Alison Strobel - The Heart of Memory

Unlike hers. And hers was not only growing, it was ruling her life.

Savannah shut the laptop and pulled a notebook from her desk drawer. It was the journal where she’d recorded her prayers during the tour. Lists always brought order to her internal chaos – maybe a little self-examination would give her some insights. She flipped a few pages past the last entry and titled the page Personal Inventory. It was time to figure herself out.

Anger – why???

God- who is that? I don’t even care.

She looked at what she had just written, eyes wide. She never thought she’d think such a thing. And it wasn’t just an isolated thought. She hadn’t been to church since coming home from the transplant, hadn’t cracked open her Bible, hadn’t prayed – well, except for that one afternoon with Marisa, but that had been coerced and not at all heartfelt. Frankly, she’d felt ridiculous doing it, as though Marisa had asked her to pray to a stuffed animal.

She took a deep breath, not quite ready to address the implications of revelation, and continued.

Introvert- and it’s not that I just don’t want to be with lots of people.

She tapped the pen to her chin. She wasn’t sure how to end this sentence. It wasn’t just classic introversion, feeling drained by groups but energized with people one-on-one. It was different somehow. She doodled on the page, letting her mind wander, then had a thought and wrote it down to see if it resonated with her or not.

… it’s that I just don’t feel like I can trust anyone.

This not only struck a chord, it was the one thing that made sense. Her husband’s double-speak to the staff and the way he fired Nick really hurt and worried her. Plus she knew he was hiding something. And who else on this earth was she supposed to be able to trust the most besides her husband?

She stared at the list. It was short, but its effect on her life was both profound and terrifying. What was her life without A &A? Without writing books and doing speaking tours and creating women’s ministry curriculum? Without A &A, her life collapsed like a house of cards, and so did Shaun’s, and so did the lives of the staff that worked for her. Her faith was the linchpin in a lot of people’s plans. And sometime in the last month, it had been pulled.

Panic began to bubble in her gut. She couldn’t possibly admit this to anyone. She couldn’t let herself be found out, or everything would fall apart. How would they pay their mortgage, Jessie’s tuition – heck, how would they put food on the table? Their paychecks were dependent on her now-missing passion for God.

What would she do with her life? What purpose did it have outside that ministry? Surely she was good at something else. But even her college degrees reflected the faith she’d once had. She couldn’t very well get a job with a master’s in Christian education if she didn’t actually believe anything she was teaching.

Would they stay here in Colorado Springs, where you couldn’t throw a rock without hitting someone who knew Savannah or A &A in one way or another? How embarrassing would it be to run into Mary, or Brenda?

Would Shaun even stay with her?

What would Jessie think?

She stuffed the notebook back into the drawer and shut it hard, as though the list might come flying out after her. She was tense with fear. Her palms were damp. Her mind was a mess of what if’s, each one more desperate and frightening.

And there wasn’t a single person in the world she could tell.

SAVANNAH PULLED INTO THE PARKING LOT at A &A and popped another Rolaid. Ever since the night she’d taken a hard look at her new self, she’d had a bout of nervous stomach that she couldn’t shake. Having to get back to work wasn’t helping.

When Shaun had finally come home that night, he’d laid out a plan that the Old Savannah would have loved. A book launch party at the local bookstore they often partnered with, followed by a ten-city tour starting a week after the book’s release. “We’ll schedule them four days apart so you have plenty of time to rest,” he’d said. “Five in a row, then a break, then five more. You’ll be back by December and can take that whole month to rest. Then after that we’ll schedule some smaller events with bookstores and churches, just a handful of dates in January and February, then a big push in May. You’ll be fine by May, don’t you think? The travel won’t wear you out; you won’t be high risk anymore. So, what do you think?”

He’d looked so excited, so proud of the idea. She’d mustered as much enthusiasm as she could, excusing the lack of effusiveness with how exhausted she was from writing nonstop and not sleeping well. She’d hoped to put off the planning until… well, until Shaun forgot about it, which she knew wouldn’t happen. Really, she’d hoped something would come along before plans could be made that would render the whole scheme impossible. But no such luck. Their travel agent agreed to meet them at A &A two days later to plot out the tour.

So here she was. She sucked on the chalky tablet with her head bowed against the steering wheel, knowing no one would interrupt her if it looked like she was praying. In reality she was giving herself a pep talk, psyching herself up for the meeting. You don’t have to look thrilled. Just don’t look sick over it. It’s time to start contributing again and get your life back. Think of all the people who are depending on you. What other choice do you have? She sat up straight, checked her hair in the mirror. She could do this. She had done it enough in the past, surely some kind of mental muscle memory would kick in and she’d be able to sail through the whole meeting – and the tour. Don’t think about it too much. Just do it. This is your job. It’s what you do.

And this wasn’t the time or place to debate just who that “you” was.

Savannah walked into A &A and faked a smile for Brenda. The office repulsed her even more than the first time she’d come back. She walked quickly to the back where the agent was standing beside Marisa’s cubicle as they chatted. “Hello ladies,” she said, pasting the smile back on. “Why don’t we take this down to Dazbog Coffee? I’ll treat for lunch when we’re done.”

It was the kind of thing the Old Savannah would have done, and she could see the light in Marisa’s eyes as she agreed. Yes, that’s right, Marisa. I’m back! What was the saying-fake it ‘til you make it? Well, she wouldn’t fail from lack of trying.

Once they had their beverages in hand and calendars spread on a coffee shop table, Savannah was able to sit back and let Marisa and the agent do most of the work. Her input was only needed to ensure she had enough time between gigs to relax and that she was in town to meet with her doctors when appointments rolled around. She was glad the details were up to someone else, because even this small amount of planning was making her wish she could pop a handful of antacids. She kept spacing out, distancing herself from the discussion until Marisa would call her back to reality to ask her opinion on something. She tried to be more engaged, but then the panic would begin to rise and she’d have to shut herself down or else risk throwing the calendars to the floor and calling off the whole tour.

They finished just before lunch, and the agent declined the dining invitation in order to prepare for another meeting. “Just you and me, then,” she said to Marisa, secretly hoping she’d bow out as well.

“Sounds good. Where to?”

After that morning, she was desperate for something soothing, and her new favorite comfort food was calling her name. “This might sound silly, but how about Village Inn? I’m dying for a slice of strawberry pie.”

Small talk held them over until their orders were taken, but then Marisa ruined things. “Confession time, Savannah.” Her expression put Savannah on the defensive. “I’m worried about you. I’ve never seen you so unfocused before. Are you sure you’re alright?”