Page 92 of In a Word, Yes

“Mmm,” I say. “It’s easy to look at current events through a lens of fear.” Here I’m thinking of Savannah. “Or cynicism.” Here I picture Brad working his ever-present toothpick. And the Grumblies down at Sweet Reads. “None of which is particularly helpful.”

Sam rests his forehead in his hand. I hate seeing him so despairing. Life is hard. Suffering is real. Which is why, if I have anything to say about it, encouragement must never, ever fall out of fashion.

“I get it, though,” I say. “We imagine ourselves helpless. I mean, I’m in no position to right all the world’s wrongs. I have to believe there are things I can do to bring more goodness to it.”

Planted by streams of water, always blooming, constantly yielding fresh fruit,never dropping a leaf.

I straighten a haphazard pile of papers, allowing the mini pumpkin to resurface. “It may sound trite,” I continue, “but I can be kind. That’s not nothing, right? I can offer some form of comfort, especially to those suffering the kind of things I’ve survived.”

This. This is exactly why I’ve long felt the need to tell my story. Except, the way I see it more often lately, the better goal is topress more deeply into my faith. Trust that God willredeemthe previous chapters as I allow him to write the next.

Sam squints. “Tell me more about that.”

So I do. It feels amazing to unfurl my bottled-up thoughts on receptive ears.

“Can you give me seven hundred words by Friday?”

“Oh, you mean—” I imagine myself strolling the sidewalks downtown, initiating conversation with random folks on the street, posing just the right question to elicit meaningful responses. Would it be hard to find quotable, like-minded people in Charity Falls? It would be interesting to try. “You want an article?”

“No, Montgomery. I wantyourthoughts. I’m talking about an opinion piece. We need an antithetical voice. Heaven knows there’s enough derisive commentary out there already. On balance—and that’s the goal here,balance—on balance, your perspective is essential.”

Is that anise and amaretto I smell? I’m fairly certain I sense Nana Lucia smirking down from her place of heavenly abode while kneading biscotti dough.

Yeah, yeah, Nana, I know. I know.

Thirty-Five

qualm(n.): a feeling of doubt or uncertainty

Nina and Paige arrive that evening to hang with Chase while I’m at parent-teacher conferences. Smiling, Nina holds out a brown box tied up with pink ribbon. On the top, she’s written “Happy Anniversary.”

I’m too undone to respond. Nina is one of the precious few with whom I’ve confided every detail of my past. What a grace to have someone like her in my life. Someone safe. Nonjudgmental. Beautiful Nina, who has also come face-to-face with darkness and found her way back to the light.

“I ... thank you.”

Nina and I share more than kid-sitting duties. I’m her occasional plant nanny, and she often indulges a weakness of mine, marionberry cinnamon rolls from the Trading Post. Yum.

Except, at the moment, I have no appetite.

I wish I could say I’m in a purely celebratory mood, but remembering Chase’s school experience last year, I’m all addlepated about this meeting with his teacher. Mrs. De Los Santos and I have only met briefly. No notes have come home with Chase.

Is this a good sign?

Does she have a heart for students who require special accommodations? Or will this be a repeat of last year, when Chase felt singled out as a problem child? Things improved once he was allowed to move to a different classroom, but not without a lot of awkwardness. It’s taken time to help Chase shed the “bad kid” label he accepted as gospel truth after being matched with the wrong teacher.

Much as I hate being a disturbance, I will be that again if that’s what it takes for Chase to enjoy a healthy learning environment.

On the open door to Mrs. De Los Santos’s classroom, a colorful banner reads “I’m so glad you’re here.” It’s a good start, communicating a welcoming environment for kids and, today, their parents.

But how does she feel about my son?

This matters to me.

The classroom is decorated in subdued colors. Everywhere I turn I find bold affirmations posted on the walls.

I am not afraid to fail.

I encourage others.