“No worries. I’ll come back later.”
And the coast is clear again. Good thing we’re not trying to have this conversation at Common Grounds.
“I wanted to spend that time with you. But … your dad worked so hard to keep his difficulties under wraps, and look at me. I’m a mess.”
He shakes his head slowly. “You are far more important to me than my family’s attempt to control the narrative. I wish you knew that by now. Besides, knowing you, hearing your story, it would be such a benefit to my father. It would be helpful to so many if you chose to share it.”
I’m speechless again. How could Levi transform my darkest secret so thoroughly?
My eyelids flutter closed.I hate this. I don’t want him to be hurt. I want whatever is best for him. Help?
Be still before me and wait patiently for me.
Okay.
I open my eyes.
“Praying?” Levi asks.
“Yes. ‘Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him.’” I have no other answers.
He jerks forward. Wordlessly, he pulls his journal out, opensto the bookmark, and turns it to me. The same verse is scrawled there in his dear cursive. God had said the same words to Levi.
I hear you. Thank you.
“You had that memorized?” he asks.
“Mom had us memorize Bible verses as part of bedtime. A lot of them stuck. Sometimes God brings one to mind.”
“What a gift,” he murmurs.
I give a half-smile, likeNow what?
“Now we obey.”
“I’ll have a lot of space to be still and wait next week.” I’ll make use of it to the best of my ability. “You’re going home?”
“Yes. I need to be there. And it’s past time I attempt a Thanksgiving with my own family.”
He holds a hand on his head, fingers through his hair. I want to fix the weight in his posture, the dejection drawing his face.
I can’t fix it. Will you?
I cast my anxieties on you because you care for me.
I’m always here.
“Alright.” He winces. “We talk again after break.”
I respect so much that his choice is to obey God’s prompting even though it’s not what he would have picked.
“Levi …” It hurts to say his name. “Thank you for understanding. I’m so sorry for … dragging you around. And for being”—my voice breaks again—“such a mess.”
Forearms move to his knees again. “You are adelight, atreasure.” His eyes are wet? “Whatever God has planned, he’s got this. He’s got you.”
Yes.
“Can I pray?” he asks. “Right now?”
