The Forgiving Hour (41 page)

What can I hope for? I’ve lost Dakota.

“God is greater, Sara.”

“Claire hates me.”

“But God doesn’t.”

PART 7

Forgiving

So, as those who have been chosen of God, holy and beloved,
put on a heart of compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness
and patience; bearing with one another, and forgiving
each other, whoever has a complaint against anyone;
just as the Lord forgave you, so also should you.
Colossians 3:12 – 13

FORTY-TWO

J
UNE

Normally, June was Claire’s favorite month. She loved the warmer weather, the long days of sunshine, and the blue skies. She loved taking walks in her neighborhood or along the greenbelt in the evening, as the temperature began to cool. She loved the glorious sunsets, watching as heaven’s paintbrush turned clouds from pristine white to brilliant orange, blood red, soft lavender, and delicate pink. She loved the distinctive cry of the killdeer as they faked broken wings and ran across horse pastures. She loved the sweet green smell of new growth.

But this June was different. A dark cloud of gloom covered the days and took pleasure from her normal summer pursuits.

She missed Kevin. He’d returned to Seattle, and although he called her several times a week, it wasn’t the same as his being there. And despite his declaration of love, she knew he was waiting for her to let go of her bitterness before their relationship could move forward.

She missed the comfortable bond she’d once shared with her son. Dakota frequently came to see her, but things weren’t the same. She knew he loved her and would go on loving her, no matter what. And in her heart she recognized that she held the key to her son’s happiness. Because she also knew that he still loved Sara.

More than anything else, she missed the feeling of God’s nearness. She knew the fault was her own, yet she couldn’t seem to change, for to change she would have to admit her own responsibility, and that she was not ready to do.

Sara sought answers in the Bible. She had loved God’s Word from the beginning of her Christian walk, and she knew she needed spiritual food to sustain her now.

Perhaps she hoped to find a passage that would make her forget the look in Claire Conway’s eyes as the two of them had stood near the escalator at the Bon. It didn’t seem to matter how much time passed; that look of sheer hatred lingered in Sara’s thoughts.

On this evening, three weeks after that fateful encounter, Sara took her Bible and a blanket and walked down to the river. For a long while, she simply stared at the rushing water, her thoughts similarly rushing over the events of the past, from the day she’d met Dave to the last time she’d seen Claire.

So much hate in her eyes.

Shame washed over her afresh.

She has good reason to hate me.

She bowed her head as she crushed her Bible against her chest.

0 God, help me. I know You’re here, but I don’t feel Your presence. I feel so far from You. I feel so unworthy, so hopeless. Help me to hear You. Quiet my heart and my mind so I can hear Your voice.

With more desperation than faith, she opened the Word, reading a passage, flipping pages, reading more, flipping more pages, and reading again. And as daylight faded, a brighter light began to burn in her chest as the Lord answered her prayer.

1 I have loved you with an everlasting love … He will exult over you with joy, He will be quiet in His love, He will rejoice over you with shouts of joy … For God is love …

“For God is love,” Sara repeated in a whisper. She looked off toward the sunset. “And You rejoice over me with shouts of joy.”

Surely she had known this before, that He loved her, that He’d forgiven her, that her only hope was in Him.

Hope in Him.

That was the difference. That’s what He’d wanted her to come to understand. Her hope was in Him and Him alone, because He loved her so completely.

“This is what I saw in Dakota’s eyes, isn’t it? This hope, despite the circumstances.”

No wonder the world didn’t understand. It went against all reason that, with her heart still broken, she could feel this blanket of peace wrapped around her, keeping her warm. It didn’t change the circumstances, but it changed Sara.

Her mother was right. Hope was greater than despair. No matter how deep she sank, God’s provision was there to raise her up again.

Grace. At last she understood what He’d been telling her these many weeks. His grace wasn’t earned. It was freely offered, not just when she’d first believed, but throughout the remainder of her life.

“Awesome,” she whispered. “Truly awesome.”

As if summoned by her discovery came a most beloved voice.

“Sara.”

She wasn’t even surprised. Without turning to look at him, she said, “Hello, Dakota.”

“Mind if I join you?”

“No, I don’t mind.”

He sank onto the ground beside her. “Beautiful sunset.”

“Yes.”

“How are you?”

She turned toward him at last. Her heart did a little skip. “I’m better.”

He smiled gently, and she knew he understood the deeper meaning in her words.

“You’ve been reading quite a while.” He pointed to the Bible in her lap. Then, in explanation, he added, “I was watching. I hope you don’t mind. I didn’t want to intrude.”

She considered his comment. “No, I don’t mind.”
I’m glad you’re here.

The sun sank beneath the horizon. The clouds faded from pastel to gray. Night settled over the earth like a gigantic black cloak. Crickets chirped their evening songs. Someone was barbecuing, and the delicious aroma was carried to the river’s edge on the evening breeze.

Tenderly, “I love you, Sara.”

“I love you too.”
I always will.

“I need to tell you something, and I think you need to hear it.”

She waited.

“You’re still washed white as snow in my eyes.”

Tears welled. A lump formed in her throat. “Oh, Dakota.”

“There’s more. I don’t know why I feel so sure. I can’t predict the future. But I know this is going to turn out all right, no matter what happens between us or with my mom. It’s going to be okay.”

“I know.” Still fighting tears, she rested her arms on her knees, her chin on her arms. “I feel it too.” She straightened and placed her right palm over her heart. “I feel it in here.”

Neither of them had to say aloud that they couldn’t marry without Claire’s blessing. They didn’t have to. It was simply understood. Like it or not, they were bound by his mother’s unforgiveness. Unhappiness and heartache accompanied the knowledge, but a greater comfort triumphed over all.

“You’ve decided not to move to Denver?”

“No, I’m not going to Denver.” Shrouded by the newly fallen darkness, Sara smiled sadly. “I’m not running away again. I’ll stay.” She looked toward him even though she could no longer see his face. “I was brought back to Boise for a reason. I thought for a while that it was to meet you, but now I’m convinced it was to experience God’s love in its fullness.”

“I wish my mom could —”

“Don’t.”

“Yeah, you’re right. It doesn’t change anything, but I still wish—”

“No.” She drew a deep breath, then let it out on a sigh. “Sometimes, Dakota, God says no.”

Are you looking at the splinter in her eye when there’s a log in your own?

How unfair it was of Kevin to have asked that, Claire thought as she made herself a late-night decaf cappuccino. Even weeks later, his question continued to echo in her mind.

“I’m so tired of it all,” she whispered.

She was tired of feeling guilty. She was tired of her own unhappiness. She was tired of the anger that rose so quickly whenever she thought of Dakota and Sara together.

Turning her back to the counter, she noticed her Bible lying on the kitchen table. She felt a pull toward it, but she resisted. She hadn’t read the Word in weeks. She hadn’t prayed either. She missed that special fellowship with the Lord, but she just couldn’t seem to do it.

A log in her own eye. Maybe that was why. Maybe she couldn’t see because of the log.

“I forgave Dave already. Isn’t that enough?”

She knew the answer. She knew it wasn’t enough.

She walked over to the table. Still standing, she placed her fingertips on the leather cover of her Bible.

Lazarus.
The Voice was clear and strong.
Lazarus.

Claire’s concordance was in the den. She could find the story of Lazarus. She could find answers if she was willing to look for them.

She riffled the pages of the Bible, then stubbornly turned her back toward the table, muttering, “I can’t. I just can’t do it.”

FORTY-THREE

“I can’t change the way I feel,” Claire told Kevin when he called her the next day at the office.

“Of course you can. It’s your choice. You have the ability to forgive and be set free from your bitterness. If you’d just —”

“Everyone always has such pat answers. It isn’t that simple. I’ve read that feelings aren’t right or wrong, they just are. It’s what you do in response to your feelings that counts.”

His silence said more than any words would have.

“Let’s not talk about this anymore, Kevin. Please. Let’s talk about when you’ll be in Boise next.”

“I can’t get away until the Fourth of July weekend.”

The Fourth. The day Dakota was to have married Sara.

“I thought I’d fly in on Friday and stay until Tuesday afternoon. Does that work for you?”

She shook off the memory of what was supposed to have occurred on the fourth, then said, “Perfect. I’ll plan a barbecue. We’ll have Alana and Jack over and a few other friends. But no shoptalk. One word from you and Jack about the Seattle office or any other business, and I’ll burn both your steaks. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

“Kevin?”

“Yes?”

“Keep praying for me.”
Because I’m unable to pray for myself.

“You know I will.”

“I’d better get back to work. Do you want me to put you through to Jack?”

“No, I’ll have to call him tomorrow. I’ve got an appointment in half an hour.”

They said their good-byes and hung up. For a long while afterward she stared at the phone, thinking how little she deserved someone like him.

Would her stubbornness — her unwillingness to let go of the past, once and for all — ruin things between them? She knew he loved her. But would he continue to if she didn’t change her attitude?

She turned her chair toward the plate-glass window and stared out at the golden summer day.

The Fourth of July. A perfect day for a wedding. Only not anymore.

But wasn’t it better this way? Dakota
seemed
willing to forgive Sara, but surely that couldn’t last. Marriage was a difficult proposition. The first time dissension or disagreement arose, he would remember that she’d once had an affair with his own father and the past would rise between them. They couldn’t possibly be happy. It would eventually destroy them. No, it was better that it had ended.

O God …

But that was as far as she could go with a prayer, and it wasn’t enough. It just wasn’t enough.

Lazarus.

Her pulse quickened. This was the third time she’d heard that word in her heart and known what she was to do. The story of Lazarus held the answer. She would find a message there, if only she would look.

But she was afraid of what she might have to do once she read it, and so she refused to obey. Sometimes, she thought, ignorance was bliss.

“Hey, Mom. You ready to get that cast off?”

She spun her chair around to find her son leaning his shoulder against the doorjamb. “I didn’t expect you so —” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Oh my goodness. I didn’t know it was that late.” Quickly, she grabbed her purse out of the bottom drawer of her desk.

“Bet it’ll feel good to get rid of that thing,” he said as she came toward him.