| |
A burst of frigid wind blasted through Roland’s jacket, cutting him to the bone. He snugged the collar of the thin coat tighter and quickened his steps toward his brother’s house. His icy fingers grazed his neck, sending a chill down his spine. He searched for gloves in the coat pockets but found nothing but lint—not even his warm toboggan for his ears. When Sister Cheryl relayed his brother’s message earlier, Winston agreed to a meeting. He hurried out the door so fast that he mistakenly plucked the wrong coat off the peg.
Roland sent a silent prayer upward to open Winston’s and Renee’s hearts and accept him back into the family fold. Glad the Lord nudged him enough yesterday during his morning prayers to finally contact Winston. He had left a message on their home phone with the pastor’s number.
Somehow, he sensed it was crucial that he arrive on time for the impending reunion, and he wanted nothing to derail him from talking with his family. His father’s illness replayed in his head with each stride on the two-mile walk. Roland gripped his ears, trying to reject the words and actions during those days, weeks, and months that he desperately wished had not happened, but all the wishing in the world couldn’t change the facts. They did happen.
Roland stopped in his tracks and bowed his head. “Heavenly Father, You said that when we go through trials while we are in the weeds, we must depend upon You. I’m sorry for not relying on Your Fatherly guidance back then and not trusting You, but now I do with my whole heart. Please let my brother and sister-in-law forgive me.” Tears streamed off his cheeks. “The guilt of what I did to You by not relying on You to see me through has burdened my soul. Forgive me. I need Your grace from this mounting shame and condemnation, so I can run the race You’ve set before me. Amen.”
The large house he had called home for eighteen years came into sight within a block. The earlier chill that bit at him calmed, and a bead of sweat dotted his forehead. Was it the weather or his nerves? He ran a jacket sleeve across his forehead and straightened his shoulders. He had dawdled long enough.
The two parked cars in the driveway must be Winston’s and Renee’s. His brother had taken good care of his parent’s property. Before Roland’s untimely departure, the house needed lots of work. Money was tight with his father’s surgeries and treatments. Thanks, brother, for agreeing to meet me. He swallowed back the lump and lifted shaky knuckles to knock on the door. Can’t turn around now.
An unnerving creak echoed when the front door opened—he recalled that same irritating noise before he ran away. Roland held a tense grin and hoped for the best, which in his reckoning was forgiveness. This is all he would expect. “Um. Hello, Winston.”
Tears flooded down his brother’s cheeks. He grabbed Roland’s shoulders and pulled him into a tight hug. “Thank you, Lord, my brother is home.” Winston’s hoarse whisper revealed the depth of his emotion.
Roland melted into his arms. Everything may be all right after all.
“Let’s go into the house. Renee put a pot of coffee on. I hope she has some of those cookies left.”
When Roland stepped over the threshold, his stomach tightened, and a flurry rippled through his gut. Memories slammed him head-on—countless lectures in this very room on how to be a good man, husband, and father when the time came. The bad incidents in his mind, and oh, how he wished they would evaporate, even the good stuff. Winston and Renee remained in the large home when his mom passed away. Thankful he didn’t have to live here anymore.
Renee greeted Roland with a warm hug. “Glad you’re home, brother.”
“Me too, sis.”
“Please sit.” Renee filled three cups and set a container of oatmeal raisin cookies in the center of the table. Even though he boasted how marvelous Renee’s cookies were days earlier, his stomach could not manage one bite, but he might ask for a whole batch to take home.
After a few sips, Roland began. “Winston, Renee, I know you’re disappointed in me. I ran like a wounded dog before Dad’s funeral. I need to explain.” He hauled in a breath...one more, and then continued. “When Dad got sick, his entire attitude changed. Day after day, I prayed for his recovery, but he didn’t get any better. Instead, he became more volatile and turned violent toward me....” His knuckles whitened around the cup.
Renee laid her hand on his arm. “Take a breath and start again when you’re ready.” Her empathetic tone encouraged him. White knuckles returned to normal. He shot her a grateful look and continued.
“Several months before he passed away, he...,” Roland scrubbed his face with his hand. “This only ever happened at the shop, but he took a razor strap to my back four times. My back bled, and I still have physical and mental scars from the beatings. What really broke my heart was when Mom came in one day and witnessed the brutality, and she did nothing. I felt all alone and abandoned by both my parents. I thought the worst—that she’d agreed with his punishment—and I never knew what I did wrong.”
Tears streamed down both Renee’s and Winston’s faces. Roland’s sob-filled voice continued. “After you came home, brother, I figured things would improve, but they didn’t. The tumor had taken over Dad’s personality. Mom must’ve known it, but she never mentioned to me the incident she saw at the shop. I kept silent because I didn’t want you to think badly about our parents. Did she talk about it to you guys?”
They shook their heads.
“Winston, after Dad died, guilt besieged me hard.”
“Why, brother?”
“Daily, I’d prayed Dad would be healed. When he wasn’t getting better, and all medical possibilities were exhausted, I prayed that Jesus would take him home.” Roland lowered his chin, unable to look his brother in the eye. “Shame nearly drowned me. Can you and Renee forgive me for leaving you to care for Mom and the business? I didn’t get your letter about Mom’s passing until three weeks after her funeral. Then, I had no reason to hurry back home.”
Renee and Winston pushed back from the table and knelt on either side of his chair. Two pairs of arms comforted him. In a matter of moments, tearful sobs filled the quiet kitchen.
“Brother, we forgave you a long time ago. We love you and want you home. I’m sorry you thought you couldn’t talk to me about the torment you experienced. Please forgive us. We didn’t see what was happening to you.” Winston held his gaze with Roland’s. “Forgive yourself, little brother. Don’t harbor any guilt or bitterness toward our parents.”
“I’ve been trying to forgive myself for leaving while also taking on the guilt of the abuse. I figured I was a bad son and a disgrace as a man because Dad punished me. Otherwise, why would he do such a horrible thing?”
Renee’s sincerity lay across his soul like a soft, warm blanket on a wintry night. “Stop thinking those things about yourself. Look what you did in the service when that officer tried to assault that woman. No telling what would’ve happened to her if you hadn’t stepped in to stop the assault. Honestly, Roland, you did nothing wrong. Neither did Dad nor Mom. The disease turned a gentle, sweet man into a monster. Your mom told me many times about how her husband had changed. I never knew what she was talking about, and now it all makes sense. Winston and I love you. You have a family. Please consider staying in Grove Hill.”
“I love you too.” He absorbed her gentle pat on his shoulder like water on a parched tongue, then returned to his planned speech topics. “After leaving the service, I wandered the country aimlessly, trying to find any sort of life. Even though I stayed on the streets, God shielded me through my journey and led me back home. He has a purpose for me here. I went to our parents’ graves and forgave them when I arrived. I asked for their forgiveness too. I hope the Lord relayed my request to them.”
Winston pulled an envelope off the table, nodded, and handed it to his brother. “I’m certain He has, and they are thrilled to no end about the news. Mom gave me a letter before she passed. She said if I ever saw you again, I ought to give it to you. I promise I haven’t read it.” Winston placed the envelope in Roland’s hand and cupped his around them. “Thanks for coming home. You have put my heart at ease.”
“I’ll go into the living room and read it in private.” Roland glanced at the envelope, and a tear landed on his name on the front. He sniffed and quickly bit back the next tear, which was on the verge of escaping.
“Before you go, will it be all right if we pray for you, brother?”
“I’d like that very much.”
The three stood. They joined hands and closed their eyes, then Winston began. “Heavenly Father, we stand before You to uplift my brother, Roland. You have set his feet onto a path of Your choosing. Thank You. Whatever, wherever, and for however long the journey will be, fill him with joy, love, and grace as Your servant. Please continue to show us where and when we can help others—the downtrodden, the hungry, the lonely, and any others we can exhibit Your love to. In Jesus’ name. Amen.”
Roland opened his eyes. The Lord’s love permeated his soul in a way he had never felt before. Thank You, Jesus. I wish Jeanne were here to share in Your joy, Lord.
“I’ll be back in a minute.” He rushed out before he completely lost all composure. Leaning against the living room wall, his trembling hands unfolded the paper.
My dear son, I know how disappointed you were in me that day. I saw it in your eyes. No doubt you are still disappointed. My heart broke for you and your father on that terrible day. The man who stood over his child with a horrible razor strap wasn’t the man I had married and with whom I had raised two loving and caring sons. All I can say is I’m sorry. Please forgive me for failing to be the mother you deserve. Please try to understand that I, too, had to face the demon that took control of your father during his illness. I wish we could’ve discussed it to lighten your burden. Since your sudden departure, I often wanted to tell Winston and Renee why you left, but I couldn’t face the pain and heartache it would inflict. They didn’t need to have that image of your father or of your personal pain.
I don’t blame you for leaving, son, but I pray Jesus stays in your heart. He won’t abandon you—not like I did. Trials strengthen us for His Kingdom. He whispered in my ear about your life only last night (as I write this letter). “Roland, will influence those around him and lead many to salvation.”
Son, I love you and pray you will forgive me and harbor no bitterness.
I believe God. You always had a heart for the Lord, which showed in everything you did. Goodbye, my sweet baby son. If you return in time for my homegoing, I will enjoy seeing your handsome face again. If not, I understand, and I’ll see you when we meet in heaven. Jesus, Dad, and I will welcome you with open arms. Always remember He has set your path. Just listen to His still, small voice and obey. I love you always. Mom.
Roland wiped away more tears with his sleeve and lowered to his knees. Heavenly Father, thank You for bringing me home. Thank You for my mother’s letter. Could you maybe...please tell her that I already forgave her and Dad? No bitterness remains in my heart. I love them both dearly. Thank You for giving me a path to walk and for the abundance of Your love and guidance these last few months. I look forward to the future that Mom said You have for me. And for the first time in years, I feel Your peace. In Jesus’ name, I pray. Amen.
Roland neatly folded the letter and tucked it into his pocket. He returned to the kitchen and sat beside Winston. Heel clicks from the hallway door suddenly stopped. Roland looked up with red, swollen eyes. Jeanne. His smile widened as he drank in her beauty.