CHAPTER 3
1314 Words
CHAPTER 3
I’m reading Annie the same Dr. Seuss book she’s heard five thousand times before. Whenever I pull it out, part of me expects Russel to tell me that he’d prefer it if our kids stuck to children’s Bibles or stories with strong moral instruction. Thankfully, he hasn’t taken my Seuss books away from us yet. Maybe he remembers they’re the first gift I ever purchased for his kids.
Maybe my new husband has a hint of appreciation for the sentimental left in him after all.
I like to do the voices while I read, which is guaranteed to get Annie off on a giggle spree. My end goal is to hear Andrew laugh. One of these days, I know it’s going to happen. I already told you I believe in miracles, right?
I’ve performed these books so many times I let my mind wander off. Back to the first few weeks of my courtship with Gospel Kingdom’s recently widowed pastor.
I was new to town. New to a lot of things, truth be told. I’d put on weight, partly due to stress, partly due to the fact that I was still terrified of being recognized. With this head covering, people don’t stop me anymore. Don’t ask me why I look so familiar.
Don’t look at me with a mix of both pity and fear when they realize who I truly am.
I wasn’t an obvious candidate for the secretary opening at Gospel Kingdom. I responded to an ad in the paper and showed up to my interview wearing a gray pants suit. That was strike number one.
“Is this a Mennonite church?” I asked Russel when I saw the photo in his office of his congregants posing in front of the spotless, white steeple.
He gave a little chuckle, which led me to believe that this man was always that easy to laugh. “No, not Mennonite, although you certainly wouldn’t be the first to jump to that sort of conclusion.”
I apologized for wearing trousers, for not having my head covering. I acted as if I had a closet full of floor-length skirts and color-coordinated hair kerchiefs to match, but Russel told me not to worry.
“It’s an old-fashioned dress code,” he explained, “but we’re a family here, and we like our traditional ways.” Somehow he managed to speak these words, to sum up the entire personality of his church in a single word — traditional — and yet did so without making me feel at all inferior or ashamed of my more contemporary appearance.
“Can you tell me about your spiritual journey?” Russel asked. It wouldn’t have boded well for my prospects at landing a job if I were to tell him that honestly, I thought about spirituality as much as I thought about garden slugs or tennis-ball-sized hail. So I offered some sort of noncommittal response like, “Oh, well, I grew up going to church pretty regularly, then kind of fell away … Still love God, just haven’t been connected to an actual congregation for a while.”
Before I knew it, Russel had opened up his Bible, set it on the table between us, and was explaining to me truths about Jesus I’d never heard before. Answering questions about the Lord that I never even realized I was wondering.
“Do you want to ask Jesus to forgive your sins? Are you ready to make him Lord of your life?” he prompted.
I told him yes, but it wasn’t just to land the job. And it wasn’t that strange magnetic force I felt when we were talking together. I think those things may have played a part, but there was more to it than that.
Far more to it.
I’ve always believed in God. Even during those two years I’ve never told my husband about, when it seemed like everything had been taken away from me, I had a sense that God was there. That he was with me. That he would somehow see me through the hell on earth where I was trapped.
But when Russel talked about Jesus, I realized this man knew the Lord far more deeply than I ever dreamed possible. So I told him yes, I wanted what he had. Then I prayed with him. Recited this little prayer about getting God to forgive my sins, saving me from hell. Russel looked pleased with me when I was done, and that’s when I knew that if I got this job as his secretary, I’d keep on trying to find ways to make him smile at me like that.
No matter what it took.
No matter what I had to give up.
I started working at the church office the very next day. In addition to helping Russel print bulletins, schedule appointments, pay the bills, I sat at his feet (in the metaphorical sense at least), learning daily from him as he led our little office “staff” (consisting only of him and me) in morning Bible study, in closing prayers at the end of the day.
I wasn’t deliberately keeping my past from him. But things moved so quickly from there. I was excited about my newfound faith, and it was impossible to distinguish my spiritual awakening with the emotional connection I felt with Russel whenever the two of us were together.
We fell in love. Before we’d even known each other a full season, he introduced me to his children, proposed courtship, then announced our engagement to the entire congregation.
And now here I am. Stepmother of four, struggling to work my way into this family that managed to get along swimmingly on their own before I came around. A grateful bride, thankful for the sense of protection and security that comes from belonging to Russel and his family and his church, even if they are a little strict by worldly standards.
I’m happy to be with Russel. I’m happy to call his children my own. Once we return from meeting his side of the family, Russel wants me to adopt the kids. I’m not one to argue. I’ll never be able to bear Russel the quiver full of offspring his heart is set on. The least I can do is formalize my relationship to the four he already has.
I’m not who he thinks I am.
But maybe, with a little luck, a lot of prayer, and some very powerful miracles, things will work out all right in the end.
Maybe, just maybe, I’ll look back on these past few months and realize how blessed I really am.
And if Russel finds out the truth … Well, isn’t he the one who said that we’re united now? That nothing but death will ever part us?
I keep waiting for the day when I’ll wake up and actually feel like Anastasia Strickland, wife of Gospel Kingdom’s pastor. When I can look at Russel’s kids and not feel the pangs of guilt at my deception when they call me Mom.
And if that day never comes, I just have to remind myself it at least beats where I came from.
The Lord works in mysterious ways. Maybe, just maybe, he brought me to Russel and his kind, albeit quirky little church in order to offer me the stability and protection I needed so many years ago, those days I’m trying so hard to forget.
Is it possible that Russel felt like a safe option for me because of the way he and the others at his church avoid technology as much as they do? I admit, the fact that Russel wouldn’t ever think to google my name or stumble across news articles from ten years ago was an added bonus when we started dating.
I’m not who my husband thinks I am. But maybe, just maybe, if I pray hard enough and try hard enough, God will help me turn into the person he wants me to be.
And then everything from the past can stay there in the past. Totally secret.
Totally forgotten.
Just the way it should be.
Just the way it needs to be.
- Writer
