Sweet Dreams Christian Romance Box Set

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 9

Finally. The last amen. Susannah was ashamed of her relief when the service ended. Not that she was eager to return home. She just had such a hard time sitting still. She could hardly recognize herself these days. Good thing her mom couldn’t see her. At least, Susannah hoped not.

“Real quickly before we dismiss,” Pastor Greg said, interrupting her unruly thoughts, “Grandma Lucy has asked for the opportunity to close us in prayer today.”

Susannah knew what that meant. She resisted the urge to twist around in her seat to check the time on the clock. Had Grandma Lucy spoken in church since Greg and his wife came to town? She didn’t think so, which probably explained why the pastor looked so innocent and unsuspecting.

Grandma Lucy took the mic. Even though none of her grandchildren attended services at Orchard Grove anymore, Susannah couldn’t remember her being called anything besides Grandma Lucy, just like she couldn’t remember a time when she didn’t have shock white hair or wear the same style of nylon blouse with oversized collars.

Susannah let out a deep breath.

God, I know you love that woman so much, and you’ve given her a spiritual fire and intensity that really is refreshing to see in a church like this. But can you please tell her to keep it a little shorter than normal today? I can’t be late.

Derek was expecting her. She shut her eyes just for a moment.

“Thank you, Pastor Greg.” Grandma Lucy’s voice hadn’t changed since Susannah was a little girl — still full of cracks and warbles on account of her age and conviction that only hinted at her spiritual intensity.

Grandma Lucy glanced around the sanctuary. Without knowing why, Susannah looked down at her lap.

“I’d like to end the service with a word of prayer today,” Grandma Lucy began. “God is so good, isn’t he? During the sermon, he just kept reminding me over and over of his great and powerful love that he has not only for me but for every single one of us here, not to mention every single lost and hurting soul in the entire world. It was all I could do to keep from jumping to my feet and shouting hallelujah.”

Susannah tried to calm her restless spirit.

Lord, you speak to Grandma Lucy so often that it’s like she’s having one long continuous conversation with you each and every day. But here I am begging for a single word from you, a single hint of your presence. It’s been so long since I’ve felt you near me. Is it too much to ask you for one small glimpse of your love, one small taste of your glory? It’s been so long, Lord.

Pastor Greg, perhaps realizing that he had relinquished all control over the service along with that microphone, edged a little closer to Grandma Lucy, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“I want to close us today with a blessing from the book of Isaiah. Comfort, comfort my people, says your God,” Grandma Lucy quoted. “Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and proclaim to her that her hard service has been completed, that her sin has been paid for, that she has received from the Lord’s hand double for all her sins.”

It was Grandma Lucy’s way, the same pattern as always, reciting verses from Scripture and then ad-libbing until prayer and preaching and exhortation were all wrapped up in one package.

Susannah glanced over at the restless faces around her, the shuffling feet, the children who acted as if they might spontaneously combust if they had to sit still a moment longer. What was it about Grandma Lucy that made people so nervous? Was it because everyone but the unsuspecting pastor knew that ten or twenty minutes could pass from the time she started speaking until she said her last amen? No, there had to be more to it than just restless minds and hungry stomachs. Maybe some were afraid that through some special revelation of the Holy Spirit, the old woman might divine their hidden sins and struggles.

For Susannah, it went deeper than the fear of exposure. Grandma Lucy spent her life serving God, had grown up as a missionary kid in China, spent several years serving in the Middle East as an adult, and returned on multiple missions to Asia smuggling Bibles far into her old age. But here she was in Orchard Grove — in a town where just about everybody had access to the gospel if they wanted to hear it, in a church that held her emboldened prayer times suspect at best — and she was spiritually thriving.

What’s her secret, God? How can she stand living here? And when will I ever learn to be content like her?