by Glynna Kaye
It would take time. There would undoubtedly be setbacks. More healing for God to do. But she was going to be okay. Someday God would send her a man worthy of her, a man who would be a father to her children. Drew? Man, as much as he loved his buddy, he sure hoped not.
Adjusting the windshield wiper speed, he refocused his thoughts, although not on anything any more comforting. He’d been up a good deal of the night, but still had no clear lead as to what he was to do. How could he be certain if leaving—or staying—was the right decision? His thoughts were muddled, that’s for sure, but he knew God wasn’t a God of confusion. He had to be patient, not rush in one direction or the other. Julian and Bert said to take his time. He needed to trust that God would find a way to clearly hammer home His preference.
“What’s your preference, Garrett?”
Startled as the background conversation intruded on his thoughts, he turned to Dolly, her gaze fixed intently on him.
“Pardon?”
“What’s your preference? Corn-bread dressing or cranberry-walnut stuffing?”
“Yes.”
Jodi laughed, and his heart hummed at the sound. Dolly merely shook her head.
“Well, you asked, didn’t you? I assumed you wanted an honest answer.” He couldn’t help but smile. He’d miss Dolly when—if—he left. She’d put up with a lot from him this past year. He’d forever treasure his time with her and her husband. Fifty years of marriage. Three kids. Seven grandkids. It was a joy to hang around couples who’d weathered the good times and the bad. People who knew how to put someone’s best interests before their own, to love richer or poorer, in sickness and in health. Maybe some of their wisdom would rub off on him.
But could he honestly say, fully believe, that he’d ever be capable of meeting someone else’s needs before his own? Or had he done that when he’d given Jodi back to God?
He glanced again at Jodi, who was gazing almost pensively out the side window. Penny for your thoughts, pretty lady.
Dolly had asked him, although unrelated to the thoughts drifting through his mind, what his preferences were. He couldn’t deny he was beginning to have a few very distinct ones.
But he had to be sure.
* * *
“I thought Garrett would stop by today.” The corners of Star’s mouth turned downward as she dropped one-third of a cup of pancake batter into the hot nonstick pan. “The kids had so much fun building a snow fort with him the other day. I even felt like a kid again myself. And today—building snowmen, playing fox and geese and all the inside games. Those would have been even more fun if he’d have joined us, don’t you think?”
Jodi smiled despite a melancholy tug at her heart as she glanced at the children crowded around the nativity scene, each holding a king or shepherd figurine as they journeyed them in their imaginations to Bethlehem. Just like she and Garrett used to do. “Life’s always more fun when Garrett’s around.”
Star sighed as she lifted the edge of the pancake with a spatula and flipped it over. Nice and golden. “I don’t see how he could resist the promise of pumpkin pancakes this evening—he has to eat sometime, doesn’t he? And how could that obviously smitten man miss out on another opportunity to see you?”
She wasn’t ready to tell the family that a romantic relationship that had sprung to life so quickly had already withered and died. Ironically, her visit to Hunter Ridge had originally been motivated by not wanting to put a damper on her family’s holiday. Now this.
“Come on, Star. It’s Christmas Eve. I imagine today’s been packed for him. I had no illusions that we’d see him beyond a glimpse in the pulpit tonight.”
Jodi dipped into the batter bowl and poured a dollop into her own heated pan. Pumpkin pancakes before the Christmas Eve service was a tradition at the cabin, and it took teamwork to prepare enough for the hungry household. Then after the service, they’d return for a family time around the tree—reading the Christmas story, singing favorite songs, and sharing a bedtime snack of chocolate chip cookies and hot chocolate.
Oh, and each opening one present.
She’d already slipped one away that she’d earlier placed under the tree for Garrett. Maybe she’d mail the gloves once his plans were firm. Even desert regions could be bitterly cold.
“Tomorrow, then.” Star gave a conclusive nod as she slid a pancake onto the almost-filled platter, then again dipped the measuring cup into the batter.
“Don’t count on it.”
Star frowned. “Why not?”
“You forget, sis, he has family here in town, and they have their own gatherings and traditions.”
“Oh, pooh. Doesn’t the Bible say a man shall leave his mother—”
Star had already assumed that there was something of a more lasting nature between her and Garrett. She’d obviously seen something there. At least Jodi could take consolation that she hadn’t imagined it—although that was a pretty sorry solace.
“Mmm. This smells incredible.” Star’s husband Mac joined them to lean in and snatch a piece of crisp bacon off the warming tray, then kissed his wife’s cheek.
Star all but purred at the attention. “We’re almost ready to eat. Where are Ronda and Jon?”
Mac lowered his voice. “I think they’re trying to get the you-know-what assembled.”
“Well, tell them to get on in here and take care of that later. Jodi already has the table set. Doesn’t it look great? Just like Grandma used to do.”
He stepped back to inspect the festive arrangements. The sun had already dipped behind the silhouetted ponderosas, the fat candles in the lanterns lending a homey glow to the mismatched china, cloth napkins, and red-and-green plaid tablecloth. “Sure wish I could have experienced a bit of your childhood. My grandma thought holidays were an excuse to eat out or cater in.”
Jodi cringed. If not for Garrett, that’s exactly what they’d be doing.
Star cast her an impish look, then slid her final pancake onto the waiting stack, and Jodi did the same. She wasn’t looking forward to tonight’s Christmas Eve service, but there was no way to get out of it without drawing her family’s unwanted attention to the disappointing outcome of a relationship that had such a short time ago seemed so promising.
Happy holidays, everyone.
How could she bear seeing Garrett up front tonight, all the while knowing that he didn’t have room in his big heart for her?
* * *
What a day.
His cell phone pressed to his ear, Garrett gathered his Bible from the dresser top as he prepared to head off to the church. He was running late. Again.
“You’re more than welcome, Dick. Gotta keep those kids of yours toasty warm. And Merry Christmas to you, too.”
He pocketed his cell phone with a smile. While he’d have preferred the utility company hadn’t mentioned his name, making arrangements for overdue bill payment for a couple who had fallen on hard times was an expense he was more than happy to cover.
He’d just opened the door to the coat closet in the living room when his cell phone rang again. He placed his Bible on a nearby chair and jerked his jacket off a hanger, still managing to answer on the third ring.
“Mr. McCrae?” a youthful male voice asked tentatively.
“You got him.”
“Me and my friends—we got home before dark. Our folks thought we should let you know. Thanks for stopping to help us.”
On his way back from Canyon Springs, having dropped off an elderly church member who feared driving on bad roads but wanted to spend Christmas with his sister and her family, he’d spotted a carload of teenagers at the side of the road. Out of gas.
“You’re welcome. Jake, was it? I’m glad to hear you made it safe and sound.”
“We hope you have a Merry Christmas.”
“I’m counting on
it. Merry Christmas to all of you, too.”
He again shoved his phone into his pocket, then glanced at his watch and groaned. It was a little hard to sneak in late when you sat at the front of the church. He’d spent much of the day, though, putting out fires, so to speak. Usually with the arrival of Christmas Eve day, the hectic aspects of the holidays settled down. But not this year.
Nor had today been spent as he’d originally envisioned only a few days ago. He couldn’t count the times his thoughts turned to Jodi and her family. Wondering what they were doing, if the kids had missed him as they made another snowman—and how those pumpkin pancakes they always had on Christmas Eve would have tasted.
But he had only himself to blame for being left out.
He’d taken his eyes off the ball, so to speak, allowed himself to get sidetracked when Jodi arrived in town. He should have thought it through better before getting carried away and suggesting they give God a chance to see where He wanted them to go. He’d already been told, hadn’t he? Nevertheless, he’d let himself play with fire. Got his hopes up—and probably Jodi’s—about finding a way for him to manipulate God’s plans.
He slipped his arms into his jacket sleeves and adjusted the collar. Now another unexpected twist threatened to derail him. He’d promised Bert and Julian he’d take the offer under prayerful consideration. But nothing had changed since yesterday, had it? Not really. He was still a man with a purpose—one that didn’t include Jodi or a local pastorship. God hadn’t changed His mind, and neither should he.
So why didn’t he feel at peace with that?
And had he, truly, ever felt a peace about it? He’d long told himself the restlessness, the underlying disquiet, would go away. That peace would come after he got through Bible college. Got through this interim pastorship.
It would come once he was released from here and on the mission field, right? That confirmation?
Leaning into the closet, he pulled his guitar case from the back. He hadn’t played in a while and should probably have carved out some time to practice today. Too late now, though.
“Don’t you look handsome.” In her coat, boots and gloves, Dolly paused in the living room doorway to gaze at him with a smile. While he wasn’t in a suit, he’d topped the forest-green cashmere sweater his folks had given him as an early Christmas present with a tan corduroy sports jacket. And a tie. “You should dress up more often. I imagine Jodi would agree wholeheartedly.”
Was Dolly feeling him out? Sensing that something had subtly changed since only a handful of nights ago when she and Al had helped him and Jodi decorate the cabin? But he didn’t want to talk about Jodi.
“Thanks for the vote of approval.” He zipped the jacket up to his neck, then pulled his gloves from his pockets. “Are you sure you and Al don’t want a ride? It’s getting kind of nasty out there.”
“He’s warming up the car, and we’ll be right behind you.”
With a quick kiss to her cheek, he headed out the door, Bible and guitar in hand. When he arrived at the church, he paused before exiting his vehicle to take in the Kinkade-like scene. Stained glass windows glowed through the steadily falling snow, and a troupe of faithful worker bees, shovels in hand, were busy keeping the sidewalks and steps cleared for those arriving.
Unless the Heavenly referee blew His whistle before Garrett turned down the church’s offer at the conclusion of tonight’s service, this would be his last Christmas in Hunter Ridge for who knew how long. Maybe forever. When he’d returned to town a year ago, not particularly happy about it but determined to yield to God’s—and Grandma Jo’s—will, he hadn’t expected to feel a tug at his heart as he prepared to leave.
Assuming she came to this service and tomorrow’s as well, tonight would be one of his final glimpses of Jodi, too. But he wasn’t surprised at the heart tug accompanying that realization.
“There you are.” Marisela called with a smile as he stepped inside the main door. She and her husband, whom she nudged with her elbow, were greeters tonight. “Bert here was afraid he might have to get out his harmonica, so we’re both glad to see you here—and with that guitar of yours.”
“Can you play ‘Silent Night’ on that harmonica, Bert?”
The older man’s smile widened. “You betcha.”
“Plan on it, then. We’ll close with a duet.”
Bert’s eyebrows rose, but Garrett patted him on the back and headed into the dimly lit church. Good folks, the Palmers.
Once settled on the platform, though, his heart momentarily stalled when he spied Jodi—beautiful in the soft candlelight—sitting near the front next to Drew, with her family members filling the pew on her other side.
You’re not making this easy on me, Lord.
As Sofia’s gifted fingers on the piano keys filled the hallowed space with the sweet notes of “O Come, O Come Emmanuel,” he momentarily closed his eyes. Drawing in the faint scent of pine from the beribboned swags of evergreen branches, he endeavored to focus his thoughts on this holy time of year. On the gift of God’s son.
Julian Gonzales, not only a church board member but a talented vocalist, followed Garrett’s opening prayer with a moving solo of “What Child Is This?”—then led the congregation in song after worshipful song. A cluster of giggling grade school children followed, crowding onto the platform to recite “pieces” he’d memorized himself when their age, and then it was his turn to speak.
In spite of good intentions, he hadn’t much time to prepare the message. The past several days had been filled with activity. With prayer.
As he gripped the edges of the lectern, he gazed out over the congregation. His Grandma Jo was over there with his sister’s two kids on one side and cousin Luke’s little Chloe on the other. And seated next to the little girl, Luke’s Travis and his girlfriend. Travis’s oldest sister, Anna, too, who, like Jodi, was shedding her tomboyish ways.
Newlyweds Luke and Delaney smiled back at him, and Grady had his arm comfortably around his fiancée’s shoulders, Sunshine’s kindergarten-aged daughter Tessa snuggled in at his other side. Then close by, Sunshine's best friend, Tori Janner, who was almost a part of the little family that would unite in an upcoming Valentine's Day wedding.
Uncle Dave and a somewhat frail-looking Aunt Elaine, a sparkling turban on her head, looked into each other’s eyes, savoring each day together that God granted them. His gaze slowly passed over other uncles and aunts. Cousins. His own folks. A sanctuary full of people, many of whom he’d known since childhood. People he’d come to love this past year.
He’d miss them all.
Even Randall Moppert.
With a smile tugging, he cleared his throat and bowed his head. “Please join me in prayer.”
He couldn’t have told anyone afterward exactly what he’d said to God during that prayer—or in the message that followed. But he spoke from the depths of his heart during both, filled with a deep thankfulness. His message was of God’s love for His creation, a message of the redeeming miracle of Jesus’s birth and ultimate sacrifice on the cross, a message of the hope yet to come at His promised return.
God willing, his words would continue to impact hearts here long after he’d moved on from this pastorship.
At the conclusion of his message, he reached for his guitar and motioned to Bert to join him on the platform. As the delicate opening notes of “Silent Night” whispered to the farthest corner of the hushed sanctuary, he again looked out on the people of this church. Christ’s Church.
“Silent night, holy night...”
Now standing, the congregation joined him, softly at first, then with an increasing power that echoed through the candlelit space.
“All is calm, all is bright...”
He drew in a breath, his heart weighing heavy with an unknown future stretching before him.
“Round yon virgin,
mother and child. Holy infant so tender and mild...”
He swallowed as his eyes drank in the faces of those before him. His folks. Drew. The beautiful Jodi...
The people of Christ’s Church.
His church. His community.
In that moment, as he quietly picked the strings of his guitar, a tingling sensation curled up the nape of his neck. And peace—that precious, promised peace that passes all understanding—finally pushed its way in to settle into his heart, the beacon he'd long awaited to guide him.
Tears pricked his eyes, but he blinked them away. God had spoken, and this time he was listening.
“Sleep in heavenly peace...”
Chapter Eighteen
It was getting late.
It was already ten thirty, the cabin having finally settled down for the night with giggling kids tucked in their sleeping bags on cots in the attic room above and the couples having slipped off to their own rooms.
She’d be on the sofa again, not bothering to pull out its folding mattress and make up the bed. At least that morning at the grocery store she’d finally found a baby Jesus to substitute for the one she hadn’t yet found. Granted, it was a cheap plastic version and only half the size it should have been, but maybe it wouldn’t matter to the kids?
As silence descended on the cabin that held so many happy memories—new ones made tonight—she finished cleaning up in the kitchen. Her nieces and nephew had loved the grab-bag gifts. Silly, inexpensive little items, but you’d have thought she’d spent a fortune based on the delight they’d been greeted with. And not a single electronic item among them!
They’d shared warm cookies and cocoa before gathering once again around the brightly lit Christmas tree, taking turns to select a song that would be sung next. The evening wrapped up with Mac reading the Christmas story to sleepy-eyed children—and bedtime hugs and kisses.
Although she’d felt God close throughout this family-filled day, when the couples, hand in hand, had gone off to their own rooms, she struggled to hold back the sense of aloneness that assailed her.
