Alison Strobel - The Heart of Memory

“Perfect,” said Bethany.

“You know who we should invite in on this?” said Mary. “Arlene Wilkins at church.”

Andi nodded. “Oh, yes, she’s such a prayer warrior.”

“I’ll give her a call tonight and see if she’d be able to make it.”

“Great idea!”

Savannah withdrew from the conversation, irritated and feeling like a project for them to pounce on. She thought back to the conversation with Shaun when she’d suggested having Pastor John meet with them for accountability. Now she understood why he’d been so opposed to it. Hearing people talking about her in a spiritual way made her feel exposed.

She kept herself busy eating cake so she wouldn’t have to talk. A second slice came in handy for that-though admittedly she’d have taken another one anyway, it was so good-and she contributed noncommittal “Mm-hmms” for the next ten minutes while hoping they’d all leave. The goodwill she’d been feeling when they arrived wore off quickly, and now she was just eager for them to go so she could get back to reading her support forum.

After half an hour they still showed no signs of leaving, so Savannah made the decision for them. “Well, I have a doctor’s appointment in twenty minutes, so I should start cleaning up and get going for that.”

“Oh, of course,” Mary said as they all stood. “I’ll bet you’re at the doctor a lot these days.”

“Yeah, they’re keeping close tabs, as you can imagine.”

They took turns giving Savannah hugs, then filed out the door. “Thursday at ten, don’t forget,” Bethany said as she walked down the porch stairs.

“Yes, I’ll let you know about that.” She stayed at the door for a moment, not wanting to look impolite, then shut it and sagged onto the couch, exhausted.

She loved her friends, she really did, but this was beyond the scope of their understanding. They couldn’t possibly fathom the way this experience had turned her inside out in every possible way. She could barely understand it herself, and she was the one living it. They couldn’t know how personal those questions were, and how disturbed she was by their answers.

But the people on the forum could.

She continued to read, indulging in another slice of cake, until Shaun came home. “That looks like it was good,” he said, eyeing the crumbs on the empty cake plate.

“It was. Sorry I didn’t save any for you. I couldn’t stop eating it.”

“That’s alright. Guess I’m on my own for dinner then?”

She smiled. “I think so, yes.”

“I take it you had a visitor today, then? Who brought it?”

“The girls.”

“All four of them? That was sweet.”

“Yes. All four of them.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Did it not go well?”

She shrugged. “It’s not that it didn’t go well… I just don’t think I was ready for so many visitors asking so many questions.”

He nodded and gently wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s alright.”

“So did you find any time to start working on the book again?”

She fought the defensiveness that rose in her chest. “No. I was busy.”

“How long were the women here for?”

“Not with them – I found an online support group for transplant recipients. It’s been really wonderful reading all their stories, hearing how much we all have in common with our recoveries -”

He chuckled. “You’re not going to become an internet junkie now, are you?”

“Well, if spending time trying to help myself understand what I’m thinking and feeling and trying to get back to my life before all this happened constitutes being a junkie, then yes, I might.”

He gave her a look. “I was just playing, Van. I wasn’t being serious.”

She deflated a bit. “I’m sorry. I’m just feeling…” She shook her head and shrugged. “Never mind. I don’t know what I’m feeling.” She left the kitchen for the sofa and pulled the computer back onto her lap.

“Honey, I’m sorry.” Shaun followed her and sat beside her. “Maybe tomorrow you’ll get a chance to start writing. I really think it will help if you get back in the saddle. It’ll all come back to you. You’re wallowing a bit, I think, and it’s totally understandable; but maybe if you start focusing outward instead of inward you’ll start feeling better.”

She shut the laptop with more force than she intended. “Quit trying to diagnose me. You’re no psychologist, and you have no idea what it’s like to be me right now.” She pushed herself to her feet, shaking off Shaun’s attempt at helping her stand, and headed to her office with more speed than she’d managed since coming home.

She was dying to tell him what she was really thinking, to finally get it off her chest, but she couldn’t voice those thoughts aloud. How could a ministry president like herself admit how angry she was with God right now, how the very thought of his goodness and provision made her want to laugh? Especially when she didn’t understand it herself. Knowing a book was expected from her on the subject made her panicky; she fought that by simply not thinking about it and hoping she’d wake one of these mornings and find those feelings gone.

But so far the mornings only brought more anger and confusion.

JESSIE ZIPPED HER DUFFEL AND TEXTED ADAM.

Ready when u r.

Her stomach fluttered; she took another bite of the sandwich she’d brought back from the cafeteria at lunch and hoped it would give her insides something to do besides reflect her anxiety. This was a new experience, being nervous about going home.

Savannah’s transplant had happened three weeks ago, and Jessie hadn’t been back to visit since that night. She’d almost gone a number of times, but something always stopped her-a project she needed to work on, a meeting she couldn’t miss. Her own nerves. She knew she was being a terrible daughter by not going to visit her mother in the hospital, and now that Savannah was home the guilt was even worse. But Jessie’s remorse over their last conversation held her back.

She should have just kept her mouth shut. What had led her to believe it was wise to try changing the past by confronting a dying woman with her shortcomings? It had solved nothing, had led to no reconciliation, and had only added to the stress her mother was already dealing with as her body betrayed her. Jessie had planned on at least apologizing when she’d visited Savannah before moving to campus, but her mother had only lasted a few minutes before falling asleep, and Jessie had been so disturbed by Savannah’s deterioration that she’d left rather than wait for her to wake. And now she had to go back home and face her again, knowing she’d been selfish in the face of her mother’s decline.

Her phone buzzed.

Ready in 20 or so. Will txt u.

Her nose wrinkled as she looked for something to keep her occupied and her mind off the impending visit. Not enough time to start homework, and too much time to just sit around. She woke her computer instead and tapped in a URL.

Last week she’d stumbled across this website while doing research for her child development class. It was a forum for Christian moms, and while she was nowhere near motherhood, she’d found herself sucked into the message board and had gone so far as to apply for membership. An entire subforum was devoted to developing the parent-child relationship, and reading it was like applying antibiotic to a wound: painful, but healing.

Ever since her relationship with Adam had gotten serious, she’d had motherhood on the brain. Not because she was looking forward to it, but because it scared her. What if she passed on the brokenness of her own mother-daughter relationship to her children? What if she didn’t know how to be the kind of mom she’d always wanted Savannah to be, precisely because Savannah hadn’t been able to model it for her? The posts she read in the forums eased some of her fears, because so many of the other women were doing what she’d eventually have to do-working out from scratch what it meant to be the kind of mother they’d never had.