by Gayle Roper
My spirit leaped to hear him talk in this manner. “I’ve always thought God is like a string of pearls,” I said.
He looked at me, eyebrow raised.
“Now think about it before you scoff,” I said. “God is a whole, like you said, like the string of pearls. We try to break Him down so we can understand Him. It’s like each pearl is an attribute of God. One is His love, one is His grace, one is His holiness, one is His forgiveness. While there’s value in the individual pearl, the individual attribute, it’s the whole string that’s invaluable. It’s the entirety of God that is the wonder.”
Jake nodded. “Yes, the entirety. As I was thinking about this new idea, at least new to me, I looked at Peter Hostetter, by now lying on the ground. Here was a man who wanted not the people of his family, but the family wealth. He wanted to pick and choose when he had no right to make the choice. Suddenly I saw myself in him.”
I made an automatic move of disclaimer.
He held up a hand. “I wanted to pick and choose where I had no right to do so either. I wanted to take the parts of God I liked, and then only when I needed them. That’s when I knew I had to talk to Pastor Adam.”
He became quiet, and I prompted him. “So you called him?”
He nodded. “By the time I went to see him, I’d already told God that I accepted His free forgiveness in Christ.” He looked at me. “It was amazing the peace that came with my decision.”
I grinned at him, joy bubbling from my heart. “Oh, Jake!” I gave him a quick, fierce hug. “You have no idea what it means to me that you’re a believer.” I looked up at the ceiling. “Thank You, God,” I breathed. “Thank You!”
“I should have told you sooner, back when it happened,” Jake said. “I’m sorry.”
“How could you tell me? You weren’t speaking to me.” I took a deep breath and looked at him, the turmoil of my emotions certainly flashing across my face. “Which brings us to our next point of discussion. Why, Jake? Why weren’t you speaking to me?”
He didn’t answer. He just reached out and brushed at a strand of my hair, then rested his hand briefly on my cheek. “I never knew that one person could cause such unbelievable pleasure and pain.”
When he went to move his hand, I grabbed and held it in place. The feel of his palm on my skin made me weepy.
“What do you mean, pleasure and pain?” I asked, though I knew. I knew all too well.
He smiled and rubbed his thumb back and forth across my jaw. “The pleasure’s easy. I’ve never enjoyed being with anyone as I enjoy being with you. You are my light and my joy.” His eyes were dark and luminous, and I saw in them a yearning that I knew was reflected in mine.
“And the pain?”
He didn’t answer. Instead he said, “What am I to do with you, Rosie?”
I didn’t hesitate for a second. “Marry me, Jake.” I leaned forward and stared into his eyes. “Marry me.”
I felt him jerk as though shot and begin to pull his hand away.
“Rosie, please,” he whispered, looking at me with anguish.
I wrapped both my hands about his and held it to my heart. “Jake, I love you.”
He made a sound deep in his throat, a wounded groan, but he said nothing.
“And you love me,” I informed him, staring at him, willing him to agree. He just looked at me. “I know you do. I know it! I can see it in the way you look at me, the way you talk to me, the way you touch me, and even,” I said with sudden insight, “in the way you’ve avoided me.” I lay my head on his chest and whispered, “Jake, you love me.”
Again he groaned, and his other hand threaded itself through my hair, pressing me against him.
“Marry me, Jake,” I whispered to his heart. “Please. I shall die if you won’t.”
When he said nothing, I raised up and looked at him. Tears sat in his eyes.
“Rosie,” he whispered. “Look at me!” He stared at his inert legs.
“So?” I said, and he closed his eyes against my foolishness. “Jake, you’re not legs and bladder and spinal cord. You’re heart and mind and spirit. You’re creativity and curiosity and German stubbornness. And I love you, Jake, with all my heart. I always will, no matter what you think is best for me, for us, no matter how noble you want to be. I don’t want to be just your friend, just your sister in Christ. I want to be your wife, to love you wholly, to struggle with you and rejoice with you and be loved by you.”
I looked at his closed eyes, the tear running down his cheek. I leaned over and kissed the tear away. He jumped as though burned.
“I’m not going away,” I said. “I’m not.”
He opened his eyes and looked at me. “Tiger, you’re killing me here.”
I shut my eyes briefly as protection against the pain and emotion I saw there, and then forced them open to look at him. “I know.”
Suddenly he moved, lifting himself to rest against the back of the sofa, opening up an area of the cushion. He patted it. “Sit here. Get off your knees.”
I got up and sat beside him, hip to hip. I was momentarily distracted by the feel of him pressed against me; he couldn’t feel me.
“What’s wrong with my being on my knees?” I asked. “I don’t mind begging, you know.”
“Woman, you appall me,” he said, looking genuinely aggrieved. “Where’s your self-respect?”
I slipped to my knees again, my hands folded in supplication. “I have none where you’re concerned.”
He winced, closed his eyes, and turned away. I reached out and smoothed the frown lines between his eyes, lines he refused to let be soothed. I rested my head on his chest again and was moved to the point of tears when his hand came once again to lace itself in my hair.
Father, give me courage! And give him grace!
I took my seat on the sofa again and said, my tone tart, “Besides, you have more than enough pride for both of us.”
He looked surprised and then grinned crookedly and didn’t deny the charge.
“Jake, look at me.”
His eyes played hide-and-seek with mine before they settled down. I looked straight into him.
“Tell me you don’t love me,” I whispered. “Look me in the eyes and tell me.”
“I have nothing to give you,” he said, his voice cracking. “Only brokenness.”
I smiled. “But you’ve already given me wholeness. You’ve made me laugh and cry and feel more alive than ever in my life. So we’ll never play tennis together or go skiing. Big deal. But we’re good together, Jake. You know it and so do I. The more I pray about us, the more my heart’s drawn to you. The whole time you weren’t speaking to me, I prayed and prayed and wanted you more than ever. God and I know you’re the man for me. We’re just waiting for you to agree.”
Suddenly he reached for me, wrapping both his strong arms about me, pressing me to his chest. “Rosie, Rosie, you win. You’re right. I love you so much my teeth ache. I think of you all day and dream of you all night, but how can I ask you to take less than you deserve?”
I pulled back and looked at him. “How about asking me to take what I want?”
“And you want me?” His voice was incredulous.
“With all my heart.”
He pulled me to him again, and this time he kissed me as I’d dreamed he would, with enough passion to leave me weak all over.
When I’d finally gotten my breath back, I rested with my cheek against his chest, my head in the hollow of his shoulder. “Tell me,” I said. “Say it again. I want to hear it. I need to hear it.”
I felt as much as heard the rumble of laughter and smiled too.
“I love you, Tiger. I love you with all my heart. Marry me?”
I lifted my head, looked at him, and said, “How soon?”
Epilogue
Three years later
It was a lovely May morning as I sat out on the back deck with a cup of tea in my hand and a forbidden doughnut on the table tempting me.
“Jake, come take that aw
ay before I eat it,” I called to my husband. “I weigh enough to sink the Titanic as it is.”
Laughing, Jake wheeled to the table and moved the doughnut out of my reach. He continued around the table to me.
“You look beautiful, Tiger,” he said, resting his hand on my very pregnant middle. His compliment was rewarded with a swift kick from his gestating offspring.
I leaned my head back and smiled up at the trees with their summer canopies growing fuller daily. “Did you know I dreamed of sitting here with you?” I looked at him, dressed today in a white shirt and tie, dress pants, and shoes. “When I found out this was your house being built, I stopped in the driveway one night on the way home from work and dreamed of sitting on the deck with you for a breakfast picnic just like this.”
“Was that before or after you proposed?” His black eyes gleamed, and the sun struck glints on his dark hair.
“You can tease me all you want about proposing,” I said with a grin, “but one of us had to have some common sense.”
He picked up my hand and kissed it. “I’m glad you were so smart. I wouldn’t have missed this ride for the world.”
We had waited six months from the night I proposed before we married. During that time, Jake lived in this wonderful house, Elam and Esther moved into the grossdawdy haus, and I roomed with Annie Stoltzfus in what proved to be a mutually beneficial arrangement. To this day I love Annie like my own mother, and I mourned deeply when she went to be with the Lord several months ago.
Elam and Esther and their two babies still lived in the grossdawdy haus, but it wouldn’t be long before they moved into the main house, and John and Mary moved into the addition. Esther was pregnant again, and needed living space would be the deciding factor.
Becky and Sam had sought us out last Sunday at church, and I guessed from the electric joy pulsing from them what they wanted to tell us. They would be having a wonderful Christmas present, and Becky glowed at the prospect of being a mother again. I had been so pleased that they waited to have a baby. Now their marriage was stable, Sam was foreman on a construction crew, and their faith was more vibrant than ever.
Jake and I had gone to Texas twice to visit Davy and Lauren. I wanted them to move to Pennsylvania, but some wishes just don’t get granted. Their year-old daughter Carrie was the image of Lauren and as sweet as she could be.
If there was any difficulty in Jake’s and my marriage, it would be my occasional resentment of The Chair. When I was feeling its limitations, it became uppermost in my mind. I realized that Jake hadn’t been completely wrong when he hesitated to marry me.
“How am I supposed to hug someone in a chair?” I asked through tears one day. “Just answer me that!”
Jake looked at me with sad eyes, and I immediately felt terrible, just as I did anytime I raged against the chair. If it was terrible to me, I knew it was many times worse for him.
I fell on my knees and leaned into him, “I’m sorry.” I wrapped my arms around his middle and put my head on his chest. I straightened immediately and sighed. “See? I’ve got your belt buckle in my chin!”
“I guess the great blessing of the chair is that dealing with it keeps both of us in prayer,” Jake said as he rubbed my chin. “Just don’t let it come between us, Tiger. I couldn’t stand that.”
He wheeled himself to the sofa and, using his board, slid himself onto it. He lay down and held out his arms. I fell into them, and he hugged me quietly. Finally I levered myself up on an elbow. “I have no regrets, Jake. You need to know that. I’d marry you all over again in an instant. All that the chair is is frustration. You, on the other hand, are my life.”
But today as I sat at the table on the deck with the warm spring sun shining on us, I had only happy thoughts. I absently patted the little fiend who was kicking me to death internally and with impunity as contentment flooded through me.
“It’s time, Tiger.”
I nodded and pulled myself upright. It was not an easy feat. I straightened my voluminous dress and picked up my purse, and then I walked to my husband.
“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. This is a big day for a little Amish boy.”
He swept his arm around my waist and pulled me to his lap.
“You’ll be sorry,” I said. “Especially when I try to get up.”
He nuzzled my neck. “Never will I be sorry about you.”
The front doorbell rang and a voice called, “Anybody home?”
“On the back deck, Mom,” called Jake as I struggled to get to my feet. He held me tight. “Stay put, Tiger. It’s okay if she sees you in my lap. She knows I love you.”
I glanced at my belly. “It’d be hard to miss.”
My mother walked onto the deck and groaned. “Look at you two. Smoldering looks at nine o’clock in the morning.” Then her face brightened. “Oh, good. A doughnut.”
“I saved it for you,” Jake said as he helped me to my feet. “Now we’ve got to get a move on or we’ll be late. I don’t want to miss my first graduation ceremony.”
Wiping powdered sugar from her chin, Mom said, “I’m proud of you, Jake. Just think: a college graduate and a schoolteacher. And someday maybe a principal.”
Jake and I looked at each other and grinned. Mom’s dreams might come true, but right now graduating and teaching were enough.
“And you,” she said, pointing her finger at me. I looked at the lethal nail and hoped she wouldn’t start poking me. I didn’t think either the baby or I could survive. “At least you’re not chasing ambulances all over the place anymore.”
“I don’t chase ambulances, Mom. Lawyers do that. I ride in them. And I’ll be back riding in a couple of months. I may have given up my day job to stay home with the baby, but I’m not giving up the ambulance. I’d miss Harry too much.”
“Ah yes, Harry,” Mom said. “Such a nice man. Maybe you should stay with the ambulance after all. Those poor hurting people will need you.”
Jake and I looked at each other and rolled our eyes.
Harry had been a widower for a year and a half, and recently Mom had become very curious about him. Harry didn’t seem to return the favor, not that that stopped Mom.
“Into the van, girls,” Jake said, shooing us toward the garage. He patted my tummy. “All three of you.”
I looked at Jake and my heart swelled with love and pride. My graduate. My friend. My husband.
A Note to Readers
Dear Reader,
When Jake and Rose struggle with various aspects of forgiveness, I think they struggle with a concept that gives many of us trouble.
For those considering the claims of Christ, the idea that forgiveness is free, that salvation can’t be earned, seems almost un-American. We are a nation of folks who historically have made their own way. We are especially proud of those who pull themselves up by their own bootstraps.
But the Bible says clearly that God’s forgiveness is a gift. No bootstraps wanted or allowed here.
And often those of us who believe have just as much trouble accepting forgiveness. We get caught, like Rose, in feeling we must forgive ourselves.
I received a note one time from a young woman who had come to hear me speak.
“I believe God forgave me for the terrible thing I did, but I can’t forgive myself,” she wrote. “Help me please. Give me some hope.”
“Oh, God,” I prayed. “What in the world do I say to her?”
As I thought and prayed, I came to three conclusions:
1. God doesn’t ever ask us to forgive ourselves. God will forgive us and we are asked to forgive each other, but never does the Bible ask us to forgive ourselves. I’m not sure what that means, but if forgiving ourselves were something we had to do, wouldn’t God have told us?
2. All sin is an offense to God. We tend to think that the things we have done that have been blatantly wrong or that have caused others hurt are the worst anyone has ever done. Not so. All sin, big stuff and little stuff, is offensive to a holy God.
God chooses to give forgiveness as a gift. All we need choose is to accept that God’s great gift is enough.
About Gayle Roper…
GAYLE ROPER is the award-winning author of more than forty books and has been a Christy finalist three times. She enjoys speaking at women’s events across the nation and loves sharing the powerful truths of Scripture with humor and practicality. Gayle lives in southeastern Pennsylvania where she enjoys reading, gardening, and her family.
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
1. Which of the three do you identify most with: Rose, Becky or Esther? Why?
2. Jake was physically disabled, but not all disabilities are physical. His mother and Rose were more concerned about deeper disabilities. Your thoughts? Read 1 Timothy 4:7-8. Further thoughts?
3. The Hostetter family was riddled with dysfunction despite Sophie’s love for them all. Could she have done things differently and prevented at least some of the tensions?
4. The death of Becky and Sam’s Trevor is gut-wrenching. Does Becky’s lack of anger at God seem reasonable to you? How does Jeremiah 29:11 fit in here?
5. Jake pushes Rose away out of misguided pride. Is pride always destructive? What about Romans 12:3?
6. What do you think of the custom of shunning?
7. Read and discuss Titus 3:9-11 and Galatians 6:1 and discuss in light of Question 6.
8. What should you do about someone who will not change, will not be restored? What if the issue of contention is non-Biblical, like Davy’s driving a race car?