Bridge to a Distant Star - Carolyn Williford [111]
“What happened, Aunt Sarah? Did something happen to them?” Unconsciously, Michal’s entire body tensed as they stopped walking, and she held her breath.
Sarah cupped a hand over her eyes, shielding them from the setting sun reflecting off the ocean. “You know how it hurts to look at a sunset like this? And yet at the same time … you want to look because it’s so glorious? And so you do, even though it’s painful?” Sarah turned her gaze to Michal, and Michal saw that her eyes were filling with glistening tears. Tears also reflecting the brilliant glow off the water. “That’s how my memories are, Michal. They’re glorious and painful in the exact same moment.” She swallowed, and Michal saw tears run down her freckled cheeks.
“We’d only been married six months—six wonderfully happy months—when CK got cancer. And in three months … he was gone. I was convinced it was all my fault. Because I hadn’t obeyed God and gone to Ethiopia, like your grandmother and grandfather said I should have. See … I was planning to go when I met CK. Even had my plane ticket. And then … everything changed. He had an established career. And a young boy—a boy who I couldn’t even think of sending to boarding school. I had no right to inflict that on him.
“So when CK died … I thought it was God punishing me, taking him like that, and so I … I just left CK’s son, thinking—irrationally—that was best for him. I wanted to get away from him, before he suffered for my sin too. And so I went to Ethiopia.” She hastily wiped the tears away. Closed her eyes and then took a deep breath before looking into Michal’s eyes.
“I’d never planned to tell you any of this, Michal. I guess mostly because of my foolish pride, maybe. I don’t know. But from your questions these last couple of days, I realized how much you needed to hear my story. Because I went to Ethiopia out of guilt, Michal. Guilt and hurt and despair. And cowardice—I can’t leave out that. Going for those reasons was—” she shook her head vehemently, “—it was all wrong. I couldn’t function. I couldn’t sleep or eat or do anything—not even love those dear people. Because I hated myself. All I knew was anger in those miserable days. And you know who else I was angry at?”
Michal shook her head.
“God. Oh, yes, I was angry at him, all right. For ruining my life. How I blamed him for everything that had gone so horribly wrong.”
Michal sucked in her breath. She’d never heard anyone hint at such a sin, let alone say it out loud. Unconsciously, she took a step backward. And immediately, Sarah took a step toward her.
“So I tried to run from life again, Michal. Came back home, to the States. Where a godly counselor finally helped me find forgiveness and grace from a loving God. A God who slowly put my crumbled heart back together. And I made a vow, Michal, a vow that I keep to this day.” Sarah made a fist, holding it out in front of her. “If I couldn’t be in Ethiopia—because I eventually came to the conviction that I never was called to live there—then I would do all I could to send support to my family.”
Sarah turned away then, appearing exhausted as her shoulders slumped beneath the weight of her story. Suddenly she sat down on the wet sand, motioning for Michal to join her. They both simply sat there, staring out at the waves rolling in, listening to the calming effects of the surf.
Michal ventured into the silence, offering softly, “Daddy says you send … a lot. I can tell he’s pleased about that.”
Sarah drew her finger across the sand. Writing MICHAL there. Michal began doodling too, beginning with STE.
“Michal, we all bear the scars of pain. Some are more obvious than others, but none of us gets through life without collecting a fair share. Your folks included.” Michal stopped writing, her finger poised. “Those things they said to you—the reasons they wanted you to stop crying about going to boarding school? They were repeating the very same