Devin was walking up to bat.
“You got this, Devin . . . nice and easy!” Landon’s tone was positive. Devin had struck out twice already this afternoon. But Landon’s encouragement was endless. Another reason Ashley loved him so much.
With the count two and one, he connected with a fastball. Devin hit it over the shortstop into left field, right in the gap.
Ashley and Landon were both on their feet as Devin tore off toward first base. He beat the throw by a mile, prompting the entire fan section to clap and cheer. Ashley high-fived Landon and then sat down. “Yes! He needed that.” She looked up. “Thank You, God.”
As Landon sat, too, Ashley remembered the conversation they’d had this morning over breakfast. God probably doesn’t care about hits and strikeouts. But He’s absolutely concerned with His children.
When they finally got home, Ashley and Landon poured glasses of iced tea and went out onto the front porch. The sun was setting, and the summer breeze was cooler than before. The humidity less intense.
They had just leaned back in the porch swing when Ashley gasped. How could she forget? “Jenna’s text!”
“What?” Landon glanced at her, clearly concerned. “Jenna who?”
“Jenna.” Ashley sat up straighter. “The young teacher from Ohio.”
Landon seemed to process that for a moment. Then it gradually hit him. “The firefighter’s girl. From the Oklahoma City memorial?”
“Yes.” Ashley smiled and put her hand on Landon’s knee. “I love how you keep track of my craziness.”
“I’m good at it.” He grinned. “Okay, so what’s this text?”
“I’ll be right back.” She handed her iced tea to Landon and ran into the house. Once she found her phone, she returned and took her spot beside Landon again. “Listen to this. It’s from Jenna. About Brady.”
“The firefighter.” Landon looked slightly unsure. He set their glasses down on the table next to the swing.
“Yes. The firefighter.” Ashley couldn’t wait to read the text. She started at the beginning. “Okay, here’s what she said: ‘ I’m sorry to bother you, Ashley. I would’ve called but I can’t stop crying, and I had to talk to you . . .’ ”
Landon put one knee up on the swing like he wanted to be completely focused as she read. When she finished, Ashley set her phone on the porch railing. Then she turned to Landon. “Isn’t that terrible?”
“Yes.” Her husband was serious now. “It’s very sad. After they had such a great summer.” He looked at her for a few seconds, his brow raised a little. “You’re not going to Oklahoma tonight, are you?”
The hint of a smile tugged at her mouth. She leaned close and kissed his lips. “No, Landon . . . I’m not going to Oklahoma.”
He was quiet for a minute. “I have an idea.”
“Uh-oh.” She felt the sparkle in her eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re going to Oklahoma.”
“No.” He smiled. “What if you text him? Tell him you’ve been praying for him.” Landon leaned forward. “Just see where it goes. Maybe God will open a door so you can talk to him about faith.”
Ashley felt her heart soar. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Because”—Landon kissed her again—“we’re a team.”
“Yes.” She ran her fingertips over his brow. “We are that. Your heart to mine, Landon Blake. You are the brush I paint with in life.”
“And you”—he searched her eyes, the two of them lost in the moment—“are the colors in my painting.” He leaned back and grinned.
“Let’s pray for him. For a miracle.”
“Yes.”
Landon led the prayer, and it was beautiful. That God would change Brady’s heart and that he would see that the God he’d been avoiding was the very same God who had brought Brady and Jenna together.
When Landon was done, they stayed there on the porch swing, quiet in the gentle breeze. And Ashley did just what Landon had suggested. She sent Brady a simple text:
This is Ashley Blake. God keeps bringing you to mind. This probably seems a little out of left field. But I thought I’d let you know anyway.
She reviewed it and then read it to Landon.
“Perfect.” Landon smiled. “That should start the conversation.”
Ashley hit send and waited. It wasn’t until later that night when she was curled up in the living room recliner reading Devin’s book report that Brady texted back.
Hi Ashley. I know you mean well, and I appreciate that. But please keep God out of this. He took my mother and does nothing to stop the tragedies and heartbreak in this world. You want me to believe in a God like that?
Ashley sat up a little straighter and read his message again. She could almost hear the anger and hurt in his voice, almost see the pain in his eyes. His questions weren’t easy.
Lord, what am I supposed to tell him? How can I get him to understand that You’re real and You care? She looked out the window at the dark night.
My daughter . . . remind him that in this world you will have trouble. But I have overcome the world.
The words ran through her soul as if God were sitting beside her in the living room. Ashley felt chills on her arms. Lord, is that You? The message was clear, and it was something Brady needed to hear. The world had trouble. It always would. But God had overcome the world.
That’s what she needed to tell Brady.
She started to text, and then changed her mind. A real conversation was the only thing that could help at this point. She was sure. But even so she was afraid. What if he got mad or thought she was being too pushy? What if she made things worse? Okay, Father . . . give me the words. Please. She took a deep breath and placed the call.
Brady answered on the second ring. “Ashley.”
“Hi.” The two of them had never actually talked. “I thought it would be easier if I called. Jenna has kept in touch all summer. I feel like I know you.”
He sighed. “I can’t . . . Ashley, I’m not interested. I’m sorry.”
Ashley held her breath . Please, God . . . “I want to answer your question. That’s all.”
“My question?”
“Yes.” She exhaled. At least he was still on the phone. “You asked why you should believe. How you could believe in a God who allows pain and suffering.” Her heart was pounding. “May I answer?”
Silence filled the line for a long moment. “I really don’t want an answer.” He drew a sharp breath. “All right. Go ahead. Maybe I should hear this.”
Yes! She walked out onto the back porch and stood at the railing. The stars danced overhead. “Your mom believed in Jesus, right?”
“Yes.” His answer was quick, frustrated. Barely patient enough to listen. “Right up until a terrorist took her life.”
“Okay.” Ashley gripped the wooden rail. “So if she was a Christian, she believed in the Bible. And she believed in Jesus.”
“She did.” Brady paused. “She loved the Bible.” His voice softened a little. “At least from what I remember.”
Ashley stared at the sky, but suddenly all she could see were the words to the Scripture. “In the book of John it says in this world you will have trouble. It’s a promise.” She let that sink in. “But then it says to take heart . . . Because the Lord has overcome the world.”
He didn’t say anything for a few beats. He paused. “Take heart? So, we’re supposed to chock it up to earth. These things happen?” His tone was gentler. But the hurt remained.
“It’s just earth. I think that’s the point.” Ashley didn’t want to talk longer than he was willing to listen. She tried not to be wordy. “See, all of us deserve.”
“Ashley . . .” He sounded tired. “I know this.”
“Okay.” She leaned against the rail, her eyes still on the sky. “I guess all I’m saying is that this isn’t the end. Every one of us will die.” She was careful not to rush her words. Not to sound forceful. “Jesus offers us a life rope out of this place. Because as great as it is . . . it’s not heave
n.”
Another pause. “Thank you, Ashley. Really.” He was only putting up with her. She could tell. “I gotta go.”
One more thing. That’s all she wanted to tell him. “You can see your mother again. If you believe Jesus died for your sins, if you accept that gift, you will join her in heaven.” She hesitated. “Just think about that. And know this, Brady. I’m praying for you. That God will show you somehow.”
Silence.
Ashley looked at the phone, to be sure he was still on the call. “Brady?”
“You think . . .” His voice was more emotional. “You think she’s in heaven? You believe that?”
“Absolutely.” Ashley felt a ripple of hope. Finally, he was hearing her.
Brady was quiet again. When he spoke, his words were softer. “I need to go, but thanks.” He hesitated. “Really.”
She offered to talk to him again, if he needed anything. He seemed genuinely grateful, and then the call was over. Ashley stared at the phone. The whole conversation had lasted just under eight minutes.
Was it enough to make a difference?
Ashley wasn’t sure. But there was one thing she could do, whether he called her again or not.
She could pray.
• • •
BRADY DIDN’T WORK that Sunday. He had planned to go to the river with a few buddies from the station. But ever since the call from Ashley, all he could do was think about what she’d said.
The only way to see his mom again was to believe. Believe in the very God who had taken her from him. His thoughts battled and fought for position in his aching heart until all he could do was deal with them.
And there was only one place he could do that.
He arrived at the memorial an hour after it opened. This time it was more crowded, not that it mattered. Brady didn’t see the people around him, didn’t hear their voices. Sunglasses on, he walked to the bench where he and Jenna had sat two days earlier. The place where she had told him why she couldn’t stay. Why it wouldn’t work between them.
Brady sat, and for the longest time, he only stared at the wall and the time stamp six feet high, engraved at the top.
9:03.
Jenna had found her way there, found a way to believe in God and move forward in her healing. She was a true survivor. No doubt. Ashley’s words came back to him. If he believed, he would see his mother again. In heaven.
He was contemplating it all when a tall blond guy walked up and sat on the other side of the bench. “Serene, isn’t it?”
Brady was confused. Had he looked like he wanted company? He nodded. “Definitely.”
The guy held out his hand. “I’m Jag. Good to see you again.”
“Brady.” The sun was bright on their faces, so Brady kept his sunglasses on. The stranger wore none. Even so, the sun didn’t seem to bother him. He wasn’t even squinting. “Have . . . we met?”
“A long time ago.” Jag smiled. “You were five. And one other time not too long ago.”
“Okay.” He had no memory of the man. But something about him was familiar. Brady could see that now. Was he part of the club? “Why are you here?”
Jag stared at the wall across from the reflecting pool. “Do you know the motto of the memorial?”
“The motto?” Brady sat up straighter. Who was this guy?
“Yes.” Jag turned to him again. “Come to remember. Leave with resolve.”
Brady hadn’t heard that. “I thought I knew everything about this place.”
“It’s on their website.” Jag hesitated, his eyes locked on Brady’s, like the guy could see straight through his sunglasses. “You’ve spent a lot of time here. Remembering.”
How did the guy know? Despite the summer sun, a shiver ran down Brady’s spine. “How . . . ?”
“You lost your mother here. I know that.” Jag put his hand on Brady’s shoulder. “A lot of people lost much on these grounds.” His look grew more intense, and at the same time, more peaceful. “Leave with resolve, Brady. Resolve to move on. Resolve to make this world a better place.” He paused. “Resolve to believe. You know why?”
“Why?” Nothing about the conversation made sense. How did Jag know him? And how could he know about Brady’s beliefs?
“Because . . . God loves you. More than you know.” Jag stood.
“How do you . . . ?” Brady’s voice trailed off. He had a dozen questions, but before he could ask a single one, Jag shook his hand again. “By the way, there are a few saplings at the main office.”
“At the office?” Brady’s head was spinning. The man knew about the saplings?
“You were looking for one, right?” Jag smiled.
“Yes. For a little girl. But there weren’t any left until . . .”
Jag took a step back and pointed to the museum. “I found two. They’re holding them.”
“I . . . that’s amazing.” Nothing about this made sense. Brady felt tears in his eyes. “Thank you.”
“I gotta go.” Jag stepped away. “See you around, Brady. Leave with resolve.” With that, the man turned and walked off toward the museum.
“See ya . . .” Brady’s words became a whisper.
Brady stared at the time stamp on the wall. What in the world had just happened? How had the stranger known him when he was little? The guy couldn’t have been more than ten years older. And what about the two saplings?
Brady turned to look at Jag again. The guy should’ve been twenty, thirty yards ahead on the sidewalk. But he wasn’t.
The path was empty.
Another shiver ran through him. Where had the guy gone? Nothing about the last few minutes made sense. Brady blinked a few times. Could the guy be an angel? He let that thought sit for a few seconds. No. That wasn’t possible.
For the next hour Brady stayed there, sitting on the bench, thinking about Jag and his words. Leave with resolve . . . Resolve to believe. Whoever the guy was, his message came at the exact right time.
Suddenly the words from Jenna and Ashley ran through his mind.
Words from the Bible.
In this world he would have trouble. That was true, right? That was the whole problem, the trouble in the world. The way evil seemed to win far too often and pain seemed ignored by God.
If there was a God.
But what if there was? What if He really was the way Ashley had described Him? Brady felt the warmth of the sun to the center of his being.
Or maybe that was the conviction spreading from his heart to his soul.
Could they be right? Jenna and Ashley? Was it possible that God loved the world so much that he sent Jesus? Not to protect people from the pain of earth, but to save them from it? Not as the reason for the bad things in the world.
But as the rescue.
Brady pictured his mother, the hazy memory he still carried with him. Yes, her body had been destroyed by the bomb. But because of her faith, Jesus had rescued her. Lifted her right out of the rubble and into His kingdom.
Life to life.
Suddenly, Brady understood what Jag had told him. This was his place to remember. More times than he could count, he had come here to honor his mother, to recall her talking to him. I love you to the moon and back, Brady. To the moon and back. Yes, he had come here to remember.
Now it was time to leave with resolve.
Like Jag said.
Brady took a deep breath and felt an urgency rise within him. He had to exit this place, had to get out of the memorial. With a final look at the time stamp he hurried to the office. There they were. Two saplings from the Survivor Tree. Just like Jag had said. He carried them to his truck and set off through the city. He knew exactly where he had to go, what he had to do.
Minutes later he was knocking on the door of Cheryl and Rodney Fisher.
Cheryl opened the door. Her eyes lit up. “Brady! Why . . . what are you doing here? You look all healed up.” She stepped back. “Come in. Rodney’s in the other room.”
Brady was breathing hard, his heart a
nd head pounding. He remembered a detail from the last time he was here. How Rodney had prayed that something would happen. Something that could only be from God. Like Jag, whoever he was, suddenly appearing.
Like Jenna.
He steadied himself.
“Mrs. Fisher . . . I want to talk. About God.”
“Hallelujah.” She whispered the word. Her smile was as warm as the summer sun. “I knew you’d ask one day.”
He stepped inside and like that his tears came. Quietly, without fanfare. They spilled from his eyes down the sides of his cheeks. “I . . . I have so many questions.”
Cheryl took him in her arms. “You came to the right place, Brady.” Then she looked straight at him. “Rodney and I . . . we have answers.”
Brady nodded and found his composure. He felt a peace and acceptance he hadn’t felt since Jenna left. And for the first time something told him the feeling wasn’t from the Fishers.
But just maybe from God, Himself.
• • •
ANSWERS WEREN’T ENOUGH.
That week fighting fires and responding to accident calls, Brady thought about the things he’d heard recently. First from Ashley, then from the Fishers. God was the rescue in hard times, not the reason for them. Jesus loved Brady enough to die for him. On and on it went. The people he loved had answered every question Brady asked, except the one that bothered him still.
Why?
Why did God take his mother when he was so little? Why did He do that to Jenna? And so, though Rodney and Cheryl had done their best to help Brady believe, he had walked away from their house that day unconvinced.
He couldn’t get past the idea that God could’ve stopped the tragedy, prevented the bombing altogether. A quick zap from heaven and the terrorist never would’ve made it to the Murrah Building.
No fertilizer bomb. No explosion. No devastating destruction.
Brady and Jenna would still have the people they loved. Same with countless others changed by that April day. Confusion about his questions consumed Brady’s every waking hour.
But they didn’t work their way into his bedroom until one stormy night later that week. Brady couldn’t fall asleep. His legs and head ached—something that had been happening less and less frequently. Every ten minutes he had to find a different position—his right side, his left. On his back with one arm over his head.