I woke up that next morning thinking about the crosses I handed out the day before, wondering whether my words had had any impact. This was part of being a pastor. The curiosity of how the words would stick. Whether the words worked. I had to trust the Holy Spirit, but at the same time, I needed to always show up and do my part. Just like professional athletes. Well, the Chicago Bears oftentimes didn’t show up, nor did the Cubs, but they’re not the best examples. I had been given the great opportunity to instruct and inspire the people at my church. Now I was curious whether I had done either.

The day ahead of me was a full one, but I made a mental note to check on the young girl again. I didn’t want to bother her, but I also needed to figure out what was going to happen. She couldn’t stay in that room forever. Obviously. But I needed to make some calls today at my office.

You also need to get Joe to call about the plumbing issue in the basement. And call back Richard about the upcoming missions trip. And to visit Rene in the hospital. And to have lunch with Pastor Frederick. And to—

The list was endless.

Grace told me all the time that I worked too hard. We’d been married for eleven years and she’d been telling me this even on our honeymoon. I sometimes wondered if this was just my lot in life. To wake up and go to bed with an endless amount of things that never get fully done. I’d spoken with plenty of pastors over the years who expressed the same feelings. Some got burnt-out and quit to go into something more stable like the financial markets or becoming a musician, I like to joke. But the truth was that some ended up simply being squeezed out like a wet rag and then tossed aside after years in the ministry.

That’s not gonna happen, I told myself.

God willing, I quickly added.

I’ve learned that making declarations about things happening and not happening hasn’t always been the best thing. God often has other plans. Even when we hope and believe that certain things should and could happen.

On my way downstairs to make coffee, I passed the guest bedroom that we had always thought would become our child’s room.

It was like a road that I passed by on my way to work every day. An abandoned road that we had driven down for a while. A road that led to a dead end.

Sometimes I wished . . . I wondered maybe about turning and heading down it again. Just to see what it would be like. But I knew I couldn’t go alone. Grace needed to be with me.

And I think the road was forever blocked for Grace. The thought of even bringing it up and reminding her was too much. I couldn’t. Life had its share of reminders anyway. She didn’t need me to hold up any more.

Instead I tried—I really tried—to hold her up. Yet it was hard when I often felt so unstable myself.