“I figured. Later, Sis. Sorry it sucks right now.”
“Thanks, Mav.”
I rise to the bed and eye my Bible. My fingers inch toward it, almost on their own, driven by need. I pull the worn leather cover onto my lap and silence the music with a mash on the space bar.
Hey, God?
A verse about peace waves at the edge of my mind. I can’t remember where it is or what it says, so I search the concordance in the back of my Bible for verses with the word “peace” in them. Dozens, but I know the one the moment I turn its soft, crinkly page.
“You will keep the mind that is dependent on you in perfect peace, for it is trusting in you. Trust in the Lord forever, because in the Lord, the Lord himself, is an everlasting rock!”
Keep me in perfect peace. Teach me to trust in you.
Like a broken compass, I’ve been erratically pointing at where I think is North. Avoid Levi. Warn him. Be brave for him. Push him away. But what use is an unreliable compass? I can’t be the mastermind of my life. The desired dominoes don’t cascade anywhere. God has to be the mastermind. But … to put away my defective compass, I’d have to step off a blind edge and fall, trusting that the descent is part of His design. I shudder.
Trust. Trust you with my friendships, with my next steps, with my future and Levi’s. Trust you to heal me, in all the ways. I’ve done such a terrible job trusting you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
As far as the east is from the west,
so far do I remove your transgressions from you.
I suck in a breath that sounds like a sob.Thank you.
I wedge a pillow behind me and scribble the windstorm in my head into prayers in my journal.
For those who love me, all things work together for good.
My vision zooms out and comes into focus. Not only did God help me escape that night, but he used it to spark a longing to hear his voice. Since that pivotal moment, I’ve been chasing him down, head buried in my Bible every morning. His voice has graduallybecome clearer as I’ve prioritized him, attentively absorbing his words. Is this what I needed to make him a priority?
I rub my temples. God is able to stop bad things from happening, but he doesn’t always. Still, he never wastes the bad parts. He doesn’t waste anything.
I write,
You didn’t waste this. You’ve proven yourself over and over. But
I rest my head on the wall and risk a glance out the window at the field to Albert Hall. No Flooders. Some brotherly A2-ers shove each other on their way to their building.
This trust thing. I wish I could sneak in an asterisk. Like, “Yes, God, I’ll trust you.*” And at the footnote comes a list of demands: *So long as you keep me from too much pain. So long as you let me have him back. So long as you heal me soon.
But there are no asterisks with trusting God. Just an outlandish declaration and that terrifying free fall.
I’m always here.
I feel his presence, but I don’t have next steps yet. I just slump in a puddle of blankets and insights. He never gives up on me. He’s been here the whole time. His plan really is the best one. It has to be. I was never meant to be the mastermind of my own story.
“Levi asked me to give you this.” Ayumi holds a package skeptically. “Unless you don’t want it?”
I stare at the cookie as if it will speak up and explain itself before I finally pull out the note—boy cursive.
CHAPTER FIFTY
Kit,
I’d appreciate the opportunity to apologize before my flight tonight.
I’ll be at Common Grounds until 7 just in case.
—Levi
