Page 56 of Muskoka Miracle

Boyd glanced between them. “And how did that work out for you?”

Ouch. A peek at Dan showed clamped lips, like he too was struggling to find words that held an ounce of grace. Sam had his head in his hands, elbows on knees and was shaking his head.

Wonderful. So apparently this was her moment to be the bigger person. “Actually, I don’t think there’s any right or wrong way,” she said. She glanced again at Dan, but his face remained averted. “This was actually our third miscarriage—”

“Third?”

She ignored Sam’s gasp, focusing on Boyd. “And it hasn’t been easy. So trying to manage our emotions, to not upset others, to support each other, and still trust God through it all, has been incredibly hard. And you know what? We probably could have done things better. But this is us, imperfect us, doing the best we can.”

Tears clogged her nose, her throat. She sniffed them back, swallowed. “And I’m sorry if us not telling you makes you feel left out, but like I said, we’re imperfect people just trying to figure this out and live in God’s love and His promises. And that means it sometimes gets messy along the way.”

Dan’s jaw tilted, then he swiftly wiped his eyes.

Sam swiped his eyes too, then turned to his brother and hugged him.

Her heart wrenched and she blinked back her own tears, savoring the moment, as Dan slowly wrapped his brother in a hug. Then Sam pounded him on the back and released him, and hugged Sarah, while Boyd took his own turn at hugging Dan.

“I’m so sorry you’ve gone through this,” Sam murmured.

“It’s okay.” She rubbed his back. “Like I said, I know that God still loves us, and has good plans for us. We just need to keep trusting Him.”

He crouched in a little closer, and just when she thought his hug was going on a little too long, she felt his tears wet her hair.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered.

He sniffed.

Oh, she wished Dan could help, but a peek across the table showed he and Boyd were caught in sober conversation. “Sam? You can tell me.”

“I wish I could trust Him,” he murmured.

Oh, Lord. Touch his heart.“You can.”

She pulled back, studying him, this man who might look like Dan, but was a boy still in many ways. “Sam, you know that God loves you. You’ve felt His love before. Actually, you’veknownGod’s love before. Because faith isn’t about how you’re feeling.”

His lips pressed together.

Lord, help me say this right.“This past year I’ve cried so much, I’ve struggled—I still struggle—with questions, and frustration, and envy, and doubt, but deep down I still know that God loves me. It’s like a full stop—oops, another Australianism there—it’s like a period at the end of a sentence. God loves me.God,” she pointed to the night sky, “loves me. Godlovesme.” She clenched her hand over her heart. “God lovesme.”

How wondrous and impossible and awe-filling and humbling that was. Her eyes filled with tears.

“I know that God loves me. And I know that God loves you, Sam. Period.”

He opened his mouth as if to protest, but she shook her head.

“It’s not about how good you are, or how much you have it together. Being perfect doesn’t impress God because He knows none of us are. All God wants is for us to repent from doing things our own way, and let Jesus be the Lord of our lives and for us to follow Him. He’s not asking for much.” Her lips tweaked up. “Just your life.”

His lips flickered into a smile that quickly faded. “But I walked away.”

“So walk back. He’s there, waiting, His hand is always stretched out toward you. Just take it.”

He shuddered out a breath. “I’ve really messed up though.”

“He still loves you.”

“I mean, I’ve really done some dumb things.”

“You don’t honestly think that’s taken God by surprise, do you? If God loved a man called Paul who was killing Christians, and then used him to write a quarter of the books in the New Testament, don’t you think He can love and use you too?”

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