The Promise Box by Tricia Goyer

Author:Tricia Goyer [Goyer, Tricia]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780310335146
Publisher: Zondervan
Published: 2013-06-02T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

18

“Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths,” Proverbs 3:5-6.

“Ask of me, and I shall give thee the heathen for thine inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth for thy possession,” Psalm 2:8.

Lydia didn’t know which she liked best—the short slips of Scripture that Mem had tucked into the Promise Box, the longer letters that she had written to Lydia, or the notes of Mem’s own thoughts and doubts. Sometimes reading Mem’s doubts helped her most—it helped Lydia know she wasn’t the only one who had questions. She wasn’t the only one who doubted God’s promises at times.

She pulled out another letter and noticed the date. Just two days after the day she was born. How had she not seen this before?

Lydia held her breath as she unfolded the letter. It wasn’t folded as neatly as the others and there were spots on the page. Tears?

I don’t think I can sleep tonight. I’m not sure I can ever sleep again. I don’t want to close my eyes, unless I’m dreaming. All my attention is turned to one thing…one small person.

We arrived at the small village of Elk Run at noon and even though we’d come a week before the due date, Jacob’s sister—the midwife—was waiting when we arrived. The smile on her face told us the news even before the words. She said the baby had come. Said she was healthy and beautiful.

“She?” My knees weakened at the word. A daughter. I’d always dreamed of a daughter to read stories to, to bake with, to sit in the garden and whisper secrets with.

“And the mem?” Jacob had asked. I knew he asked about her health, but so much more too.

“She is well. She is resting. She asked if you’d come yet.”

I hoped then that she wanted to see us, to share the joy, but my stomach clenched as the Englisch driver drove us there. Hopefully she didn’t want to see us so she could tell us to our faces that she was keeping the child.

For as long as I live, I will never forget parking in front of the house. Three little boys wearing Amish clothes, with their blond hair cut straight across, watched us exit the van. I’d only taken two steps toward them when the oldest one—he must have been seven or eight—ran to me.

“Are you our sister’s mem?” he asked.

I nodded and smiled. My joy was only tempered with their loss. With their mem’s loss.

She asked to see me first. Her blonde hair was tucked under a sleeping scarf. She held the sweet baby curled under her neck. I entered, and her smile made me want to cry.

“She’s beautiful, Ada Mae. I knew she was going to be. And look, red hair.”

She held the sweet boppli out to me, and tears filled my eyes so much that it took me a minute to blink them away. Then—there she was.

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