the Lord, who has compassion on you. -Isaiah 54:10.”
Austin laid on the bed, resting the ornament on top of his heart. God’s covenant of peace, the verse said.
For the first time in a long time, he felt like maybe that covenant was for him too.
He reached for his phone to set the alarm. But as his finger hovered over the clock icon, a notification popped onto his screen―an email from Hope Church that the Christmas Eve service would begin live streaming in five minutes.
Austin hesitated. He was supposed to be leaving Hope Springs behind. But maybe one last night to remember wouldn’t hurt.
Chapter 41
In the glow of hundreds of candles, Leah joined the rest of the packed church in singing the final verse of “Silent Night.” Listening to Jackson singing next to her, she knew she had gotten more than she ever could have hoped for Christmas.
The final chord of the song rang out, and Leah joined the others in blowing out her candle and sitting as the lights came up just enough to illuminate Dan at the front of the church.
A twinge of pride lifted her lips at the sight of her little brother up there, fulfilling the role their father had once filled. She missed Dad more than ever tonight, but it was a sweet sort of missing him. He was happier in heaven than any of them could ever imagine being here on earth―and someday, when it was her turn to go to her heavenly home, she’d see him again.
“Traditionally, I would preach from the account of Jesus’ birth in Luke chapter two on Christmas Eve,” Dan began his sermon. “But you all know I’m not a terribly traditional guy.” There was a smattering of laughter among the congregation, and Leah couldn’t help smiling along.
“Instead, I’d like to look at Isaiah 54:10.”
Leah fought to keep from gasping out loud. Her brother couldn’t have known that was the same verse she’d written on the gift to Austin. She hadn’t shown it to anyone.
Dan read the verse she knew by heart: “‘Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed,’ says the Lord, who has compassion on you.”
Jackson gave her a strange look, and she realized she’d been mouthing the words along with her brother. She shrugged. This was too wonderful to ignore. She sat forward as her brother paused to take in the congregation.
“Here’s a dumb question: Do bad things ever happen to you?” Dan paced from one side of the church to the other as all around people nodded. “Of course they do. It’s part of living in this sin-fallen world, right? But you think you have it rough? Look at all those people in the Bible who went through bad things. There was Joseph―his brothers stole his coat, threw him in a pit, and sold him to slave traders. And what about David? He served King Saul loyally, and how did the king repay him? By chasing him down with the intention of killing him. Oh, and let’s not forget Job. He probably had it the worst of all, right? God let Satan take everything from him―his land, his home, his health, and, most painfully, his children.”
“Makes our problems seem pretty insignificant, doesn’t it?” Dan paused.
In front of her, Leah could see a few heads nod, but she knew her brother well enough to know this was where he was going to flip everyone’s expectations upside down.
“Actually―” Dan held up a hand. “Actually, I don’t think it does. Because God doesn’t see any of our problems as insignificant. He knows our hurts. He knows when we’re sick. He knows when we worry that we won’t be able to pay the bills. He knows when our hearts are broken because a relationship has ended.”
Leah blinked back the moisture that pricked her eyes. It did hurt to know that her relationship with Austin had ended. And yet, it was comforting to know that Jesus understood. That he cared.
“And he knows what we’re going through when we have to say goodbye to someone we love because they’ve gone before us to be with him.”
Dan spread his arms wide, as if encompassing the whole room. “And how does he know all of this? Why can he relate to it?” After a heartbeat, he answered his own question. “Because he was one of us. He chose to set aside his glory and humble himself and come into this world to be born as a baby and live among us. He hurt the same ways we hurt―worse, because he knew what he had created us to be, the perfect life he had intended for us, and we had thrown it all away.”
“But here’s the thing to remember.” Dan’s smile took in the entire congregation. “These verses from Isaiah. God says that no matter what, his love for us will not fail. Even if the mountains are shaken. Even if the hills fall to the ground and are no more. Even if we are filthy, wretche
d sinners who fail him at every turn. Even then, his covenant with us will always stand. His promise to us. And what promise is that? It’s the promise he was born on Christmas and died on Good Friday to fulfill. The promise he made at the beginning of the world, when Adam and Eve fell into the first sin. The promise that he forgives us for all of our sins. That we have the peace of knowing the promise of heaven.”
Leah sighed, relaxing into her seat. No matter how many times she heard that promise, she’d never tire of the good news. Next to her, Jackson was leaning forward, taking in Dan’s sermon. God’s Word was working in his heart. Leah could tell.
But there was one more person’s heart she prayed it worked in. Please let Austin know this good news too, Lord. It’s the only thing that will heal him.
Chapter 42
Austin had sat up in the bed of his hotel room halfway through the sermon, and as Dan said “Amen” and the congregation began to sing a new song, he sprang to his feet.
That sermon. Those words. That even if. Again.
“Okay, Lord, you have my attention,” he said out loud into the mirror over the room’s small dresser. “Now what?”
But he already knew now what.
He shoved his phone in his pocket, grabbed his duffel bag, and cradled the ornament from Leah. With one last look around the room to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything, he jogged toward his truck. It was nearly nine o’clock, but if he drove through the night, he should reach Hope Springs by tomorrow morning―Christmas morning.
He set the ornament on the seat beside him, then started the engine and pointed the truck north. As he drove, he found himself falling into prayers he hadn’t known he needed to pray.
Prayers for Tanner’s wife and children.
Prayers for Isaad’s family.
Prayers for himself, that he would find peace with the life God had given him instead of seeking the one he’d thought he’d have.
Dan had said once that he could be thankful for his blessings in disguise. That God knew what he was doing with his life even when Austin didn’t. He hadn’t seen it at the time―hadn’t wanted to see it. But now he did.
Not Until Christmas Morning (Hope Springs Book 5) Page 21