Charley by Sharon Srock

Charley by Sharon Srock

Author:Sharon Srock
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sharon Srock
Published: 2018-04-02T00:00:00+00:00


Chapter 12

Charley lay in bed Monday night, unable to settle. A whisper soft whistle sounded from Jason’s side of the bed, and she twisted her head on the pillow and stared at him. How he could sleep during a time like this was beyond her understanding. She normally found Jason’s light snoring more comforting than disturbing, proof that he was beside her in the dark. Tonight it grated on her nerves so badly her fingers itched to hold a pillow over his face.

The thought drove her from the bed. She wouldn’t really— The sound came again, a little louder this time, and she fled the room. Her path to the living room took her by Kinsley’s door, and she stopped. How many times over the years had she hovered in this doorway, watching, listening, praying, thanking God for the gift that her daughter represented. And now, through some mystic sleight of hand, the giver was reclaiming the gift. Charley cringed at the notion.

She rubbed at the spot between her brows with a shaky hand. What’s wrong with me? Charley considered herself a woman of faith. She and Jason worked hard to model a Christian lifestyle for Kinsley, and here she was in the face of trial assigning blame when she should be seeking her Father. I’m such a hypocrite. She rested her head against the doorframe and let the tears fall.

I’m here, daughter.

The tiny voice worked its way up from the depths of her spirit and washed warmth over the bruised places of Charley’s heart. She stood alone in the hall, but the embrace of strong arms felt physical and comforting.

Charley continued into the living room and sank onto the sofa. She switched on the lamp, opened the small drawer in the table, and pulled out her Bible. With her head bowed she thumbed through it as she prayed. Father, direct me. I don’t know what to do with all these emotions. I’m hurt, I’m angry, I’m frightened. Her breath shuddered. I’m drowning.

Her hands stilled on the pages of her Bible as the first verses of the forty-sixth Psalm caught her attention.

God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea; Though the waters thereof roar and be troubled, though the mountains shake with the swelling thereof.

Charley raised her gaze from the page. “That’s just how I feel, Father,” she whispered. “Everything that I thought was solid in my life feels fragile and disconnected tonight. Like a stray breath could bring it all down around me.” She flipped a few more pages, pausing in Proverbs at a verse highlighted in hot pink.

The name of the Lord is a strong tower: the righteous runneth into it, and is safe.

She bowed her head over the Bible, heedless of the hot tears that fell to dimple the thin pages. “Father, I don’t know what to do. The more I try to accept what’s happened, the harder something in me resists.



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