Will had liked sleeping with the windows open since he was a boy on the verdant prairie of eastern Kansas known as the “bread basket.” Since being married, he had marked an additional benefit from this habit. Not only did he get refreshing breaths of air blowing across his room at night, and mourning doves cooing him awake in the morning, but also a wife who liked to cuddle when she was cold.
Anne shivered this morning, staring at the grey creeping into the edges of her black sky. Will rose early on Sundays to pray. She dragged an extra quilt over her to compensate for the warmth he took with him. The wind tugged gently at her curtains as if beckoning her.
Outside with an afghan draped over her shoulders, Anne breathed in the air. It was heavy with the promise of a rainy morning. Rain didn’t worry her today. She had other things about which to worry. Her heart opened up in prayer as she walked down the sidewalk.
The church steeple was visible from the street outside her house. Usually the sight of the cross on its top cheered her. Today the associations were too real. “Take up your cross and follow me,” He had said. And she was willing to follow, but it wasn’t easy. It wasn’t pleasant. Sometimes it tore her in two.
By the familiar rhythm of his footsteps, Anne knew Will was behind her. He reached for her shoulders and rubbed his hands down her arms to warm her. She had shuddered away from the sight of the steeple. He stood looking at it as though he were the Constantine of legend, receiving his orders with a vision of a cross in the sky.
“My God is there,” he said. Anne looked up quickly in case a window had been cut in the heavens to reveal the King of glory’s return. For this she had prayed. It would be easier for Jesus to return than for her to face the reaction to her husband’s “sermon” last week. But Will was confident. After realizing he meant something less visible, Anne turned to question him.
He knew to explain before she spoke a word. “Ahead of us. Working there, and in the people who will be there. He always has been. This isn’t our idea, our work, or our responsibility. This is God’s.” A light mist settled on their miniature valley, giving the occasional tingling sensation to their skin. Nevertheless they sat down together on their curb. For a while only the sound of lonely cars, cars they used to like imagining belonged to other pastors going to work, interrupted their silence. For weeks the sound had become more and more ominous, a reminder of the confused, though sincere stand each man was taking.
“Why are we the only ones?” Anne asked.
To God be all glory.
See the index for first and additional chapters.
Anne shivered this morning, staring at the grey creeping into the edges of her black sky. Will rose early on Sundays to pray. She dragged an extra quilt over her to compensate for the warmth he took with him. The wind tugged gently at her curtains as if beckoning her.
Outside with an afghan draped over her shoulders, Anne breathed in the air. It was heavy with the promise of a rainy morning. Rain didn’t worry her today. She had other things about which to worry. Her heart opened up in prayer as she walked down the sidewalk.
The church steeple was visible from the street outside her house. Usually the sight of the cross on its top cheered her. Today the associations were too real. “Take up your cross and follow me,” He had said. And she was willing to follow, but it wasn’t easy. It wasn’t pleasant. Sometimes it tore her in two.
By the familiar rhythm of his footsteps, Anne knew Will was behind her. He reached for her shoulders and rubbed his hands down her arms to warm her. She had shuddered away from the sight of the steeple. He stood looking at it as though he were the Constantine of legend, receiving his orders with a vision of a cross in the sky.
“My God is there,” he said. Anne looked up quickly in case a window had been cut in the heavens to reveal the King of glory’s return. For this she had prayed. It would be easier for Jesus to return than for her to face the reaction to her husband’s “sermon” last week. But Will was confident. After realizing he meant something less visible, Anne turned to question him.
He knew to explain before she spoke a word. “Ahead of us. Working there, and in the people who will be there. He always has been. This isn’t our idea, our work, or our responsibility. This is God’s.” A light mist settled on their miniature valley, giving the occasional tingling sensation to their skin. Nevertheless they sat down together on their curb. For a while only the sound of lonely cars, cars they used to like imagining belonged to other pastors going to work, interrupted their silence. For weeks the sound had become more and more ominous, a reminder of the confused, though sincere stand each man was taking.
“Why are we the only ones?” Anne asked.
To God be all glory.
See the index for first and additional chapters.
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