Bridge to a Distant Star - Carolyn Williford [108]
“No need to apologize. Long story … but it wasn’t meant to be.” She waved a hand in the air, casually dismissing the discussion of herself. “But let’s get back to you. Rather than a distinct call from the Lord, sounds more like a case of osmosis.”
“Osmosis? How does it—?”
“Relate to being an MK? Well, I’m under the belief that the call to the mission field shouldn’t be simply absorbed from your parents. I just think that kind of huge life decision should be made independent of them.” She shook her head as though clearing her thoughts. “But let’s get back to what the missionary said. How did you feel about it?”
Sounds of laughter reached their ears. A family out in the waves, jumping together when the water surged toward them. Sarah and Michal were distracted a few moments, vicariously enjoying the familial joy before them. Michal found it hard to switch from the scene of carefree laughter to the subject of constrictions placed on her by the chapel speaker. “Well, I guess I agree. I should, I think—or I need to. A friend of mine, Stephen—he’s really mature and very spiritual, Aunt Sarah; you’d like him—he thought Reverend Coleman was inspiring.”
“Good for him. But what did you think?”
The pleasing scene before her disappeared, and suddenly she was transported back to her home in Ethiopia, the unadorned little kitchen with plain wooden table and chairs. She stood at the sink wiping dishes while her mother washed. And she heard her mother’s words, repeating them as her own. “Daddy and Mom talked about their calling first. How that had to be absolute first priority in their lives. Only when they’d settled that with each other, did they agree it was okay to date.
“Mom said she knew it would be a sin to allow herself to fall in love with someone who—” Michal looked over at Sarah then, expecting tacit agreement. But she was so startled by the haunting look on her aunt’s face that she lost track of what she was saying. Michal took in the grimness about Sarah’s usually broad, smiling mouth. The lack of life in those ever-animated eyes. All her features seemed to have … fallen. For the first time, Sarah looked old. “Aunt Sarah? What is it?” Michal reached over to touch her. “Are you okay?”
Slowly, Sarah turned her head to look out toward the ocean again. “Let’s just say I think you should be more concerned about developing friendships with young men who are committed to seeking God’s will for their lives—whatever that may be.”
Allistair’s words echoed in her mind, nearly exact duplicates of her aunt’s. I think what’s important is that I’m seeking his will for my life, he’d said. Momentarily, Michal was back at school, sitting on the bench with Allistair. And she felt compelled to ask another question, one that—since that night—had never been far from her conscious thoughts. “Aunt Sarah, do you think it’s more spiritual to ask God to send me to the mission field? Isn’t being a foreign missionary the highest calling there is?”
Sarah was quiet for so long Michal thought she hadn’t heard, and was about to repeat her question when her aunt sighed, as though letting go of a great weight. Michal watched her profile—the narrowing of her eyes, the continued downward turn of her mouth. She absentmindedly ran a hand through her still-wet hair. “You’ll have to find that answer on your own, dear girl.” And then she turned toward Michal with a mischievous smile that caught her off guard. “We’ve been entirely too serious for far too long. I say we hit the boards again. You game?”
Michal grinned. “Let’s do it.”
For the remainder of the afternoon, they focused on the exhilaration of catching a wave at the exact right moment—just before it peaked—to experience the longest ride possible. Balancing themselves on their boards while the waves pulsed beneath them. Riding all the way to the shore, coasting up onto the sand, fists pumped up into the air. Celebrating success.
Eventually their energy waned, suits became itchy with freeloading sand, and the scrapes and bruises were too sore to ignore any longer. Gathering clouds