Page 58 of When Forever Stays

When I look over to West, he slips off his stoic mask and smiles. “I hope you find your amenities tolerable.”

“I appreciate this more than I can say.” I reach forward and shake his hand.

Olivia says, “I think you’ll like it here.”

“I hope you can make this your home soon. We’ll leave you all to get settled.” West looks down at his wife with an expression very clearly just for her and she flushes.

“You two have fun!” Dana smirks. She links arms with Rosa and sings her way into the bungalow as I follow behind.

It’s only slightly larger than my 800-square-foot home, but my bedroom is its own room, which is an upgrade from my studio-style hut. The small kitchen has just enough space for a stove, miniature refrigerator, sink, and coffee pot. Thankfully, the whole home is already furnished, another nod to West’s generosity despite our rocky past.

“It’s cute,” Dana says, turning in a slow circle and taking it all in.

I walk over to stand beside her. “Please never refer to anything about me as cute. It detracts from my masculine energy.”

Dana rolls her eyes, but Rosa is the one to say, “Masculine energy is hogwash. You’re as man as you allow yourself to be. No one can emasculate you without your approval.” A slow smile stretches across her lips. “But Dana is right; this place is cute.”

The three of us let out a laugh, and it feels good. For weeks, I’ve felt nothing but the weight of my past on my shoulders, and before that, the frustration of having no memories at all. But being here with Dana and Rosa, the weight shifts ever so slightly, allowing me this moment to breathe and laugh and smile.

TWENTY THREE

DANA

I haven’t slept in over thirty-six hours. My eyes burn from staring at my computer screen for the last thirty of those hours. As I look out at the group of teenage girls, any exhaustion flees, and I’m invigorated more than that time I drank a triple shot of espresso. The doors close, and Mrs. Woodhouse gives me the nod to go ahead. I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face and the tears that spring to my eyes. Those tears take away the burning in my dry eyes, and I take it as a tiny God-wink that He’s with me, providing for even my silliest needs. I turn my face and swipe the teardrops away.

The sanctuary has been transformed into fellowship central. Circular tables are sprinkled throughout the large room, eight chairs around each one. Every table is full. For the millionth time in my life, I am floored by how amazing Jesus is. All the girls chose to be here to learn how to study God’s Word this weekend.

Lord, thank you for getting me here. Thank you for this opportunity. Let my words be Yours and not mine. I am Yourwilling vessel; fill me with Your Spirit so my cup overflows and pours into these young women this weekend. Amen.

Another brief wave of tears flows from my eyes, and I grab a tissue from the box on the podium to dab them.

After switching on my headset, I say, “Sorry, this is all so beautifully overwhelming. Seeing all you young women sitting in this sanctuary smiling up at me is surreal. So many of you love like Jesus, and it is truly encouraging to my heart. It’s a blessing to know you and to be here. So thank you for having me.”

My group of girls shouts from their seats, “We love you, Miss Dana!”

Tears spring to my eyes. “Stop it! I’m going to cry again!” I wipe them away but then whisper into the mic, “I love you girls too.”

Then it’s time to get to business. I have hours of material ready to share and a pep in my spirit that I’ve never experienced before as I dive into the lesson surrounding the hard truth I’ve been personally going through over the last several weeks: the need for forgiveness.

When Nancy asked me to be the teacher for this retreat, I felt honored, and after a lot of prayer and encouragement from not only my girls but several other small group leaders, I felt the undeniable urge to say yes. So I did, yet I couldn’t figure out what I was going to teach. Until Rhett. Until I had to come to the end of myself, fall to my knees, and give it to God. Because this is for Him. Not for me. Not even for my girls. But for God’s glory. And my prayer, even when I was unable to write a single word, was that He would be glorified.

I wrap up my current lesson and look out at the group of teens and their leaders, all of them presumably applying whatI shared. An indescribable feeling of pride washes over me. But not personal pride, more of a gratefulness that God has chosen me for this opportunity and given me the ability to do it.

Olivia waves me over from our table, and I take my mic off and set it on the podium before heading over. I sit beside her, and she wraps an arm around me, giving me a gentle squeeze.

“You were amazing. Practically glowing up there. I am so proud of you!” She kisses my temple like she used to do when I was little.

We sit with our girls and work through the study method I just taught, and I can practically see the light bulbs go off as we read and study each passage on forgiveness. Emma’s face slowly becomes crestfallen, and I know she realizes the truth: she also needs to forgive.

She turns to me, eyes watery. “Miss Dana, I-I think it’s time I forgive Millie.”

“I think so too.”

“Can I call her?” she asks.

We had the girls turn their phones off so they would focus on the retreat and not the next social media craze. For this situation, I make an exception. Emma pulls her phone from her bag and impatiently taps her foot as it turns on.

Emma places the call and chews on her thumbnail as the phone rings, looking more nervous than I’ve ever seen her. Our group sits and waits with bated breath.

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