Sunday mornings were always chaotic in the Schultz house. Getting three people out the door for a 9 a.m. service was never easy, and they almost never got everyone out the door on time. But, just like every week, and maybe even more so this week, they were determined to try. They all got out the door only ten minutes later than planned. It may have been a Schultz record. Carissa couldn’t remember a time when they ever made it to the car when they said they would. They hopped onto the freeway, heading to church, Jim trying to make up time. He always managed to get them there on time. Was flying down the freeway a sin? Because they did it every Sunday morning.
They arrived at the building, hugged the door greeters, and found seats in the aisle so Carissa could stay in her chair and still be with the family. The music started, and the choir started to sing a song Carissa had never heard before. The lyrics were about healing, and the idea that, even if God chose not to heal, the singer would still choose to have hope in Him alone.
Carissa looked up and saw her dad with hands raised high to the Lord, tears streaming down his face. Carissa started to cry then, too. Even if it turned out she needed this surgery, she would still have hope in the Lord. She always had, and she always would. She had been through a lot, but He had always been there. She trusted Him.
They really could have gone home after that. The Holy Spirit had shown up in worship and given them everything they needed. But, of course, they stayed for the rest of the service. When the Holy Spirit is moving, you let Him move.
After church was over, they went out to lunch. They always did, every Sunday, to discuss what each person had gotten from church that day. They ordered family-style fajitas with extra onions.
“So, that song, huh?” Jim said between bites of meat-stuffed tortilla.
“Yeah. I couldn’t even deal,” Carissa responded, digging in. She was always hungry after church.
“I thought I was the only one,” Sarah agreed. “I guess we know all we need to know. Trust in Him, even if we have to do this surgery, right?”
“Right,” Jim and Carissa confirmed.
There wasn’t much talking about church after that. There was a lot of fajita scarfing, but not much talking. There just wasn’t much to say. They all had felt it. God had come, and told them to trust Him, and they would.
In the car, Sarah piped up, “Have you heard from this Isaac boy recently, Carissa?”
“Um, yeah. He texted last night. Said he and his mom were going to pray for me at church today.” Way to slide it in there, Carissa! Surely that had to score some Dad points.
“Great! Did you invite him over yet?” Jim asked.
“No, not yet, Dad. We’re just friends. I don’t want him to have to face the Dad Inquisition! You’ll run him off before I even know if he’s interested.”
“Carissa, he’s asking his mom to pray for you at church. He’s interested in something. Invite him over on Friday,” Sarah insisted.
“Okay.” And that was that. She would invite Isaac over for dinner on Friday. Now all she had to do was summon the courage to invite him. She’d ask him tomorrow after class. Maybe she could get another chocolate chip muffin date before her big appointment.
* * *
When they got home, Carissa went to her room for more studying, so Jim and Sarah had some alone time. Sarah led the way into the kitchen, where she made some iced tea.
Jim sat down at the table, staring out the window for a minute. “Sarah, what do you think about this Isaac boy? Carissa doesn’t have the best record with bringing boys into this house. I’m not sure I’m ready for another round.”
“Jim, he’s pre-med. He seems like he has some serious plans for his future.” Sarah dropped ice into two tall glasses, adding a slice of lemon to each one. “He’s not like those undriven knuckleheads she’s brought home before. Besides, his mother uses a wheelchair. There’s so much Carissa won’t have to explain. He just knows all of her ins and outs. You have to admit, that’s easier. And he prayed for her surgery. What eighteen-year-old boy do you know that has the head on his shoulders to have a good relationship with the Lord?”
“Me,” Jim said emphatically. “I had a good relationship with the Lord at eighteen.”
Sarah set the glasses on the table and slid into the chair next to Jim. “I rest my case. Give this boy a chance. At least let me feed him a good meal. You have full authority to kick him out without dessert if he doesn’t meet your expectations.”
“Deal,” Jim agreed, taking a huge drink of the tea.