Peace in the Midst

By Joan P. Walker

The life of Rachael Webster is suddenly turned upside down, when her mother breaks the news to her that she will be leaving her home in Chicago and going to live with her maternal grandparents in Tennessee. Her grandparents are two devout Christians, but Rachael feels out of place around them.Filled with rage and resentment over the decision her parents have made, Rachael sets out to destroy all her chances for happiness by rebelling against authority.
Rachael admires her grandparent’s faith and has grown to respect their prayer life. She listens to Grandmother as she talks to Jesus about her in the wee hours of the night. She wonders if Jesus really cares about her the way grandma says. God’s conviction weighs heavily upon her mind as she ponders what to do next. Finally in desperation, she goes to the bathroom at the school and calls out to Jesus for her souls Salvation. She laid down her load of guilt and shame and Jesus washed her as white as the snow.
Shortly thereafter, Principal prater sends a note home to her grandparents telling of a school board meeting that has been scheduled to review Rachael’s absentees at the school. The note said that they also wanted to address the subject of Rachael’s negative attitude with the other students. At the meeting, Rachael is told that she must finish the school year at The Bentley School for Wayward Girls. Rachael’s stay at the school is very unpleasant at the start. However God opens so many doors at Bentley as he demonstrates his power and love for all.
Upon graduation, Rachael goes to Africa to fulfill her lifelong dream of becoming a missionary. Her long awaited dream of helping the unfortunates was finally going to be realized, or so she thought. Upon entering the village, however, she had serious doubts. The streets were lined with sick and dying people. It was a death camp, not a mission field, especially for the children and elderly. Burying the dead was a daily matter and weighed heavily upon Rachael.
Finally in desperation she decides to go back to America and ask for help for the Kenyan people. After many failed efforts she decides to go visit her parents before going back to Africa.. Who do you suppose she runs into there. You're right, it was her old boyfriend George Fulton..After hearing about the people of Africa and their state, he quits his Chief of Staff position at the local hospital and goes back to Africa with Rachael.
Many years later after a world of success, they come back home to America and settle in the little town of Townsend, Tennessee. They opened a medical clinic on their property and minister to the needs of the people who live in that area.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Sep 9, 2021
• ISBN: 9781098041595

Book preview

Chapter 1

Bad News

This trip to Grandma and Grandpa’s house is just the thing I’ve needed for such a long time. It’s brought back memories I had long ago forgotten, some good and some bad. However, all have left a tremendous mark upon my life, a mark that time will never erase. I had once been forced to leave everything I loved behind and move in here with my grandparents. Oh, how I hated that move! Little did I know then that God was working His divine plan in my life, and it would ultimately lead me and my entire family to accept Jesus Christ as our personal Savior.

It’s been such a lovely morning as I sit here by the bubbling brook, watching the wildflowers raise their tiny heads to the rays of the morning sunshine, listening to the crickets chirping in the distance, and the birds singing their uplifting songs of praise to their Creator. Even the frogs’ croaking seems to be an orchestra of enchanting music as it echoes and amplifies through the hills and valleys below. Tiny pebbles in the crystal-clear stream of water sparkle and shine like diamonds, as the bright sun peeks over the horizon to view this spectacular sight. It almost seems as if I can understand the personality of God a little better, by being in this place, and observing His marvelous handiworks. Even this cold clear stream of water where I sit, dangling my feet, seems to whisper and say, Look at all this beauty I have created for my children to enjoy.

I knew it would be lovely even before I walked up into these hills, but this far exceeds anything I had remembered. In my wildest imagination, I could never have painted a more perfect picture of God and His love for mankind. I can literally see His creative hand in everything my eyes behold. Even the air that I draw into my lungs is a testimony of our Father’s greatness. It’s so hard for me to believe this is the same place I had hated so much as a child, having been forced to live here against my will. It all seems so heavenly now, in such perfect harmony with God. I feel as if I am, in some way, a part of all of this, as if I and all my surroundings have somehow melted and run together and have now become one being, instead of many.

As I feel this gentle breeze blowing softly across my skin and hear the rustling of the leaves high in the tops of the tall oak trees, I can’t help but wonder, could this somehow be the very breath of God I feel blowing across my skin? Has He come down to behold His creations? The book of Samuel does say, He bowed the Heavens also, and came down; and darkness was under His feet. He rode on a cherub and did fly and He was seen upon the wings of the wind. When God sent the Holy Ghost back to this earth, He came with the sound of a mighty rushing wind. I can almost feel that same breeze blowing through my soul at this moment.

These precious hours that I have spent here today have allowed me time to reminisce about my past. It has given me the opportunity to recall the circumstances in my life that eventually led me to accepting Jesus Christ as my personal Savior. Sometimes, it’s hard for me to believe that all these blessings are really mine. I know it’s not because of anything I deserve. It’s just the unmerited love of God. If I should sing His praises from this day forward throughout eternity, I could never give Him the praise due His Holy Name. While I was sitting admiring all this beauty, reminiscing the past, my mind suddenly took me back to an unpleasant scene. I’m sitting beside my mother on the couch, chattering away, when suddenly, she grabbed me by the hand and said, Rachael, I have made a tough decision today, and since it concerns you, I feel we need to talk. I’ve decided to send you to live with Grandpa and Grandma Jones for a little while. I know Tennessee is a long way off, but your daddy and I will call and visit you often.

She seemed so unfeeling, so cold and callous as she spoke. Rachael, I’ve thought about this a lot. As a matter of fact, it’s about all I’ve been thinking about for the last few days. I finalized my decision today by calling your grandparents and asking them if it’s all right if you stay with them at least for the remainder of this school year, maybe longer. I know I should have talked to you earlier, before I talked to your grandparents but I’m telling you now. It will be best for you and all concerned if you go and live with your grandparents for a little while. I don’t expect you to understand it all right now. However, I do expect you to honor and abide by my decision. Believe me when I say, it will be better for all concerned.

I lashed out in protest. Who were you talking about when you said, ‘It would be better for all concerned if I would go and live with my grandparents?’ It must be you and Daddy you’re talking about. It certainly can’t be me! I am not going to live with my grandparents no matter what you say. This is my home, and I’m staying right here where I belong. I should not be forced to leave my home and move in with people I hardly even know. There’s only one place I should be, and that’s with my parents. The only way I’ll be leaving here is in a pine box, and that could and will be arranged if you try to push this issue. With those words and a slam of a door, I ran from the house, hoping all the time that Mother was hot in pursuit, ready to offer an apology. Any explanation or an apology would have been sufficient.

I guess I was just venting my frustration because I knew exactly why my Daddy couldn’t leave Chicago to go for a visit with anyone.

Before he was hired on at his job, he had to sign a contract agreeing to be available seven days a week, twenty-four hours a day. Otherwise they would never have hired him. But that didn’t make it any easier for me now.

Perhaps I had been the victim of one of her cruel, thoughtless jokes. If so, it wasn’t funny to me. As I looked back over my shoulder, I could plainly see that there was no one in sight. I guess it was just wishful thinking on my part to hope that Mother would follow me. She meant every word she had said, and I knew it. Once my mother’s mind was made up about anything, it was virtually impossible to change. It was like a sealed vault, once closed, forever sealed.

I had always loved Grandpa and Grandma Jones as much as any fourteen-year-old could love people she saw only on special occasions. Holidays such as Thanksgiving and Christmas were a special treat for us and had meant so much to our family because it was the chance to see relatives we hadn’t seen in several months, sometimes years. Each time my grandparents said they were coming, however, we planned special events to entertain them. Once we went camping and almost froze to death, but it was a memory we all treasured and laughed about. However, we never felt the need or desire to repeat this adventure again. We made special meals when they told us they were coming for a visit. All the family eagerly joined efforts to make sure my grandparents had a spectacular time during their stay. Mama and Grandma would chatter away like little children. This was the highlight of the year; however, things were so different now, and the thought of living with them seemed preposterous.

To tell the truth, I hardly even knew them. I felt confused and bewildered. I couldn’t believe my parents would have the audacity to suggest such a ridiculous thing. Most of all, I was just plain scared and hurt. How could they do this to me? Did they not love me anymore? It seemed so unfair. After all, I was their only child, their own flesh and blood. How could they think it would be better if I were not around? Had it not been for them, I would never have been in this world. To make things worse, they were asking me to accept their decision with no questions asked. I tried to rationalize their weird behavior, but it didn’t make one bit of sense to me. They weren’t about to offer any kind of explanation as to why I had to go. I deserved better than what they were demanding. Where were the answers I sought? How cruel could they get? I belonged with them for better or worse. You don’t just divorce your children because things aren’t going your way, do you?

My grandparents were strict as well as old-fashioned. If I were to live with them, it would be like stepping back in time a whole generation. Grandma was so religious, almost to the point of being fanatical. Every time she had come to visit us, all she wanted to talk about was a man called Jesus. She rambled on and on about how He had saved her soul from a burning hell. She said eerie, bizarre things like He was her life. I felt uncomfortable around her and Grandpa. However, it seemed I would not be given a choice in this matter. The ball was clearly in Mama and Dad’s court, and we were playing on opposite teams.

After pouting for what seemed to be hours, I went back into the house to fight round two, hoping Mother had thought about the threat I had made and had reconsidered her position on things. It was my only hope. I had to make her understand that I had a side in this. It would be better to try and fail than not to try at all. As I entered the living room, I deliberately slammed the door behind me to make sure my parents knew just how angry I was.

Then I started in on Mother. Obviously you’re not aware of what you’re doing here. To make me leave my home would be a tragic mistake. Can’t you see it’s destroying me to know that you’d even consider sending me away? You can’t make me leave my home. Don’t you care that you’re breaking my heart? Whatever it is that’s bothering you two, we can work it out together. We’re a family, and families pull together, at least that’s what you’ve always told me. You simply must consider that I have nothing in common with your parents. All my friends and loved ones live here. Mother, what about George? If you force me to go, I’ll lose him for sure. George was my neighbor, and I felt like he was the only boy in the world for me. He was the love of my life.

Mother meekly but firmly responded, Rachael, this is not up for debate. I assure you it wasn’t an easy decision for me to make. Sometimes life gets tough, but we can’t give up. We simply must deal with whatever comes our way the best way we know how. That’s the way it is for me right now. I promise you this one thing dear, it will be better in the future. As for George, all I can say is if it’s true love, he’ll be waiting for you no matter how long it takes. If not, then you’re better off without him.

With every word she spoke, I became a little more uptight. Just because she was the one responsible for bringing me into this world, didn’t give her the right to ruin my life. I knew the way she thought, and I was convinced that every word I had spoken had fallen on deaf ears. I had to find a way to make her listen. Somehow, I had to find a way to change her mind. If there was even the faintest possibility that a little guilt trip could help motivate her, then I wasn’t above using it. I wasn’t trying to be crude, but I needed some answers. I spoke slowly but deliberately, hoping to jar her reasoning.

Mother, what you’re suggesting is driving me crazy. If you’re going to force me to leave home, then at least tell me why I must go. Is it something I’ve said or done? If so, just name it and I’ll do my best to straighten it out. Please don’t send me away like a blind man groping in the darkness.

I realized that she was trying to play the role of a tough guy, but that last statement of mine broke her. She cried like a whipped child. She put her arms around me and said, Please, honey, don’t talk like that. You can’t blame yourself for this mess. You haven’t done anything wrong. I just think it will be best if you go and live with your grandparents for a while. There are a lot of things going on in our family that you’re not aware of. I need a little space to decide what I want to do about it all.

Just above a whisper, I growled through clenched teeth, Tell me the real reason I must go. You haven’t told me anything yet. I don’t think it’s asking too much to want you to level with me. Why are you so worried about telling me the real story? What’s going on here? This is my life that you’re messing with too. It’s not just yours and Daddy’s anymore. You’ve evaded every question I have asked you today. Can’t you see that I’m not a child anymore? Won’t you please at least try to talk to me on an adult level? I might surprise you, you know. Mother’s blank stare and misty eyes didn’t help the situation one bit.

Ordinarily, I would never have talked to my parents that way. I simply wasn’t raised to do so, but the things they were suggesting now would take me far away from George, and what would I do then?

Mother fell silent for only a few seconds before she said, Rachael, I’m not ready to discuss my personal reasons for making this decision. Maybe someday I’ll tell you all about it, but this is not the time or the place. Please, honey, just try to trust me on this one, and don’t bother to ask me any more questions. She raised her hand in a policeman’s stop-or-else position. I knew this to be a gesture which signified that this conversation should not, and would not, continue under any circumstances.

For the first time in my life, I became almost paranoid with fear. I had absolutely no idea what to do. I was being forced to leave everything I loved behind. How was I going to deal with such a devastating blow? This simply couldn’t be happening to me, or could it? I felt so helpless and alone.

I wondered if her decision could have had anything to do with Daddy’s attitude lately. He had been so moody and nervous all the time, whining and complaining about the least little thing. He was forever demeaning Mother. Nothing she did seemed to please him. Her clothes were either too tight or too loose and always the wrong color. He was quick to comment on her size. If she gained a pound or two, she was getting fat; if she lost a little, he would tell her she looked like a skeleton. He even complained about her cooking. If she fixed hamburgers, he wanted a large home-cooked meal. If she cooked a large meal, he wanted hamburgers or pizza. It was impossible for her to please him although she kept trying.

For the last couple of months, he had been staying out late at night. Occasionally, he had not come home at all. In the wee hours of the morning, I lay in my bed listening to Mother crying uncontrollably. She had always had this thing about not wanting me to know when she was hurting. I guess it was her way of trying to protect me. She had waited until the wee hours of the morning, long after she thought I was sleeping, to let her wounded heart bleed. Time and time again, I thought about going into her room and trying to comfort her, but I decided it would be best to let her have her privacy. If she had waited until two or three o’clock in the morning to vent her anxiety, then I owed it to her to give her the time she so carefully sought. She had wanted this thing to remain strictly between her and Daddy, and that’s the way it would be. I would honor her wishes if it killed me, and at times, I thought it just might.

Chapter 2

Sad Goodbyes

The next few days were so hard to go through. Saying goodbye to all my friends at the school was the hardest thing I had ever been forced to do. They were more like brothers and sisters than classmates. I had been with this same group for more than nine long years. How I resented those goodbyes. When they asked why I would be leaving the school, I simply had no reasons to give. All I could say was, Your guess is as good as mine. My parents said I have to go, and around our house, that makes it law. After all, it was just as big a mystery to me as it was to them.

My grandparents lived about six hundred and fifty miles from our house. Would I ever see my friends and loved ones again? I was going to miss them all so much. What would George do while I was away? Most likely he’d find himself another girl and forget about me. I had grown so close to George over the years. Being neighbors had allowed us the opportunity to see each other practically every day. It was no secret that I had a major crush on him. He and I went to the same school; in fact, Daddy drove us to and from school each day. On weekends, we were together almost all the time. We were together so often that Mother teased George about being my shadow. He’d just laugh and say, I like that.

In the evenings when he and I finished our chores, we would sit in an old porch swing on my front porch and talk for long hours about our future plans. Strangely, George and I never tired of saying the same things over and over to each other. I must have heard about his dream of going to Harvard and becoming a medical doctor thousands of times. Yet every time I heard him speak about his dreams, it became more thrilling than the last. He’d tell it somewhat differently, adding something new in the hope of expressing his views more clearly. He wanted to make sure I understood just how important this dream was to him.

He heard about my plans to go to Yale and become a nurse just as many times as I heard about his wanting to go to Harvard University to become a doctor. We vowed to one another to make our dreams come true no matter what the cost or how hard the work. The time I spent with George was the highlight of my life. I guess to some, our courtship would have seemed rather dull or boring, but not to George or me. There was absolutely nothing on earth we would rather do than dream about our future. We could talk about anything and everything right there on that old porch swing. We shared laughter as well as tears. There was a special bond formed between George and me right there on that old country porch swing.

A few years back, Stanley Brown, one of my favorite country music singers, recorded a catchy little tune called The Old Porch Swing. As I listened to the lyrics of that song, it almost seemed as if it had been written about George and me. It brought back so many memories and conversations we had as we rocked back and forth to the rhythm of the swing. When I first heard the song playing on the radio, I had to laugh because it was the story of our lives. We were simple people, and it didn’t take much to make us happy. Living in the suburbs of Chicago had allotted us all the freedom of country living, with the luxuries of city life. Oh, if life could only be that simple again.

Yes, George was my best friend in this world. There was no other boy anywhere who could measure up to my George. He was my dream come true, my knight in shining armor, my wish upon a star. I felt like the most fortunate girl in the whole wide world to have him as my beau. All my girlfriends envied me. They would have given anything to have him look in their direction, and they never missed an opportunity to let it be known.

Lori Tucker, one of my best friends since grade school, boldly came right out and told me that if I ever decided to give him up, she wanted to be the first to know. Her remark didn’t bother me too much the first time I heard it. As a matter of fact, I felt rather flattered by her comment. I knew where I stood with George, and I felt secure and snug in our relationship. I just winked at George, smiled, and replied, Fat chance, Lori. Don’t hold your breath waiting for my call.

She laughed too, but not convincingly, because I watched as she winked at George and flashed her phenomenal smile in his direction. Yes, she was beginning to annoy me, so it was bound to come to a head after a while, but it came a little earlier than I had anticipated. The next day, she walked up to me, but this time, I was ready for her. She handed me a paper and pencil and asked for George’s telephone number. Quickly, I responded, What kind of fool do you take me for Lori? I’m not going to give you his phone number, so back off. Then I quickly added, If you don’t, I’ll be forced to punch you right in the mouth. I think she got the picture because I never heard her mention his name again, at least not to my face she didn’t.

George assured me I didn’t have to worry about any other girls because none of them were his type. Once I asked, George, I hope you don’t mind my asking, but what exactly is your type?

He quickly got out of his chair and said, Follow me, Rachael. There’s just one way to answer your question, but you’ll have to come with me. Then he marched me straight in front of a long, oval-shaped mirror and said, Look, do you see that girl staring back at you? Well, that’s my type. There’s only one of them in this world. God broke the mold the day He made her. That was the sweetest thing George had ever said to me. With words like that floating around inside my head, how could I feel insecure? However, those words would be put to the test.

George was an absolute knockout. He had the most beautiful red hair that I had ever seen. It was shoulder length but very well groomed. It glowed as the sun rays bounced off the top of his head. I often teased him and called him my walking, talking stop sign. He knew I loved him just the way he was; therefore, he took my teasing like a true sport. He had the cutest bunch of freckles I had ever seen. They seemed to double, or quite possibly triple, in the summertime. I was constantly teasing him about his appearance. He didn’t mind my words because he knew I wouldn’t change one thing about him even if I could. His freckles reminded me of the sand on a seashore. His deep blue eyes had a piercing quality, almost as if they could look into your inner being and see your very soul. I tingled all over, and chill bumps ran up and down my spine every time I looked at him. I sure hoped those feelings were normal, because if they were not, then I had the most acute case of abnormal that anyone could possess.

George had settled it in his mind that, someday, he would become a doctor. He wanted so much to spend his life in service to others. He loved the poor and underprivileged, those who had not been given the same chance in life that he had been given. His heart, it seemed, was made of pure gold, a rare, once-in-a-lifetime treasure. How could Mother ask me to walk away and forget about him? This kind of treasure was so rare. It only came along once in a lifetime, if at all.

As the time of my departure drew near, I became depressed and despondent. I felt as if my heart was being ripped out of my chest by some invisible force. I had never thought much about God before, but I remembered what Grandma had told me on many occasions. Her exact words were, God always listens to sinners when they care enough to call. I thought to myself, why not give God a try and see what happens?

I bowed down on my knees and prayed one of the most pitiful, pathetic prayers anyone has ever prayed. I started out by asking God to go ahead and let me die. I elaborated on how my parents had turned against me here. I was no earthly good to anyone any more. Something had to be done to stop the agonizing pain inside my heart, and this was as good a solution as I could come up with. It almost sounds comical as I recall that prayer today, but believe me, it was no laughing matter back then. I was hurting so badly I thought I had to have relief, even if it had to come by way of death.

How I thank God for unanswered prayer. He oversees everything and knows what is inside our hearts even before we cry out to him. I guess God overlooked my plea because it was done in ignorance. He knows how weak the flesh can be. It’s a good thing for us that Jesus once dwelled in a body of flesh; therefore, He knows the feeling of our infirmities. I most certainly would have been in serious trouble had God chosen to answer my foolish prayer that day because I certainly wasn’t spiritually prepared to meet my Creator. I see things differently now, though. God teaches us so many valuable lessons through the hardships and trials He allows us to go through. His wisdom so far exceeds that of mortal man. Our minds simply cannot comprehend the greatness of God.

After I prayed to die and nothing happened, I felt as if God had abandoned me too, and my life took a drastic turn for the worse. Self-pity, such a destructive force, had somehow eaten its way into my life. I simply could not get beyond the thought that I was about to lose George. My insecurities deepened with every passing day. George was the catch of a lifetime, and with me gone, I knew a lot of girls would be chasing him. How would I be able to compete with people like Lori Tucker, if I lived more than six-hundred miles away?

George tried his best to convince me that he’d be waiting for me no matter how long it took. He told me he wasn’t interested in other girls, but this time, his words could not penetrate my aching, troubled heart. I kept thinking there was no way of knowing that he will always love and want me. Sure, he might have been sincere when he said those words to me. In fact, I was certain of it, but people’s attitudes can and do change. I was very much aware of that cruel reality. I had thought for sure that my parents would always love and want me, but now they could hardly wait to get me on a bus and headed for Tennessee. I knew if their attitudes could change, so could George’s. Their decision to send me away and thoughts of losing George had destroyed all my self-esteem.

Tormenting thoughts plagued me daily. George had become such a big part of my life that I couldn’t imagine going on without him. There would be a void in my life that nothing or no one could fill. All my days would be empty and meaningless. I would never have anything to look forward to again. A carousel of thoughts such as these constantly played in my mind. George was my entire life. Without him, I felt that I had no life. There would be no reason for the sun to rise in the morning. My body would be a tomb used to house a dead heart. I couldn’t picture a day without him much less months or maybe even years. How would I function if he wasn’t there to steer me in the right direction?

I couldn’t believe my parents hadn’t cared enough to ask my opinion before making such a crucial decision. They weren’t even willing to listen as I tried to volunteer my thoughts on the subject. Everything had to be done their way. What a selfish attitude they had displayed. I had never questioned their authority, leadership, and set of rules. I had always been taught that the parents made all major decisions and the children were to abide by those decisions, no questions asked. Now, however, that rule looked unethical and prejudiced in their favor. Had everything they taught me been a plot to get what they wanted out of life? Was life with them a giant chess game? If so, I was getting bumped off by the king and queen.

My parents were treating me as if I were a child and that made me furious. Couldn’t they look at me and see that I was not a child anymore? In four years, I would be classified as a legal adult. My parents had gotten married when she was only sixteen years old. That was only two years older than I was now. Trying to reason with them was like trying to tear down the Empire State Building with one’s bare hands. I had always believed holding grudges was such a waste of one’s valuable time and life. Yet here I was, so filled with bitterness and indignation, trapped like a bird in a cage, not knowing how or why this blatant child abuse was happening to me. I did not want to leave my home and my love.

Chapter 3

Heartbreaking Journey

A week later, I was on a bus headed for Tennessee. The bus sped down the road at a ridiculous, dangerous speed, one that, in the back of my mind, showed the cruelty of the driver who would hurry to take me far away from everything, everyone, every dream I had ever had. The mountains, long my favorite scenery, went unnoticed, lost in a fog-like blur of my bitterness.

Twenty-four grueling hours later, the bus pulled up in front of the Greyhound Bus Station in Knoxville, Tennessee. We could have made that trip in much less time if the bus driver hadn’t felt the need to stop in every town between Chicago and Tennessee to pick up luggage or passengers. Some of the towns were so small they only had one traffic light. The bus driver stopped almost every hour on the hour for us to stretch our legs or use the restrooms. In Cincinnati, Ohio, we had a two-hour layover. That’s where we ate our lunch. I’ve never been so tired in all my life. My head was throbbing from the sound of the bus’s diesel engine.

My spirit sank lower by the minute as I spotted my grandparents waving and smiling at me from their car windows. I wanted to scream as loudly as I could, to tell them there was nothing to smile about. My life was falling apart right before my eyes, and I couldn’t do a thing about it. How I longed to make them understand my feelings, to hear them say that my parents had been wrong in sending me to live with them. I felt like screaming, Please let me go back to Chicago, It’s my home! I want to be with my family, I want to see George. Will you listen to what I’m trying to tell you? I don’t want to live with you! How desperately I wanted to say those words to my grandparents. But instead of embarrassing myself by making a scene, I reluctantly composed myself, walked to the car, climbed into the back seat, and quietly sat down.

Within minutes, Grandma was chattering away as Grandpa drove toward their little home near the Smoky Mountain National Park. She kept telling me how wonderful it was going to be to have a child in their house once again. Her words, Children have a way of making a place come alive, made me cringe. She continued with her unwelcome words. Yes, I’ve missed the sound of children so much since mine grew up and moved away. I’ve always loved to hear the pitter patter of little feet running across the floor and the sounds of laughter echoing through the hallway. Grandma chattered on, It’s just a house until a child comes along, and then it becomes a real home. Gently but firmly, I rebuked Grandma.

I’m not a child anymore, Granny.

She took my words smoothly. Of course, you’re not a child, dear. I know that. You’ll have to overlook me at times. It’s just that I’m getting older, and sometimes, I can get mighty thoughtless.

Grandpa changed the subject by pulling the car to the side of the road and calling my attention to a breathtaking view of the mountains. Although the scenery that stretched out before me was indescribably beautiful, I knew there was much more than what met the eye. Although I was reluctant to voice my opinion to my grandparents, for a few brief moments, I felt peace in the midst of the storm. The Smoky Mountains, even in my state of turmoil, seemed to have a healing balm that penetrated everything that came near them.

Once we arrived at my grandparents’ home, I was astonished at the simplicity of their life style. It seemed they were perfectly happy although all they had were bare necessities. This was a far cry from the luxuries to which I had become accustomed. Where was all this peace they had found coming from? They had next to nothing yet they seemed to have everything. I had to think long and hard on that one and didn’t fully understand it until I accepted Jesus Christ as my personal Savior.

Grandma politely escorted me to my room, but before she exited, she said, Rachael, if you’d like, you may take a short nap. I’ll wake you as soon as I have supper ready. She turned to leave, paused, and turned to me once again, saying, Honey, I want you to pay close attention to what I’m about to say. This is your home for as long as you’re with us. I want you to think of it in that way. If you ever feel the need to talk to someone, I hope you’ll remember what I’ve said here today. Grandpa and I will be more than happy to listen to whatever you have to say. Our ears may be old, but they’ve heard a lot of problems down through the years. I’d like to think we’ve helped solve a few. With those words, she calmly walked out of my room and closed the door behind her.

I sat down on the side of my bed, thinking, Yeah, Grandma, right. No disrespect intended, but this is not my home, nor will it ever be. Home is where the heart is. I had left my heart back in Chicago with George. I wondered if he could be thinking about me at that moment. Mom had always told me that when you’re thinking about someone, it usually means they’re also thinking about you too. I was certainly thinking about George. As a matter of fact, it felt like he stayed on my mind twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. I wondered, Could it be possible that George thinks about me as often as I think of him?

I looked about my tiny little room so full of nothing except the basics. There was a twin bed covered by a colorful patchwork quilt, a small four-drawer chest topped with an old silver mirror that was darkened in a spot or two, and a small table sitting in the corner of the room. There wasn’t even a television or radio in the room. All I could find was an old leather Bible with tattered pages that had been placed on the table. In gloom, I pictured my parents having a blast at my expense. They just hadn’t wanted a kid around anymore. It might cramp their lifestyle.

My life had suddenly turned into one mixed-up soap opera. It was like something you’d expect to read in a horror magazine or on the front page of the newspaper. I could just picture the headlines: Parents Abandon Innocent Child! This was certainly going to be a rough year for me; my parents were making sure of that. There was so many unanswered questions lingering inside my head, and I had no answers. Why did my parents feel it was necessary for me to have to go? Why couldn’t they love me as much as I did them? I was feeling totally abandoned and alone, and that’s a bad combination for anyone to have to contend with. Despite all the turmoil I was feeling inside, I crawled into bed and somehow fell into a restless sleep. I dreamed a most unusual dream and woke trembling in a cold sweat. In my dream, the devil was a king and I was bowing before his throne to worship him.

Suddenly, the Lord appeared before me. His appearance would stagger the mind. He was clothed in gorgeous, immaculate clothing unlike anything I had seen before. His loins were even covered with superior gold. I mean, it wasn’t the yellow gold I was familiar with here on this earth. This world’s gold was so much less than what I saw in my dream. It was more like transparent gold. A crown of gold was glistening on top of His head. I can’t explain it the way I saw it in my dream, but His voice sounded as though it were the voice of a great multitude. He shined like the sun, only brighter. He stepped between Satan and me and commanded me to stand to my feet. He spoke as one having great authority.

My Father has sent me to warn you about Satan and to expose him for what he really is. You, child, are in grave danger. He is out to damn and destroy your soul eternally. He made it clear that I was to worship the one and only true God. He kept emphasizing the fact over and over that there was no other way to come to the Father except through the blood of Jesus Christ, God’s own precious Son. He explained how Satan was a thief and a liar, and was out to kill, to steal, and to destroy. As soon as He delivered the message, He vanished. I awakened, clutching Grandma’s colorful quilt to my chest like a shield, trembling in a cold sweat.

What could this dream have meant? I hadn’t been worshiping Satan. I wasn’t even sure what worshiping Satan meant; nevertheless, I had always pictured a huge gathering of people dancing around a campfire in the middle of the night, chanting some garbage in another language. I sure wasn’t a witch. I had never been a part of anything that involved Satan or the occult. I shied away from anything I didn’t understand. I was basically a good person, and I thought that should have been good enough for anybody. I’ll admit, though, that I didn’t live like Grandma and Grandpa with all their preaching and singing. I felt like I was somewhere in between the two lifestyles.

I wondered if I should tell Grandma about this dream. If I said anything to her, she might worry, or even worse, she might use it as an opportunity to preach to me. I decided it might be the wisest thing for me to just accept the status quo and remain silent. I certainly didn’t want her thinking I was getting religious or something weird like that.

Moments later, Grandma knocked on my door. It’s time to come down and eat supper, dear. I know you have to be starving by now. Realizing that it had been several hours since I had eaten, I washed my face, combed my hair, and made my way into the dining area. By the time I arrived, my grandparents were already seated at the table.

Grandpa was smiling pleasantly as he spoke. I hope you’re as hungry as I am, Rachael, because Grandma’s cooked up a feast for us. Right now, I feel like I could eat a horse.

As I looked at the table and all that was sitting before me, I thought, Yes, Grandpa, you’re probably about to do that very thing, but despite my pessimistic attitude, I kept my unasked-for opinion to myself.

It was obvious that Grandma had gone to a lot of trouble preparing what she thought to be a royal feast for those she loved. There must have been at least a dozen different kinds of food on the table. I saw things that I had only read about in books like fried rabbit, poke salad, and fried green tomatoes. However, there were several dishes that I was familiar with because Mom cooked a lot like Grandma. I saw fried potatoes, pinto beans, slaw, and cornbread. I remember at least three different kinds of meat on the table. Grandpa said we could thank him for the venison meatloaf because he had killed an eight-point buck when he went deer hunting earlier that year. There were some dishes that I wasn’t familiar with. God and Grandma were the only ones to know for sure what they were, and I wasn’t about to ask. Our drinks, large glasses of buttermilk, were already sitting beside each plate.

Grandma was beaming as she relayed the good news, a pinto bean pie was baking in the oven and should be done by the time we had finished our main course and were ready for dessert. Yummy! I thought sarcastically, I can hardly wait to finish my meal. That’s all I need, a bad case of gas. Despite my pessimistic outlook, however, my stomach reacted to the wonderful aroma circulating in Grandma’s kitchen. My mouth began watering and my taste buds were eager to be satisfied.

The next thing that happened, however, left a tremendous mark upon my life, a mark that time shall never erase. I sat down and picked up my fork, but Grandma made a peculiar noise as if she were trying to clear her throat or perhaps get my attention without being overly conspicuous. I heard, Ahem. At that moment I looked up to see Grandpa’s right hand clasping Grandma’s left hand, and both were reaching their free hand toward mine. Sheepishly, I put down the fork, joined my hands with theirs, bowed my head and closed my eyes.

Before anyone was allowed to take the first bite, Grandpa bowed his lovely gray head and prayed a prayer that I have never been able to forget. I know it would have stirred the heart of any angel, so you can imagine what it did for me. First, Grandpa thanked God for his food, family, their health, and the fact that we were all alive and together. He thanked his Lord for keeping evil away from his family. He even mentioned me by name, and that really did something to my heart. I almost cried when he thanked God for allowing him and Grandma the time to spend with their granddaughter. Then he asked for wisdom so that he might make the right decisions concerning his family. He asked for God’s will to be revealed to him.

I had never heard or seen anything like that before, and I couldn’t keep from feeling a little ashamed of the resentment I had been feeling toward my grandparents. After all, it wasn’t their fault that things had turned out the way they had for me. I knew I shouldn’t be blaming my problems on them. They were wonderful people, genuinely concerned about my welfare. All they were doing was trying to help me. They were trying to do what my parents refused to do. They really and truly wanted to be there for me. It wasn’t as if they were in some way responsible for my problems. My parents were the ones I should be uptight with. These two dear old saints were the only ones who did care right now.

After the dishes were done, Grandpa drove me by the school where I was to enroll for classes the next morning. Before I had left Chicago, I had made George a solemn promise that I would stay in school at all cost. I also promised to write him every day and tell him how things were going in my life. I hoped he would always want me to honor those