He returned to the story of Mary, Martha, and Lazarus. As he did, Jamie waited anxiously for each word. Why hadn't she heard this story before? And when was he going to start yelling at them? She glanced at Jake beside her, but his attention belonged completely to Pastor Ritchie—almost as though this were a part of his life he remembered perfectly. Jamie wondered if he really did, or if spending all those hours in the Bible had created a new belief as strong as the one he'd forgotten.
Finally, the pastor reached the part in the story where Jesus went to the tomb, the place where Lazarus was buried. The congregation was silent as Pastor Ritchie searched their faces. “Jesus was surrounded by weeping people, folks He knew and loved, and He was staring at the tomb of a man who had been like a brother to Him.” The pastor narrowed his eyes. “What did Jesus do? Did He look at them and tell them everything would be okay?”
Jamie wanted the end of the story so badly she could barely sit still. She squirmed and leaned forward a bit.
“No.” The pastor gave them a half smile. “Did He shout at them, yell at them, ask them where their faith was? Berate them for grieving when He'd promised them it would all work out in the end?” Pastor Ritchie shook his head. “No, Jesus did none of those things. Do you know what He did?”
Jamie had no idea.
“He cried.” The pastor's voice dropped a notch. “He wept right alongside them.” Pastor Ritchie held up a Bible, and the man had tears in his eyes. “Sometimes I think John 11:35 is my favorite verse in the whole book. Because it tells us Jesus cares. If we cry, He cries. No question about it.”
The pastor began to pace again and wrapped up his sermon. “The truth was, Jesus had it all figured out that day. He shouted at the tomb and ordered his dead friend to come out, and that's exactly what Lazarus did.” Pastor Ritchie smiled bigger than before. “And everything worked out just as it was supposed to.” He cast a look in Jake's direction. “But that didn't mean death would stop dancing on our earthly days. Since the snake entered the garden, it has done that, and it always will.” He gave a shake of his head. “Rather … the story of Jesus and Lazarus is a prototype, an illustration that with Christ, death will not have the last dance. Not ever.”
He took a few more steps, stopped, and faced them again. “Those of us in Staten Island lost seventy-eight firefighters on September 11. Some of you here today worked with or lived among those fallen heroes. Others of you lost family and friends who worked in the World Trade Center.”
He paused, and across the church, Jamie could hear the muffled sound of several people sniffing or reaching for tissues. Tears filled her own eyes as the pastor continued.
“God's message for you this morning isn't that everything will be okay here on earth, because it won't. The rotten, sorrowful smell of death is still too strong among us for me to tell you anything but the truth.” He held up a single finger. “But death will not have the last say. For those who believe in Jesus—in a God who would cry alongside you—death will never have the last word. And that, dear friends, is the hope we can take home with us. Hope that comes packaged in that very special story about Mary, Martha, and Lazarus.”
He was finished speaking, and he asked them to close their eyes, bow their heads, and pray. “Every Sunday I do my best to give you a glimpse of Jesus, a picture of the man that He was, the God that He is. And each week I give you the same chance I give you today. The most important decision you'll ever make is what to do with Jesus Christ. Today, right here, you can decide to have a friendship with Jesus, a relationship with the One who weeps alongside you in all your pain, the One who knows that if only you'd take His hand, everything really will work out in the end.”
Jamie's heartbeat doubled, and her defenses dropped like so many autumn leaves. She'd never thought about God that way, never imagined Him as a friend who cried with her and cared for her. It was all she could do to remember that she wasn't a believer, that this information was fine for people like Jake, but not for her. Not when God had taken her parents so swiftly and surely; not when He'd robbed Jake of his best friend and allowed the deaths of so many innocent people. She blinked and tried to focus.
“Others of you have been believers for a long time, but you need a chance to recommit, a chance to tell God yes all over again. Yes you believe, yes, you want Him to lead your life from this point on. Yes, you want to know your eternity is safe with Him.” Pastor Ritchie's voice was filled with concern. “If you fit into either of these categories this morning, please—right now while everyone has their eyes closed—raise your hand.” He waited for a minute. “Okay, I see you over there. And you near the side.”
Jamie felt a subtle movement beside her, and she opened her eyes just a crack. Jake's hand was high in the air, and watery streams made their way down either side of his face. The image of her husband weeping, his hand high in the air, seized Jamie's heart and shot it into her throat. She had the sudden urge to join him, to raise her hand and say yes to a God who would stand by her and cry with her.
If only she could believe.
Instead, she tucked her free hand beneath her leg and gritted her teeth. A God like that wouldn't want her, anyway. Not after she'd spent so many years rejecting Him, dismissing Him, and refusing to believe He even existed.
Pastor Ritchie's voice interrupted her thoughts. “If you're one who has your hand raised, why don't you come down here to the front. We have people who want to pray with you, help you nail down what a relationship with God actually looks like.”
Jake stood, and Jamie could feel his good leg shaking. He tapped her on the shoulder and motioned for her to come with him, but this time she shook her head. She couldn't go, couldn't venture into a place where people were doing the one thing that had terrified her all her life—putting their stock in a God who allowed bad things to happen.
An older man with a name tag pinned to his shirt appeared at the end of their pew. He held out his hand, and Jake went to him. He turned back just once and gave her a final sad look. Then he met up with the man, and together they moved slowly down the aisle until Jake disappeared through a door to the right of the stage.
After the service Jake found her back at the pew, and the moment Jamie's eyes met his, she began to shake. He no longer had that vacant, uncertain look she'd come to expect. Instead, his eyes glowed with a love and depth that Jamie hadn't realized was missing until now. It was a look that had always set Jake apart, a look that gave people a glimpse of his soul. The peace and joy Jamie saw there now made her wonder if a miracle had happened in the room, if maybe now that Jake had his faith in God back, he might've remembered everything else too.
It wasn't until after they'd picked up Sierra and made their way out to the beach that Jake shared his thoughts about what had happened back at church. They'd brought folding chairs and they set them up on the sand. Sierra took a shovel and pail and set about building a castle closer to the shore.
“Why didn't you come with me?” He gazed out at the harbor, his voice more curious than hurt. The breeze had picked up, but the afternoon was still warmer than usual for October.
“I couldn't.” She exhaled hard and watched Sierra, the simple joy written across her face. “It wouldn't be right. Not when I don't believe.” She cast him a quick glance. “Surely you know that much, at least, Jake. Doesn't your journal tell you how I feel about God and church?” He reached over and took her hand in his, and Jamie silently celebrated. The familiar gesture was becoming natural again. For a long time he was silent, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand.
“You believe, Jamie. I could feel you there beside me, believing every word the pastor said.”
Jamie's mind raced. No … he couldn't say that, couldn't make her admit to something she wasn't ready to admit to herself. “I've … I've never believed.”
This time he looked at her. “Yes, you did. At camp that year, back when you gave your life to Christ and told me you'd never felt better in all your life.”
“Jak
e …” Time seemed to stand still, and Jamie could feel the color drain from her face. “You remember that?”
His eyes met hers, and he searched her heart. “Yes.” The uncertainty in his eyes matched what he must've seen in hers. “I mean, I've read it five times in my journal. But yes … I remember it.” He looked away. “At least I think I do.” A few minutes passed while they both watched Sierra. Jake slipped the shoe off his good foot and wriggled his toes in the sand. “It feels so good to be out here. To be with you and Sierra … after being together at church with you. Like it's the most right way we could've spent our Sunday.”
Jamie crossed her arms. Her heartbeat was fast and jittery. She was still trying to catch her breath from the idea that Jake might be remembering, that he could—at least in part—recall their time at summer camp that year. “Can I tell you something?”
“Sure?” Jake's expression was bathed in peace.
“I'm afraid about God.” There … she'd said it. She'd voiced a thought that even she hadn't been sure of until that very moment.
“Why?” Jake brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “What about God scares you?”
“He …” She leaned back in her chair and clenched her jaw. Angry tears forged their way down her cheeks, leaking from a place in her soul that had been boarded up for too many years. “He took my parents.” She made a fist with her free hand and placed it over her heart. “I was just a girl, Jake. But my parents both died and … and neither of them believed in God.”
Jake listened, giving her the space she needed to finish.
She sniffed hard and wiped at her tears, but they only came harder. “What am I supposed to think? That a loving God would allow my parents to die and go to hell? All because they made the fatal mistake of not believing?”
Jake waited a moment, and when he finally spoke, his raspy voice was filled with a tenderness that felt achingly familiar. “Did you ever think … that maybe as they lay in that car that night they might've changed their minds? The Bible says God doesn't care when people come to Him—He just cares that they come. I read that the other day. Maybe your mom and dad cried out to God in those last moments … maybe they're in heaven even now, Jamie. Did you ever think of that?”
Maybe they were in heaven?
The idea made Jamie dizzy, but it struck a note inside her heart that had never been played. What if Jake was right? What if just maybe her parents had given their lives to God there on the highway, amidst their dying moments? And even if they hadn't, a God who could stand beside His friends and weep with them wasn't one that would make a mistake with her parents. “Okay, but why did they have to die? Can you tell me that?”
Jake looked at her again, his eyes tender. “People die, Jamie. There're no promises here on earth. God didn't make your parents die that night; and He didn't bring the World Trade Center down. The devil did that.” Jake hesitated. “One of my favorite verses in the Bible—at least lately—is a reminder that the thief comes only to kill, steal, and destroy. But God … God comes to give us life—life to the fullest.”
A sob worked its way up from Jamie's breaking heart, and she let her head fall into her free hand. “God wouldn't want me anyway, Jake. I'm … I'm not good like you.”
“Good?” He slid his chair closer to hers. “Sweet Jamie, God isn't looking for us to be good or perfect. He's just looking for us to be His. That much I remember.” Jake paused and released the hold he had on her hand. Instead, he ran his fingers lightly over her back, comforting her in ways he couldn't even know. “That's why I raised my hand in church today. I couldn't go another minute without telling God that even though I can't remember my past, I want Him to be with me. Today and tomorrow. Forever.” He exhaled, and the sound of it breathed peace into her. “I have to tell you, Jamie, the feeling of knowing I'm safe with God was better than anything I could imagine.”
Jamie sniffed and peered at him through the spaces in her fingers. “Can I go with you again next week?”
“Of course.” He grinned and helped her to her feet. “But right now we have a little girl to play with.”
Jake led her to the place where Sierra was struggling with the outside frame of her sandcastle. Jake plopped down next to her, sticking his boot cast out to one side so it wouldn't get too sandy. Then he twirled his finger into one of Sierra's ringlets and kissed the child on the head. “Next week I get to curl your hair, okay?”
Sierra's eyes lit up. “Really, Daddy?”
Jamie watched the exchange, her mind numb once more. Jake wanted to curl Sierra's hair? Was there a detail Jake missed in that journal of his? And at what point would the details of his past come from his memory, and not the pages of a book?
They finished the sandcastle and then walked along the shore, the three of them, hand in hand. Halfway back to their chairs, Jake stooped down and patted his backside. “Is the princess ready for her horsey ride?”
Sierra clapped her hands and squealed. Then she ran toward Jake and easily propelled herself onto his back.
“Jake—” Jamie felt a rush of concern. He wasn't strong enough to carry Sierra yet. “Be careful.”
But even before she finished the warning, Jake was off, hobbling down the beach with Sierra bounding along on his back, occasionally digging her heels into his side, her little-girl giggle mingling with the sound of the surf. “Faster, horsey! Faster!”
****
That night as Jamie fell asleep she realized that the day was a breakthrough in more ways than one. Not only had Jake begun living again, but her time at church and their discussion afterwards had left her vulnerable to the reality of God in a way she'd never guessed would be possible.
The changes from that day ushered in a period of two weeks in which Jake wanted to do everything they'd once done together, everything he'd mentioned that afternoon in the guest room. The temperatures had dipped some, but it was still unusually warm, and together they picnicked and played games and continued to go to church.
Early one cool sunny afternoon they left Sierra with the neighbor and brought the jet ski out to their favorite spot. Jake slipped a plastic bag over his boot cast, and Jamie gave him a gentle ride across the cool harbor, reminding him the whole time of how the machine operated and how they'd once used it. On the way back to shore, he gently squeezed her waist. “Faster, Jamie. Like we used to ride.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
Jamie opened the throttle until they were flying across the water. She even cut across a few mild wakes.
“No wonder I loved this!” A cold windy mist brushed across them, and Jake nuzzled his face next to hers, his words filled with exhilaration. “As soon as my cast's off, I get to drive, okay?”
Jamie laughed. “You got it.”
And taking the jet ski out became something they did twice more that week, even once when temperatures hovered in the sixties and a light drizzle fell. Jamie didn't care and neither did Jake. The relationship they were rebuilding between them was warmth enough. Jake's memory wasn't exactly returning, but his place in their family was almost what it had once been. At least outside their bedroom.
Jamie credited the Bible and Jake's journal, of course. But each week Pastor Ritchie made her realize that his slow return had to be more than that. It had to be an act of God Himself. And finally, on Jamie's third Sunday, when the pastor asked if any of them wanted a friendship with God, Jamie's hand was one of the first ones up. After a lifetime of running from her husband's God, she'd finally come full circle. And that morning her running led her right into His holy arms, to a place where she and Jake and Sierra could love and serve Him forever. A place she would never have known if Jake hadn't been hurt.
Because of that, Jamie could see a truth playing out in their lives, the one Jake had talked about at the beach after her first Sunday service. God had indeed come to give them life—all of them. And not just any life, but life so full that she was nearly bursting with joy. After all, she had Jake a
nd Sierra and a friendship with God that was only just beginning. One day soon Jake would have his memory. And even though he was falling in love with her all over again, she could hardly wait for the day when everything about his past would come rushing back. And it would … because God was making good on His promise—giving them life to the fullest possible measure. And as wonderful as things were now, Jamie knew her life was about to get even more full. It would happen the moment she and Jake could get back to sharing not only their days.
But their nights as well.
TWENTY-SEVEN
NOVEMBER 3, 2001
Laura hadn't planned to do anything more than clean Eric's closet.
Clay had taken Josh to play basketball, and Laura had made the decision days ago that Eric's things needed to be gathered and packed away. It wasn't something she wanted to do with Josh around. The first hour passed without anything too emotional. She'd come to grips with the reality of the loss of Eric, and still her greatest grief was that they'd never figured out what had driven them apart. The deep ache that went along with that was something she would hold forever.
But still, his closet needed to be cleaned.
She worked her way through his dirty clothes basket and his dress slacks and ties. Next she began packing a stack of sweaters from his top shelf. Eric didn't get rid of things easily, and Laura uttered a sad laugh as she lifted the dusty clothes from the shelf and placed them in the box. He hadn't worn the sweaters since before Josh was born, but he'd saved them anyway.
Now she would pack them up and give them to the local rescue mission.
She was pulling off the last sweater when something white slipped from the shelf and drifted to the floor. Her eyes followed it, and as she leaned over, she saw that it was a white envelope with nothing written on the outside. Laura dropped the sweater in the box, picked up the envelope, and lifted the flap.
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