Authors: Al Lacy
The Smith home was tastefully furnished, and a feeling of serenity greeted the visitors. A fire crackled in the fireplace.
“Everybody relax, and the girls and I will be back in a few minutes,” Marjorie said as soon as her guests were seated comfortably.
“Is there something Lydia and I can do, Marjorie?” Beverly asked.
“Just sit there and soak up some heat from the fire, honey. That’s all.”
Sharon and Theresa followed their mother to the kitchen, where Marjorie began setting out cups and saucers. “I’ll make the coffee, girls. You put those cookies I baked today on a plate.”
Sharon took a blue willow china plate from a hutch that stood in one corner of the kitchen, and Theresa opened the large cookie tin. Together, they took out a variety of freshly baked cookies, placing them on the plate in a decorative manner.
When everyone had been served, Scott looked around at his guests and said, “Is this just a social call, or did you folks have another reason for coming by?”
“We always enjoy being with you folks,” Duane said, “but we do have a special reason for being here tonight. Beverly and I wish to express our deep appreciation to Grant for what he did this morning.”
“What did he do?” Scott asked.
“You don’t know?”
“He hasn’t said anything … Son, what did you do?”
“I … ah … I just kept a couple of bullies from bothering Lydia and Billy on the way to school.”
“He beat ’em up good, that’s what he did,” Billy said.
“Grant, is Billy talking about Gerald George and Frederick Kendall?” Sharon asked. “Gerald had a swollen lip and a loose tooth when he got to school, and Frederick had a bloody nose. It was them, wasn’t it?”
Grant nodded humbly. “Mmm-hmm.”
“I thought they had fought each other,” Theresa said. “I didn’t see any other boys around school who looked like they’d been in a fight.”
“Well, I think we need to hear all about it,” Marjorie said.
“Can I tell what happened?” Billy asked.
“You were there, son,” Duane said. “Tell it.”
Billy told the Smiths how he got his black eye, then explained how Gerald and Frederick approached them that morning, wanting to walk Lydia to school. When Billy had finished giving every detail, Duane and Beverly Reynolds expressed their appreciation to Grant for rescuing Lydia and Billy.
“Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds, I only did what any other red-blooded young man would do,” Grant said. “Those no-goods were forcing themselves on Lydia, and Billy was doing his best to drive them off.”
Beverly looked over at her daughter, whose eyes were fastened on Grant, and smiled to herself.
It was almost ten-thirty that night when Duane Reynolds leaned over and kissed his daughter’s cheek as she snuggled beneath the covers. “You sleep tight, honey. I’ll see you in the morning. I love you.”
“I love you too, Daddy. Good night.”
Beverly came in just as Duane reached the door. “Get that boy all tucked in?” he asked.
She nodded. “I think he’s asleep already.”
“I have a wonderful brother,” Lydia said. Grinning, she added, “But don’t tell him I said so.”
“Oh, we wouldn’t think of it,” Duane said.
Beverly nodded. “You have to keep that brother-sister war going, don’t you?”
“Mm-hmm. What would life in the Reynolds household be like if we didn’t pick at each other now and then?”
“Hard to imagine,” Duane said. “Good night, sweetheart.”
“Good night, Daddy.”
Duane moved through the door, and Beverly sat down on the edge of Lydia’s bed and blew a stray strand of hair from her own forehead. She wore her hair upswept, with a bun on top, but the wear and tear of the day had loosened some locks.
“I noticed something tonight that I want to talk to you about,” Beverly said.
“Yes, Mother?”
“When … well, when Grant was telling us about why he stepped in to help you and Billy, I saw you looking at him. You really like him, don’t you?”
Lydia blushed. “Yes, I do.”
“You like him more than just as a friend, I mean.”
“Yes, Mother. I’ve had a crush on Grant since I was twelve. I … I can’t help it. I think he’s the most wonderful boy I know. He’s so … so … well, it’s hard to find the words.”
“When I was thirteen—just a year younger than you—I had a crush on a boy named Marty Foxworth. The problem was, Marty was two years older than I was. I kept hoping that someday he would notice me, but he never did. In his sight, I was just a child. The day he got married, it broke my heart. I pined away for months. I told myself I could never love anyone but Marty, so I would be an old maid all my life.”
Lydia smiled faintly. “And you don’t want me to have the same kind of broken heart.”
“That’s right.”
“I appreciate your looking out for me, Mother. And I’m sure glad nothing worked out between you and that Marty guy, or I wouldn’t have my wonderful daddy.”
Beverly smiled. “Me too. Your daddy is the man the Lord had picked out for me all along.”
Lydia was quiet for a moment, then said, “I know I’m too young for Grant, Mother. Sixteen-year-old boys look at fourteen-year-old girls almost as being children.”
“That’s right.”
“I’ve thought a lot about it. By the time Grant and I get old enough to where the two-year age difference wouldn’t matter, he’ll already have a steady girl, or he might even be married. But …”
“But what, honey?”
“I can’t help how I feel about him. My crush was big enough before this morning. But after what he did today, it has gotten
really
big.”
“I can understand that, Lydia, but I think it would be best if you steered your heart away from Grant.”
“How do I do that?”
“Ask the Lord to help you. I just don’t want you to suffer the same kind of heartache I did. You see, honey, you belong to Jesus, and He has already picked out your mate for you. Just like He had already picked out your father for me.”
Lydia pondered those words for a long moment, then said, “I hadn’t thought about it before, but the Lord does plan our lives, doesn’t He?”
“He does, and we don’t want to get in His way and mess up the plan. Many Christians do that and are sorry for it later, sometimes for the rest of their time on earth.”
Lydia smiled slightly. “Well, since the Lord has already picked out the young man I am to marry, I’m sure he’ll be a good Christian like Grant, and I hope he’ll be as rugged and good-looking too.”
Beverly leaned toward Lydia’s nightstand and picked up the girl’s Bible. Opening it and flipping pages, she said, “I want to read you a verse the Lord has pressed to my heart of late. It will help you as you think about God’s will for your life, and His working it out for you as time passes.”
Beverly found the page and said, “The entire verse is excellent, but one part of it has really taken hold of my heart. Psalm 18:30 says, ‘As for God, his way is perfect: the word of the L
ORD
is tried: he is a buckler to all those that trust in him.’ Those first seven words are so powerful:
As for God, his way is perfect
. You need to let Him do His perfect work in your life, Lydia. Part of that perfection is the man He has chosen to be your mate one day. Do you understand?”
Tears misted the girl’s eyes. “Yes, Mother. I’m so glad the Lord cares that much for me.”
Beverly swept her daughter’s light brown hair aside and kissed her forehead. “In this life, we’ll never know just how much He cares for us, sweetheart, but we sure can praise Him for what we
do
know. Good night.”
Lydia reached up, pulled her mother’s head down, and kissed her cheek. “Good night, Mother. I love you.”
“I love you too.” Beverly rose from the bed, doused the lantern, then paused at the door. “The Lord will make your life just what He wants it to be, honey.
As for God, his way is perfect
. Don’t forget that.”
When her mother was gone, Lydia lay in the darkness and said, “Lord, if You make it so Grant loves me like I love him, that really
would
be perfect.”
After putting on their robes, Sharon and Theresa Smith chatted with their parents at the door of the front bedroom, then bid them good night and moved down the hall toward their own room. Grant’s door was open, and they paused and looked in. He was sitting on the bed, reading his Bible by the light of a single lantern.
He looked up and smiled. “Good night, girls.”
The sisters exchanged a furtive glance and stepped into the room.
“Something I can do for you?”
“No,” Sharon said. “We just wanted to tell you what we saw tonight when the Reynolds family was here.”
“What you saw?”
“Mm-hmm.” Sharon gave her sister a mischievous look. Theresa snorted and covered her mouth.
“All right,” Grant said, closing his Bible. “What did you see?”
Sharon giggled. “Love light. In Lydia’s eyes when she looked at you.”
Grant shut his eyes, opened them again, and said, “You silly girls, what you saw in Lydia’s eyes was
appreciation
. She appreciates what I did in protecting her and Billy from those nuisances.”
“Appreciation is what Billy had in his eyes,” Sharon said. “But what we saw in Lydia’s eyes was love. But nothing will ever come of it, I’m sure. Lydia’s only a year older than me, and you think of me as a child.”
Grant chuckled. “You’re right about that.”
Sharon looked at Theresa. “See what I mean? He’s going to let all that love in Lydia’s heart go to waste because he thinks he’s a mature man of the world.”
“Mm-hmm,” Theresa said, nodding sagely.
“Grant,” Sharon said, “you’ll search a long time to find a girl who walks as close to the Lord as Lydia, and who’s as pretty as she is,
and
who adores you like she does. What’s two years? Better make her your girl now, before that love light shines in her eyes for somebody else.”
“Well, dear sisters, I appreciate your kind and caring advice. Now it’s bedtime. Give me a hug and get yourselves to bed.”
When his sisters had gone to their room, Grant picked up his Bible, finished reading the passage he had chosen, and put out the lantern. As he slid between the sheets, he sighed and said, “So Lydia had love light in her eyes for me, eh?”
He pulled the covers up under his chin and watched the pale moonlight coming through the curtains.
I have noticed her a lot lately
, he thought,
but she’s only fourteen. If I let on that I like her, my friends will accuse me of robbing the cradle
.
During the next three months, Grant Smith talked often to Lydia Reynolds at church and at school, but he kept a guard on his actions so his kindness and attention toward her would be seen only as friendship.
Lydia tried to keep her heart from reaching out further toward Grant, but she found herself helpless to stop that from happening, whether she was in his presence or simply thinking about him.
Billy kidded his sister about her crush until Beverly sternly told him to stop.
One Sunday night in late April—after Grant had sat beside Lydia in church that day—Beverly sat on the edge of Lydia’s bed, as she so often did, and talked to her about it.
Lydia wiped away her tears and said, “Mother, each time Grant
speaks to me or goes out of his way to spend time with me, my feelings for him grow stronger. Today when he sat beside me in church, I thought my heart was going to beat itself to death.”
Beverly took hold of her daughter’s hand. “I know, honey, but you’ve got to ask the Lord to take those feelings away so you don’t get deeply hurt one day when you see Grant fall in love with another girl.”
Lydia began to sob, and Beverly folded her in her arms.
“Oh, Mother, I want to be that girl. I can’t ever love anyone but Grant. If I’m not the one he marries, I’ll be unhappy the rest of my life.”
“I know it seems that way now, but when that right young man walks into your life, you’ll realize that what you felt for Grant really was infatuation, not the marrying kind of love.”
The girl wept for several more minutes, then dried her tears. “I love you, Mother. Thank you for spending so much time with me about this.”
Beverly kissed Lydia’s forehead. “You’re my little girl. I care about you with all my heart. I want you to have a wonderful life—the life God has planned for you. Remember,
As for God, his way is perfect
. And that’s what I want for you.”
Moments later, when she lay alone in her bed, Lydia stared toward the darkness of the ceiling and whispered, “Lord, You know how much I love Grant. I don’t think I’d feel this way unless he’s the one You’ve chosen for me. Plenty of girls like him, but he hasn’t chosen one to be his girl. Is that because You’ve marked him as mine, even though he doesn’t know it yet? I know he thinks of me as his young friend, but I want to be his girl and someday his wife. Would You please make it so he sees me as more mature than my years?”
The next day as Lydia and Billy walked to school, orioles chirped in the trees, their orange and black feathers glistening in the dappled sunlight. At the first corner, they met up with Angela Dunne and her little brother, Gregory.
“Have you two heard about the new family that moved in on Mulberry Street yesterday?” Angela said. “You know, where Mr. and Mrs. Bangston used to live?”
Lydia shook her head.
“Well, Papa met them yesterday afternoon. Their last name is Lannon, and they’re Christians. They told him they’d be coming to our church.”
“That’s nice,” Lydia said. “Do they have any kids?”
“Papa said they have one daughter. She’s sixteen.”
“Do you know her name?”
“No. I don’t think they told Papa what it is. But she’ll probably be at school today.”
At the Montgomery Village school, grades seven through twelve began each Monday in assembly, where principal Henry Wilkins talked to the students on different subjects. Sometimes he would bring in a special speaker.
When Lydia and Angela entered the small auditorium, Angela went to sit with the tenth-graders, and Lydia moved to the section reserved for ninth-graders. As she greeted friends, her eyes strayed to the eleventh-grade section. Grant was talking to another boy, but his gaze was on Lydia. He smiled when their eyes met, and Lydia smiled back.