Gabriella only half understood what she was about to do. After all, she wasn’t a believer. She couldn’t have understood that the Host of Heaven stood by, silently urging her to utter the prayer that would put into motion the plan that was set before the beginning of time. There was no way for her to fathom what it meant to trust her child’s life to God and His plan. She couldn’t anticipate the gnawing pain of uncertainty, the painful releasing of her own will, the unimaginable loosening of her embrace. The awful, relentless letting go.
No, the only thing on Gabriella’s mind at that moment was the life of her only son. The punishing rain whipped hard against her skin, and she felt the urging of unseen forces. A determined gust of wind compelled her to her knees—the tears of soul-understanding violently coursed down her cheeks.
“God, if you’re really there,” she whispered. “Please don’t take my son away from me.”
Gabriella paused, tried to quell the panic threatening to overwhelm her. The wind continued to push her to the ground. She swallowed roughly and lifted her eyes toward the sky. She was desperate, would do anything if only Sammy could live. Even petition this God she had grown to hate. “If you’ll spare my Sammy, I promise to relinquish control of his future and put it into your hands. I make this oath to you: Let him live, and I’ll give him back to you.”