Page 96 of From Ice to Grace
Hannah sighs, clinking the spoon on her mug before setting it down. “There’s been tension in the locker room…but Lucas says on the ice, it’s flawless.” She lifts her gaze to meet mine.
“That’s what I was afraid of,” I admit. “No one can deny Axel’s talent. Plus he’s played with EJ forever.”
I take a sip of my coffee, wondering how this is happening.
“Lucas said he can definitely see their compatibility on the ice,” Hannah concedes. “But they also know that Declan has been the best for the past four years. He was brought in for a reason. He just…” she trails off.
“He just has to keep his anger in check,” I finish for her, wondering if he’ll be able to do it. “He was struggling with the idea of a PTO, and now that he knows it’s Axel…”
A smile tugs at the corner of Hannah’s mouth. “So he’s a little jealous?”
“No, not jealous,” I defend. “He has no reason to be jealous.”
“I know that,” she says with a shrug. “But it’s a guy thing.”
“I just don’t want him to do his ‘guy thing’ and lose his spot on the team. Not because of me. I’m supposed to help him stay on the team. And this just…complicates everything. Why did it have to be Axel? Why now?”
Hannah’s gaze softens. “God works in strange ways, Avah,” her voice is gently, cutting through the spiraling in my mind. “Maybe he knew you’d be facing your past one way or another. And this way he gave you a chance to have someone by your side to handle it. Someone who needs you just as much as you need him.”
Her words prick at the layers and layers of complicated mess that is my emotions.
I narrow my gaze at her. “No wonder you’re a counsellor. You’re too good at spinning messy life situations into a teaching moment.”
She grins. “God-given talent, I suppose.” Hannah sets down her mug, wrapping her hands around it. “Have you been watching?” she asks carefully. “You haven’t been to a game since before the wedding. How are you holding up?”
It hasn’t been easy to watch Axel gliding around on the ice, in the position Declan is supposed to be in. In a way it feels like a cruel joke. But on the other hand, I haven’t stopped praying about how to deal with this.
“One thing I know for certain is that I won’t be able to get through this without God’s guidance,” I say honestly. “I haven’t followed His advice for so long, but now, I can’t afford not to listen anymore.”
Somehow I’ve made it through this week without losing it. I’ve been calm, like God is steadying my heart.
Hannah gives me an encouraging smile. “My mom always tells me that the Holy Spirit is a gentleman. He’ll nudge you, remind you, give you wisdom but He never forces you. He never leaves you with guilt or shame, or manipulates you. He loves you, and He wants what’s best for you.”
For almost a year, I’ve allowed myself to forget that God is the only One who can settle my heart. Scripture says that the enemy deceives. And the cruelest part of it is you don’t even know you’re being deceived. Thanks to God’s grace, He opened my eyes.
“I know that,” I say with a sigh. “You know pride is a ugly thing.”
“Axel hurt you,” Hannah says softly. “Choosing to put all of that behind you, choosing to forgive and move on…it doesn’t make you weak, Avah. It makes you strong. It shows that you have the strength of Christ in you. And that’s everything.”
Tomorrow is Declan’s game. I’ll also have to face Axel again.
I’m done with pride, guilt, shame and unforgiveness. One way or another, I’m moving forward.
My heart reaches toward my Savior, ‘Please guide me, Father. Help me to give all of this to You.’
I’ve been finishing up the last of my documents for immigration while sitting at our dining room table. Finishing my peppermint tea, I set down the cup, staring at the names on the forms in front of me.
Declan Dawson Murphy.
Avah Linnea Murphy.
The front door opens, and I glance up just in time to catch Declan walking in. Before I can help it, a small smile tugs at my lips.
“Do you feel better?” I ask as he sets down his duffle bag, moving in a way that shows he’s carrying something heavy after a long day. His dark hair is wet from his shower, the ends curling near his face. His Rangers sweatshirt and pants remind me why we’re doing this in the first place.
He’s not allowed to practice with the team due to his suspension, but he needs ice-time as much as the next hockey player. He’s allowed to use the facilities at Tarrytown, just as long as it’s not with the team and he’s been doing that for the past week.
“I do,” he says, picking up the remotes to the television and dropping down on the couch. He looks to where I’m sitting, patting the couch next to him. “Come sit with me.”
