Coldwater Revival: A Novel by Nancy Jo Jenkins

Author:Nancy Jo Jenkins [Jenkins, Nancy Jo]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Grief, Sorrow, Guilt, redemption
Publisher: David C. Cook
Published: 2013-02-01T06:00:00+00:00

Twenty-seven

For three days I cloistered myself in Granny’s house, marking time in the nest of my bedroom. Often my eyes grew soupy, spilling over with yearnings to hear Tate’s voice. I missed his stories about working on the docks, and his seafaring tales, chronicling distant times and faraway places. They quickened my pulse as Papa’s yarns did. But pigheaded pride wouldn’t allow me to seek him out, for he had committed the unpardonable—spoken to me of a loving, merciful God.

Tate thought his words true, but I recognized a fallacy in his considerations. When I pleaded for God to protect and spare my little brothers, I received nothing but misery and heart-clattering pain. Grabbing hold of God’s beneficence was as futile as trying to lure a frightened rabbit from his hole. Someday, Tate would learn that God’s mercy didn’t extend itself to everyone. And when he did, he’d understand what I already knew: The bumpy road of life was a lonely path to travel when you no longer walked it with your Creator.

Curling myself into a shrivel of self-pity, I spent hours reviewing ways the Lord had let me down. Each day I delayed my sojourn to the sea, I grew more resentful of Tate and Granny’s faith. What was wrong with them? I wondered. Didn’t they recognize God’s abandonment for what it was? Hadn’t Granny noticed God’s absence the day she pleaded for the lives of her children? There were thousands, perhaps millions of angels in heaven. Surely, Almighty God could have charged one of them to keep an eye on her family. And what about the Falin boys? Where was God when I begged him to spare my little brothers? He knew how rambunctious and careless the twins could be.

I tried blocking Tate’s words from my mind, but even the walls conspired against me, whispering from the four corners of my room. Have you tried talking to God, Emma? He can help you … The last thing I wanted was to hole up in my room and fan the coals of my resentment to life. But that’s exactly what I did.

But after three days of smoldering, I asked myself this question: Who was I hurting by staying cooped up in Granny’s house? The answer—only me, for Granny seemed to enjoy having me underfoot, and the boy by the sea … why, he probably hadn’t even realized I’d gone missing.

I returned to the beach that afternoon, wondering if even a widow’s mite of my comradeship with Tate was salvageable. For my part, we could resume our friendship … if Tate threw off his preacher’s garb and didn’t harp on God again.

Keeping my vow to Micah, I knelt in the sand and shoveled grit from his tin. Today’s offering was the unmarred sand dollar with its perfect belly star. If only I could place it in Micah’s hand and tell him about the animal that once lived in this shell. ’Twas then that one of Granny’s feisty sayings came to mind: If wishes were horses, even beggars would ride.

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