CHAPTER 11
767 Words
CHAPTER 11
“The Lord takes such great delight in you,” Grandma Lucy spoke into the microphone. Susannah tried to gauge how Pastor Greg felt about his renegade congregant, but his expression was a blend of polite stoicism and patience — perfectly indecipherable.
“He rejoices over you with his singing. His delight is in you, the workmanship of his hands, the masterpiece of the artist of artists, the great author and finisher of our faith when we put our trust in him.”
The words were a blend of Scripture verses and Grandma-Lucy-style embellishments. Most of the time, Susannah found these sorts of impromptu service closings encouraging. She liked to think that one day she might have Grandma Lucy’s boldness and conviction. But today, she was only tired. Tired and ready to get home.
To the family that was waiting for her.
“Blessed are those who mourn,” Grandma Lucy quoted, “for they will be comforted. Blessed are those who weep tears of sorrow and grief.”
Susannah knew those kinds of tears all too well, had experienced them in the most inopportune times since August. That day had started perfectly. It’s strange how she remembered the gorgeous weather so vividly, that unexpected cool spell bringing an early end to the merciless heat of summer. Scott’s flight was due in five days, but by the bustle at home, you’d think he was half an hour late.
Susannah’s mom decided to make Amish friendship bread for his arrival. She’d prepped the starter ten days early like always, but she’d underestimated the Washington summer heat. Susannah came home from her shift at Winter Grove to find her mom scrubbing yeasty flour off the kitchen cupboards after her Ziploc bag had burst, exploding starter in every direction.
“God must be punishing me for my vanity,” her mom lamented. “It’s what I deserve for trying to show off my baking skills to your friend.”
It always struck Susannah as strange to hear Scott described as her friend, as if he was nothing but another student from youth group or homeschool co-op who was stopping by for a quick visit instead of the man she hoped to marry who was traveling all the way across the country just to meet her.
Susannah helped her mom clean the mess and offered to buy a bag of starter from Safe Anchorage Farms. “Connie always has some batches ready to sell.”
“I know that,” her mom sighed, “but I really wanted to do it from scratch.”
Susannah did her best to cheer her mother up. “It will be more authentic this way. Didn’t Connie get her original starter from the Amish to begin with?”
Her mom shrugged and pecked her on the cheek. “You always have such a positive attitude. But you’re tired. You just got home from work and haven’t even changed your clothes. You go rest up, and I’ll stop by Safe Anchorage. This is my mistake, and I’m willing to clean up after myself.”
Susannah should never have let her go. Should have argued that they didn’t need any friendship bread. That Scott would have been happy with week-old dry bread rolls.
And if her mom still insisted, Susannah should have gotten the starter herself. She needed to pick up some more stationary anyway, and Safe Anchorage always had such nice journals in their gift shop.
She should never have allowed her mother out that door.
But instead, she handed her mom the keys. Gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Oh,” Susannah added as her mom grabbed her purse, “did Kitty get her afternoon snack?”
“No, hon. I’m sorry. I heard the bag explode and was so busy cleaning it up that I lost track of time. I know you had a long day, but would you mind taking care of her while I’m gone?”
“Of course not.”
“You’re such a good sister. I’m so glad Kitty has you.” Another hug. How could she have taken that loving physical contact for granted for all those years?
“Drive safely.”
That’s the part Susannah couldn’t remember if she’d said or not. Maybe it was just her memory getting that goodbye mixed up with the hundreds, the thousands of others over the years. Maybe it was her subconscious way of trying to assuage her guilt.
She hadn’t kept her mom from getting in that car, but she’d told her to be careful ...
And then Mom was gone. As simple as that. Simple as driving a few miles out to Baxter Loop to buy some starter for the Amish friendship bread she wanted to make to impress her daughter’s cross-country friend.
Grandma Lucy continued on in her prayer, but Susannah’s mind was stuck on that one single verse she’d quoted earlier.
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.”
Susannah didn’t want to sound cynical, didn’t want to sound like she doubted the Bible, but she was starting to wonder how long that comfort was supposed to linger before it finally arrived.
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