Breathing in deeply, I allowed His truth to roll around in my mind over and over. My eyes snapped open. God was not asking me to give up my quest. He was assuring me that in making things right with Brady, He would take care of the rest. He would make it clear where I belonged. I didn’t have to give up one pursuit to have the other. They were one and the same. I didn’t have to run around Southern California experimenting with every Englisch thing that interested me to figure out if underneath my Amish upbringing I was an Englisch man. I needed only to repair what was broken and then I would know.
“Thank You,” I whispered as relief coursed through me. I was amazed and grateful God was going to work out my dilemma in such an incredible way. A moment later, with my hand on the door handle to get out of the car, I again sensed God prompting me, nudging me to look deeper because I had missed something.
Honor others before yourself.
Honor others.
Honor others.
Others.
My mouth dropped open as I realized what God was trying to get through to me. This wasn’t just about Brady. It was about my dad too. And the way in which my mother had left things with Daadi and Mammi.
I was there to do more than just restore my relationship with Brady. The words Dad had said to me the morning he left came echoing back to me now. That conversation had shown me that he had misgivings about the decisions he had made concerning me, perhaps huge ones. But I hadn’t wanted to think about those regrets, because that would mean I would also have to dredge up emotions I had long since buried. Clearly, restoration was needed there, on both his side and mine.
And then there was my mother’s relationship with Daadi and Mammi. My mother could not fix what she had broken, but could I? If I learned what had driven her away, would I be able to use that knowledge not just for myself but also for others, to help heal the hurts she’d left behind?
Such a thought nearly took my breath away.
There in the car, I closed my eyes. Lord, please forgive me for not trusting that You had this all in Your capable hands from the very beginning. Thank You for Your patience, for showing me the way, for being generous with Your insights. Help me as I go about mending my relationship with my brother. Help me to be patient, kind, compassionate, and wise. Show me where I have failed him. Help me to make it right. And watch over my dad in the Middle East. Bring him home safely and prepare us both for the conversations that need to take place. Show me why my mother left her Amish life and what that means, if anything, for me and for her parents. Watch over my Amish family and Rachel too. She deserves a man who can give her his whole heart. Help me to know if that man is me or if I need to let her go. I want what You want, for both of us, and nothing less.
Many minutes passed before I emerged from the car, deeply at peace for the first time in not just days or weeks but months. I had a lot of work to do, but now I truly knew I wasn’t in this alone.
Up in my room, after changing into more casual clothes, I took a moment to update my list.
I spent the rest of Sunday doing what I hoped God would have me do. I tried to be highly attentive to Brady. I wanted to say I was sorry for the words that had passed between us the day before, but I knew that was not the apology he deserved or wanted. Instead, I would simply be present and nonjudgmental and open to whatever may unfold between us.
He sat down to watch a football game, so I made a point of watching it with him. The entire time, I worked hard not to say anything that sounded parental or nosy or fake. Though he seemed irritated by my presence at first, he gradually warmed to my being in the room. By the fourth quarter, he was commenting on the two teams’ kickers, telling me things about their style I would have missed.
For dinner, I put a pan of Liz’s baked macaroni and cheese into the oven and tossed a salad. Brady wanted to sit in front of the TV while we ate, which wasn’t my preference, but I could see how eating this way protected him from having to endure another conversation with me like the one we’d had the day before. He was clearly not interested in more demands for an answer about the rift between us. I silently thanked God for showing me that.
After dinner, I offered to make us some brownies, and while I did that Brady turned on his Xbox, started up a football-based game, and pulled out a controller. Just the one. After I had put the brownies in the oven, I came and stood just behind the couch, watching him. Suddenly, I wanted very much to ask if I could play too. Not that I had any idea how, of course, but still.
Standing there, I waited to see if he would ask me. He didn’t, so finally I brought it up myself.
“Does this game work for two players?”
His eyes still glued to the screen, he replied easily, “Sure. Just grab the other controller. It’s right there next to the console.”