Four Summits to Truce

By Jocelyn Agate

Four Summits to Truce is a short read about two couples, dedicated friends, who grew up in a very dreadful tree. They blazed some hard trails, trying to get away from that tree. Through change and growth, situations led to a crucial decision to step out of the tornado of chaos and into the world of normal. The tree refuses to let them go. One day, one incident, one choice and suddenly their life is on another course, then another and another. When they felt that they had finally escaped that tree, a decision to go to a church led them to an alien world, another course, where they would be amongst new people they didn’t understand and face more situations that weren’t expected.
What happens when two couples step out of the tornado and join the world of normal, then decide to join a church? We explore that here in this short story with truths woven in. Join them on this journey as they evolve and try to assimilate to this alien world. There is a surprising character at the end and some concluding questions for the church.
Don’t miss Quiet Moments at the Boulders, reflections, meditations, and some expansions on pages from Four Summits to Truce, coming soon.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Feb 27, 2024
• ISBN: 9798385015672

Jocelyn Agate

Jocelyn lives at high altitude on a mountain road with her family, friends and neighbors, wayward dogs, recusant cats and other reprobates, where she fits in the best. A strong woman who came from rough beginnings and started out learning life lessons the hard way, her advocacy of girls and women who suffer in silence is heartfelt, having been one herself. She is a researcher, intrigued with scripture and human nature, often digging down to the roots, reserved and quiet, but don’t let that fool you, her brain is usually observing. When she’s ready to speak, she speaks boldly and directly, with surprising discernment and insight. As a survivor and overcomer, resilient and persevering, her takeaways on hard things are often laced with honesty, humor and impact. Her friends say that she can be tenacious and feisty. They appreciate her honesty, never having to guess what she really means. They describe her as a woman who loves God, who takes things in stride, is intelligent, creative, artistic, talented, funny, interesting and greatly loved.

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Copyright © 2024 Jocelyn Agate.

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This book is a work of non-fiction. Unless otherwise noted, the author and the publisher make no explicit guarantees as to the accuracy of the information contained in this book and in some cases, names of people and places have been altered to protect their privacy.

WestBow Press

A Division of Thomas Nelson & Zondervan

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Bloomington, IN 47403

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

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and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Scripture quotations marked (KJV) are taken from the King James Version, public domain.

Scripture quotations marked (NKJV) are taken from the New King James Version. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

ISBN: 979-8-3850-1566-5 (sc)

ISBN: 979-8-3850-1567-2 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023924631

WestBow Press rev. date: 02/20/2024

CONTENTS

Acknowledgements

Introduction

Part 1 Winter’s Call

Part 2 Thistles and Wildflowers

Part 3 Summer’s Light

Part 4 The Threshing Floor

Questions for the Beloved Churches

The Numbers Four and Fifteen

List One- Bridge

List two- Presumptuous, unhelpful, hurtful things people say

References of Four Summits to Truce

Highlights to Four Summits- Writer’s Quotes

About the Author

This book is

dedicated to Baby J. and all the girls out there, who lost their beloved grandmas and their loving support way too soon, because of the dreadful tree.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Thank you to my household who gave me the room and the time to write this book. I am most grateful to my patient spouse, my rock, my encourager and inspiration, there aren’t enough words. Without his support and his belief in me, this book wouldn’t be possible. He stood by me, patiently gave me the space to complete it without complaint and cheered me on. There is nothing like a supportive spouse. I’m grateful. Thank you. I love you.

This story would never have been possible without the compassion and support of my soul sisters and a Trusted Someone. They offer themselves up, become a living rope, they pull us back in when we are thought lost. They perform soul surgeries on kitchen tables and quiet rooms where no one sees. They taught me to trust, became my family and gave me the path back to who I was, before everything became too much. With them, I found safety, a path to maturity, a purpose. They are the silent army going on the front lines, refusing to let their sisters be left behind. We stand in the warmth of the fire together now, ever ready to go back out into those dark places and help those sisters who hurt like we did. How I wish my maternal line could have had you too. They were so brave and so alone.

Special thanks to both my grandmothers who took a huge role in my life. They taught me about faith, perseverance and what it means to be strong. Thank you to my aunt, grandfather, and uncles, excellent examples I had growing up. You were stable and trustworthy. I am forever grateful to your contributions to my life, which continue to bless me even today. Thank you to my unique and interesting father and mother, who bravely became parents, for the positive contributions they made to my life as well. I’m grateful.

I want to give special thanks to Pastor Tom who bridged two worlds and offered a sanctuary for all. You protected your sheep from wolves, standing bravely at the gate. In your humble and consistent way, your discernment, your teaching, doors opened to a church for heavy lifters, all welcome, as if it were easy. You and your wife gave me legs. I am forever grateful for your example. As your sons and grandsons carry the torch now, and rightfully so, I miss you. We miss you. Thank you for giving us a family example. Because of you, it felt safe to go to that altar and publicly declare that Jesus is my Lord and Savior. I don’t think you even comprehend how many lives you touched in your years of service. The world needs so many more like you.

Thank you to the singers and songwriters who help our minds to still and hear God’s message to us, while driving the car, thinking about worrisome things, folding the laundry, doing the dishes, warding off depression or worshipping in the sanctuary. Two of my most favorite songs, Beautiful Things by Michael Gungor, and Words to Build a Life on by Mike Crawford, You open us. I never knew God could see me that way until I heard your song. There are so many songs that do that to us. Thank you all for the songs. You are a vessel of cool water on a hot day.

Thank you to the workers and helpers who are humble and obedient to your call. Thank you for the prayers, the support, the meals to the home during medical crisis, the rides to Dr.’s, the prayers of protection over our home, for helps of every kind. Thank you to the ones who look out for our kids, really look out for them, when we can’t. Thank you for the clothing closet ministries, firewood ministries, food bank ministries, that you run to help us keep on during hard times. You have the fire.

INTRODUCTION

I wasn’t willing to make any contribution here. My life has been peaceful, stable, I’m good. I’ve accepted all the consequences and found a place of quiet. God gets after me to write again. I write, then tear it up, throw it away, burn it. People are mean. I don’t like them. I enjoy my seclusion. It’s not my problem. I have a little Oiser (Weezah) in me. People like to whack the Oisers. Haven’t I been through enough? Every argument I could lob, I lobbed at God. I don’t want to. This world I observe, people, my memories, tears and blood. I don’t like to visit that tree. God tapped me on the shoulder and said, It’s time to write that story. There will be pieces of you in it for your soul sisters coming up the path and I have a message for you to deliver. You’re not burning this one. Why not Nathan, why me? Tears and blood. I knew it was time, this was going to hurt. Things might come after me. I’m an ordinary person. This would be uncomfortable.

There were many points where this felt too hard. At night, quiet in the room typing, after the family had gone to bed, I’d feel a presence. It’s the kind that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. I know that presence well. My changes came at a cost. I kept going, typing. God, I’m not sure I can’t do this, I’d say. I wanted to quit. He’d give me peace, give me strength. Some nights, that tree threatened me again in dreams; ironically my heart beat was calm. It was like watching a movie. Towards the end, of writing this book, there was a medical attack, a very disrupting kind of attack, the kind that puts you in the hospital. The first attack left my face asymmetrical, it came after me again, out of nowhere, while writing this story. It affected my vision and balance, neuro issues, a temporary setback.

You have to write it down or it will keep you up at night. That is something that happens to a writer. There’s nothing on TV in the hospital at night. I wrote things down on napkins. There, it’s down, now I could get a little sleep. Even the cat got in on it at home. One night, she leapt up behind me, scurried across the keyboard, a blue line, the entire file deleting, no button would stop it, and I shut down the computer, days of work to rewrite. I still don’t know what button she touched. Maybe our huge Garfield cat, was taunting her again, put her big, wide paw on the tip of her tail again and spooked her. When I came home from hospital, there was a little bullying there. Our Garfield cat has a quiet, but profound way of getting the other cats attention. I want this spot now, move. She’s a big cat. I held each of them and pet them, told them its okay, I’m home. The bullying stopped. I kept writing with neuro issues that made it harder to keep writing, but they did settle down and become ineffective. Talk about a lot of editing though, wow.

In the years preceding this, actions like helping young adult throwaways, rescuing a girl about to be trafficked, putting myself on the front lines, backroom rescues, tears across the kitchen table with linked hands, some medical and financial setbacks came against this house, but nothing like when I wrote. Why do think I tore up the writing and burned it, several times? When God asks you to do something, you’d better do it or you’ll have no peace. You will end up in the whale. The day I finished this story and it was ready to print, someone wrecked, was run off the road. The next day a mishap at work injured another. If you’re doing something that’s going to shake people up, if there’s fire in it, things will come after you and your family. I went back in and added this. Let me tell you who’s in charge here, was the threat. Well, you just messed with the wrong person here and this is going to print. This was my reply. Tears and blood went into this little book. Things came after our household. That is the discourager. It will help someone, that was the encourager. I decided to go with the encouragement, to help someone instead of bowing down to that threat.

But He giveth more grace. Wherefore he saith, God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace to the humble. Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. (James 4:6-7, KJV).

Pastors and courageous folks shake people up, face threats with their own households all the time. They put themselves on the line for that message that will set you free on Sunday, or in books, knowing attacks might come and still do it. They have the fire. A sermon, a pastor, a simple story, some characters, a message in between from an ordinary writer, the reaction in the spirit realm is Barney in Mayberry, don’t you think? Not when the fire is involved. There’s freedom in that sermon, that message, that book.

No one wants to be Nathan before David. He could have been slain right there, delivering that message. This was a King. You think he didn’t think about that on the journey there? Thinking, this could be the day I die. People can be crueler than Kings. I‘m nothing close to Nathan, but it feels that intimidating. I have learned not to question, but to trust. Thy will be done. He gave me the open hand, deep breath, the courage, the fire, the message.

This book is for my soul sisters out there heading up the path, unsure of what’s going on. Characters in a story, the revisiting of that tree, the mess before the message, pieces of my story in there too, names and details altered to protect other’s privacy. Even to the last day, after God clearly spoke, I questioned it, feeling enormous condemnation at my heels, breaking the rule, ‘don’t tell.’ As I waited for the Publisher to call, to go to print, I came across Rick Renner, unknown to me, talking about God urging his writing, questioning himself and hearing doubts, negative fears, concluding with God’s message God will speak through your fingers. Well, that’s pretty clear. I am an ordinary person who got past it and that is the point of this book. It is about what a person experiences, the emphasis on that common experience, so often kept silent through shame, secrets and rules. It is about that, not the people who caused that experience. It is about breaking a cycle and encouragement to my sisters and finding a reason for joy.

Questions to the Beloved Church, was also hard. Who am I to say anything to them? The very scripture that jumped out about this book being written by me, an ordinary person, was quoted by Rick Renner during the same show. Well, that’s pretty clear too, isn’t it? God has a way of making it pretty clear, doesn’t He? I just have to do what I was asked to do. The church is a large organization with authority figures, but very special and worth saving. After some difficulty, it is done. Things may have tried to stop me, but they will never stop the message.

"But God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty; And base things of the world, and things which are despised, hath God chosen, yea, and things which are not, to bring to nought things that are: That no flesh should glory in his presence." (1 Corinthians 1:27-29, KJV).

We had sorrow because we thought the way we were treated was equal to the value of our worth. Anonymous

WINTER’S CALL

I t was another cold, grey morning. Snow covered the deck. Sammi went out to warm up the car. It sat in the dirt driveway next to the deck. A bucket, a little wagon and a vacuum sat by the back door. Why was the vacuum outside? The cord was unwrapped, just lying there. The deck had no rails and the boards were slippery. Slips. Falls. Children. Any good mother looks for things like that. She scanned the neighborhood. It was like a giant hand scraped a flat spot out of the mountain and lined up little boxes in tight rows. The neighbors run down sheds lined their dirt driveway. Across the road, down the road, all the roads were filled with non-descriptive, weathered, little houses with sheds on them, now covered in snow. There were no trees or grass or fences to secure pets and children. Children lived there, but never came out to play. A black dog trotted down the road. It stopped and growled at Sammi. What was he looking for? Dirt? She avoided eye contact. Why do people let dogs like this run loose? She was especially irritated today. The neighbors were standoffish too. They never said hi or tried to get to know you, ignored you actually. Castoffs, rejects of society, afterthoughts, they kept to themselves and lived out their quiet lives, trying not to draw attention. No one would help you here. No one was your friend, because no one cared. It was that kind of place.

These were shelters not homes, tucked away out of sight from the vibrant world below, on the windward side of the mountain. Insular. This neighborhood did have a purpose; it provided a most basic need, shelter, minimal shelter. No one judged you here either. It was a good place to be invisible. The people in town referred to it as the pit. Shuffling the kids to the car, a good job, nice people, and lovely town waited below. The kids were in a good school there, loved their after-care. Any good mother makes sure the kids are in a decent school with a good after-care program, regardless of where they live. Isn’t that what a good mother does, make sure of this, move if the school is bad, if the children aren’t treated well?

In the way the mist creeps down the side of a mountain slope, only to be broken up by the warm morning sun, Sammi’s mood usually lightened as she headed to town. Not today. She focused on the barren lot where they lived. It had two narrow sides, one facing an upward slope, the other facing the