Seasons Under Heaven (25 page)

Sylvia sat at the patio table covered with papers, and looked out at the empty corral. She had expected to be sad about the loss of the horses, as she had been after Sarah’s wedding, when the house had felt so empty. But she realized now that it was a blessing and not a curse.

Harry came out drinking a glass of iced tea and sat next to her. “So whatcha doing with all these papers?” he asked.

“Counting up all the money we’ve raised,” she said. “It looks like we’ve covered all of the bills they’ve received so far. Of course, most of the bills haven’t come in yet. But I still have some pledges coming in. You know, I think we might just cover it all, if we work really hard. I think God is helping us keep the Dodds on our street. Since the couple who wanted to buy their house didn’t qualify for the mortgage, we have a little more time. If we can raise enough money, I’m sure David will take the sign down.”

“So how much of these donations came from your visits to corporate America?” he asked.

She smiled. “About half.”

He leaned on the table. “Excuse me, but aren’t you the woman who had nothing left to contribute?”

She threw her head back and laughed. “Okay, so I may still have a little life left in me.”

He picked up the letter from the Nicaraguan couple who had asked for advice and help. “You know, I feel bad. All this time we’ve been so busy with Joseph, I haven’t had time to look into much of anything for Maria and Carlos.”

“It’s not too late,” she said. “Besides, I’ve done a little thinking.”

He set the letter down and looked up at her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She fixed her eyes on him for a moment. “Harry, what would you think about our offering our house to Carlos and Maria while he’s in seminary? We could also pay his way, and line up a job for him and a school for their son while they’re here.”

He frowned. “You wouldn’t mind having them live with us?”

She held his gaze for a moment. “We’re not going to be here, Harry.”

He sat up straighter, and his eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

She reached out and clutched his hand. “We’re going to Nicaragua.”

His eyes misted over. He studied her face for a moment as if waiting for her to scream out, “Gotcha!” But she didn’t. “Are you sure?” Harry asked.

“I’ve been praying a lot about this,” she said, “asking God to change my heart. A few months ago, when all this came up, I didn’t think I had much to contribute. But now I can see that I do still have talents God can use. I
can
work with the children, and I can teach the mothers. I want to go. You have so much you can take to those people, and I think I have some things I can take, too. I may not be able to cure their diseases, but I can help to cure their hearts.”

“You’re absolutely sure?”

“Absolutely,” she said. “And if Carlos and Maria stay in our house, I’ll have the peace of knowing that we’ll have it to come back to. Or, after they finish seminary, we can sell it if we want.”

Harry leaned back hard in his chair and let out a laugh that seemed to shake the trees. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this!”

“Believe it,” she said. “I asked God to change my heart if He wanted us to do this. I didn’t
want
Him to, and I didn’t expect Him to. But He did. Now I’m getting excited.”

Harry got up and hugged his wife with all his might.

That night after supper, Tory, Sylvia, and Cathy went to the hospital to sit with Brenda and Joseph. He had been moved to his own room and was doing well, so while he slept, they went into the small waiting room across the hall and talked softly about the best moments of the last few months.

“When they told us they’d found a heart,” Brenda whispered. “That was a good one.”

“Me, too, when you called to tell me,” Tory agreed.

“When my kids wanted to help raise money,” Cathy said.

Sylvia began to laugh. “When Ed Majors gave me that first check.”

Brenda grinned. “Rolling my own yard with my kids for Joseph’s party.”

“The animal fair,” Tory added, “when Spencer finally got to ride Sylvia’s horse before she sold it.”

Brenda smiled. “When they prayed over Joseph at church.”

“When I met Steve Bennett,” Cathy added. They all looked at her and smiled knowingly.

“When we discovered Brenda’s church,” Tory whispered.

“When
I
discovered Sylvia’s church,” Cathy echoed.

“When Harry came in and told us the surgery was a success.”

“When your kids made all those videos,” Sylvia said.

“When Joseph opened his eyes after the surgery.”

“When you told me what you did about investing our children wisely.”

“When I told Harry I wanted to go to the mission field.”

They all got quiet for a long time, their thoughts centered on blessings instead of trials, on joys instead of heartaches. It was so much different than the night they’d gotten together months ago, after Joseph’s first collapse—when they’d thought they had so much to complain about.

“Some of the best moments,” Tory whispered finally, “have been sitting right here with you tonight, and knowing that we’re all different people than we were when we started out.”

“Yes,” Sylvia whispered. “These are definitely some of the best moments.”

Barry was asleep on the floor with the children—in front of the television—when Tory got home that night. She stood quietly over them, filled with an overwhelming love for her family. She knelt there beside them and wept for the blessing of them.

An idea came to her, and quietly she went into the laundry room, turned on her computer, and began to write her feelings down. She wrote about the little cul-de-sac of Cedar Circle, about the child who needed a heart, and how the neighbors had banded together to raise the money. She wrote about the things she’d learned about loving her own children, about the blessings she was too busy to see, about the joy she was too rushed to experience. She wrote about God changing her heart, and
Sylvia’s and Cathy’s, and she wrote about the courageous love of Brenda, who trusted God enough to open her hand for Him to take Joseph away from her. She talked about the lessons of investing her children wisely, and how God had taught her, through Brenda, that her children, not her writing, were her life’s greatest work.

When she finished, it was five A.M., and she realized that she’d written an entire article. She would send it to her favorite magazine and see if they wanted it. If they didn’t, that was okay too. After all, it wasn’t the words, but rather the meaning behind them, that was most important: the changes in her heart, and the changes that would occur in her family as a result.

Quietly, she slipped outside. The sky was just surrendering its darkness to the beginnings of day. She walked down the driveway to the mailbox, slipped the envelope in, and put the flag up. Then she turned and saw the sun’s rays just coming up over the mountains. She watched, breathlessly, as the sky grew brighter, brighter, until the sun burst like a fireball above the mountain peaks.

For a moment, she stood and took it all in, like an epiphany in her heart as this new morning in her life dawned. Joy and incredible gratitude washed over her like the sun’s light, and suddenly she couldn’t wait to see what the day would bring.

She could have stood like that for hours, just watching the miracle of God’s new day, but instead, she went back into the den, where her family still slept on the floor. Instead of waking them and taking them all to bed, she lay down with them, curled up between her two children, her hand on Barry’s arm. There was no place she needed to be, nothing calling her away. This was her work and her greatest joy.

This was where she belonged.