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“What if this one is another boy?”
“Then we will need seven brides for seven brothers someday.”
Which had been exactly the case. And it had been glorious.
Kevin turned onto his side and cradled Helen in his arms. “I regret nothing, my darling wife.”
“Me neither.” She stretched to kiss his lips. The same lips she’d been kissing for the last forty years—which was not long enough.
Kevin resolved to enjoy these slower days. Becausefor everything there is a season.This was his time to keep. A season to savor the memories and these quiet, still moments where his body would recover. So much of him had revolted against that idea.
But God ordained seasons and times. It was for Kevin to surrender, to embrace, and to praise.
And as he trained himself to do those things, he saw the gift of it. As he slowed and watched, he had a renewed view of his wife. She had always been bursting with energy and enthusiasm and humor and so much creativity that sometimes it was overwhelming. Though older now, with silver highlights gleaming in her hair and laugh lines proclaiming to the world that she lived a joyful life, Helen hadn’t slowed down. Now at home for his days, Kevin got to watch her do what she loved—pluck beauty from God’s creation and create something others would cherish.
He loved that she did that. He loved that she could. And it amazed him that God had provided the means for it. For the second time in the space of a month, Kevin acknowledged, and this time fully embraced, the wonder in the fact that God had used his father to provide that gift. It felt like a long-overdue redemption of a relationship that had never been, because he could think on his dad with something other than darkness.
He could think on his father with gratitude.A time to mend.
This imposed rest also gave him the opportunity to oversee the surprise he had planned and had anticipated for a few years now. Thanks to the enthusiasm and skills of his children, it was all coming together better than he’d hoped.
On Christmas Eve-eve, Kevin wandered into the sunroom work space he’d built for Helen a decade ago and leaned against the large wooden table in the middle. He looked up and traced with his vision the carving he’d engraved in the exposed wooden beam in the ceiling.Kevin loves Helen.
Yes. Yes, he sure did.
Made him think of a conversation he’d had once with Buck Alexander many years back. Long before Buck became Brandon’s father-in-law. Even well before Buck became the owner of a hunting sportsman empire.
“You sure work hard to make that woman happy,” Buck had noted, more than a little jibing in his tone.
Kevin had shrugged and grinned. He could have told Buck that Helen deserved it—after all she’d put up with in their early years of marriage. She’d stayed when no one would have blamed her for leaving. That entitled her to some spoilage. Instead, he just caught Buck’s eyes and held a firm stare. “Making my wife happy makes me happy. Isn’t that how it should be?”
Buck had looked caught off. And then thoughtful. And then he’d just nodded. It didn’t slip past Kevin’s notice, however, that from that point forward, Buck had seemed to make a new effort in his marriage—one that previously, even from the distance of a casual friendship, had held the signs of tattered edges.
It also didn’t slip past Kevin the last time he’d been with the Alexanders at their opulent place—when they’d gone to visit Brandon and Megan—that Buck and Anna seemed blissfully content with each other. Wealth and success had not damaged their marriage, and by all signs, Buck worked hard to make sure his wife was happy.
Kevin grinned. How did that adage go? Happy wife, happy life.
Just so.
Thinking of that, Kevin stood and peeked out the windows, his gaze searching the hillside beyond their backyard. Helen was out foraging—gathering the last bits of greenery for the garland she wanted to wrap the front deck handrails with before all of the children arrived that evening.
She had every surface covered in fresh greenery and holly. There were no fewer than five trees of various sizes scattered throughout the house, all decorated in what Helen called acountry chic styleand lit up with tiny yellow twinkle lights.
Nestled among the greenery strung over the fireplace mantel in this work space were two dozen LED candles.
Helen loved candles as much as she loved plants. She also loved Christmas and had been so looking forward to this one because all the boys and their families were coming. No small deal, as it had been a while since they’d all been in one place at one time. Not since . . . not since that Thanksgiving weekend when they’d all gathered at the lodge at Connor and Sadie’s request.
Well, there had been Sadie’s funeral. But who would ever count that? Not Kevin. Most assuredly not Helen.
This was a season of rejoicing. For the gathering of family and the gift of faith. For the birth of their Savior and the promise He brought with Him.
And for life. This beautiful, hard, gloriously rich life that Kevin hadn’t dreamed possible.
Great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised!
At one time, his deepest longing was to know that someone valued him. Someone wanted him. That he would not forever be the virtually orphaned boy, the humiliated son of a drunk who would himself take on that ugly legacy.
God had given him more. Exceedingly, abundantly more than he’d ever imagined or dared to ask. And that lavish grace had started with Helen. The gift of his wife.
