“I still canna believe it, Lovina,” Aaron said, his voice heavy with disappointment. “I can’t believe Peter left the farm to go get help from some recovery clinic down near Columbus. I never thought I’d see the day.”
“I never thought I would, either,” Lovina murmured. But privately she was proud of her son.
What he was doing wasn’t easy. Change never was.
Instead of dwelling on Peter, she looked out the window. It was still dark outside, but if she squinted, she could see the first rays of the sun glimmer over the horizon.
Just like the night before, her husband’s voice sounded aggrieved. “I’m going to go to the barn to see if Roman needs any help. He probably doesn’t, but I figure he’s feeling a bit at a loss, now that his daed is off helping himself.”
He’d paused expectantly. Obviously hoping for her to heap on the criticism. For most of their married lives, that had been their way.
But she was tired of that pattern.
So instead, she concentrated on the positive. It was easier, she thought. And besides, the sun was about to come up. “I think that’s a gut idea, Aaron. Roman will appreciate your help for sure.”
She felt him pause at the door, obviously waiting for her to turn around, but she didn’t feel up to facing him. The emotions churning inside her were too strong. Too tumultuous.
“Lovina, did you hear about Viola? She said yes to that Edward Swartz.”
“Jah, I heard.” Still looking out the window, she smiled. That granddaughter of hers was certainly determined to follow her own path!
“Before we know it, she’ll be leaving us. Marie said they’re going to let her go to Belize when she’s married. Aren’t you surprised she didn’t put her foot down?”
She wasn’t. But she thought Marie was far smarter than Lovina had ever been. After all, all putting her foot down had done was create a chasm between her and Lorene and postpone the inevitable. “It is God’s will, I think,” she said faintly.
“I’m not so sure I believe that.”
“It’s not like we have a choice. Viola is a grown woman.”
Ah, there was the sun, illuminating the fields in the distance, just as if the first lights from heaven were reaching out to her in their wondrous glory.
With a grunt of exasperation, her husband walked away. She heard his boots pound along the wood floor she’d so carefully mopped yesterday. Never had he learned to take off his boots when he entered the house. Never in forty years.
She wondered why.
When the kitchen door closed and she was alone, she slowly rested her forehead on the cool pane of glass. The icy glass eased her worries, bypassing the mixed-up feelings of anger and betrayal she’d clung to for years.
Years!
Instead, with the cool glass against her skin and the growing light of the new morning shining in the distance, she felt acceptance.
Sometime between Peter finding her picture and Viola announcing that she was engaged to Edward Swartz and intended to go to Belize with him in six months time, Lovina knew she’d changed.
At sixty-four years of age, she’d finally decided to turn over a new leaf. She’d reawakened.
When she’d been sure she’d lost everything, she cast off her worries and stopped living in fear of failure. Instead, she’d dared to accept herself, and more than that, accept her imperfections.
Her forehead had gotten chilled. Leaning back, she thought of her marriage, and of her past, and of her children and grandchildren.
She thought of her home, and of past disappointments. She thought of when her children were born, and about making dresses for Sara and Lorene and Elsie and Viola.
About making dresses for Lorene’s wedding.
That’s when she knew the truth. Life wasn’t meant to be perfect. Instead, it was a series of glorious imperfections, made better by the promise of each new day. While every night could bring regrets and disappointments, each morning the sun rose again.
All she had to do was stand up and greet the shining rays of light. And celebrate that no matter what happened, those early-morning hours were a gift, a bounty. A miracle.
It was daybreak. The moment when everything was right in the world. Simply because they were alive. Simply because they were alive to share it.
Watching the sun rise, she gave thanks. After sixty-four years, she’d finally learned to be in awe of God’s power . . . and the miracle of a brand-new day.