today.
And there was nothing she or Matt could do about it.
On her way out of Grace’s room, hot tears slid down Hannah’s cheeks.
Get us through this, God … please. What have we done?
It was a prayer she prayed often that first week, and by the ninth day—with Grace barely speaking to any of them and still asking hourly to go home—Hannah considered calling Mrs. Parsons and asking for help.
Jenny handled Grace’s reluctant beginning by being gone more than usual.
Hannah had cornered Jenny that week and tried to reason with her. “You’ll never connect with her if you’re not home.”
“I don’t know what to say.” Jenny shifted her weight to one hip. “Besides, she doesn’t care if I’m here or not.”
Hannah took hold of Jenny’s arm. “That’s not true. She told you she wanted a sister that first day. She may not talk to you, but she likes you.”
Jenny narrowed her eyes and lowered her voice. “That’s not the kind of sister I was expecting.”
There was more that Jenny wanted to say; the intensity in her eyes told Hannah that much. Of course Grace wasn’t the type of sister Jenny had been expecting. The only sister she’d ever known was Alicia, and the two of them had been inseparable, laughing and playing together. Delighting in the same kinds of games and music and with that uncanny ability to finish each other’s sentences.
The way only sisters could.
Even if Jenny hadn’t intended to, she clearly had expected Grace to be something of a companion. A little sister to her the way she had once been a little sister to Alicia.
The situation had been heartbreaking, and there was nothing Hannah could do about it.
Before the night was over, Jenny apologized for being impatient. But the entire situation had Hannah at a breaking point.
Midway through the second week, Matt linked his arms through hers and pulled her close. “It takes time, Hannah. I’m not willing to give up.”
“Me, either. I just wish I knew what God was doing.”
Matt grinned. “Building a bond between us, maybe?”
Hannah’s mind went blank. “A bond? By giving us a child who won’t talk or smile or respond to us?”
“Ahh, but remember this …” Matt put a finger to Hannah’s lips. “One day when she
does
talk or smile or respond, we’ll know it’s real, won’t we?”
Hannah remained doubtful. Would they ever be able to truly reach Grace? That night she and Matt prayed on their knees in the sand outside their house.
“Give us wisdom, God.” Matt closed his eyes and directed his face toward the starry sky above. “It’s been nine days and she’s soquiet, so locked up inside. What can we do different, God? Just show us, please. We love her. We’ll wait as long as it takes.”
The breakthrough happened the next day.
Matt was at work and Hannah was making oatmeal when Grace entered the room. She came up beside Hannah and tugged on her sleeve. Hannah smiled at her, but before she had time to speak, Grace tucked her hand in Hannah’s and said, “I have something to tell you.”
Hannah set the spoon down beside the pan and turned to face her. “What, honey?”
“I’m sorry.” Grace lowered her chin, but kept her eyes on Hannah. “I haven’t been very good. I miss my mommy.”
Tears stung at Hannah’s eyes, and she blinked them back, stooping to the child’s level. “That’s okay. You’re still getting used to us, Grace. It takes time.” She hugged her and kissed her cheek.
Grace ran her thumb over Hannah’s hand; her touch was velvet. “Do you like me, Hannah?”
Hannah framed the child’s face with her fingers, brushing the curls back and looking deep into her eyes. “I like you very much.”
Grace doodled an invisible design with her toe. “I’m scared the police will come and take me to jail … but I’m still here.”
Hannah nodded. “I know you miss your mommy, honey. But sometimes God gives little children a new mommy and daddy. Ones that can take care of
And there was nothing she or Matt could do about it.
On her way out of Grace’s room, hot tears slid down Hannah’s cheeks.
Get us through this, God … please. What have we done?
It was a prayer she prayed often that first week, and by the ninth day—with Grace barely speaking to any of them and still asking hourly to go home—Hannah considered calling Mrs. Parsons and asking for help.
Jenny handled Grace’s reluctant beginning by being gone more than usual.
Hannah had cornered Jenny that week and tried to reason with her. “You’ll never connect with her if you’re not home.”
“I don’t know what to say.” Jenny shifted her weight to one hip. “Besides, she doesn’t care if I’m here or not.”
Hannah took hold of Jenny’s arm. “That’s not true. She told you she wanted a sister that first day. She may not talk to you, but she likes you.”
Jenny narrowed her eyes and lowered her voice. “That’s not the kind of sister I was expecting.”
There was more that Jenny wanted to say; the intensity in her eyes told Hannah that much. Of course Grace wasn’t the type of sister Jenny had been expecting. The only sister she’d ever known was Alicia, and the two of them had been inseparable, laughing and playing together. Delighting in the same kinds of games and music and with that uncanny ability to finish each other’s sentences.
The way only sisters could.
Even if Jenny hadn’t intended to, she clearly had expected Grace to be something of a companion. A little sister to her the way she had once been a little sister to Alicia.
The situation had been heartbreaking, and there was nothing Hannah could do about it.
Before the night was over, Jenny apologized for being impatient. But the entire situation had Hannah at a breaking point.
Midway through the second week, Matt linked his arms through hers and pulled her close. “It takes time, Hannah. I’m not willing to give up.”
“Me, either. I just wish I knew what God was doing.”
Matt grinned. “Building a bond between us, maybe?”
Hannah’s mind went blank. “A bond? By giving us a child who won’t talk or smile or respond to us?”
“Ahh, but remember this …” Matt put a finger to Hannah’s lips. “One day when she
does
talk or smile or respond, we’ll know it’s real, won’t we?”
Hannah remained doubtful. Would they ever be able to truly reach Grace? That night she and Matt prayed on their knees in the sand outside their house.
“Give us wisdom, God.” Matt closed his eyes and directed his face toward the starry sky above. “It’s been nine days and she’s soquiet, so locked up inside. What can we do different, God? Just show us, please. We love her. We’ll wait as long as it takes.”
The breakthrough happened the next day.
Matt was at work and Hannah was making oatmeal when Grace entered the room. She came up beside Hannah and tugged on her sleeve. Hannah smiled at her, but before she had time to speak, Grace tucked her hand in Hannah’s and said, “I have something to tell you.”
Hannah set the spoon down beside the pan and turned to face her. “What, honey?”
“I’m sorry.” Grace lowered her chin, but kept her eyes on Hannah. “I haven’t been very good. I miss my mommy.”
Tears stung at Hannah’s eyes, and she blinked them back, stooping to the child’s level. “That’s okay. You’re still getting used to us, Grace. It takes time.” She hugged her and kissed her cheek.
Grace ran her thumb over Hannah’s hand; her touch was velvet. “Do you like me, Hannah?”
Hannah framed the child’s face with her fingers, brushing the curls back and looking deep into her eyes. “I like you very much.”
Grace doodled an invisible design with her toe. “I’m scared the police will come and take me to jail … but I’m still here.”
Hannah nodded. “I know you miss your mommy, honey. But sometimes God gives little children a new mommy and daddy. Ones that can take care of
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