Page 174 of Share with Me

Sure. He could teach piano. But his first love was the violin.

First love?

Shouldn’t my first love be God?

He felt ashamed as the verse from Revelation 2:4 filled his mind.

Nevertheless I have somewhat against thee, because thou hast left thy first love.

That was one problem with living with Grandma Yun. She had made him and Quincy memorize so many verses in their lifetime that they were all coming back to spank and pinch him now.

Ivan wiped the counters and the island, wrung out the dish towel, hung it over the old faucet, and then turned on the nightlight so Grandma could see in case she came out to the kitchen in the middle of the night for some reason. He stood at the kitchen door. He could see himself and Brinley again, standing against the sink doing dishes that Sunday afternoon. He could hear her, hear what she had said to him.

So trust your God. Wait it out. It will turn out better than you thought.

Well, it hasn’t, Brin. And maybe it never will.

Still, in his heart, Ivan knew Brinley had been right. Shortly after that, she had accepted Jesus Christ as her Lord and Savior. And then he had dumped her because he didn’t want her so see him mired in his shaken faith. She had been growing exponentially as a new believer, whereas he had hit a slump in his spiritual growth. He didn’t want her to see him like this.

A failure.

Perhaps someday when he had climbed out of this pit they could reconnect—

No. It’s best for us to part ways. I’m no good for her.

“But is that what God would have wanted?” Ivan asked aloud to no one.

I’m not jealous of her spiritual growth and ashamed of my own spiritual collapse, am I?

He heard an owl or two hooting from the small grove of live oak behind the house. Somewhere in the distance a dog barked. A truck revved. Usual sounds of the night.

There you go. Life goes on.

Ivan was heading upstairs to brush his teeth and go to bed when he remembered that he hadn’t checked the doors and windows and made sure he had turned off the lights. Saving electricity had been something that Grandpa Otto had harped on, and that he hadn’t forgotten.

He had locked the front door earlier, but he headed there to it again. The living room was dark so he turned on the light to get to the windows and side doors.

Hmmm. When did we paint that wall green—

He froze.

Where’s Grandma’s piano?

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