Sierra looked at her and squeezed her hand a little tighter. “But that's not where Daddy is now. Daddy's in heaven.” Her eyes were dry now, the trauma of good-bye already fading. She touched her fingers to her chest. “And his picture is right here.” She angled her head, her eyes curious. “Do you think Daddy's happy that we're moving to California and marrying Clay?”
Jamie looked at her feet for a minute and then up at the empty skyline again. Jake's smile, the memory of it, flashed in her mind as big and bright as heaven itself. “Yes, Sierra. I think he's very happy.”
The plane was halfway to Los Angeles when Jamie remembered Aaron's letter. Sierra was sleeping in the seat beside her, so she was careful not to wake her. She pulled out the envelope, opened it, and slid out the letter.
Dear Jamie,
I won't make this long, but I promised you I'd tell you if something changed. Well, something did.
Jamie closed her eyes, her heart doing a double beat. What was this? Aaron couldn't be talking about the one thing they never agreed on, could he? She blinked and found her place.
One of the new guys at the station had a baby with a heart problem. The guy asked every one of us who believed to pray. You know me; I told him I couldn't pray because I didn't believe. But that night I asked God to show me He was real, let me know if I was wrong about the whole faith thing.
And guess what happened?
The new guy comes up to me the next day and says, “You don't have to believe in God, Hisel, He believes in you.”
The exact words you told me. And I don't know, I got chills and something happened inside me. Like I knew right then that God was real, and He was there. I'm not saying I have it all figured out or any of it figured out, really. But the new guy's talking to me. He's buying me a Bible.
I guess I just wanted you to know so you could keep praying for me. I already know Jake's praying. I'm happy for you, Jamie. Take care of yourself.
Aaron
Jamie blinked back tears and read the letter again. Then she closed her eyes and let her head fall against the seat back. God … You're so good, so faithful. I knew You'd get Aaron's attention, and now You have. You work all things out in Your timing.
The hum of the jet soothed her, helped clear her mind.
She opened her eyes and looked out the window. Down below were clusters of lights, places where families gathered, sharing notes from a day of work or school. The way she and Clay and Sierra would be soon.
Joy rose up within her and warmed her heart. There was really nothing more to be sad about. She pictured Clay's face, the way he would look when they got off the plane and walked into his world once and for all. Thoughts of the future filled her head. It would be so good to see him and hold him and plan a wedding with him, so much fun unpacking her things and watching Sierra and Clay and Wrinkles play dress-up together.
Choose life. Jake's voice sounded in her soul once more, ringing with sincerity and faith, the way it had always done back when he was alive, when he was hers. Choose life, Jamie. Choose life.
She smiled at the sleeping form of their daughter. I am, Jake. I'm choosing life.
The jet engines hummed low in the background. She looked out the window, every mountain or field they passed taking them a little closer to California. Closer to Clay. A warm certainty settled in her chest, convincing her of what she'd known all along. With all its trials and tragedies, all its brokenhearted confusion, life was still the greatest choice of all. God-given life. That was her choice.
Now and always.
A NOTE FROM KAREN
Those of you who read One Tuesday Morning know that telling Jamie Bryan's story was something I had to do. That first book came to me almost complete on the afternoon of September 11, 2001, and it stayed in my heart until I wrote it for you.
It was the same way with this sequel.
Beyond Tuesday Morning is really the rest of the story, the way the rest of the story might play out for all those touched or changed by tragedy. Like Jamie, all of us will have the chance to choose life. For some of you, that might mean making a recommitment to a dying marriage or looking for ways to encourage your husband or wife.
Choosing life might mean taking time to play with your children. So often we get caught up in the business of raising a family—making vacation plans, buying a house, getting a job, doing housework, fixing up the yard—that we miss the point. Making time with your children and the people you love is definitely a way to choose life.
But the way that is illustrated in this book is vitally important.
I've heard it said that all of us are either leaving a trial, heading into one, or smack in the middle of one. Trials can vary from issues at work to the death of a loved one. In Jamie's case, she was willing to spend her life memorializing the years she'd had with Jake.
But ultimately it was God's Word, combined with words written by Jake, that helped her choose life.
Grief and sorrow are important stages, seasons that we must go through. To some extent we will never be fully rid of either—not when we're dealing with the loss of someone we loved. I hear from hundreds of you every week—mostly letters of encouragement and offers of prayer, for which I will forever be grateful. But once in a while you tell me of tragic events in your families or communities. When I hear about a car accident or illness or loss, I always pray. I pray for hope and healing wherever possible.
And I pray for life.
Life is God's gift to us. With every sweet breath, we confirm the fact that God has us here for a reason, that He has a plan for our lives. I truly believe that the more we surrender our lives to Him, the more we trust Him with the days He gives us, the better off we'll be. There is such peaceful freedom, such uninhibited joy, in knowing that God Almighty is the reason we woke up today. If we have tomorrow, it's because He has more for us to do.
In that light, it's almost impossible to spend a day bemoaning our situation, unwilling to rejoice. Grief stays with us, but it need not stay on us. I think of the apostle Paul, chained in a Roman prison, rats nibbling at his knees. What was he doing? Singing … telling the jailors about Jesus … and writing letters to his friends back home, encouraging them to glorify God with their lives.
If you or someone you love is in a difficult situation, I pray this book has given you hope. But I also pray it sends you looking for the purpose God has for your life. Allow the possibility that whatever you're going through, this too shall pass. Not without pain, not without tears, but with possibility and trust in God.
Things are good on the home front. Kelsey is fifteen and in high school and has just finished cheering for the freshmen football team. Tyler, twelve, is being homeschooled so he can have more time for the arts he's so passionate about. He is very involved in Christian Youth Theater and will audition for all three of the musicals this year. Sean, Josh, EJ, and Austin have just completed a wonderful season of soccer. With Christmas behind us, we're settling in for a productive winter/spring season. We still do devotions every morning, and I am thrilled to see each of the kids gradually making decisions for Christ that are motivated by their own love for God, their own choices for life.
If you're a believer in Jesus Christ, I pray this book encourages you to keep on fighting the good fight. If you're not, then this may be the chance in a lifetime, the chance to call on Jesus as your Savior, to get to a Bible-believing church and find out about a relationship with the true God of the universe. Trusting Jesus for life is the very first step to choosing life. Abundant life. John 10:10 says that the thief comes to kill, steal, and destroy, but Jesus has come to give us life, life to the fullest measure.
;Don't waste another day with the thief; rather make the choice to spend your life, from this day on, with the Giver of life. One of my favorite sections of Scripture is Hebrews 12, which encourages us to never give up, but to “run with perseverance the race marked out for us.” The race of life. That's what God called Jamie Bryan to do.
It's what He call
s each of us to do.
Until next time, I pray God keeps His mighty arms around you, that you feel the presence of His loving touch, His gentle hug, even on the darkest nights. May He bless you and yours and grant you life. Always life.
In His light and love,
Karen Kingsbury
P.S. My website, www.KarenKingsbury.com, has become a big part of my ministry. You can leave a prayer request, pray for other readers with specific needs, and meet prayer partners at the Prayer Ministry link. You can get involved in discussions about my books at the Reader Forum link, and you can see how God is using these books to affect the lives of other readers at the Guest Book link.
You can contact me at the website or at my email address:
[email protected]. As always, I love hearing from you and look forward to your letters.
Book Club or Study Guide Questions
1. Why did Jamie volunteer at St. Paul's?
2. What good did she bring to others by volunteering?
3. What good did God bring about in her because of her volunteering?
4. Why did she feel she was supposed to be interested in Fire Captain Aaron Hisel?
5. What warning signs did she have that this might not be the right relationship for her?
6. What could Jamie have learned from Sierra about moving on with her life?
7. What lessons did Jamie learn from Jake in this season of change?
8. Has God ever clearly set before you the choice of life or death? Explain.
9. What did you choose and how did it work out?
10. Jamie spent most of her earlier years living in fear. How did that tendency creep back into her life in this story?
11. How did Jamie finally get over her fears? What were the steps she took?
12. Has there ever been a time when fear stopped you from doing something you wanted to do? Share it.
13. Were you able to get past that fear at a later time? If so, how?
14. Part of choosing life is having the courage to say the things you need to say—whether it is an admission of love or an apology to a parent or child or sibling or friend. What role did Joe Reynolds play in helping Jamie embrace life?
15. If today was your last day, how would you choose life? How would you embrace it? Make a plan to do some of those things every day to the glory of God.
Read an Excerpt from Between Sundays
ONE
Two Years Later
Sometimes Cory Briggs took the long way home, pedaling as fast as he could so Megan wouldn't worry about him. Because Megan said eight-yearold boys should come straight home from soccer practice, especially on late afternoons. San Francisco was the sort of city where it was best if you were in by dark.
But that early August day, Cory did it again. He slipped his backpack onto his shoulders, left the soccer field at McKinley Elementary, and rode his bike up the hill and a few blocks out of the way, to Duboce Park. He would make up time on the downhill, so he stopped just outside the fenced-in play area and stared.
Shadows made it hard to see the bench, the one where he and his mom used to sit. But Cory shaded his eyes with his hand and squinted, and suddenly there it was. The same bench, same brown wooden slats, same way it looked back when he was a first grader, back when they came here every afternoon. He didn't blink, didn't break the lock he had on the bench, and after a minute he could hear her again, her happy voice telling him everything would be okay.
“God has good plans for us, Cory.” She would kiss his cheek and smile at him. But her eyes weren't always happy, even when she smiled. “We'll find our way out together.”
He remembered her still. He blinked now because he didn't want to cry. A bit of wind blew against his back, and Cory squinted against the tears. The day was hot, but already the bay breeze was cooling it off, which meant it was time to go. He climbed back up onto his seat and looked at the bench one more time. His mom was buried in Oakland somewhere. Megan took him once in a while, but Oakland was far away. When he needed to see her one more time, when he wanted to hear her voice, he came here.
Duboce Park.
“Take good care of her, God,” he whispered. Then without another look back, he set off along the sidewalk pedaling hard as he could, turning down Delores to Seventeenth, and the third story apartment where he and Megan lived.
Cory knew the streets between his school and his apartment. He even knew the way to Monster Park, where the 49ers played. But Megan would never let him ride his bike all the way to the stadium. That was okay. It was enough just knowing it was close. Because once a year he and the kids from his neighborhood entered a drawing for tickets to a game, and this year … this year he was going to win.
He focused on the ride. He knew which alleys to stay away from, and which areas had gang members standing around. He took the streets with the least traffic lights, because that was smarter. He had to stop for only three before he reached their building, jumped off his bike, and walked it through the doorway.
Bikes were allowed in the elevator if they fit, and his did. At the third floor he stepped off and already he could hear it. The sound of happiness. Laughing and loud voices coming from the Florentinos' apartment. He walked past two doors and stopped. The smell of spaghetti and garlic bread slipped beneath the door and filled the hallway. Sometimes, when Megan had to work late, he would knock on the Florentinos' door and they'd invite him in for dinner.
They had seven kids, but Mrs. Florentino said she always had an extra plate.
Cory raised his hand to knock, because Megan might not be home yet. Then he remembered. She'd made a Crock-Pot dinner this morning because she got paid first of the month. He walked his bike to the end of the hall to No. 312. The newspaper was there, opened, and a little scattered. The Florentinos got the paper every day, and after they read it, they set it outside his and Megan's door. Megan might deliver the paper, but that didn't mean she could take a copy free. That's what she said.
So instead, Mrs. Florentino brought over hers, and that way Cory could read about the 49ers. Especially now, in the preseason.
He used his key and walked into their apartment. Then he set down his backpack and the paper, walked across the room, and opened the front window. Nothing but alleys and winos below, but Cory loved having it open. A little bit of summer came in with the breeze.
Oreo, the cat, rubbed against his ankle.
“Hi, boy.” Cory bent down and rubbed his fur. He was black and white with a lot of gray around the whiskers. Some days he was Cory's best friend. Cory straightened and looked around. The apartment was small, but it was clean. Megan liked clean. And almost every day she left a snack for him. Cory went to the table, and there on a napkin, were two chocolate chip cookies and an empty glass.
“So you'll remember to drink your milk,” Megan always told him. At the other end of the table was the Scrabble box. Each day was a different game. Sometimes Yahtzee or a deck of cards or Memory. But Scrabble was their favorite. They'd eat dinner first and then they'd play a game before homework. Megan was nice that way. Plus, the TV only got four channels clear. So board games were good.
Cory poured himself a glass of milk and sat at the table. The cookies weren't warm, of course, but they tasted like smooth vanilla and Hershey bars. Because that's how Megan made them. Which was nice because Megan didn't have much time. Early mornings, before he was awake, she delivered the Chronicle, and after that, she worked all day at Bob's Diner downtown. Two jobs because she said that's what it took to keep food on the table.
There was the sound of a key in the door and then it opened.
“Cory!” Megan stepped inside. She had a grocery bag in her hands and her cheeks were red, the way they got when she walked fast. She held up the bag. “Fudge brownie ice cream.”
“The best!” Cory stood and ran to her and hugged her tight. When he'd first come to live with Megan, he didn't like to hug her because she wasn't his mom. But she was his mom's friend. And after two years, hugging her was almost as good a
s it used to feel to hug his mom. Plus, Megan liked the 49ers. So that made her and the apartment feel like home. Especially during football season.
Cory took the grocery bag. “Thanks.” He grinned at her. “The Crock-Pot smells good.”
“Not as good as Mrs. Florentino's dinner, but ….” She grinned. “It's the best we can do.”
“Yep.”
He helped put the ice cream in the freezer, and he held the door shut extra long because it didn't stay closed that good.
“Salad?” He opened the fridge and looked at her.
“Of course.” She lifted the lid on the Crock-Pot. “Always salad.”
He took out the head of lettuce and a worn-out knife from the drawer. If he had money of his own, he'd buy Megan some new knives. Forks too. And maybe a warmer sweater for the days she had to walk fast after dark.
They worked together, and Cory smiled to himself. It felt nice having Megan there. When they were sitting at the table eating the Crock-Pot dinner, Cory watched her a couple times when she wasn't looking. She was pretty, and she loved him like he was her own. That's what she said. And maybe she could keep him for good if the court hearings went okay. So far Megan said it was nothing but red tape and the runaround.
Whatever that meant.
Megan put her fork down. “I talked to the social worker again.” A half smile lifted her lips. “I told her I want to adopt you, Cory.”
He finished chewing a bite of potato. “What'd she say?”
“She said” — Megan raised one eyebrow and looked straight at him — “you told her the same thing. About having a dad.”
Cory shrugged. “Yeah.” He studied the pieces of meat still on his plate. Then he looked into her eyes. “Everyone has a dad.”
She gave him a look that said no-funny-business-mister. “You know what I mean.” A sad breath came from her. “If you tell her your dad's in the picture, we'll need his signature. I can't adopt you until he says so.”