Sean arrived home, still unable to get Nurse Hope out of his mind. She was petite with light brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her eyes were a tawny-green. Her mouth was small, but curved into the most pleasant smile. Hope’s whole countenance exuded a compassion that calmed yet drew him. Sean was sure her patients adored her.
He rubbed his hands down his face. This was not his type of girl. With her prayer shawls and talk of God, she might just be a little too fanatical for him. But, her story could be just the “touchy-feely” angle he was looking for.
Sean could endure the religious stuff to get his story. He had long since outgrown his need for anything to do with the church or God. His family was still into that, but his college years had enlightened him to a much broader view than the narrow thinking of Christians.
Sean’s mother became upset when they discussed religious beliefs, feeling she had failed him in some way since he had abandoned his Christian upbringing. He learned to steer away from such discussions, which often led to arguments and ended in his mother’s tears.
Sean rolled his eyes. He couldn’t help it if neither she nor his father could sufficiently answer questions he posed on the world’s creation and God’s supposed justice.
Besides, he was a relatively good person who obeyed the law and gave to charity. If there truly was a God who was personal and cared about Sean like he’d been taught as a boy, God would have to prove it.
* * *
Hope relaxed across her bed, reading her devotional passage for the day, which focused on the story of the prodigal son. As she read the last word in the scripture section, Sean’s face flashed into her mind. She sat up, perplexed by the timing of the memory. Could it be that Sean was a prodigal? From his reaction to talk of prayer and God, it was a definite possibility. Could it be that God had a plan for her to help lead Sean back home?
A nudge within her spirit prompted her to begin creating another prayer shawl. Normally she knew specifically who her crocheted shawls were meant for. But, the feeling was so strong, she hurried to the living room, sat in her rocker, and began the first row, asking God’s guidance.
She could almost hear her Mimi begin praying aloud. How Hope missed her. She got lost in the memory of perching on the arm of the old den chair, peering over Mimi’s shoulder as the crochet needle moved rhythmically through the yarn. What would have happened to Hope if Mimi hadn’t been there to take her in?
Her eyelids grew heavy until she had to lay her half-finished shawl aside and head to bed. Tomorrow was Sunday, and Hope had no shifts to cover. After Sunday school and worship, she would have plenty of time to complete the prayer shawl. Sliding into bed, she still wondered who God had in mind to be the recipient.
* * *
Monday morning Hope folded the finished prayer shawl and placed it into her satchel along with her snack crackers, lunch, and e-reader. Upon arriving on the pediatric floor of the hospital, she stowed her belongings in her locker and proceeded to the nurses’ station.
She skimmed the list of patients charged to her care. The name Grace Williams practically jumped off the screen to her attention. Hope scanned the girl’s information. Grace was four years old and would be coming to the floor after her tonsils were removed and tubes were inserted into her ears.
Why had the little girl’s name stood out? In all likelihood, Grace would probably not even have to spend the night, unless there was some complication. But, her spirit was piqued, ready to do whatever the Lord required.
As Hope finished her first rounds, the charge nurse alerted her to Grace’s arrival. She hastened to the other end of the hall to meet her final patient. Jarod and Chris, hospital orderlies, steered the bed into room 245. A slender blonde-haired woman followed closely in behind. The woman gnawed nervously at a thumbnail.
“Ms. Williams?” Hope called to the woman.
Her head jerked toward Hope. “Yes?”
“Ms. Williams, I’m Hope. I’ll be caring for Grace.”
“I’m Tiffany.” She wrung her hands, which trembled slightly.
Hope laid a hand on Tiffany’s arm. “Everything will be fine.”
Jarod and Chris exited. “Thanks, guys.” She motioned Tiffany into the room in front of her. “Let me just take a look at this big girl.” Hope checked her information against Grace’s wristband and then began her normal vitals check.
“Is everything okay?” Tiffany’s voice shook.
“Everything looks fine. Why don’t you just have a seat? What can I bring you to drink?”
Tiffany eased into a chair, rubbing her upper arms. “Um, do you have something warm?”
“Sure, coffee, tea, hot chocolate.”
“Hot chocolate, if it’s not too much trouble.” A visible shiver shook her body.
“I’ll be right back.” Hope sped to the lounge, mixing the hot drink and snatching the prayer shawl from her locker. Back in Grace’s room, Tiffany was still sitting forward in the chair, staring at her daughter. Hope handed her the cup and draped the shawl around her shoulders.
Tiffany looked up into Hope’s eyes. “What’s this?”
“A prayer shawl I made. I thought it might warm and comfort you.”
Tiffany’s chin quivered. She set her cup on the nearby windowsill and stroked the shawl. “Did you say prayer? Are you a Christian?”
Hope nodded and knelt so she was eye-level with the woman. “Yes, I am.”
Tiffany practically launched from the chair to embrace Hope. When Tiffany eased back, she adjusted the shawl back around her shoulders where it had slid slightly off. “Two weeks ago, I was saved at a women’s Bible study I attended with a friend of mine.”
Hope grasped her hands. “Tiffany, that is wonderful.”
Tiffany glanced at Grace and then back. “I want to be a good mom.” Her voice broke.
“You’re on the right track. A good mom is a godly one.” Hope noticed no wedding ring. “Are you single?”
Tiffany bowed her head. “Yes. My past isn’t pretty.”
“God takes you as you are, but he won’t leave you that way. He’ll mold you and lead you.”
Tiffany swiped at tears from her cheeks and smiled. “Thank you.”
Hope stood and patted her shoulder. “I’ll be back soon.”
* * *
Sean relaxed on his couch, surfing the Internet. A trip and some travel writing were in his future. He needed to branch out. The articles he was writing now just didn’t thrill him. Something was missing. With the approach of spring just around the corner, he could slip away for a few weeks. March was the time for spring breaks.
His cell phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen.
“Hey, Dad. What’s up?”
“Son, could you come over to the house?” His tone was serious.
Sean sat up straight. “Now?”
“Please.”
“I’m on my way.”
Sean’s heart raced, and he swiped clammy hands down his jeans. He wasn’t sure what this was about, but his father’s grave tone drove Sean to get to his parent’s house immediately.
He gripped the steering wheel, thinking back ten years ago. His mother had just moved into the head of the department of English at the university when she was diagnosed with breast cancer. After her mastectomy, the treatments had taken such a toll on her that she had to retire. Of course, she had said God had worked everything out, because she then had the time to write and publish her Bible studies. Sean didn’t think God had anything to do with it.
He pulled into his parent’s driveway behind his brother’s familiar minivan. He took a deep breath and bounded through the front door. He found his parents and brother in the family room. He crossed and planted a peck on his mom’s forehead, then plopped down next to Richard on the couch.
“Boys, we wanted to tell you in person that Mom has breast cancer again.” His father’s tone was matter-of-fact. Despite that, Sean’s gut wrenched.
Richard slid forward, propping his forearms on his knees. “What does that mean? Same as the last?”
“Not exactly,” his mother said. “The doctor says this isn’t a recurrence. It’s a different type of cancer. We proceed one step at a time. I plan on having the mastectomy, then it depends on the lymph node tests as to treatments.”
“When?” Sean blurted out the question before he thought. He cleared his throat. “I mean, do you have the surgery set?”
“Next week, on Tuesday.” His mother’s voice shook slightly. She swallowed.
“The doctor is a little more concerned this time. He wishes this had been caught sooner.” The worry lines in his father’s forehead were evident.
“But, we need to flood the situation with prayer. God is in control.” Mother folded her hands in her lap.
Sean didn’t share her confidence in prayer, but in this situation he wished he did. Before he left his parent’s house, he located their church’s phone directory and entered a number into his cell contact list.
As soon as he started his drive toward his apartment, he scrolled to the number and pressed call.
“Hello?” the sweet, soothing voice answered.
“Hello, yes, is this Hope? Hope Weaver, the nurse who makes the shawls?”
“Yes, this is Hope, and I do crochet prayer shawls. Who…?”
“I’m sorry, this is Sean Holland. We met a couple of months ago at the hospital. I’m Richard’s brother.”
“Oh, yes, I remember you.”
“I hope you don’t mind my call. I need to ask you a favor.”
“Okay?”
“Could you make one of your prayer shawls for my mother? She has breast cancer again.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. But, of course, I would be honored to do that for Mrs. Holland. She is such a godly woman.”
“Um, yeah.” She was right, however he didn’t put much stock in all the religious stuff. But he had seen and heard people give testimony to these shawls Hope made. If there was any validity to their claims, he wanted to make sure his mother had one. “Would I need to pick it up or something?”
“Can I call you at this number? I usually deliver the shawls myself…”
“Whatever it is you do.”
“I’ll call you, and we can deliver it together. Okay?”
“Sure. Yeah. Thanks.” Sean scratched his head. Was he completely crazy? If the shawl did nothing else, it would encourage his mother.
* * *
Hope ended the call from Sean and plopped into her glider rocker. She would’ve never guessed she would receive a call requesting a prayer shawl from Sean Holland. She would have never expected him to even remember her. Since she hadn’t seen him in a couple of months, she had forgotten about those nudges upon meeting him. What was God up to? She reached into her crochet caddy and pulled out her needle and a soothing blue skein of yarn. Not only would each stitch be embedded with prayers for Mrs. Holland, but also for Sean.