The poor young mother’s voice sounded exhausted, and Amber kicked herself again for her thoughtlessness. She should have helped out more. Played a few rounds of rock, paper, scissors or thumb war so his mom could rest a bit. A transatlantic flight was tiring for anyone. Add trying to keep an overactive small child in a confined space without disrupting everyone else in the cabin and exhaustion took on a whole new meaning.
“Of course.” Amber reached around the preschooler to grab the small backpack she’d shoved under the seat in front of her. She turned her head to whisper into the boy’s ear. “Did you really see a castle?”
He nodded with excitement and jabbed at the plexiglass with his little finger. “There.”
Sure enough, gray stone turrets rose above crumbling walls. The castle, which looked to have been erected during medieval times, jutted out from the side of a gently sloping mountain. Amber held her breath as the plane banked and she slipped past the boy and his mom to claim the aisle seat. She stretched, trying to get another glimpse of the castle through the window of the row in front of them, but the plane turned the other direction and the castle was lost from view, replaced by blue sky dotted with white fluffy clouds.
The boy swiveled around, eyes wide. “Was it King Arthur’s castle, Mama?”
“He’s going through a bit of a knight phase,” Mom explained to Amber before answering her son. “No, baby. King Arthur ruled in England. We’re visiting Uncle Scott in Germany, remember?”
His mouth scrunched to the side. “That’s right. Uncle Scott in the Air Force.”
Tendrils of soft brown hair fell from the messy bun atop the woman’s head. She smiled at Amber as she tucked the strays behind her ear. “We’re surprising my brother for his birthday. The whole family is flying over, since he couldn’t get leave. Well, everyone except my husband. Turns out he couldn’t get time off either. So me and Jay-Jay here are having a mother-son adventure. Isn’t that right, buddy?”
Jay-Jay nodded enthusiastically before pressing his face back to the window. “Everything’s getting big again.”
The plane made its final descent, wheels touching down on the tarmac and bouncing before settling. Their bodies pushed forward for a second while the plane decelerated and then leveled out.
“Tell your brother I said thank you for his service. One of my brothers was in the navy, but he was medically discharged a couple of years ago.” A lifetime and yet a blink away. The end of what Michael had considered his purpose in life had been the spark to light hers.
If only the flame would burn as bright as it had at the beginning instead of flickering and threatening to go out altogether. Maybe then she could find the path and her place on it.
“You must not doubt. Anyone who doubts is like a wave which is pushed around by the sea.”
The verse in James had been a bit of a broken record to her, chastising her for the shadows that had slowly but surely grown until she could hardly see any illumination at all. She’d stood on the beach near her family’s home in Florida and watched as the tide brought wave after wave up the shore, crashing and churning white foam and then pulling back out to the vast blue ocean. Every day the pounding waves broke and ate away at the shoreline, the thunder of their voices drowning out the gentle coastal breeze and whatever whispers traveled on its wings.
Three years of theology courses. Three years of being one of, if not the only female in a class full of males. Three years of speculative looks. Well-meaning but confusing take-aside conversations. Discussions filled with reminders of Paul’s epistles and council on a woman’s place and the headship of the church. The all-out scorn some people didn’t even try to hide, their vibrato rising like the surf, drowning out the soft assurance of a divine calling until she doubted she’d heard it in the first place.
Amber rubbed her thumb and forefinger together, picturing the ampersand pin her three older brothers had presented to her after the completion of her freshman year as a theology major. A symbol of their support. Menandwomen. Ordained by God and ministering as equals. Her brothers’ belief in women—inher—in ministry.
But what did one do when she lost belief in herself? In her calling? In her ability to minister to people the way she had once thought she was supposed to?
A ding sounded from the speakers, and a wave of people stood, streaming into the aisle and reaching into overhead compartments. Amber shook herself and rose. “I hope you have a nice visit with your family.” She nodded to Jay-Jay and his mom, who must have thought her a bit flaky to have wandered off in her own thoughts in the middle of a conversation.
“I’m going to ask Uncle Scott to let me fly in a fighter jet,” Jay-Jay exclaimed.
His mom smoothed down his hair with a smirk. “And I’m going to have to veto that suggestion.”
His little head cocked to the side. “What does veto mean?”
Amber grinned, grabbed her backpack, and shuffled behind the line toward the exit. Jay-Jay had been a tiny glimpse of what the next three months held for her.
Hopefully she wouldn’t have second thoughts on that decision as well.
Hefting the strap of her backpack up higher on her shoulder, she turned to the illuminated signs hanging from the ceiling, thankful the words were in English as well as German. She followed the arrows, passport in hand, and then took her place in line behind other internationals waiting to make it through customs.
An hour later, passport and visa stamped, she navigated the airport corridors and escalators before being spit out into baggage claim. Someone from the Excellency Center was supposed to meet her here. She scanned the crowd, looking for a sign with either her name or the center’s.
There. A tall woman with a blonde pixie cut. She looked to be in her early thirties, was wearing a white athletic jersey and a trim pair of jeans, and held up a sign sporting Amber’s name. Their eyes locked, and the pixie woman raised one brow. Amber smiled and wove her way past the traffic of bodies.
“I’m Amber Carrington.”She stopped her forward motion and took a second to breathe deeply, wishing assurance would catch up to her, brandishing a weapon to beat all her uncertainties away. If only she had an ounce of the confidence her brothers had…
The sign lowered and pixie woman grinned. “Willkommen in Deutschland.”
“Danke.”
Miss Pixie bent down from her towering height—just how tall was this woman?—and whispered conspiratorially in Amber’s ear. “Do not worry,” she assured in a thick accent. “I speak English. And have a forgiving nature. This is why I have already pardoned you for your terrible timing.”
