February
Kuna, Idaho
Ben Henning showed his cousin Jessica into the kitchen of the old farmhouse. “I’m not really ready for company,” he told her as he motioned to one of the chairs.
“I can see that.” She smiled as her gaze took in the stacks of boxes in the kitchen, the living room, and down the hallway.
“Want some coffee? It’s fresh made.”
“No, thanks. I don’t plan to stay long. I know you’re busy with moving and all. Besides, I need to get back to Mom’s house before it’s time to feed Hope again. She’s growing so fast, and she’s always hungry.”
Ben settled onto a chair opposite Jessica. “How old is she now?”
“Almost six months.”
“Can’t hardly believe that.”
“Me either.” Jessica leaned toward the tote she’d set on the floor next to her chair. A moment later she drew out a large book. “This is Andrew Henning’s Bible.” She slid it across the table to him. “I brought it for you.”
“For me?” The leather cover was worn and cracked, the outside edges curled. He ran a hand gently over the book that had once belonged to his great-great-grandfather. The man who had owned this house, this farm, from early in the Great Depression until he was almost seventy.
“For you.” Jessica smiled gently. “Great-Grandpa Andrew . . . Well, I guess he was your great-great-grandfather, wasn’t he? I always forget that since you and I are close to the same age. Anyway, he gave it to my grandmother before he died, with the instructions that she was to keep it until she felt God tell her to pass it along to another family member. Then that person was to do the same whenever the time came. My mom gave it to me after Grandma Frani’s funeral, and now I want you to have it.”
Ben opened the front cover, saw that the first page had been torn then mended with tape. Several pages stuck together when he turned them. He pulled them apart, revealing the Henning family tree. His namesake, Benjamin Tandy Henning, was one of the children listed beneath Andrew’s and Helen’s names. He ran his finger down the list. The change in penmanship told him when someone else had taken over the task of filling in the names of great-grandchildren and great-great-grandchildren.
“Are you sure you’re ready to give it up?” he asked. “You haven’t had it very long. Your grandmother hasn’t even been gone a year.”
“I’m sure.”
He heard the smile in her answer before he looked up to meet her gaze.
“Ben, when I heard you were moving to the farm to live, I knew God wanted you to have this Bible. I don’t know why, but I believe the Lord’s got something special in mind for both you and this farm.” She leaned toward him. “When my mom gave it to me, she told me to let what I found inside bless me. And it did. What I found helped give me back my faith and restore my hope in the future. And those two changes allowed me to open my heart to love again. I don’t know what’s in store for you, but I believe God wants to encourage you through His Word and the notes Grandpa Henning made inside that old Bible. I think God wants you to be blessed by it next.”
Ben’s heart had quickened as Jessica spoke. Just last night he’d believed God had given him a vision for this property. The vision was nebulous at best, but he trusted it would take shape, that God would reveal more in time. His cousin’s words seemed to confirm it.
“Thanks, Jessica.” He closed the leather cover. “This means a lot to me. More than I can tell you.”
She nodded, and he had the feeling she understood even if he couldn’t put it into words.