The House on Malcolm Street by Leisha Kelly

Author:Leisha Kelly
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: ebook, book
ISBN: 9781441213877
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2010-07-08T20:00:00+00:00

16

Leah

“Oh, Aunt Marigold, I’m afraid I upset him. I don’t know where he might have gone and I feel terrible.”

She sat in her robe and slippers at the kitchen table, rubbing warmed camphor oil into her knees. “Put on the tea water, dear. We may as well have a cup. Hopefully he’ll be back in a moment to join us.”

I knew he wouldn’t. Or at least he wouldn’t be joining me for a cup of tea any time soon. “I don’t know how to be his friend,” I confided in her as I rose to fill the pot and put it on to heat. “Especially since he has no desire for me to be that. But it just seemed wrong to pledge not to become a friend to anyone.”

“Of course it’s wrong,” she agreed. “It would be like telling someone you’re not ever going to extend the love of God to them, regardless of what the Lord might choose to do with your heart.”

“I didn’t expect anything like this.”

“Of course not.” She wiped her hands on a dishtowel. “But I’m afraid it’s more my fault than it is his.”

“Why?”

“I shouldn’t have been pushing him past where he’s comfortable. But I did. I tried to get him to see that he’s more than he thinks he is and the Lord will use him to comfort hearts and accomplish great things if he’ll let him.”

I could understand why all that would make anyone uncomfortable. “But you mean well,” I told her.

“Still, if he can’t turn off my expectations, I suppose the next best thing would be to get you to close the door.”

“What does he have against me that it would be so important?”

“Oh, dear, nothing. It’s not you he’s trying to shut out but the very idea that he could minister so directly to anyone else’s hurts. It’s all my fault, like I said. Because he thinks he has to live up to something he’s not ready for. Join me praying for him. I don’t think he’ll succumb to the temptation of drink again. I know his experience with Christ was real and he truly was set free. But he needs strength.”

I wasn’t sure what she meant by “his experience with Christ.” And I probably should have been honest enough to admit to her that I wasn’t comfortable praying, but I was too ashamed. So she prayed, and I bowed my head and nodded agreement as though I was as spiritual as she. Why had it been easier to admit my doubts to Josiah than to this trusting soul? Why was I so intimidated?

I’m not sure where Josiah went, nor how late it might be before he got back. Marigold and I had our tea and talked a while longer, then I went up to bed, mulling over his plight.

I could think of only one thing worse than losing a loved one, and that would be carrying the guilt of the death being your fault. No wonder he was still struggling with it.

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