Dana's Valley (9 page)

Actually, the choice of a floor plan was going much better. Mom and Dad had narrowed their original ideas down to three layouts. And, from then on, the final selection would be based upon the lot.

Brett was enthusiastically favoring the one with a walkout basement. But Dana preferred the Cape Cod that more closely resembled our current home. I tried not to get involved in too many of the discussions about the house. But I sure was looking over the properties carefully. And I was watching the people too. I still hadn't seen any of the kids from my school around the lots where we'd been looking.

Corey was the only one who still had the energy to talk about the house. He followed Dad into the living room, chattering away. “Daddy, when we get the right place, can I have my own tree? 'Cause I'd like to be able to look outta my window and see the birds building nests in it. Then I could even leave some string and stuff around it so the birdies could get 'em in their beaks and fly way up to where they're building. My teacher says that birdies will use stuff like that if you leave it by their tree.”

Dad dropped into his easy chair and pulled Corey onto his lap. “It would be nice of you to take care of the birds. And I'm sure they would use your string. I'll tell you what. Why don't you gather the kinds of string you want to use, and we'll cut it up and put it in a plastic bag. Then you'll be ready in the spring to put it out by a tree somewhere. I can't promise you that you'll have one by your window. But I'm sure we can find a nice tree nearby.”

“That's a
good
idea! I'll go get my special scissors and ask Mommy for some of her strings. The ones with the bright colors. Mommy!” He had already bounced back off Dad's lap and trotted away.

I approached Dad quietly. His head was leaning back against the chair, and his eyes had closed. I wasn't sure whether to speak to him or not, but the floor squeaked under my feet and his eyes popped back open. Then he smiled at me warmly.

“Hi, honey. Are you as tired as I am?”

I drew closer to the chair. “I guess I am.”

“Did you want to talk to me, Erin?”

I blushed a little. To be truthful, I wasn't quite sure what it was I wanted to say. I felt the need to express something of what I'd been feeling. But the words eluded me. “No, I just wanted to see how you're doing.” My hesitation must have indicated otherwise.

“Come here, honey.” Dad sat forward and reached out to hug me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face against him, trying hard not to cry. I wasn't even sure why I was fighting tears. But somehow the closeness seemed to be releasing some of the feelings I'd tried so hard to force down.

“It'll be okay, Erin. In a few months all this hard work will pay off, and we'll have a nice house to show for it. We'll probably even look back and laugh. They say it's always darkest before the dawn. So I'll bet we find just the right place really soon.”

I couldn't speak. I didn't trust my voice.

“You know, pretty soon you'll probably be too old to cuddle. Would you like to just sit with me for a while?”

Dana and I had decided some time ago that we were too old to sit on Daddy's lap the way Corey still did. But tonight I just wanted to be close to him. Dana might not approve, but I didn't care. Maybe I'd wait and grow up next year. Instead, I snuggled up against his chest and tucked my feet between the cushion and the side of the chair. I didn't fit well anymore, but it felt wonderful. We sat in silence together.

After some time, Dad whispered, “Can you tell me what's bothering you?”

Maybe now I could speak without crying. I thought I'd better try or I might never find the courage. “Things are just … so different now,” I whispered, trying to gather my thoughts. “So much has changed … and so fast. Grandpa's gone, and Grandma's here. And now it's hard to think about
more
change with the house. I don't want to complain. It's not really bad anyway. It's just so differ~ent. I guess.” My words began to flow more quickly. “I guess I'm scared. That's probably dumb, because there's not really anything to be afraid of. It's not like being afraid of the dark. I guess I just thought I knew how things were supposed to feel … and it doesn't feel like that anymore. I liked it the way it was.”

Dad sighed. Then I felt him press a kiss against the top of my head. “I know just what you mean. I feel like that too,” he said.

I was shocked. Surely my dad never questioned the way his life was going.

“But, Erin, life doesn't ever stay easy and familiar. Life always changes. And we have to try to change with it.” I could tell he was choosing his words carefully, trying not to lecture. But right now, I didn't mind at all. I just wanted some words of comfort, no matter what form they took. “It's like this house. Nobody wanted to move. We all wanted to stay. But life changed—and in the process pushed us out. Even if we dug in our heels and insisted on staying put, it isn't the same. Our family has changed. We have Grandma to take care of now—and you kids are growing up so quickly. We have to move on too.”

I swallowed back my response. I wished I could tell Dad that I sometimes blamed Grandpa for all of the changes. But I could never say that out loud. Even if I had to keep that secret, though, I felt so much better just sitting with Dad right now, and feeling loved.

“Erin, I've been thinking about Psalm Twenty-three for some time now. You know it. It starts, ‘The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.' This is a little bit of a ‘valley of shadow' for us right now. It's so encouraging to remember that we never go through those valleys alone. That God always goes through with us.” Then he smiled. “And the truth is, we have to admit that this particular valley is not so deep. You and I in our lives will probably need to face much darker times than these. In fact, this is more like simple growing pains. I think we'd all be able to enjoy the idea of building a house if it hadn't followed so quickly on the heels of Grandpa's passing away. Your mom and I have dreamed about doing this for years.”

“You have?” No one had ever mentioned that to me.

“Sure. That's one of the reasons we've been so careful with our money. We knew we couldn't live here forever.”

My mind was working to absorb the thought. Maybe this wasn't Grandpa's fault after all. That would be a huge relief. I knew there was another question I needed to ask. It had plagued me, along with those other dark feelings about God.

“But, Daddy, why do we have to have those valleys at all? I mean, if God can heal blind people and make the winds stop and all that, why does He let bad things happen to us?”

He was quiet for a long time. “That's a good question, Erin. It's a question that lots of adults ask too. And I don't know how well I can answer it, but I'll tell you what I think.

“I think there are many reasons why God allows unpleasant things to happen—or maybe it's better to say there are lots of ways He uses the difficult things to bring good in our lives. Sometimes it's to make our faith stronger. So we'll believe that God can help us in the really hard times because we've already seen Him at work. It's one thing to read the Bible and learn that God calmed a storm; it's another thing to know that He's calmed a storm—that He's solved a serious problem—in our own lives.

“Then again, sometimes it's to call us back because we've begun to let other things be more important than God in our hearts.

“And I would have to say that sometimes it's just because that's the way our world works. Adam and Eve sinned. And we sin. And the guy living next door sins. And the lady on the other side of the city sins. Every one of us does things that displease God. And all that sin just makes life painful sometimes. God didn't plan our world to be painful. What we see are just the side effects of all that sin. Dying. Struggling to make ends meet. Feeling unloved. Even most of our own anger and frustration. If we really understood, we'd see that most of it comes from sin.”

I could hear Corey's footsteps coming up from the basement, and I knew I didn't have much time left. “Do
you
think God still punishes people like He did the Israelites in the Bible?”

He paused, a puzzled expression in his eyes. “Yes … I guess I do. But I'm very sure that if and when He does, it's out of love. I know it would only be done to get our attention and save us from the disaster we'd face if we kept going the direction we were headed.”

Daddy's arm tightened around my shoulders. “But, Erin—sometimes it isn't about us at all.”

I frowned.

“It's because someone else needs to see God at work. In our lives. How He helps us to handle difficult things. That is one of the marks of a Christian and is often the reason that another person realizes God is who He claims to be. When we have a strength that isn't our own to draw on—a peace even in the bad times—it's a wonderful testi~mony to others of what God can do for those who love Him.” I thought I was beginning to see, but before I could even nod to agree with Daddy, Corey burst in upon us.

“I got 'em, Daddy. I got the strings. And just look at all the colors!”

I slipped off Dad's lap. “I think I'll go finish my homework.”

“Erin.” His eyes met mine and asked me to listen just a moment more. “The most important thing to remember is that God loves you. I know you've heard that all your life. But it's really an amazing thing, honey. And God never
tries
to hurt us. He always works for our good. That's a promise.”

“Okay,” I whispered, trying a wobbly smile before I turned away. It didn't all make sense. But I was willing to believe my dad knew what he was talking about.

There was something mysterious in the air. Dana and I could feel it from the moment we walked into the house after school. There was something about the way Mom was acting. So we decided to hang around in the kitchen and see if we could pick up any clues. She wasn't telling, though. She just chatted as usual while she moved about, making fried chicken for supper. She did tell us that Grandma had gone out for supper with a friend.

When Daddy got home, she met him at the door and plunked a kiss on his cheek. He looked surprised but just grinned and said, his eyes twinkling, “I guess you missed me today.”

They both laughed. Mom stood there smiling into his eyes.

“What's up? You look like the cat that just swallowed the canary.”

“I thought we'd picnic tonight.”

“Picnic? It's way too cold! I admit we've had a warm spell, but it's still officially winter, you know.”

“We could eat in the van. I'm almost done packing it.”

I looked at Dana and she looked back, but neither of us could offer a thing about what was going on. She whispered, “Do you think we'll be invited?”

I just shrugged. At least Mom had made plenty of chicken.

But when we all were immediately hustled into action, I knew we were in on it—whatever it was. Dana stayed with Mom to help finish with the picnic, I scooted Corey up to the bedroom to hurry him into playclothes, and Brett was sent to get the well-used picnic basket from the attic. None of it made sense, but we followed directions anyway and grabbed our jackets before heading to the garage.

“Where to?” Dad eyed Mom across the front seat. He was thoroughly enjoying the suspense.

Mom was too. “Just drive. I'll let you know.”

Mom's fried chicken was making my mouth water even before we'd left the driveway. I sure hoped she'd let us dive in soon. Dana, who shared the middle bench seat with Corey, was put in charge of distributing our picnic from the basket at her feet. She served Mom and Dad first, then got Corey set up with a plate, and finally passed food back to Brett and me, who were seated in the back. We settled back with a favorite supper and a trip to—where?

Mom directed the car through town and then out into the country. We shot past fields and little farmhouses for a while before coming over a hill and finding a few houses scattered around a little valley. It looked like a miniature town. Mom's instructions took us down a side street in the middle of it. Then the side street became an old lane that ended in a patch of woods just beyond the last cluster of houses. There was a “For Sale” sign tacked to an old fence post.

Dad's face lost some of its enthusiasm. But Mom just opened her door and called everyone to follow, reminding us to toss our paper plates and napkins into the trash bag as we climbed out. We lost no time jumping from the van and scurrying toward the sign. We all understood immediately what she was thinking. We had never explored properties outside a regular neighborhood before this.

“Why don't you kids take a walk down that path? See the clearing over there? Take a few minutes to look around, will you?” Mom instructed. Dad and Mom followed behind us at a distance. She had slipped her hand into his, and they were talking in low voices.