An Offering: The Tale of Therese by Pittman Allison

Author:Pittman, Allison [Pittman, Allison]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FICTION / Christian / Historical, FICTION / Historical
Publisher: Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.
Published: 2017-07-16T22:00:00+00:00

That night, the only story she wanted to hear was that of the Mother of God, the Blessed Virgin, and Opa added details about her husband, Joseph. How he could have had her killed, but the angel came to him in a dream and told him to marry her.

“How so? In a dream?”

“That I don’t know, child. If the angel crept inside his mind or woke him up, just a little, so he could talk to him as real as you and I are talking right now.”

Oma sat at the table behind them, knitting what would be a pair of small, warm winter socks. Her needles clicked with every third stitch or so, and she seemed so engrossed in her work, Therese doubted she could hear their conversation.

“Opa?” She whispered, just in case, placing her hand on his cheek to draw him closer. “Why didn’t an angel come to my papa? Like one did to Joseph, to tell him to marry my mother?”

Oma’s needles stopped with her sharp intake of a breath. Opa seemed to catch that breath from across the room and exhaled it with a force that ruffled the hair on top of Therese’s head.

“Sometimes,” he said at last, “angels come and we don’t see them. Or they speak, and we don’t listen.”

“I promise always to listen, Opa.”

“That’s my good girl.” He kissed her brow in the place the stone had struck, a habit he’d assumed the night of her arrival, and she hopped down from his lap in order to give a proper embrace. Oma set her knitting on the table and held out her arms—albeit with her customary reserve—and Therese planted a kiss on both of her cheeks saying, “Good night, Oma.”

“Sweet dreams, little one.”

Therese had climbed into her bed and turned her back to the room, prepared as always to be lulled to sleep by soft conversation, when Opa called to her.

“We have neglected something—something very important.”

Therese sat up. “What is it, Opa?”

“You need to say a prayer. All good Christian children say a prayer before they go to sleep.”

“I don’t know any prayers.”

“Up,” he said, rising from his chair. “I’ll teach you.”

Following his instructions, Therese climbed out of bed and braced her elbows on the mattress. Hands folded, she bowed her head and closed her eyes.

“Father God, I pray this night . . . ,” Opa said, and Therese repeated.

Father God, I pray this night,

That thou will keep me in thy sight.

And when the darkness turns to day,

By my side, thou wilt stay.

“And now,” Opa said, “ask him to bless the ones you love.”

Therese scrunched her eyes tighter. “Please bless Mutti and Opa and Oma. Amen.”

“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, amen.” Opa crossed himself and helped her back into bed. “A good prayer brings sweeter dreams, the kind where angels come to visit.” He kissed her again and tucked the cover tightly around her.

But she did not dream because she did not sleep. Not

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