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Today, that dream ended.
It wasn’t the same awful pain that Kevin had known losing these people that he’d loved. But it was pretty dang hard.
But there had been this wonderful, faithful man named George who had taught Kevin to seek a heavenly perspective in hard places. To change his age-old, unknowable question ofwhy this?to insteadwill I be faithful?And then to pray that God would make him so.
With the few minutes he had left before he needed to call Jacob for a ride, Kevin knelt in the wet snow and proceeded with that prayer.
Helen rubbed her arms as she paced the kitchen, telling herself everything was fine.
Trust the Lord. And your husband . . .
Except, that was a bit of a challenge right then, since she couldn’t find Kevin and he wasn’t answering his phone. Why had he snuck off? Couldn’t he have at least left a note so she’d know if she needed to go tromping through the snow to help him?
Lord! Where is he?
She hadn’t felt this panicked about Kevin in years. Not since he’d quit drinking.
The sound of footfalls echoing on the front deck steps made her stop in her tracks and pivot to face the front door.
Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.
A familiar routine—Kevin always made sure he didn’t track in snow. Helen held her breath, hope and expectation pounding in her chest while a sudden wave of irritation built deep in her gut.
The door opened, and there he stood. Stocking cap covering his salt-and-pepper hair, dark shadow of his evening beard on his jaw. Relief at the sight of him had Helen scurrying.
“Kevin!” Flinging herself against him was an overreaction and likely not wise, considering what he’d been through the past few weeks, but Helen did so anyway.
His coat was cold against her, but she clung to him just the same. “Where have you been?”
Arms that had held her since she’d been eighteen years old wrapped her close. “To visit the three.”
That rise of irritation threatened to breach her mouth, but she tamped it down. Visiting the three was a solemn practice for her husband. And by the way he curled around her and laid his head atop hers, there was emotion weighing against his heart.
“I was worried,” she whispered.
He cradled her head with one hand. “I’m sorry. I thought I’d be out and back before you were done in town.”
“Sneaking around?” She tilted her head back, and he moved so that she could look into his eyes. “That’s not good.”
The pads of his fingers were chilled as he traced the outline of her face with them. But at his gentle touch, she closed her eyes.
“Let’s not live in fear, Helen. We left that behind a long time ago. Let’s not go backward.”
She opened her eyes to find his tender gaze caressing her. “But you almost died.”
“Almost. Not yet.”
“I need to know you’re okay.”
A faint, crooked grin lifted one corner of his mouth. “I’m here. But, my sweet, semi-control-freak wife, you can’t wrap me up and put me in your pocket. We’ll both go crazy.”
He was right, and she’d known so before the words were spoken. They’d had such similar conversations about their boys over the years. She wanted to know they were safe and happy and doing well all the time. What mother wouldn’t?
But this constant worry . . . led to fussing, and that almost always led nowhere good. Jackson and Jacob were her prime examples.
Put your hope in God, maker of heaven and earth.
Silently, while her husband tucked her against him and indulged her with a long embrace, Helen surrendered her anxious heart again. Seemed she would have to over and over for the rest of her life.
