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Jeanne Adams skidded to a stop on her sister’s back porch. The glorious sight greeting her took her breath away, and she gently patted her heart. “Oh, my.” Like vapors floating off a cup of coffee, Jeanne’s breath curled out when giggles spilled from her lips. “Snow, snow, snow!” The sweet memory of her joyous tenth birthday flashed when her father gifted her a new puppy. Happiness trilled through her heart then, as it did now, and she clapped. This was her first experience with the white fluffy stuff covering every inch of her sister’s backyard in the Texas panhandle.
The brisk, cool air filled her lungs, and she marveled at the charming display. “Lord, it’s so beautiful. Thank You.”
Wonderment and imagination flooded her senses when she studied the source that produced such a stunning display. She pondered if the fluffy clouds held additional flakes and if more would sprinkle down. Her gloved hand stretched into the sky, hoping to touch even one of the marvelous white and gray floaters, but that was impossible, and she knew that, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t try.
Overnight, four inches of snow settled across the small town of Grove Hill, and Jeanne planned on reveling in the white stuff. The neighborhood and community were not like what she had grown up in, but the warmth of love permeated her soul during the summer visits with her sister and family. Upon her insistence, her parents allowed this extra break before the holiday season began.
A gust of frigid wind whipped through her coat, and an icy shiver raced over Jeanne’s body. When she left Hopewell two days ago, she hadn’t checked the forecast and never imagined the temperatures would dip this low since arriving. In her nineteen years, never before had it got this cold in her hometown in far East Texas prior to the holidays or snowed—perhaps she’d been mistaken about the cold but not the snow. She pulled the borrowed white faux fur scarf tighter around her neck. Eyeing every inch of the yard for the best space to create her art was a task. Which is my perfect area? Marie, her niece, shared that the first snow was the best when making an angel.
Jeanne closed her eyes, taking in the stillness of the blanketed area, and considered that nothing else was on the planet but her. Then she recalled a question that was asked back in sixth grade when a meteorologist visited. The student’s question sprang forward. “I vacationed in Colorado last winter, and it snowed. Why is it so quiet after it snowed?” The man’s answer boggled her mind both then and now. “Snow absorbs sixty percent of the surrounding sound.” She tilted her head and listened. The man was right.
While Jeanne played with her niece and nephew yesterday, she’d noted all the yard’s pitfalls, flowerbeds, left-out water hoses, lawn equipment, and the children’s forgotten toys. Her eyes fluttered open, and this morning's second greeting was just as marvelous as the first. With the perfect spot in sight, Jeanne stepped from beneath the porch canopy and carefully inched along the snow-filled sidewalk.
Ready, she spread both arms wide and fell backward into the fluffy powder. The coldness enveloped her body, soft as she’d imagined it should’ve been, and she giggled. I’m lying on one of Heaven's clouds. What must the neighbors think of her giggling? If they saw her joy, she was assured they’d understand. Then she flapped her arms and legs until satisfied with her efforts.
A mixture of excitement and dismay gave her pause when she could not comprehend how to get out of her perfect creation without wrecking it and making the art unrecognizable. If she rolled over on her side, it would be too fat and perhaps resemble a cow—that wouldn’t do. Coming up with a quick plan, she drew her knees together, pushed with her hands, and stood. After tiptoeing to the edge, she stepped onto the pavement. Her foot smoothed a couple of divots. A wide-mile smile stretched across her lips, and her hand covered her heart as she admired the angel.
The back screen door jetted open, and little feet scampered across the porch. Marie and Brice, her sister’s three- and four-year-olds, scurried into the yard as if a horde of bees was chasing them. The art lay in ruin, trampled into a sad array of angel parts and small shoe prints.
Jeanne’s shoulders slumped. She could not fault the children for destroying the figure. They were eager to play, but she wished she could have enjoyed the angel a little longer than thirty seconds. I can always make another one.
The screen door clicked shut, and Renee’s warm breath billowed out, reminding Jeanne of a dragon she had read about in a child’s storybook years earlier. “You children play nice. I’ll have hot chocolate ready when you come back inside.” She smoothed back a long strand of dark hair that slipped out of the clip. “Jeanne, did you make your snow angel yet?”
Throughout the years, Jeanne hadn’t noticed that everyone in the family had much darker hair and features than hers. Her appearance was altogether different, with blonde hair. As she matured, she often compared the other siblings to herself and found no similarities. She reasoned that she had not grown into her looks yet like the rest of the family.
Jeanne pointed at the leavings—children’s shoe impressions trailing across the once perfect snow angel.
Renee’s smile vanished, and she grimaced. “Oh, no. It’s ruined.”
“I’ll make another one after the kiddos go inside. Until then, I’ll take you up on some of that hot chocolate.” Rubbing her gloves together, anticipating the delectable drink to stave off the chill in her bones.
Renee hooked her arm into Jeanne’s. “Good, we can have a long talk while the kiddos play.”
Has Renee sensed my confusion and unhappiness?
Jeanne’s current lifestyle back home kept her on her knees each morning and again most nights. She held the purpose of the extra visit near her heart, not quite able to share the reason with folks here or at home. Sometimes thoughts of running away crossed her mind with the constant strict rules that pummeled her spirit, but she dismissed them and believed the Lord’s peaceful refuge would guide her. She was unaware if her older siblings had aversions to these limitations—they seemed more restricting now than when the house was full of children. If so, they never confided in her.
Generations of Adams’ attended the same denominational church adhering to the rules that flowed into the family structure. A modern world surrounded her, and these statutes needed changing—or so she often told herself. But that was out of the question, at least while still living in her father’s house. Not once had she mistrusted her upbringing, but then she read a Bible passage that didn’t match what her parents taught. Now she questioned everything that she heard. Did she misunderstand the verse and her parents, or was she being directed toward a different life plan than the one she’d envisioned?
The dutiful life at home required all to marry within their faith, and they could not develop friendships beyond the family unit or the church community. Since graduating high school five months ago, her father considered her a woman of marrying age. With her new status as a woman, she often felt trapped when men asked her on dates, but none were interesting, and she definitely was not searching for a husband right now. Guys her own age were silly and too immature.
Jeanne sensed the isolation, being the last child at home who had not settled into a loving family life like her four older brothers and sister. She missed the daily interaction with her siblings, and loneliness crept in more since growing up in a large household. Or had the visits with Renee and her husband put into play a disagreeable temperament? One day she’ll take that step toward her dream of attending college to become a life coach to counsel tweens and young adult women to become stronger Christians and to rid the hurt inflicted by others. For the last two years, she felt and heard the Lord’s small, still voice during her daily devotional time with Him to help girls. But how?
Renee and Winston Bryson attended the same denomination she did. Still, their members embraced the community, and she often heard this very thing from her sister but had yet to witness their neighborly love during her short summer visits. She welcomed the change and opportunities God would place before her on this trip.
Steam swirled upward from a batch of tummy-warming hot chocolate. With one last stir, Renee pulled the pan off the stove, filled two cups, and sprinkled the top with mini marshmallows. “Here you go, sis. It’s still hot, so be careful.”
Jeanne cocked her head, then her nose scrunched. Renee recognized the signal to back off from trying to mother her little sister and offered her a sweet smile. At ten years older than Jeanne, she looked after her on many occasions when she was a child, but they had limited time together the last five years since she married and moved to Grove Hill. Renee missed their daily interactions and hoped this visit would be good for both. Instead of deepening their sisterhood bond, she sensed their relationship growing apart.
“Thanks.” Jeanne cupped her hands around the mug, warming her fingers.
Renee claimed the kitchen chair across from her sister. “When you were my kiddo’s age, you loved tiny marshmallows, and you’d cry every time they’d melt. Do you remember?” She brought the cup to her nose and took a good whiff. Mmm, chocolate. Cautiously she sipped, enjoying the sweet liquid.
Jeanne giggled. “I still want to when they melt, but I promise not to cry today. I didn’t know anyone noticed.”
Renee had indeed noticed a lot about her sister’s summer visits over the years. How much she’d matured into a beautiful woman, and her self-confidence had grown since she graduated high school months ago. “I did. So, what’s on your mind, sis?”
Jeanne gazed at the little white floaters like they had done when she was little, vanishing into the hot chocolate. “Nothing...nothing at all.”
“I’ve known you for nineteen years and can always recognize when you’re upset. Come on, tell me, and we’ll pray about it together. The Lord is with you to guide you.”
“Ree, I’ve already done that for some time now, but—?” She nibbled on her bottom lip and refused to look her in the eye.
Renee patted her hand. “Since your arrival two days ago, you’ve been praying in the middle of the night. So what is it? What has you so troubled?” She wants to talk, but how long before she confides in me? I’ll need to give her space. I pray that it’s not a boy or even worse. Has she sinned? Guide my words. I don’t want to offend her integrity.
The younger woman finally lifted her chin and met Renee’s gaze. “Sorry about waking you. Did I disturb Winston too, or did you tell—” She swallowed hard. Tears were on the verge of spilling from her blue eyes. Jeanne sniffed, smoothed a fallen blonde strand, and squared her shoulders. “I’m fine. Really, Ree.”
Renee gently squeezed her little sister’s hand. “Whenever you’re ready to talk, I’m here. My husband doesn’t need to know anything between us. Our sisterhood bond takes precedence.” Renee pinned Jeanne with a stare. “The only concern in my heart is...did you sin? I mean—” Renee couldn’t finish that sentence, but she must know how to intercede with a prayer to protect her sister.
Jeanne shook her head. “No, no. Never would I do such a thing. We’ve talked about that precious gift that’ll be saved for my wedding night. Trust me, sis....” Again, she swallowed back tears. “It kinda looks like Winston has taken his mother’s passing hard. How is he? Weren’t they close?”
Renee blew across the cup and then smiled. “Thanks for that assurance.” All right, sis, whenever you’re ready to talk. “Even though the doctors said his mother’s cancer was in remission, her sudden death took all of us by surprise. Her heart couldn’t withstand the chemo and radiation treatments. Winston had hoped his brother would make it back for her service. Some days my husband struggles. I try to lift some of the burden, but nothing I’ve tried has worked. He prays daily that Roland isn’t ill or worse, dead somewhere with a ‘John Doe’ tag attached to his toe.”
“How are you managing the extra funeral expenses? I have a few dollars saved up from babysitting, chores for the elderly, and graduation money. I’ll be happy to help in any way I can.”
The air in Renee’s lungs seemed to vanish as memories crowded in. Shortly after her and Winston’s wedding, they moved to Grove Hill to help with his father’s terminal illness and take over the business. A year after the older man’s death, and with limited funds, the couple stayed on to run the family business and care for his mother. His eighteen-year-old brother, Roland, left home the day after their father died—he didn’t attend the funeral, nor his mother’s. Nearly a year later, he wrote saying he had joined the army. Another year passed, and another letter arrived, saying he was in Federal prison for six months after striking an officer and would be dishonorably discharged. Roland’s letter gave a brief narrative of why he landed in prison. His last known address was in California. Since Winston’s mother’s passing, he tried to contact him but received no response. They assumed Roland either didn’t get the message or didn’t care, but they fretted about the alternative.
“You’re too young to worry so much. We have a plan in place for the finances, but thanks for the offer.” Renee took a playbook from Jeanne about changing the subject so quickly and pulled her daily planner from the middle of the table, where she kept it handy to manage her busy schedule. She didn’t want to discuss the burden of finances with her sister—it wasn’t her problem, but it was kind of her to offer her assistance. As she flipped through the pages, most days were filled with some sort of activity, whether at the church, Winston’s job, or with the children.
She wanted to find a little wiggle room to spend more time alone with her sister, but nothing looked promising. The week already looked full. Except. Hmm. She unfolded a brochure and eyed the page, hoping Jeanne would get curious enough to ask, but she didn’t.
So she slid the paper in front of Jeanne. “It’d be nice if you’d join me at the church’s community mission. We’re helping some locals by handing out blankets, jackets, and groceries. Most of these folks don’t have heat in their homes, or the utilities went unpaid, so they were turned off. Afterward, I’m headed next door to help feed those who sheltered from the below-freezing temperatures last night. My church sheltered the homeless men, and the women slept at another church, but anyone is welcome to come in for a meal.”
Jeanne cupped the warm mug and leaned in to read the flyer. “I’ll think about it. When is it?”
“Tomorrow. Today they are only handing out cold sandwiches and hot coffee. We can spend some quality time together helping those who need it in a big way. Usually, with this much snowfall, it stays on the ground for days because of the steady low temperatures. So don’t worry about the destroyed snow angel. You can make a new one soon.”
A burst of giggles spilled from Jeanne’s lips. “Oops, I almost forgot about my redo. You said your church, right?”
“Yes, dear. Our church. The same one you attend with us on your summer visits. Grace Chapel Church embraced us when we needed it most. The pastor and his wife truly have servants’ hearts. Winston and I love them and the community. When we decided to transfer our membership, it was easy. This church isn’t the same one Winston grew up in, and it’s sort of different. We needed a change and welcomed it. What’s wrong?”
“You spoke about the church ministries before during my summer visits but mentioned nothing beyond that or your involvement. You know my home church doesn’t respond to the community’s needs.”
Renee shrugged. “Your visits in the summers...well, I don’t volunteer, so we’d have more time together. Our congregation does a lot of community services, and we have friends outside the church.”
Her little sister’s eyes widened. “Really? If that’s the case, I’ll be glad to go. I’ve always wanted to see how the rest of the world lives.” Her brow furrowed. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded, but you know what I’m trying to say, sis?”
Renee’s previous church in Hopewell loved and worshipped God, but they only helped those in their inner circle. Community work was never a part of things, and the way her sister replied, nothing had changed. “Yes, I do. When I help those who seek something more than clothes or natural food. I know their souls are hungry, and they’re seeking to be fed. I find it very fulfilling to serve others, and so does Winston. These folks are just like us...I mean, they have problems and hardships too. Some have fallen on hard times and need a helping hand occasionally.
“Not all are Christians, so it’s up to us to show them a Jesus who is kind and willing to help when needed. I never understood why our hometown church never offered to help others. They wanted other churches in the community to oversee that part of serving. When Winston and I began attending this church, we quickly discovered that we don’t feel that way.”
“Have you told our parents about your family’s activity in the new church?”
“Yes. Winston backed me, letting them know this was our decision. They can’t live our lives, and we can’t live theirs.”
“Wow. You stood up to Dad.”
“We did.” Renee patted Jeanne’s hand. “It’s all good. They haven’t disowned us, at least not yet. Finish your hot chocolate, and I’ll bring in the kiddos so you can make a new snow angel.”