Barefoot (eBook)
373 Seiten
IVP Formatio (Verlag)
978-0-8308-9883-1 (ISBN)
Sharon Garlough Brown is a spiritual director, speaker, and cofounder of Abiding Way Ministries, providing spiritual formation retreats and resources. She is the author of the bestselling Sensible Shoes Series of novels, which includes Sensible Shoes, Two Steps Forward, Barefoot, An Extra Mile, and their study guides. She and her husband, Jack, live near castles and the North Sea in Scotland.
Sharon Garlough Brown is a spiritual director and cofounder of Abiding Way Ministries, providing spiritual formation retreats and resources. Her book Sensible Shoes was named one of television personality Kathie Lee Gifford's "favorite things" in March 2013. Sharon earned an MDiv from Princeton Theological Seminary. She and her husband, Jack, have served congregations in Scotland, Oklahoma, England, and West Michigan.
one
Meg
Resilient. That was the word Meg Crane had been searching for. Resilient. “You’re not resilient,” Mother had often said, her accusing tone ringing in Meg’s ears, even almost a year after her death. “You’ve got to learn how to bounce back. Move on.”
Meg rolled over in her twin-size bed, the same bed she had slept in as a little girl. Never, in her forty-six years, had she been one to recover quickly from trauma or sorrow, never one to adjust easily to change or disappointment. She knew people able to withstand pressure with remarkable equanimity, to stretch, bend, and adapt to suffering with grace, with hope. She had never been one of them.
Perhaps “resilient” would be a good word to embrace for the new year. Resilient in hope. Especially in light of everything that had been thrown upside down, just in the last month.
She propped herself up on her elbow, the old box springs creaking beneath her spare, five-foot-two frame, and gazed out her second-story window at the gray gloom. The gnarled wild cherry tree in the next-door neighbors’ backyard, visible from Meg’s window ever since she could remember, offered a picture of resilient hope. Years ago, when Mr. and Mrs. Anderson lived there, violent winds tore through West Michigan on a balmy summer night and nearly ripped the tree out, leaving the roots exposed. The next day neighbors gathered around it, some of them bracing the trunk upright with hands and shoulders while others stamped the roots back into the soil again. Mother chided them from an upstairs window: they were fools, making such a fuss over a tree. But Meg secretly cheered them on. The tree always leaned after that storm, but it lived, its lopsidedness testifying to resilience, its yearly blossoms to hope.
Resilient in suffering, not impervious to it. That was the silent witness of the stooped tree: not denial of the storm but perseverance, character, and hope as a result of it.
Oh, for that kind of testimony.
The faucet sputtered in the bathroom down the hall, the plumbing pipes clanging in arthritic protest. Hannah was awake. Strange, how quickly Meg had grown accustomed to having someone else in the house again. A ceramic floral mug on the kitchen counter, a towel draped over the rusting shower door, a second toothbrush beside the chipped enamel sink—all were cheerful reminders that Meg was not alone. Even if Hannah’s presence in the house was temporary and sporadic, Meg was grateful for her company.
In the months since meeting one another at the New Hope Retreat Center, Hannah had become like a sister. And not just Hannah, but Mara and Charissa too. The Sensible Shoes Club, Mara had dubbed them. Meg, who had spent most of December in England visiting her daughter, was looking forward to walking together in community again. She needed trustworthy spiritual companions on the journey toward knowing God—and herself—more intimately. She needed a safe place where she could be honest about her struggles to perceive the presence of God in the midst of her fear, disappointment, and sorrow.
But once Hannah finished her nine-month sabbatical, their newfound, intimate community would inevitably change. And then what?
Don’t you think she could just stay here? Mara had asked Meg while they served a meal together on Christmas Day at the Crossroads House shelter. She doesn’t have to go back to Chicago, does she? Couldn’t she just tell her boss that she’s been reunited with the love of her life and she’s gonna stay in Kingsbury?
Meg didn’t know how sabbaticals were supposed to work, whether there were rules about not leaving the church after taking a break. You know Hannah, Meg had replied, how devoted she is to ministry. I can’t see her taking a gift from them and then not going back there to serve.
As if on cue, Hannah appeared in the doorway in her white terry cloth robe and slippers, her light brown, gently graying hair still rumpled from sleep. “How are you feeling?” she asked.
Meg boosted herself up against the headboard. “Sorry—did my coughing keep you awake?”
“No, I only heard you this morning, after I was up.”
“Airplane germs,” Meg said, sniffling. “I hope I don’t spread them to you.”
“I’ve got a pastor’s immune system,” Hannah quipped. “Years of hospital visits.” She swiveled Meg’s desk chair toward the bed and sat down. “Any word from Becca?”
“No. I need to learn how to text. Guess she’ll call when she feels like it.” Hopefully, Becca would make it safely back to London after celebrating her twenty-first birthday in Paris with her forty-two-year-old boyfriend, Simon.
The very thought of his name conjured the vile experience of meeting him. There he stood at the base of the London Eye, dressed in a tweed overcoat and a pretentious hat, his middle-aged hands roving across Becca’s body, his theatrical voice dripping with condescension, his lips curled into a gloating sneer. Maybe he would tire of her and find some other young innocent he could manipulate and control. You still don’t get it, do you? Becca would argue. I’m not a victim! And I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m happy. Happier than I’ve ever been in my entire life. Accept it, okay?
No. Meg would not accept it. And she knew what her mother would say. As impervious as her mother had been to sorrow, she had never been impervious to shame or unruffled by the appearance of impropriety. Why in the world would you let her be involved with him? Mother would demand. Why did you even agree to her going to Paris? You should have stayed in London and taken control.
“You okay?” Hannah asked.
Meg shrugged. “Just having imaginary conversations with people who aren’t here.”
“Becca?”
“And my mother. She would have had a conniption over the whole Simon thing.” Meg tugged at the hem of the blanket. “Tell me the truth, Hannah, what you really think. Should I have stayed in London? Fought to keep Becca from going to Paris?”
Meg had never posed the question, and Hannah had never offered an unsolicited opinion. “I’m not sure that would have accomplished anything,” Hannah said after a few moments, “except make her more determined. More angry. And you were asking God to guide you in love, to show you what loving Becca looked like. I think it was courageous to love her by letting go, by not trying to control her. Hard as it is.”
Yes. Very hard. Very hard to trust that the story wasn’t over, that God placed commas of hope where Meg might punctuate with exclamation points of despair. “I have dreams. Nightmares. I see Becca in danger—sometimes she’s standing right on the edge of a cliff—and I try to scream to warn her, but nothing comes out of my mouth, and I try to run toward her, but my legs won’t move. I’m totally helpless. And it’s terrifying.” She clutched her knees to her chest. “Sometimes I feel like my own prayers just hit the ceiling and bounce off. Keep praying for her, okay?”
“I will. And for you too, Meg.”
“Thanks.” Meg pulled another tissue from the box on her bedside table. “Much as I hate to, I think I’d better pass on serving with you guys at Crossroads today. I’m worried I’ll be coughing all over the soup.”
“Mara will understand,” Hannah said. “We’ll have plenty of chances to be there together. You need to get your rest.”
Meg nodded. Maybe an entire day in bed was a necessity, not a luxury.
“I’ll put the kettle on,” Hannah said, “and bring you a cup of tea with honey.” Before Meg could protest and insist on getting her own, Hannah was out the door, her footsteps padding down the hardwood spiral staircase, her warm alto voice singing a melody Meg did not recognize.
She reached for the daily Scripture calendar Charissa had given her (“Just a small thank-you,” Charissa had said, “for letting us know your old house was for sale”) and flipped the page to New Year’s Eve. In five short weeks Charissa and John would take possession of the house Meg and Jim had once shared, the home where they had dreamed their dreams about having a family and growing old together. Now, twenty-one years later, Charissa and John would dream their dreams in that same space and, God willing, they would bring their baby home together in July to the room Jim had once lovingly prepared for Becca. But Jim had not lived to bring Becca home. He had not lived to meet and hold his daughter. He had not lived.
For God alone my soul waits in silence, Meg read from the calendar, for my hope is from him.
Hope. Again and again, that word appeared, as if the Lord himself were whispering it in her ear. Hope, not in a particular outcome, but in God’s goodness and faithfulness, no matter what. Hope, not in an answer or solution, but in a Person. Hope, in him, through him, from him.
“Look,” Meg said when Hannah returned with a tea tray.
Hannah placed the tray on Meg’s bed and took the calendar to read. “There’s your word again.”
“It’s like I’m living in an echo chamber.”
Hannah grinned. “I know the feeling.” She passed the calendar back to Meg and hooked the leg of the desk chair with her foot, pulling it closer to the bed. “Thank God he doesn’t assume we’ll hear him the first time.”
Meg took a sip of tea, the taste of honey lingering on her tongue. Yes, thank God.
She...
| Erscheint lt. Verlag | 1.11.2016 |
|---|---|
| Reihe/Serie | Sensible Shoes Series |
| Verlagsort | Lisle |
| Sprache | englisch |
| Themenwelt | Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen |
| Schlagworte | Bestseller • bestselling books • book club • challenges • Charissa • Christian • Christian Fiction • christian woman • Christian women • contemplative • empty-nester • Friendship • graduate student • Hannah • Literature & Fiction • Mara • MEG • Pastor • processes • Relationship • Retreat • Sensible shoes • sharon garlough brown books • sharon garlough brown series • small group • spiritual disciplines • spiritual fiction • spiritual journey • spiritual narrative • widow • Woman • Women • women's issues |
| ISBN-10 | 0-8308-9883-2 / 0830898832 |
| ISBN-13 | 978-0-8308-9883-1 / 9780830898831 |
| Informationen gemäß Produktsicherheitsverordnung (GPSR) | |
| Haben Sie eine Frage zum Produkt? |
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