Items that formed the memorial inside the little church would be moved to the official memorial, the one planned for somewhere in the new construction. And St. Paul’s would return to being only a nice little chapel in the middle of Manhattan’s financial district. A landmark, yes, but not the mission it had been in the years after September 11.
Jamie wasn’t sure she wanted to see St. Paul’s that way.
Neither did most of the other volunteers, those who helped remove the pile of debris and those who served and offered their time. She was part of a community of people who would never enter St. Paul’s without seeing the place lined with posters and pictures and letters, without seeing photographs of the dead and pews full of vacant-eyed firefighters, covered in soot and weary from the grim task of working the pile.
This…this final good-bye, was the last time the chapel would look the way she would always remember it.
She led Sierra by the hand, jogged lightly across the street, up the steps, and inside. The place was quiet, as usual. She turned to the first table, the one on the left of the front door, and immediately found Jake’s picture.
Sierra stayed close at her side. “That’s Daddy!”
“Yes.” Jamie had always figured she would know when it was right to bring Sierra. But they’d run out of time, so right or not, this was the moment. “Remember when I would do my volunteer work?”
“Yes.” Sierra looked at her, eyes wide.
“Well—” Jamie shifted her eyes back to Jake’s picture—“this is where I would come.”
“Oh.” Sierra looked at the picture again too. Then she caught a quick breath and pointed. “That’s my letter to Daddy!”
“Yep.” Jamie put her arm around Sierra’s shoulders and hugged her. “It’ll stay with his picture for always.”
Sierra thought about that for a minute. “I like that.”
One of the other volunteers approached her then, an older woman who had connected often with Jamie. She knew why Jamie was there and she introduced herself to Sierra. “Want some cookies upstairs? I baked them this morning.”
Sierra looked at Jamie. “Can I?”
“Yes.” Jamie cast the woman a grateful look. “But only for a minute. The cab’s waiting.”
Sierra went off with the woman. Once she was gone, Jamie turned and found Jake’s picture again. Sweet Jake, the man who had prayed for her and cherished her and written words that guided her way still. The man who had led her to God.
She looked deep into his eyes. So much of their time together she had worried about him, that he would lose his life fighting fires. What a waste of time. If she had it to do all over again, she would choose to love Jake, even knowing their time together would be short.
The lessons he’d taught her would live on, as would the memory of his love. Yes, the page was turning. She could feel it in her heart, feel the way St. Paul’s didn’t quite have the same hold on her as it once had. She didn’t need a memorial to remember Jake, to honor him.
She would do that with her life.
The volunteer returned with Sierra, and Jamie hugged the woman. “Tell the others good-bye, okay?”
“I will.” She pulled an envelope from her pocket. “Aaron Hisel told me to give this to you. He heard you were moving.”
Jamie’s heart sank. Aaron had been important in her life for a time, one of the reasons she’d been able to process the pain of losing Jake. She would miss him, even though their time together had ended long before she decided to marry Clay.
“Did…did he say anything?”
The woman smiled. “He wanted you to hear it from him.”
Jamie nodded. She slipped the envelope in her coat pocket, said another quick good-bye, and led Sierra back outside. She walked to the corner and for a moment she stared at the empty sky, the place where the buildings had stood.
It would be good to get away from that part of the skyline, good to know she could drive to the market without catching a glimpse of the emptiness. Jake went into those towers because it was the right thing to do. She had no doubt that even until the last few seconds, he and Larry were helping people, probably praying with them and telling them about Jesus.
She didn’t need St. Paul’s or Ground Zero to remind her of that.
“That’s where the Twin Towers were, right, Mommy?” Sierra squinted up, shading her eyes so she could see despite the glare from the snow and white cloudy sky.
“Yes.” Even now she hated the past tense, hated how it reminded her that such an awful thing really had happened. “That’s where they were.”
Sierra looked at her and squeezed her hand a little tighter. “But that’s not where Daddy is now. Daddy’s in heaven.” Her eyes were dry now, the trauma of good-bye already fading. She touched her fingers to her chest. “And his picture is right here.” She angled her head, her eyes curious. “Do you think Daddy’s happy that we’re moving to California and marrying Clay?”
Jamie looked at her feet for a minute and then up at the empty skyline again. Jake’s smile, the memory of it, flashed in her mind as big and bright as heaven itself. “Yes, Sierra. I think he’s very happy.”
The plane was halfway to Los Angeles when Jamie remembered Aaron’s letter. Sierra was sleeping in the seat beside her, so she was careful not to wake her. She pulled out the envelope, opened it, and slid out the letter.
Dear Jamie,
I won’t make this long, but I promised you I’d tell you if something changed. Well, something did.
Jamie closed her eyes, her heart doing a double beat. What was this? Aaron couldn’t be talking about the one thing they never agreed on, could he? She blinked and found her place.
One of the new guys at the station had a baby with a heart problem. The guy asked every one of us who believed to pray. You know me; I told him I couldn’t pray because I didn’t believe. But that night I asked God to show me He was real, let me know if I was wrong about the whole faith thing.
And guess what happened?
The new guy comes up to me the next day and says, “You don’t have to believe in God, Hisel, He believes in you.”
The exact words you told me. And I don’t know, I got chills and something happened inside me. Like I knew right then that God was real, and He was there. I’m not saying I have it all figured out or any of it figured out, really. But the new guy’s talking to me. He’s buying me a Bible.
I guess I just wanted you to know so you could keep praying for me. I already know Jake’s praying. I’m happy for you, Jamie. Take care of yourself.
Aaron
Jamie blinked back tears and read the letter again. Then she closed her eyes and let her head fall against the seat back. God…You’re so good, so faithful. I knew You’d get Aaron’s attention, and now You have. You work all things out in Your timing.
The hum of the jet soothed her, helped clear her mind.
She opened her eyes and looked out the window. Down below were clusters of lights, places where families gathered, sharing notes from a day of work or school. The way she and Clay and Sierra would be soon.
Joy rose up within her and warmed her heart. There was really nothing more to be sad about. She pictured Clay’s face, the way he would look when they got off the plane and walked into his world once and for all. Thoughts of the future filled her head. It would be so good to see him and hold him and plan a wedding with him, so much fun unpacking her things and watching Sierra and Clay and Wrinkles play dress-up together.
Choose life. Jake’s voice sounded in her soul once more, ringing with sincerity and faith, the way it had always done back when he was alive, when he was hers. Choose life, Jamie. Choose life.
She smiled at the sleeping form of their daughter. I am, Jake. I’m choosing life.
The jet engines hummed low in the background. She looked out the window, every mountain or field they passed taking them a little closer to California. Closer to Clay. A warm certainty settled in her chest, convincing her of what she’d known all
along. With all its trials and tragedies, all its brokenhearted confusion, life was still the greatest choice of all. God-given life. That was her choice.
Now and always.
A NOTE FROM KAREN
Those of you who read One Tuesday Morning know that telling Jamie Bryan’s story was something I had to do. That first book came to me almost complete on the afternoon of September 11, 2001, and it stayed in my heart until I wrote it for you.
It was the same way with this sequel.
Beyond Tuesday Morning is really the rest of the story, the way the rest of the story might play out for all those touched or changed by tragedy. Like Jamie, all of us will have the chance to choose life. For some of you, that might mean making a recommitment to a dying marriage or looking for ways to encourage your husband or wife.
Choosing life might mean taking time to play with your children. So often we get caught up in the business of raising a family—making vacation plans, buying a house, getting a job, doing housework, fixing up the yard—that we miss the point. Making time with your children and the people you love is definitely a way to choose life.
But the way that is illustrated in this book is vitally important.
I’ve heard it said that all of us are either leaving a trial, heading into one, or smack in the middle of one. Trials can vary from issues at work to the death of a loved one. In Jamie’s case, she was willing to spend her life memorializing the years she’d had with Jake.
But ultimately it was God’s Word, combined with words written by Jake, that helped her choose life.
Grief and sorrow are important stages, seasons that we must go through. To some extent we will never be fully rid of either—not when we’re dealing with the loss of someone we loved. I hear from hundreds of you every week—mostly letters of encouragement and offers of prayer, for which I will forever be grateful. But once in a while you tell me of tragic events in your families or communities. When I hear about a car accident or illness or loss, I always pray. I pray for hope and healing wherever possible.
And I pray for life.
Life is God’s gift to us. With every sweet breath, we confirm the fact that God has us here for a reason, that He has a plan for our lives. I truly believe that the more we surrender our lives to Him, the more we trust Him with the days He gives us, the better off we’ll be. There is such peaceful freedom, such uninhibited joy, in knowing that God Almighty is the reason we woke up today. If we have tomorrow, it’s because He has more for us to do.
In that light, it’s almost impossible to spend a day bemoaning our situation, unwilling to rejoice. Grief stays with us, but it need not stay on us. I think of the apostle Paul, chained in a Roman prison, rats nibbling at his knees. What was he doing? Singing…telling the jailors about Jesus…and writing letters to his friends back home, encouraging them to glorify God with their lives.
If you or someone you love is in a difficult situation, I pray this book has given you hope. But I also pray it sends you looking for the purpose God has for your life. Allow the possibility that whatever you’re going through, this too shall pass. Not without pain, not without tears, but with possibility and trust in God.
Things are good on the home front. Kelsey is fifteen and in high school and has just finished cheering for the freshmen football team. Tyler, twelve, is being homeschooled so he can have more time for the arts he’s so passionate about. He is very involved in Christian Youth Theater and will audition for all three of the musicals this year. Sean, Josh, EJ, and Austin have just completed a wonderful season of soccer. With Christmas behind us, we’re settling in for a productive winter/spring season. We still do devotions every morning, and I am thrilled to see each of the kids gradually making decisions for Christ that are motivated by their own love for God, their own choices for life.
If you’re a believer in Jesus Christ, I pray this book encourages you to keep on fighting the good fight. If you’re not, then this may be the chance in a lifetime, the chance to call on Jesus as your Savior, to get to a Bible-believing church and find out about a relationship with the true God of the universe. Trusting Jesus for life is the very first step to choosing life. Abundant life. John 10:10 says that the thief comes to kill, steal, and destroy, but Jesus has come to give us life, life to the fullest measure.
Don’t waste another day with the thief; rather make the choice to spend your life, from this day on, with the Giver of life. One of my favorite sections of Scripture is Hebrews 12, which encourages us to never give up, but to “run with perseverance the race marked out for us.” The race of life. That’s what God called Jamie Bryan to do.
It’s what He calls each of us to do.
Until next time, I pray God keeps His mighty arms around you, that you feel the presence of His loving touch, His gentle hug, even on the darkest nights. May He bless you and yours and grant you life. Always life.
In His light and love,
Karen Kingsbury
P.S. My website, www.KarenKingsbury.com, has become a big part of my ministry. You can leave a prayer request, pray for other readers with specific needs, and meet prayer partners at the Prayer Ministry link. You can get involved in discussions about my books at the Reader Forum link, and you can see how God is using these books to affect the lives of other readers at the Guest Book link.
You can contact me at the website or at my email address: [email protected]. As always, I love hearing from you and look forward to your letters.
Read this sample chapter from
Karen Kingsbury’s upcoming book
Every Now and Then from her 9/11 Series.
Coming Fall 2008!
ONE
Smog hung over the San Fernando Valley like a collapsed Boy Scout tent, filling in the spaces between the high-rise office buildings and freeway overpasses. The Pacific Ocean hadn’t produced a breeze in three weeks, and by two o’clock that August afternoon, temperatures had long since shot past the century mark.
Jesse Adams didn’t care.
He picked up his pace, pounding his Nikes against the shimmering asphalt. Sticky sweat dripped down his temples and into the corners of his eyes, but he kept running, filling his lungs with the sweltering, stifling air. Something about the sting in his chest made him feel good, stirred the intensity of his run. The intensity of his existence. If chasing bad guys on the streets of Los Angeles didn’t kill him, he wasn’t going to keel over on the Pierce College running track. Whatever the weather.
Five miles and ten hill sprints every off-day, that was his mandate. And he never made the trip without Bo.
They were alone on the track today, no one else crazy enough to push past the sweltering heat. He glanced at the German shepherd keeping pace alongside him. “Atta boy.” The dog wasn’t even breathing hard. Jesse slowed long enough to pat Bo’s deep brown coat. “Time for water.” Jesse’s ribs heaved as he ran to the bleachers and paused long enough to grab one of his water bottles and down half of it. Bo found his bowl a few feet away and lapped like crazy. This was a two-bottle day if ever there was one.
Jesse slammed the bottle back down and kicked his run into gear again. His dog was a few seconds behind him, but he caught up easily. “Alright, Bo…let’s get this.” Jesse could feel the workout now, feel his legs screaming for relief the way they always did when he had a mile left.
Bo’s earnest eyes seemed to say he would stay by his master whatever the pace, whatever the distance. Jesse wiped the back of his hand across his forehead and squinted against the glare of the afternoon sun. Without question, Bo was the best police dog in the Los Angeles Sheriff ’s Department. Every bit as fit as Jesse, and with a résumé of heroism unequaled among police dogs.
Another lap and Jesse noticed something on the surface of the track. His running shoes were leaving an imprint. The asphalt was that hot. Push through it, he ordered himself. Dad would’ve done this without breaking a sweat.
And then, like it did at least once a day, a rush of memories came at him so hard and fast
he could almost feel the wind from their wake. His dad, Captain John Adams, New York City firefighter. His hero, his best friend. Suddenly it was all real again. The sound of his voice, the feel of his hand…firm against Jesse’s shoulder when he lost the big game his junior year…or holding onto Jesse’s arm when he was six and learning to ride a bike…or even before that, when he lifted Jesse up into the fire truck that very first time.
Two more laps, Adams. You can do it. Jesse clenched his teeth and pushed himself, but the memories stayed, and there was his dad, hovering over his bed that September Tuesday morning, placing his hand against the side of Jesse’s face. “Jay…time to get up. You gotta ace that math test…we’ll talk about the other stuff when I get home.”
The other stuff. Jesse blinked and the hillside that surrounded half the track appeared again. The other stuff was Jesse’s determination to parlay his years as a fire cadet into an immediate position with the FDNY. Jesse could already see himself in the uniform. His dad saw things differently. College was the way to go. Jesse’s grades were good, his SAT scores in the top 10 percent. Why battle fires in Manhattan when you could work in an office with a view of Central Park? Jesse was sure that was the message his dad was going to deliver that night.
Only the message never came.
The terrorists…the terrorists picked that day to…
Jesse found a reserve of energy for the last lap. “Come on, Bo.” He could feel the heat in his face and neck and arms, but he pushed ahead. Of course he hadn’t gone to college, and he hadn’t spent another day with the FDNY. He’d done the only thing he could do. He moved across the country and threw himself into earning a sheriff ’s badge. That way he could do the only thing he really wanted to do after September 11.
Get the bad guys.
It didn’t matter if they were drunk drivers or gang thugs, bank robbers or terrorists plotting the next big attack, Jesse wanted them caught. It was all that drove him, the only purpose he felt born for. Get the evil out. Him and Bo. So that some other high school senior wouldn’t have to sit in his Shakespearean English class and watch his dad murdered on live television.
One Tuesday Morning & Beyond Tuesday Morning Compilation Page 69
