To Donald, my Prince Charming…
How I rejoice to see you coaching again, sharing your gift of teaching and your uncanny basketball ability with another generation of kids—and best yet, now our boys are part of the mix. Can you believe it? Josh, one of the leading rushers in our area in his freshman year? Sean catching everything thrown to him? And Tyler tearing up the basketball court? You and our boys, making memories together. Isn’t this what we always dreamed of? I love sitting back this time and letting you and God figure it out. I’ll always be here—cheering for you and the team from the bleachers. But God’s taught me a thing or two about being a coach’s wife. He’s so good that way. It’s fitting that you would find varsity coaching again now—after twenty years of marriage. Hard to believe that as you read this, our twentieth anniversary has come and gone. I look at you and I still see the blond, blue-eyed guy who would ride his bike to my house and read the Bible with me before a movie date. You stuck with me back then and you stand by me now—when I need you more than ever. I love you, my husband, my best friend, my Prince Charming. Stay with me, by my side, and let’s watch our children take wing, savoring every memory and each day gone by. Always and always…The ride is breathtakingly beautiful, my love. I pray it lasts far into our twilight years. Until then, I’ll enjoy not always knowing where I end and you begin. I love you always and forever.
To Kelsey, my precious daughter…
You are twenty now, a young woman, and my heart soars with joy when I see all that you are, all you’ve become. I’ll never
forget your tears that last night when you were still nineteen. Not tears of sorrow or fear for the future. But quiet, pensive tears because your childhood is truly behind you. I remember what you said: “Mom, I’ve loved being your little girl, and I’ve loved being a part of this family. I can’t imagine how leaving it all behind one day soon will be somehow better.” My sweet, sweet girl. Remember that God walks with us every step of this life, and for those who love Him, the best is always yet to be. This year is a precious one for us because you’re still home, attending junior college and spending nearly every day studying, preparing, readying for the future. When you’re not dancing or singing, you’re helping with the business and ministry of Life-Changing Fiction™—so we have many precious hours together. I know this time is short and won’t last, but I’m enjoying it so much. I know that come some bright fall morning you’ll be going to Los Angeles to finish college, and you will grow and become all that God desires of you. Meanwhile, you will always have a place here with us. Of course we pray you’ll fall in love and find that special young man who will love God more than you, and who will treasure your innocence and integrity, your passion and purity. But even as you find him, you’ll never really leave our family. Rather you will add to it, honey. You’ll always be our little girl, Kelsey. And you’ll always be part of this family. Forever and always. I’m so proud of the strength you’re finding in this, your twenty-first year. You are beautiful inside and out, and I am more convinced than ever that God has great, wonderful plans for you. Take your talents and go find your platform for Him! In the meantime, we’ll leave the porch light on. I love you, sweetheart.
To Tyler, my lasting song…
What a tremendous year of growth for you, my precious son. You put aside the stage for now and focused on becoming the young man God wants you to be. In the process you have become convinced that you’d like to be a Christian artist—writing
and singing songs for His glory. You’ll never know how proud that makes me and your dad. We love our evenings when your homework is finished and you head into the piano room. The chords blend together as you create, and your golden voice fills our home. How blessed we are that your music is the soundtrack of our life. And yet I know that the song will only last so long. You are nearing the end of your junior year already. One more school year and you’ll be off to college. One more trip for back-to-school supplies, one more homecoming, one more basketball season, one more prom. I’m holding onto every precious moment, with everything I have. These are the bittersweet years, when the end is all too clearly in sight. And yet, like Kelsey, you will always be a part of our lives here, Ty. You’ll excel in the coming year, growing in your talents and convictions, I’m sure. And the deep and lasting relationships you’ve begun here in your childhood will remain. Thank you for the hours of joy you bring our family, and as you head into a year of lasts, I promise to stop and listen a little longer when I hear you singing. I’m proud of you, Ty. I’m proud of your talent and your compassion for people and your place in our family. However your dreams unfold, I’ll be in the front row to watch them happen. Hold on to Jesus, son. I love you.
To Sean, my happy sunshine…
What a thrill it was watching you take on varsity football, this, your freshman year of high school. You were concerned going in, and that’s understandable. “What if I can’t play as well as the older guys?” you asked me. “What if I can’t tackle?” We prayed and believed and then, right before the season started, you did something I’ll always remember. You came to me and asked if I could find custom wristbands for the team. “I want them to say Philippians 4:13,” you told me. You’d seen the University of Florida’s Timmy Tebow donning that verse on his eye black before each game, and now you wanted to have a similar show of faith. A week passed and another, and every few days you asked
until finally I set everything aside and ordered them for the whole team. I’ll never see that verse without seeing the sincerity in your eyes, the desperation, almost, that if you were going to play football, you needed to always remind yourself of the truth. You can do everything through Christ who gives you strength. And you can, Sean. You proved that this year by being the team’s leading receiver. Oh, and one of the best tacklers on the team. You remain a bright sunbeam, bringing warmth to everyone around you. And now you are an example of faith as well. I’m proud of you, Sean. I love you so much. I pray God will use your dependence on Him to always make a difference in the lives around you. You’re a precious gift, son. Keep smiling and keep seeking God’s best for your life.
To Josh, my tenderhearted perfectionist…
The weeks of this past school year have flown by, and you have grown right along with them, my precious son. So many memories will remind me of your first year of high school, but some will always stand out. The week, for instance, when you first appeared in the paper as one of the area’s top leading rushers. The next game someone on the sidelines commented on your talents, and in your quiet, humble way, you simply pointed up and said, “It’s all because of God.” So young, and yet such a leader already. Another memory I’ll hold tight to is the time you attended a youth rally at your Christian school. A few girls from the public middle school attended and spotted you. They walked up and made a face at you. “You go to this Christian school,” they sneered. “Yes,” you answered. “So what’s that mean, you’re a goody good?” Rather than be intimidated or feel the need to impress them, you smiled and nodded. “That’s right. I want to be a goody good.” More than all your touchdowns and more than your great grades, I’m proud of your character, son. Hold tight to that. With great talent comes great temptation, and I’m sure the years ahead will prove that. I have no doubt that someday we will
see your name in headlines and that—if God allows it—you’ll make it to the pros. You’re that good, and everyone around you says so. Now flash back to that single moment in a broken-down Haitian orphanage. There I was meeting Sean and EJ for the first time when you walked up, reached up with your small fingers and brushed back my bangs, and said, “Hi, Mommy. I love you.” It might’ve taken six months, but I knew as you said those words that you belonged with us. The picture becomes clearer all the time. Keep being a leader on the field and off. One day people will say, “Hmmm. Karen Kingsbury? Isn’t she Josh’s mom?” I can’t wait for the day. You have an unlimited future ahead of you, Josh, and I’ll forever be cheering on the sidelines. Keep God first in your life. I love you always.
To EJ, my chosen one…
Here you are in the last few months of eighth grade, and I can barely recognize the social academic leader you’ve become. We worried that moving you to the Christian school with one year left in junior high might hurt you. Maybe you’d have trouble making new friends or adjusting. I think you worried too. But look at what you’ve become in this one short school year! You are one of our top students, and you’re inviting a different set of friends over every weekend. I compare that to your utter silence back at the public schools and I can only celebrate and thank God that this was the best decision we’ve ever made for you. But even beyond your grades and your natural way of leading your peers in the right path, we are blessed to have you in our family for so many reasons. You are wonderful with our pets—always the first to feed them and pet them and look out for them—and you are a willing worker when it comes to chores. Besides all that, you make us laugh—oftentimes right out loud. I’ve always believed that getting through life’s little difficulties and challenges requires a lot of laughter—and I thank you for bringing that to our home. You’re a wonderful boy, son, a child
with such potential. I’m amazed because you’re so talented in so many ways, but all of them pale in comparison to your desire to truly live for the Lord. I’m praying you’ll have a strong passion to use your gifts for God as you enter high school in the fall. Because EJ, God has great plans for you, and we want to be the first to congratulate you as you work to discover those. Thanks for your giving heart, EJ. I love you so.
To Austin, my miracle boy…
Here it is, baseball season again—your very last in Little League. Funny how life goes so fast. We signed you up to play T-ball, and once in a while on hot summer days when you were playing, we’d gaze at the far end of the park, at the field where the big kids played. It was hard to picture you ever getting that big, because that seemed like forever away. So many stages and levels of baseball between T-Ball and the end of Little League. But now, precious son, you’re there. One more season, one more All-Stars, and someday soon, one final at-bat in Little League. Your very last. You’re an amazing athlete, Austin, defying the odds and proving again and again that you are our miracle boy. I’m sure you’ll play baseball again in one of the older leagues or for your high school one day soon. But for now, I will gladly relinquish the role of author and speaker and simply sit in the stands and keep score for your team. Little League mom for one more season. I’m grateful you take your sports so seriously, but even more than that, I’m blessed that you take your role as a Christian so seriously. The other day we were driving somewhere and you said that your friend Karter made an observation. “Austin,” he said, “I think you’re going to grow up to be just exactly like your dad.” You shared that story proudly and beamed at us from the backseat. And up in the front seat, your dad had tears in his eyes. Yes, Austin, you are growing up to be like your daddy. There could be no greater compliment, because your dad is the most amazing man. The bittersweet of knowing that every morning you stand
a little taller is juxtaposed with the joy of knowing that Karter is right. You’re a little more like your dad every day. I’ve said it before, and it’s true. Heaven has windows, and I’m convinced Papa’s still cheering for you, son. Especially this season. As you soar toward your teenage years, please don’t forget that or him. You’re my youngest, my last, Austin. I’m holding on to every moment, for sure. Thanks for giving me so many wonderful reasons to treasure today. I thank God for you, for the miracle of your life. I love you, Austin.
And to God Almighty, the Author of Life, who has—for now—blessed me with these.
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Read an Excerpt From the Next Book in the Above the Line Series: Take Four
A
NDI WAS SICK OF LYING TO
herself.
After her first night with Taz, the two of them spent most of the next week in each other’s arms. But then he began making strange excuses and standing her up. He was working on another film, he told her. Something that would take up most of his summer. It wasn’t until one afternoon when she was walking from the library to the cafeteria that she saw Taz arm in arm with a petite brunette. Andi was almost certain she recognized the girl, and as they came closer, she knew where she’d seen her. The brunette had been part of the ensemble in
Scrooge.
Which could only mean one thing. She was Taz’s new actress, his new project. He was probably telling her that true beauty came from using her body as art, or something like that. Andi watched the way the girl gazed at him, how she laughed and giggled and walked close to his arm. The picture burned an image in her mind and tortured her late at night.
As the truth dawned on her, Andi could think only one thing: Bailey’s warning had been right after all. Now Andi had no one but herself to blame. She was a fool, and her heart was broken in half. She couldn’t eat or sleep, and she felt nauseous nearly every morning, drowning in the heartache of all she’d given up, all she’d lost to a guy who had played her for a fool.
Taz was a fraud. Everything he’d told her had been a lie, and once Andi admitted that much to herself, she knew she could move on. She was still devastated, but at least she wasn’t waiting for his call while he was out sleeping with someone else.
The next lie was harder to handle, the one she’d been telling herself. The lie that the physical changes in her body could all be explained by a broken heart. The headaches and nausea, the vomiting some mornings. Her symptoms were too strong to be merely a physical manifestation of heartache. Finally, on the last day of May she drove to the local pharmacy and bought something she had never planned to need until well after she was married.
A pregnancy test.
She took it home, read the directions, and then drew a deep and steadying breath. In two minutes she’d have the results.
Results that—whatever they were—would change the rest of her life.
B
AILEY GRABBED HER BROTHER’S DUFFEL BAG
from the hall closet and raced back to her bedroom. Fifteen minutes until she had to be on the road, headed to Lake Monroe for the Campus Crusade retreat. She’d been waiting months for this weekend, but her history test for her summer course at Indiana University had run late and now she was scrambling. She felt frantic as she grabbed a pair of jeans, a few T-shirts, and a hooded sweatshirt. She looked around her room, and her eyes fell on a framed photo of her and Tim. For an instant she didn’t move or breathe or remember what she was doing. Why did the picture bug her? It was taken on opening night of
Scrooge
last winter, she and Tim both dressed in their costumes. But something about his eyes weren’t right, like she was any other fan, lucky to have her picture taken with him. He was her boyfriend, but his expression would’ve been the same if she wasn’t in the picture at all.
“Focus.” She turned her attention back to the bag and picked up where she left off. Socks, her Bible, the journal her mom gave her for the trip. Half a dozen other necessities and she zipped the top. Tim was attending the retreat for sure, which was good. They
needed to talk. Bailey hoped time alone at the campsite would bring them closer to God and each other—something to help her remember why she was dating him when her heart couldn’t stop thinking about Cody Coleman.
A sad sigh slipped through her lips as she slung the duffel bag over her shoulder. Cody wouldn’t be there this weekend. He had plans with his mom, last Bailey heard. Just as well. Cody never seemed to want more than a friendship with her, but when Bailey was near him she could barely remember Tim’s name. That had to mean something, right? She and Cody were closer now than they’d been for a while. They texted sometimes, and once in a while they even talked on the phone. Tim said he didn’t mind this and was confident in who he was and with his place in Bailey’s life.
Even if privately Bailey had doubts.
Bailey breathed deep and steadied her heart. Forget about the guys. This weekend was about time alone with God and her friends from Cru. Her ringtone went off just as she left her room. The caller ID told her it was Tim, and she smiled. He was a great guy, really. If it weren’t for Cody, she’d probably be wondering whether Tim was maybe the one she could spend her life with. Her crush on Tim had lasted since she was a sophomore in high school, and now that they’d been dating for more than a year, she should’ve been the happiest girl on the Indiana campus.
She slid her phone open. “Hey!” She kept her tone upbeat. “Don’t tell me you’re already there!”
“Hey,” his voice told her something was wrong. “I’ve got strep throat. A hundred and two fever. I’m a wreck.”
“No.” Disappointment came over her. She’d pictured taking walks with Tim during free time at the retreat, learning more about his dreams for the future. Maybe getting past her uncertainty and finding a stronger connection with him. “Did you go to the doctor?”
“We just got back. I’m in bed all weekend. Doc says no going out, no visitors, and to take all my antibiotics. I guess it’s really contagious.”
“That’s terrible.” Bailey flopped onto her bed. As sorry as she was about how this changed the feel of the retreat, she felt worse for him. “Okay. Well get some rest and take care of yourself. I’ll call you Monday.”
“Okay.” He sounded defeated. “I’ll pray for you.”
“You too.”
They hung up and Bailey slumped over her knees. Maybe she wouldn’t go after all. There was a chance of rain, so how much fun would that be? Stuck in a cabin with a bunch of girls she didn’t know that well, trying to stay dry all weekend. She sighed, but as she did she caught a glimpse of the sky. A sliver of blue between the clouds. The school year was wrapping up and classes this week had been tougher than she expected. She was worried about a couple upcoming finals. Between that and the New York audition she was hoping for in August, she needed this time. Needed to be close to God to prepare for whatever the next season in life held.
“Fine,” she spoke the word out loud, as if God were standing there watching her. Which He was, in a way. “I’ll go, Lord. And You go with me, okay?” She couldn’t think of a single time when she’d gone to a church camp or retreat or listened to a sermon and not come home with something special, some way that the Lord had proved the time well spent.
This retreat would be no different. Maybe she’d get closer to the girls in her Bible study. They had plans to start up again in the fall, and next term maybe they would become closer friends outside Cru. She knew some of the girls had to be struggling the way Andi was—with the campus party life or guys who wanted more than they were willing to give. Their struggles were the same ones Bailey faced—uncertainty about life and their futures, and it
helped to talk to each other. But so far the meetings had netted little more than a surface discussion about the weekly Bible passage. Maybe if she led the way and talked about her struggles, the tone of the meetings would change.
She gathered her bag, lifted it up onto her shoulder again, and tucked her sleeping bag and pillow under her other arm. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, her mom was sitting next to Ricky, helping him with his math.
“Okay, so if Susie has five horse stickers, Claire has three cat stickers, and Edward has four dog stickers, what is the average number of stickers they each have? That’s the question.”
Bailey smiled as she set her things down. She remembered those days, when the most difficult thing about life was figuring out how many stickers Edward had. She put her arm around Ricky’s shoulders. “How’s it going, bud?”
“Pretty good.” He tapped his pencil on his paper and flashed her a crooked grin. “I hate word problems.”
“I know.” She shared a look with her mom. “I must’ve been the worst Flanigan kid at word problems, wouldn’t you say?”
“You and Connor.” Her mom laughed. “I had to use drawings and apples and oranges, sometimes full-on dramas just to get the problem to click in your head.”
“Good news, bud,” she kissed Ricky on the cheek. “If you don’t major in math, you’ll be finished with it after your first quarter in college.” She pressed her fist in the air and did a little dance. “The way I’m finished with it.”
“That’s forever away.” Ricky sighed and stared once more at the math paper.
Their mother’s smile softened. “Not forever, buddy. I would slow life down if I could. You’re my last little guy to go through Mrs. Ebner’s word problems.” She patted Ricky’s hand. “We can take our time.”
Ricky groaned and laughed at the same time. “As long as I finish before dinner. Me and Dad wanna play catch.”
With Tim not going on the retreat, Bailey was no longer in a hurry. She would get there eventually, but she loved this—time around her family. The older she got, the more every weekend at home, every summer, felt precious. As if she could feel time pulling her toward a grown-up life. Whatever that might be.
“Where’s Dad?”
“Meetings in the city. The team’s excited about next season.”
A smile lifted Bailey’s spirits. That was the beauty of sports, the joy of having a coach for a father. Every season was full of hope and expectation. It kept life entertaining and full of possibility. “We’ll have to take in a few days of summer camp.”
“A few?” Ricky shook his head. “No, sir. I’m going as many days as I can. Dad says their new running back is the fastest guy he’s ever seen.” He puffed out his chest. “Other than me, of course.”
They all laughed, and Bailey asked about the other boys.
“No homework.” Jenny stood and got cups of water for herself and Ricky. “They’re on a bike ride with Connor.”
“Oh.” Bailey took a seat at the kitchen bar. “I have that Campus Crusade retreat at Lake Monroe, but I’ll wait till they come back. I haven’t talked to Connor in two days. The other boys either.”
“They’re doing great. I can’t believe how tall Connor’s getting.”
“Is he doing CKT’s summer camp?”
“He said he’d like to focus more on football this summer.” Jenny took a long sip of her water. “I’m proud of him. It isn’t easy to switch gears.”
“Definitely not.” Bailey pictured her younger brother, her best friend. In the end, he was bound to be a better singer than a tackler, but he was willing to try new things. She loved that about him. Her mom returned to helping Ricky, and after five minutes, the other boys trudged through the back door.
“I can’t believe it; I mean you could’ve been killed.” Shawn was talking fast, his words running together. “That was the craziest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Their mom was immediately on her feet. “Who could’ve been killed?”
“BJ.” Shawn let out a long breath, as if he’d been holding it in the whole ride back. “It was a northern copperhead, Mom. I swear. I studied that snake this year, and it was exactly the same.”
“Yep.” BJ flexed his biceps. “I’m a hero. I saved all our lives.”
“No, he was crazy, I swear.” Shawn was adamant.
Jenny held up her hand. “Will someone start at the beginning? Please.”
“We were riding off-road,” Justin stepped forward, “through that field at the end of the street, just up from the stream. And all of a sudden, this snake crossed our path. Connor went around him, but BJ was next and he ran right over him, right across the middle of him.”
BJ let his arms fall to his side. “I didn’t really mean to, Mom. It just sort of happened.”
“So we got off our bikes and looked at him, and sure enough,” Shawn still looked stunned. “It was a northern copperhead. Same spade-shaped head, same puffy body. I’d know that snake anywhere.”
Bailey walked up and listened to the conversation. In no time, their mom took control. “You should’ve gone around him, BJ. You need to respect snakes and keep your distance. Especially if it’s poisonous.”
“Yeah, you don’t run right over them.” Shawn waved at his brother and then flashed nervous eyes at their mom. “He could’ve been killed, Mom. I swear.”
“And Connor, as for you…you rode around the snake, but maybe you should’ve stopped and told your brothers about the danger.”
“I didn’t know it was a copperhead.”
“Still, you were the first to come across it. Next time, pull over and stop. Make sure your brothers follow your lead.”
The whole drama was resolved in a matter of minutes, but Bailey shuddered at the way it might’ve played out. What if Connor had been bitten, or one of her other brothers? For that matter, what if there were copperhead snakes lurking near the cabins on the far side of Lake Monroe? She tried not to think about it as she said her good-byes. Certainly God would protect her from the wrath of the northern copperhead.
Her mom hugged her before she left. “I’m sorry about Tim. But God has a reason for you to be out there this weekend.” She put her hand alongside Bailey’s face. “You’re my sweet girl, Bailey. I love you so much.” She kissed her daughter’s cheek. “I can’t wait to hear about it when you get home.”
Bailey hugged her mom for a long time, and as she walked to her car and started out, she kept thinking about her family, how much she loved them, and how a single snake encounter could’ve cost one of her brothers his life. She felt sick as she reached the main road.
Don’t think about it
, she told herself.
Focus on what’s ahead.
The drive to the campground took longer than Bailey expected, and she found herself scanning the side of the road for snakes. Just in case. Maybe there was a copperhead infestation happening in the hills around Bloomington. If so, at the first possible chance, she would head back home. She could have a retreat in her own bedroom.
She pulled up at the camp as a few girls from her Bible study arrived. They checked in with Daniel—the retreat leader—and received their cabin assignments. Bailey felt her spirits lighten. Most of the girls from her small group were rooming with her. “Watch out for copperheads,” Bailey allowed a half grin as they carried their sleeping bags and pillows to their cabin. Theirs was
the one closest to the common area. “My brothers were nearly killed by one earlier.”