She read Rachel’s letter again, absently caressing the page that was now wavy and blurred from her tears. Even though she’d practically memorized it by now, she still basked in the warmth of Rachel’s love.
She glanced at the clock on the radio: only 30 minutes left of practice. She turned to the next page, another entry about Ana.
Tuesday 10/31/99Ana came after school again today, and I couldn’t resist interrupting her homework to tell her about the letter. A smile lit up her face, and I was struck by her beauty.
“That’s awesome, Miss! When you gonna mail it?”
“I don’t know, Ana. I wanted to drop it in the mail before the ink was dry, but something held me back.”
“Oh, you need to mail it. Don’t wait,” she urged.
“I want to. But I don’t feel peace about it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I’ve been… praying about it. I don’t know when the right time will be, but I sense God telling me to wait.”
“You mean God actually talks to you?”
I wondered if I was on thin ice. How much could I tell her about my faith? Surely I could answer a question.
So I took a deep breath and did my best to explain how God talks to me, sometimes through my thoughts and sometimes through scriptures.
“I wish I could hear God talking to me,” Ana said.
“Maybe He’s waiting for you to start the conversation. Tell Him you want to know Him. And start by reading the Bible. That’s His word, His message to us.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know, Miss.”
I wanted to tell her more about my experiences, to convince her, but I bit my tongue. I know I have to let her set the pace.
Lord, when should I mail the letter? It seemed so crucial to get it all down on paper, but what’s the point if I don’t mail it?
I know she probably isn’t ready to forgive me, and I don’t want to push her away even farther (if that’s possible).
Lord, please help me be patient, and give me wisdom to recognize the right time. Please soften her heart, God. Even if she can’t forgive me, let her come to know you. Call her by name, Lord. Draw her to you, whatever it takes.
Oh, but have mercy on her, Jesus!
Emma felt the blood drain from her face. After all those years, could God have answered Rachel’s prayer by taking her life, and Evan’s too? Had this tragedy been the only way to get her attention?
She clutched the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles turned white. She wanted to scream out her rage, but she could scarcely draw in a breath. If God had caused this, she wanted nothing to do with Him.
Rachel’s voice broke into her thoughts. Have mercy on her… whatever it takes.
Had God been merciful? She thought of how she’d prayed for a friend and then met Aubrey. She remembered Aunt Karen’s message in her Bible. She remembered the comfort of Psalm 139.
She’d never felt so confused.
***
The ring of the phone cut through the darkness, sending Emma’s heart racing. She rolled over and snatched up the receiver before it could ring again and wake Andrew. She peered at the clock: nearly eleven.
“Emma, sweetie? It’s Aunt Karen.”
“Karen?!” Emma couldn’t conceal her shock; she’d just been thinking of her aunt as she lay staring into the dark. “What are you…? I mean, hello.”
“I’m sorry to phone so late. I just couldn’t stop thinking about you. Did I wake you?”
“No, I was just lying here thinking. So you were thinking of me? Why?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m calling. You’ve been on my heart lately, and I’ve been wondering how you’re doing. Tonight I was praying for you, and then I just couldn’t fall asleep. Is everything okay?”
Emma rubbed her temples as she deliberated. She realized she’d been wanting to talk to Karen, though she probably wouldn’t have found the courage to call. Why had Karen been thinking of her anyway? Lord, have mercy on her.
“Emma?”
“I’m sorry. I just don’t know where to begin. No, everything is not okay. Joe left me and–”
“I’m so sorry!”
“No, it was my fault. Things have been rough with Andrew since he left. And I’ve been grieving over Rachel, even more lately.”
“Sweetheart, I can only imagine.”
“I’ve been wanting to talk to you about it, actually. I’m confused about something.”
She explained the rift between herself and Rachel and told Karen about the letter.
“But she never mailed it. She said it wasn’t the right time. So she waited. And she prayed that God would soften my heart and make me ready to know Him.”
“Has He?”
“Maybe.” Emma rolled onto her stomach, wrapping herself in the phone cord. “I’ve gone to church a couple times, and I’ve been reading the Bible you gave me.”
“Good. But?”
“Something Rachel said is really bothering me. When she asked God to soften my heart, she said, ‘Whatever it takes.’”
“Why does that bother you? I’ve prayed the same thing for you and for your mom.”
“Well, had it not been for her death, I never would have been reading Rachel’s journals, reading about her faith. I wasn’t looking for God. I was pretty happy in my old life—maybe not happy, but settled. But when she died everything fell apart. I started wondering… What if she was right? What if God is real?”
“And what do you think about that?”
“I’m confused. Am I the reason Rachel and Evan died? Was that ‘whatever it takes’? Did God take her life to save mine?”
Guilt and anger churned in Emma’s belly, and tears burned her nose. She tilted the phone away from her mouth and breathed shallowly, trying to hold back her sobs.
“I wish I could give you a hug right now, Emma. Do you need a minute?”
“N-no. Just tell me. Was it my fault?”
“Let me tell you a story. Do you know about Rachel’s miscarriages?”
“Yes, I read about them.” Should have known about them when they happened. Should have been there for her.
“Well, she called me after the second one.”
“Yes, I read that too. That’s what made me remember the Bible you gave me.”
“She asked me the same sort of questions you’re asking now. She was riddled with guilt about not wanting her first baby, and she thought God took the second baby to punish her. So she was angry with God. But at the same time she was longing for Him.”
“She was looking for forgiveness,” Emma said.
“Yes. I’m going to tell you the same thing I told her. No, Emma, God doesn’t cause bad things to happen to us. But He knows the end from the beginning, and He knows how to use everything that happens for our good.”
Emma had a flash of recognition; she thought back to the first sermon she’d heard at Aubrey’s church. “Isn’t there a verse that says that? I think I heard it at church recently.”
“Yes!” Karen’s voice grew more intense. “It’s Romans 8:28. I read that verse to Rachel when she called. ‘And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.’”
“Yes, that’s the one.”
“It’s one of my favorite verses. And it became Rachel’s life verse. Do you remember what the pastor said at her funeral? He said she lived her life around that verse, that she was full of contentment .”
“I’d forgotten that. That explains why it sounded so familiar when I heard it at church recently.”
“That’s why I was so ecstatic at the funeral,” Karen said. Emma could hear the tears in her voice. “To know that I’d introduced her to that passage, and that it was so influential in her life…. God is so good. He answered all my prayers for Rachel, and He’s answering my prayers for you too.”
Emma cleared her throat. “Thank you for praying, Aunt Karen. You’d better keep it up. My life’s a mess.”
“That’s okay. God specializes in making something beautiful from our messes.” A yawn interrupted her words. “Well, I guess we should both get some sleep. Call me anytime, Emma.”
“I will. I love you.” She smiled at the truth of her words. Why had she found her aunt so annoying before?
“I love you too, sweetie. Good night.”
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