Wildflowers (19 page)

“What I wanted to share with all of you,” Jessica said, still crying without sobbing, “is that I’m going to write a letter to my father and ask him to forgive me for running away from home so many years ago. I thought I could hide by
coming to Glenbrooke, but God made it clear that—”

Before Jessica finished her sentence, Genevieve pushed away from the table. In a choked whisper she said, “Excuse me,” and rose. She clutched her shredded napkin and with quiet steps left the dining room, not sure where she was going. All she knew was that she couldn’t sit there another minute. She needed to be alone. To breathe. To think.

Her brisk steps led her out the front door onto the porch. The boys had abandoned their lemonade stand and joined the happy noises of the other children playing in the backyard. Genevieve lowered herself onto the porch swing’s padded seat and drew in the fragrance of the prolific petunias spilling over the hanging baskets.

I have to forgive Steven
.

She knew that thought was true and right. She needed to roll back the stone and release her husband. If a miracle were to occur in his life, it would be God’s doing, not hers. She simply understood Jessica’s confession and took it as her own. She couldn’t hide any longer.

Genevieve was also certain that she didn’t want to block God from working in her husband’s life. And she had. She had nurtured, watered, and fed a thick root of bitterness against her husband for their entire married life. At this moment, it seemed to her that she had spent years wrapping Steven in strips of grave cloth. Their marriage, their love was dead to her. It stunk.

She knew she had to roll back this stone. Right now. Right here.

“Father in heaven,” Genevieve began in a whisper, “I
have been so wrong. Please forgive me. Roll away the stone that I have put in front of my heart. I’ve closed off myself from my husband. I know that now. I’ve wrapped him in my anger and bitterness, and now, Father God, I want Steven to be free. I want to be free, too.”

Genevieve could picture a mental list of all the offenses she held against her husband. The money he had lost in the stock market was at the top of the list. Then his being gone so much and missing the key events in her life.

The offenses were specific. Genevieve said aloud, “Father, from my heart, I want You to forgive Steven for …”

She went down her mental list, naming each offense. Her emotions inserted the strong words that she felt.

A gush of tears began. A river seemed to be released in her heart and was pouring out her eyes. For several minutes she cried and cried, barely making a sound. The tears cleansed her. Several more specific offenses came to mind, and she spoke those as well.

Then Genevieve prayed, “I was wrong to hold all this against Steven. Please forgive me, Father God. I know that when You came into my life years ago You forgave me for everything I had ever done wrong, and yet I’ve been unwilling to forgive my husband for these few small things. I’m so sorry. Untie me and let me go. Untie my husband and let him go.”

All she had left was a whisper when she said, “Amen.” God had heard. She felt free. Deeply free.

The front door’s screen opened slowly, and Alissa emerged, taking tiny steps toward Genevieve. “Are you
okay?” She joined Genevieve on the porch swing.

Genevieve wiped her cheeks with the useless, shredded napkin and whispered, “Yes.”

Alissa wrapped her arm around Genevieve and drew her close in a hug. It seemed a little peculiar to Genevieve that this younger woman was taking her under her wing and comforting her. But then Alissa understood. She had said that evening in her home office that she had learned how to forgive others from her heart for all the painful, dark moments in her life.

Without having to explain anything to Alissa, Genevieve knew that was what had happened to her this afternoon. She had forgiven her husband from her heart. Jessica’s words had broken down the roadblocks in Genevieve’s stubborn head, and the truth had penetrated her heart. The bitterness was gone. So was the aching loneliness.

“I’m finally free.” Genevieve pulled back from Alissa and dabbed her nose with the back of her hand.

Alissa smiled. “I know what that feels like. It’s incredible, isn’t it?”

Genevieve nodded. “I can’t believe it took me so long to finally get it.”

“I know,” Alissa said. “I was the same way. Unforgiveness is such a private thing, but it chokes us.”

Genevieve nodded. She felt exhausted and exhilarated at the same time. She knew it would be awkward to return to the group. Yet she knew she needed to say something.

Alissa went inside with her. All the women greeted her with sympathetic, concerned looks.

This was a safe place to be.

Genevieve opened up and shared her heart. She felt as if the great, choking vine that had darkened her life and caused her to board up the windows of her soul was now gone. Her heart was like a cottage flooded with light and ready to welcome visitors. Forgiveness was the key that had been missing in her half-conscious, half-dreaming image of trying to unlock the café’s front door.

Genevieve heard herself laughing, as she spilled out her story at the table to these understanding women. “I listened in on one of your Bible studies at the café weeks ago. You were talking about the man who gave excuses when Jesus asked him if he wanted to be made well.”

“I remember,” Teri said. “He had the same infirmity, whatever it was, for thirty-eight years. And Jesus healed him.”

“I know what it’s like to have the same problem for a very long time.” Genevieve told the group about how she thought she had heard the Lord calling her by name that night by the bathtub and how He had asked her if she wanted to be made well.

“That was the night the café caught on fire,” Genevieve said. “I thought for sure God hadn’t heard my prayer or that it was too late for me. Why else would God allow my dream café to be destroyed right after I said I wanted my life to be better?”

A soft, knowing smile came over Jessica’s face. “I think all of us have seen something like that happen in our lives. God sometimes has to tear down something before He can
rebuild it the way He wants it to be built.”

“You know what I was just thinking?” Lauren added. “What you’ve just told us, Genevieve, is exactly what this part of John 11 is all about. Weeks ago you asked Jesus to heal you, and it seemed that He didn’t do anything. That’s just like Mary and Martha, who asked Jesus to come while Lazarus was sick, but the Lord didn’t come. Remember how they said, ‘If you had been here, our brother wouldn’t have died’?”

Several of the women glanced down at their open Bibles.

Shelly spoke up. “That’s so true, Lauren. Jesus brought about a greater miracle by raising Lazarus from the dead than if He had come earlier and healed him before he died.”

“I don’t know that any miracle is greater or lesser,” Shelly’s sister, Meredith, commented. “But I know what you mean. We all experience different deaths in our lives. Deaths of dreams and deaths of relationships. I agree that it’s pretty fabulous when a dream or a relationship you thought was destroyed comes back to life. When God brings it back to life, you know it because it’s so much better than it was before.”

“God is going to do something huge in your marriage, Genevieve,” Alissa said. “And God is going to do something wonderful with your father, Jess. I can say that because when I settled my forgiveness issues, my heart changed so much. I’d been a Christian for a long time, but all the stuff I was holding on to from my past was keeping me bound up. I wasn’t free.”

“You certainly are free now.” Genevieve smiled at Alissa.

“And doubly blessed,” Teri added. “I know everyone said that Gordo and I were doubly blessed when we had the twins five years ago, but I look at how God provided Beth and Ami for you guys, and it’s evidence of His blessings. Double blessings!”

Alissa smiled. “You know what? I have something to tell all of you. A little while ago I told Genevieve my life story, and I realized I hadn’t told the rest of you what God did in my life. I’ve told some of you a little bit, but when I heard myself telling Genevieve my story, I realized how free God had made me.”

For the next fifteen minutes, Alissa shared with the others. None of them acted stunned to learn that she had been pregnant as a teenager. All of them agreed the story was a powerful testimony to God’s faithfulness. The best evidence of God’s being at work in Alissa was the peace and serenity that permeated her words and her expression.

When Alissa finished, Shelly said, “Alissa, I don’t know how you feel about this, but if you could come out to camp this summer and tell your story to our high school campers, I know it would be powerful. Especially the part about the letters that the teens wrote to you when you found out you were pregnant. What if those Christian teens had shunned you when you were going through the most difficult time in your life?”

“I know,” Alissa said. “I don’t want to think about where I would be today. God used my friends’ letters in a powerful way.”

“Letters can change our lives,” Lauren said.

Genevieve watched Alissa give Lauren a wink and a nod. “You would know all about that, wouldn’t you? If it weren’t for letters, would you have fallen in love with Kenton?”

Lauren blushed slightly. “I guess God would have found another way to bring the two of us together. But I like the way He creatively chose to use letters to ignite the sparks of our love.”

Teri picked up her Bible and, with a smile on her face, said, “Well said, Lauren! It’s the same with God and us. He wrote this collection of love letters here in His Word to us. If He hadn’t given us the Bible, I imagine He would have found another creative way to bring us to Himself. But I’m with you. I think it’s blissfully romantic of God to … what did you say? Ignite the sparks of love? That’s what He does with His Word. When our hearts are open to Him, He ignites all kinds of sparks as we read His love letters.”

“You know what?” Jessica nearly rose from her chair. “That’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to write my father a long letter. Pray for me this week, will you? You sweet ladies pray, and I’ll pray, and I’ll write a letter to my father.”

Some of the other women said they had letters of reconciliation to write that week as well. Genevieve wondered what it would be like to write Steven a letter. They always had used the phone for any conversation they had when he was away from home. She couldn’t remember ever trying to express herself to her husband in written words. The thought intrigued her.

The women left Jessica’s house that day with a round of hugs and a few tender kisses on the cheek. Genevieve had
never felt so surrounded with kindred souls who loved her and cared about her. She knew that her life had changed dramatically that Wednesday afternoon. She would be back the next week and the next. These women were now her lifeline.

“I wish we lived here.” Meredith gave Genevieve a hug good-bye. “Do all of you know how rare it is to have such close friends and to spend time together like this?”

“We know,” Jessica said. “This group is a gift from God.”

Genevieve thought of all she would have missed today if she had given in to her primitive instinct to run from the light. She still would be curled up in the darkness, breathing in the stale air of her own stinking pride.

After Genevieve got in the van with Anna and Mallory to drive home, she wondered what she should say to her daughters about the changes God had made in her heart that afternoon. How much would the girls understand? How much should she say and how much should she just let them see the changes as she began to live in this new freedom?

“I’ve been far away from God for quite some time,” Genevieve heard herself say. “A lot of things changed for me this afternoon. I just wanted you girls to know.”

Her daughters were quiet for a moment. Then Anna said, “Good. I’ve been praying for you, Mom.”

“Me, too,” Mallory said.

“I’ve also been praying for Dad,” Anna said.

“Me, too,” Mallory added.

Genevieve swallowed the feelings that came with her
daughters’ comments. It felt like a “glory berry” going down, full of tangy sweetness and tiny seeds of light beams that would shine inside her heart now that the door was flung wide open and ready to welcome visitors.

Steven was home when they arrived. He told them about what a good time he had golfing with Pastor Allistar, except that Gordon Allistar had a balance problem. On the third hole, Gordon missed the ball altogether on his swing and ended up toppling over. It got the two of them off to an interesting start, as Gordon filled Steven in on a long list of stories about the key moments in his life when he had lost his balance.

“He’s a great guy,” Steven said. “I told him I’d golf with him anytime. We might go again in a month.”

Genevieve wanted to ask if they discussed anything important, like spiritual matters, but she left her questions unasked. God was doing something. She knew it now. It wasn’t up to her to manipulate anything with her husband’s view of Christianity like she had tried to do right after she became a Christian years ago.

Her job was to make sure she was right before God by not stockpiling any bitterness in her heart’s corners, which she viewed as newly cleaned.

The first test of her resolve came the next day, when Steven reminded her that he was leaving Monday for a fourteen-day stretch.

“If I can do anything to help you on the plans for the café, we should talk about it this weekend before I leave,” Steven said.

“Okay,” Genevieve agreed. “And if I can do anything for you before you go or while you’re gone, please let me know.”

Steven stopped squeezing the toothpaste onto his toothbrush and stared at Genevieve in the bathroom mirror. “Thanks, honey,” he said. “I don’t have anything in mind for you to do for me.”

“Okay.” Genevieve picked up her eyeliner pencil and, as Anna had recommended, tried to highlight her eyes a little more dramatically. Her heart was light, and instead of feeling bombarded with frustration over Steven’s leaving again, she felt thankful that he had been such a good and consistent financial provider. And she told him so.