Francine Rivers - Her Daughter’s Dream

“You haven’t read all of it yet, Granny.”

“I’m sure it’s unrealistic to think she’d have written anything about me, when she could never be bothered to talk to me. Or to say she loved me. She never said that to me, not once in my entire life.”

Mom turned to her. “Maybe we have something in common.”

“Don’t you dare sit there and say Oma never told you she loved you. I heard her say it to you all the time! Every day when I was sick in bed, I’d hear her say it. ‘I love you, Carolyn. I love you. I love you.’” Granny’s voice broke.

“I didn’t mean Oma.” Mom turned her face toward the warmth of the fire.

Granny looked as though Mom had slapped her. Her eyes shone with tears as she stared at Mom.

Dawn wanted to weep for both of them. “Oma loved you, Granny.”

Granny hadn’t taken her eyes off Mom. “I’d like to believe she did, but she never said it. Not to me.”

“Not everyone knows how to say it, Granny. They show it. Did Oma tell anyone she loved them? Uncle Bernie? Aunt Chloe?”

“She never said it to anyone, not even my father.”

Mom frowned. “She loved him, didn’t she?”

“So much so, I worried she’d grieve herself to death after he died. She’d go out into the orchard and scream and pound the earth…” Her eyes filled. “I never understood her.”

“Oma wrote about love in her journal, Granny.” Dawn got up and retrieved the worn leather book from the side table. She turned pages. “Here. From 1 Corinthians 13. ‘Love is patient, love is kind and is not jealous; love does not brag and is not arrogant…’”

She turned more pages until she found what she was looking for near the end. “‘We try to do a little better than the previous generation and find out in the end we’ve made the same mistakes without intending. Instead of striving to love as God first loved us, we let past hurts and grievances rule. Ignorance is no excuse.’” She looked up. “It’s right here in her handwriting.”

Dawn sat down. “Oma told me she only wrote important thoughts in her journal, things that helped her in life.” She turned more pages. “Here’s more about love. ‘I know how Abraham felt when he placed Isaac on the altar. I know that pain. But what did Isaac feel lying there, bound, his father holding the knife? afraid? abandoned? expendable? Or did he, too, understand God would rescue him? God tested Abraham, and He showed Isaac what it meant to trust God. Will my Isaac ever understand that what I do, I do for love?’”

Dawn looked pointedly at Granny. “Who do you suppose Oma’s Isaac was?”

“Bernie or Papa. Perhaps. How would I know?”

Mom’s face filled with compassion. She met Dawn’s eyes, but spoke to Granny. “I think it was you, Mom.”

Granny closed her eyes and shook her head, as though the idea was too painful to consider. “We’ll never really know, will we?”

Carolyn lay awake on the couch after Mom and Dawn went to bed. She imagined them curled up together, sharing warmth under the covers. Why couldn’t she get warm? She got up and dragged the blankets with her as she sat closer to the fire. She kept thinking about what Oma had written about Abraham and Isaac. That kind of love seemed a mystery. She understood Jacob better. Like Jacob, she had worked to earn the one she loved-May Flower Dawn-and felt cheated in the end. She also identified with Leah, the least loved, always second best.

God caused all things to work together for the good for those who love Him, and she did. Would she have learned to center her life on Jesus if she’d gotten everything she wanted? She might have poured all of her love and hope onto her daughter. God had seen that that wouldn’t happen. Even Mitch, the love of her life, came in second to Jesus.

Why this sudden, deep, inexplicable desire to understand her mother, and have her understand as well? After all these years… Carolyn had learned, slowly, to let other people in. She opened the door of her heart to Mitch first, then allowed him free access to all her rooms. Christopher had never had to struggle with that.

She wondered if her mother had been knocking all these years, and she’d been too afraid to look through the peephole, let alone open the door. Oma once told her not to waste time on regrets, but to grasp opportunities. She remembered something else Oma had said, something that had made no sense to her at the time. “Your mother will take good care of May Flower Dawn. She never really had the chance to take care of you.”

Carolyn looked up when she saw a movement in the shadows. Mom came out in her thick bathrobe and fuzzy pink slippers. “Are you cold?”

Carolyn forced a smile. “I shouldn’t be. You should go back to bed. Keep warm.”

“Maybe you caught cold working out in the garage. I can get you another blanket out of the closet.”

“I’m fine, Mom. Really.”

Her mother eased herself into the yellow swivel chair. “I’ve been thinking…” She folded her hands in her lap. “It’s easier to talk about lesser sorrows, but we’re silent about the ones that break our hearts and change everything.”

Carolyn wanted to apologize. “Charlie.” Maybe she should’ve left that box of pictures in the garage. She should’ve left the yearbooks under the house.

“I wasn’t thinking about Charlie. I’ve been thinking about you, Carolyn.” She looked uncertain. “It was hard for me to turn you over to Oma. I don’t think you have any idea how much I love you. I do, you know. I always have.”

Carolyn couldn’t catch her breath. When she did, she put her head against her knees and cried.

Dawn awakened when Granny got out of bed. She didn’t move or speak as Granny quietly left the room. Dawn heard Granny speaking softly. Then Mom started to cry. Easing out from under the covers, Dawn wrapped Papa’s old robe around herself and approached the door.

Finally, Lord.

She pressed her fingers against her trembling lips.

Mom didn’t say anything.

God, please, help her speak. I don’t mean to be selfish, but I need them to work things out.

“Carolyn?” Granny spoke softly, tentatively. “Why are you crying?”

Dawn covered her face and prayed.

Carolyn turned her head and gave her mother a watery smile. “I didn’t think you even liked me.”

“Can you tell me why you thought that?”

Her mother looked so bleak, so concerned, Carolyn decided it was time to unlock the door and open it a little. “A lot of reasons.”

“You said I yelled at you to get out of my bedroom. Is that why?”

“Yes, but I understand that now.” It wasn’t what her mother had done as much as what she hadn’t. “You never allowed me to sit close to you. You never held me on your lap or kissed me.”

“I couldn’t, Carolyn. The TB.”

“You couldn’t wait to get your hands on May Flower Dawn, Mom. You held and kissed her all the time.”

“I wasn’t sick anymore then.”

Carolyn smiled sadly. “You weren’t sick when we moved to the property.”

Mom bowed her head. “Maybe it became a habit with us.” She raised her head. “I wanted to hold you, Carolyn, but by then you didn’t want anyone but Oma to hold you. I sent her home so I could win you back, but instead, you withdrew. You didn’t seem to want me; you didn’t seem to want friends. You never showed interest until you met Rachel Altman.”

Carolyn’s heart started to pound the way it did in AA meetings when she knew God was nudging her to share. She looked into the fire. She could remain silent and let Mom believe what she did, or she could risk everything and tell the truth. The tension inside her built until she thought her heart would explode if she didn’t say something. “I had one friend.”