quick, tight hug then Pastor Ken began worship, precluding further conversation.
****
After services his mother stepped up to Daveny. “You know, it’s far past time we had you over for a full-blown Sunday dinner. It’s the very least we can do after all the work you and Collin have put in here at Woodland. Can you join us?”
Standing in the narthex after church, Collin looked over Daveny's head and rolled his eyes at his mother. Romantic machinations dispensed with, his mother just smiled serenely.
“How sweet,” Daveny replied. “I'd love it—but first can I steal him away for a minute?”
“Absolutely. We’ll see you at the house later?”
Daveny nodded and linked her arm though Collin's. Her happiness enveloped him in a sensation so absolute it sucked him in like a thirsty soul questing for water.
“Come here,” she beckoned. “I want to show you something.”
When Collin nodded, Daveny led him outside.
To the bridge.
Rain drizzled, gliding down the umbrella she extended, making it gleam. For now, Collin stood just outside the edge of its shelter. He preferred the cool wetness on his skin. Rain dampened clothes were the least of his concerns. Like a baptism of sorts, he felt reborn.
“Pastor Ken still knows how to deliver a great sermon,” he observed. In fact, Collin wondered if the entire sermon had been directed to him. Pastor Ken had used the example of Parishioner's Bridge to illustrate the power of God's people in action and to address the pain and loss of releasing loved ones from an earthly existence while still maintaining a loving remembrance.
Through God, Collin discovered anew, love lives on in a timeless cycle of variety and consistency—just like Daveny had observed in her presentation.
The flat rocks positioned around the pond looked like stepping-stones; they shimmered with moist gloss. The sky featured luminous, blue-gray cloud cover. The church grounds were deep green beneath a bank of fat, low-rolling clouds. Bright flowers, the heightened finish of the bright pine wood, combined into a softly focused glow that took Collin's breath away despite the rain.
Daveny had shown him the beauty to behold in God's creation. No longer would he run and hide, blind to that truth. Everything led to one place. God's kingdom. Now, Collin decided firmly, it was time to get busy living that truth.
With Daveny at his side.
“Here it is,” she said at last, leading Collin to the midpoint of the bridge's subtle arch.
“I wanted you to see this. Privately. I hope you don't mind it's me showing you this rather than your entire family.”
Daveny's fingertips stroked slow and confident along the deeply etched, black letters of a name engraved into the hand rail.
Sergeant Lance Maxwell Edwards.
Collin's throat constricted. He knew, somehow, that Lance would be commemorated here. Lance had loved his faith walk and Woodland. Collin wasn't surprised by the sight of his brother’s name inscribed as one of the memorialized parishioners.
Still, his eyes stung. Heat clawed at him, pushing for release—so reminiscent of the day of Lance’s burial—and yet leagues different as well.
“I wanted him here. For you. I asked your parents if they'd mind me making the donation to include his name on the bridge. I figured if he was here, you just might keep coming here as well.” Now tears filled her eyes, too. “You don't have to do anything more than just stand here, remember him, and love him like you always have and always will. Just as he loved you.” She dashed the moisture from her cheeks and turned to face Collin directly. “That love goes on forever . But I guarantee you something else, too. God loves you . God will bring you what you need the most if you just listen, and love him, and let him.”
Now Collin traced the letters of Lance’s name—slowly—with reverence. “I want to try, Daveny. I'm here because I want to try. I want to come home to God and my faith again.”
****
After services his mother stepped up to Daveny. “You know, it’s far past time we had you over for a full-blown Sunday dinner. It’s the very least we can do after all the work you and Collin have put in here at Woodland. Can you join us?”
Standing in the narthex after church, Collin looked over Daveny's head and rolled his eyes at his mother. Romantic machinations dispensed with, his mother just smiled serenely.
“How sweet,” Daveny replied. “I'd love it—but first can I steal him away for a minute?”
“Absolutely. We’ll see you at the house later?”
Daveny nodded and linked her arm though Collin's. Her happiness enveloped him in a sensation so absolute it sucked him in like a thirsty soul questing for water.
“Come here,” she beckoned. “I want to show you something.”
When Collin nodded, Daveny led him outside.
To the bridge.
Rain drizzled, gliding down the umbrella she extended, making it gleam. For now, Collin stood just outside the edge of its shelter. He preferred the cool wetness on his skin. Rain dampened clothes were the least of his concerns. Like a baptism of sorts, he felt reborn.
“Pastor Ken still knows how to deliver a great sermon,” he observed. In fact, Collin wondered if the entire sermon had been directed to him. Pastor Ken had used the example of Parishioner's Bridge to illustrate the power of God's people in action and to address the pain and loss of releasing loved ones from an earthly existence while still maintaining a loving remembrance.
Through God, Collin discovered anew, love lives on in a timeless cycle of variety and consistency—just like Daveny had observed in her presentation.
The flat rocks positioned around the pond looked like stepping-stones; they shimmered with moist gloss. The sky featured luminous, blue-gray cloud cover. The church grounds were deep green beneath a bank of fat, low-rolling clouds. Bright flowers, the heightened finish of the bright pine wood, combined into a softly focused glow that took Collin's breath away despite the rain.
Daveny had shown him the beauty to behold in God's creation. No longer would he run and hide, blind to that truth. Everything led to one place. God's kingdom. Now, Collin decided firmly, it was time to get busy living that truth.
With Daveny at his side.
“Here it is,” she said at last, leading Collin to the midpoint of the bridge's subtle arch.
“I wanted you to see this. Privately. I hope you don't mind it's me showing you this rather than your entire family.”
Daveny's fingertips stroked slow and confident along the deeply etched, black letters of a name engraved into the hand rail.
Sergeant Lance Maxwell Edwards.
Collin's throat constricted. He knew, somehow, that Lance would be commemorated here. Lance had loved his faith walk and Woodland. Collin wasn't surprised by the sight of his brother’s name inscribed as one of the memorialized parishioners.
Still, his eyes stung. Heat clawed at him, pushing for release—so reminiscent of the day of Lance’s burial—and yet leagues different as well.
“I wanted him here. For you. I asked your parents if they'd mind me making the donation to include his name on the bridge. I figured if he was here, you just might keep coming here as well.” Now tears filled her eyes, too. “You don't have to do anything more than just stand here, remember him, and love him like you always have and always will. Just as he loved you.” She dashed the moisture from her cheeks and turned to face Collin directly. “That love goes on forever . But I guarantee you something else, too. God loves you . God will bring you what you need the most if you just listen, and love him, and let him.”
Now Collin traced the letters of Lance’s name—slowly—with reverence. “I want to try, Daveny. I'm here because I want to try. I want to come home to God and my faith again.”
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