41

Brandy stumbled into the house from her Friday evening training run. As she walked inside on spaghetti legs, she heard Mrs. Springer’s voice coming from the kitchen. She rushed forward in spite of her wobbling. “Hi, Mrs. Springer. Is everything all right?”

“About as all right as it can be right now. Sabrina’s getting ready to go back to Atlanta on Sunday for another interview Monday morning, and she’s worrying herself to death over it.”

Brandy crumpled into a chair between the two older women. “She never seems to catch a break, does she.”

Mrs. Springer shook her head. “She’s had a rough road, there’s no doubt about it.”

Brandy looked at Mrs. Springer and her grandmother, who she knew shared the same deep faith. “Can I ask a question—without being rude, I mean?”

Mrs. Springer leaned forward and squeezed Brandy’s hand. “Of course you can—you’re among family here.”

“Why is it that someone like Kayla Ratcliff is so convinced God blessed her hard work and dedication, and eventually showed the world that she was superior to Sabrina, that lazy pretender? I mean, we all know better—Sabrina wasn’t slacking. Yet Kayla goes around everywhere giving her talk, dissing Sabrina, and she makes it sound like she and God are real tight, but I know part of what she’s saying is not really the truth. How can she be so convinced she’s got God on her side?”

Mrs. Springer nodded her head slowly, thoughtfully. “I think about things like that a lot. The only thing I can figure is that’s what happens when we try to take our own ideas about the way things should work out and make ’em God’s. I don’t doubt that she has a real desire to know God and that she’s doing her best to follow Him. Seems to me, she let herself become so convinced that God was going to give her a scholarship, she stopped listening for His voice about anything else along the way.”

She took a sip of the iced tea on the table in front of her. “I imagine she knew how she thought things should work, and when God didn’t work that way, she looked for someone to blame. Sabrina was the easy target.”

“That makes sense, I guess.” Brandy shook her head. “But why doesn’t God just shut Kayla up—at least where Sabrina’s concerned?”

“Those are the kinds of answers I don’t suppose we’ll ever get this side of glory.”

“I guess not.”

“Truth be told, I’m not sure but that Sabrina has made a bit of the same error. After she lost her running, well, she gave up the call to do mission work. She assumed how God was going to work things out, and He had other ideas about how things should go.” Mrs. Springer’s voice grew quiet. “I’ve always thought she was missing something there, but she doesn’t see it that way.”

Grandma, who had been sitting silently, nodded. “Maybe this is part of God’s plan to make her see it, then—her getting called back to Atlanta, I mean.”

“I think you may be right, but to tell you the truth, I’m hoping if that’s the case, He’ll show Sabrina the truth and let her come to the same conclusion. It feels like so many things have been taken out of her control. I’m praying that He’ll show her the right path, but give her the option of whether or not to choose it.” She took another sip of iced tea. “And I’m praying like crazy that she makes the right choice when the time comes.”

The sunset reflected red and pink against the windows of downtown Atlanta. One look at the sky said this wouldn’t last long—a thick mass of dark clouds hovered nearby.

Sabrina hung up her clothes for tomorrow, then spent a few minutes settling in for her brief stay. After that, there was nothing left to do but think. And wonder.

This did nothing to settle her already raw nerves, so she turned on the television in an attempt at distraction. The local anchorwoman was talking about plans for lengthening the northbound MARTA line further into the suburbs. Try as she might to pay attention to the story, Sabrina could not stay focused.

The first flash of lightning was followed quickly by a second and a condo-rattling peal of thunder. That got her attention. Sabrina watched the lightning zigzag a random pattern through the black sky. It felt so out of control, so random. Just like her life.

“Stop it. Quit being a whiner and get to work.” She shook her head hard, then went in search of her Grace Rose file. For the past year, she’d been collecting all sorts of information about them. There were clippings, articles, and links to publicity campaigns they had created. Top-notch work, all of it. As she had long ago memorized all the pertinent details, there was little to keep her attention.

She reassembled the paper work and thumped the edge a couple of times on the coffee table to line it all up before sliding it back into the file. Then she opened her backpack, considering to which school project she might devote some time.

The pink edge of a small book caught her attention. Her old journal. She’d thrown it in on a whim. She pulled it out. “Okay, naïve Sabrina who knew nothing about the harsh realities of life, let’s see what else you have to say.”

She pulled it open where the satin bookmark noted her last stopping point. What she found was more notes about the children of Israel leaving Egypt. “I was really stuck on a theme.”

Seems to me, the people of Israel were too quick to look at their circumstances and come to an assumption on what that meant. Thing is, they never knew beforehand how God was planning to work on their behalf. Who would have ever thought He’d part the Red Sea? Or bring water from a rock? Or send something unheard of, like manna, to feed them? This is a good reminder to avoid letting circumstances alone direct my life. God may have bigger or better plans for me.

Sabrina closed the book and shook her head. A heavy, guilty kind of feeling pressed against her stomach, but she refused to allow it. “The person who wrote that had never lived through having her entire life plan taken away from her, by something far beyond her control.” She tossed the book onto the bed. “You thought you were so smart back then. So full of faith.”

She stood up and began to pace around the apartment again, trying to clear her head of the unpleasant thoughts that burned inside her. Try as she might, she couldn’t, because a single word had solidified into a chant that would not be quieted.

Faith.

Faith.

Faith.

She turned on the television and flipped through the channels. The Biggest Loser finale was just wrapping up, so Sabrina stopped to watch. The woman who won was crying. As they showed her before and after pictures, it was an astounding difference. The hostess asked her what she had learned this season. “When things are at their hardest, that’s when you stop looking at the hard things and keep your focus on your goal.”

Sabrina thought that sounded a little too similar to the thought she was trying to escape. She took a quick shower and climbed into bed, setting ice packs on her knees, knowing that she needed to be well rested for tomorrow.

Sometime in the middle of the night, she woke up, wide awake, and could not get back to sleep. In desperation she reached for the little journal, still on the bedside table.

Like the Israelites when God called them to the Promised Land. They finally made it where they were supposed to be, but they saw how big the people were who lived in the land and they didn’t want to go to war against them. They made the assumption that somewhere along the way Moses had messed up—they were talking about killing him. Now, these same people had been following God all through the desert, they had followed God back when they were slaves, but they had maybe assumed they would just walk in and take the land easily. Their assumption cost them forty years in the desert.

Don’t assume.

“Okay, God, if there is something I’ve been assuming, then please show me what it is. I think I’ve done everything I’m supposed to and more, but if you see it differently, then I’d like to know about it.”

It was said as more of a challenge than a prayer. But after she said the words aloud, she turned out the light and fell back into a deep sleep.