Ecc Studies 20-21

Study Number Twenty

Read Ecclesiastes 12.

“Remember your Creator in the days of your youth”

Kate sat next to Clare in the second row of chairs.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in the front?” Clare said. “You’re the mother of the bride.”
“Don’t I know it,” said Kate. “But this is a terribly long rehearsal. Nick wants everything to be just perfect for his daughter.”
“He’s doing a nice job,” Clare said.
“He’s done so many weddings. Sometimes he does a fabulous job and other times not so swift, but he does enjoy weddings. This one, though—he and I both aren’t looking forward to losing our little girl.”
“But you don’t really lose her—you gain a son, don’t you?” Clare said, watching her boys race toward the water with Keegan on their heels. She wished she were with them. She’d like to feel the water on her legs.
Keegan would probably throw her in, kicking and screaming, reading the desire in her eyes though she pretended to fight it. The boys would love every minute of it.
I live in a man’s world, Clare thought, but it’s a good one. I guess I’m Wendy in Never Land, or Jo from Little Men.
Odd that the story she was currently working on was mainly about girls, but then her three sisters had certainly influenced her greatly. The four of them were so closely knit in some ways that Clare had felt at times that they actually overlapped. They were such a part of each other. Abby had been the least a part of that connection in many ways. And yet perhaps oddly the most a part of it.
“It will be a beautiful wedding,” said Kate.
“And it’s exciting to think about what these two may do for the Lord with their future,” said Clare. “You can be proud of your girl—serving God with her youth.”
“I know,” Kate said, but she sighed after she spoke and looked away from her sister. “I just wish I could be a part of it. She’ll need my help. My strength. My hands.”
“Your prayers,” said Clare. “You’ll still be a part of her life. You just have to make the most of the times you do have together and when you’re apart, pray for each other hard. This life here is so often so—unsatisfactory. But the one to come, provided we live for it, will be much more satisfying.”
Kate smiled slowly. “You’re right about Lauren, Clare, but wrong about this life, at least in part. The smartest of the lot of us, but you’ve always had that part wrong.”
“What do you mean?” Clare asked.
“I’m not going to tell you,” said Kate. “I think you should find out for yourself.” She pushed her hair back from her face and stood to her feet. “I’m going to go congratulate my daughter on a lovely rehearsal and suggest to my husband that he be a little less long-winded tomorrow morning, but I’m afraid he won’t take my suggestion.”


“I’m not really happy, Annie. I should be I know, so I try to be, but I’m not. Something is missing. No matter what I do or get, I can’t feel it.”
“Feel what?”
“That feeling that you and Kate and Clare all seem to have. That sense that you belong.”
“But you’re more popular than any of us, Abby. We would all love to be like you.”
“I don’t have anything worth living for.”
“Of course you do.”
“No, I don’t. There’s nothing about my life that makes it worth sticking around for. Dad and Mom say to live in the light of eternity. But if eternity is so good why waste our time here with people who don’t really care about you or even really want to know you, people who value you for anything except for who you really are, people who would think you were crazy if they knew how confused you really felt, how unhappy you really are?”
“But Abby—“
“I’m sorry, Annie. I love you, sweetie. You’re a great sister. I’d say just loving you—and Dad and Mom and Kate and Clare—should make it worthwhile, but it just doesn’t. Please forgive me.”
“Forgive you for what?”


Dear Dad,

I really appreciate the way you listen to and help so many people. You always seem to know what to say to help and you don’t seem to get discouraged when people don’t take your advice. I don’t want to make you sad but I think I can’t help it. Sooner or later I’m going to make you sad whether I do this or not. So I’ve decided to do it. Some day I’ll see you again, and maybe then I’ll know what I should have done. Until then, don’t change. Keep being so great. If only I could be like you.

Dear Mom,

You’ve been a great mom. I know you were always proud of me, but you didn’t know how much I really hated—everybody and everything—and how much I hated myself for feeling that way. You don’t know how I agonized over things I said and did. I tried so hard but I just couldn’t do it. I’m so sorry, Mom. I love you. Please forgive me. I know this isn’t the solution, but it seems like the best I can come up with now.


Dear Kate,

You’ve been a great big sis. Always doing stuff for all of us. I wish I could be like you and think about other people all the time, really helping them and trying to make them look good instead of myself. I’m sorry I’m such a coward. I know I should try harder, but I don’t feel like I can. Please forgive me for giving up,


Dear Clare,

Thanks for reading me so many stories. The people in books have such happy lives. I think that even when bad things happen they know it will all work out in the end. I guess I should hope that’s true for me too and I should be willing to wait. But I just can’t seem to. It takes too long. I’m sorry.

Dear Annie,

You are such a sweetheart. You see beauty in all of us somehow. But the world is not always beautiful and not everybody we think loves us really does. I’m losing faith. I wish you could help me find it again but I know you can’t. It’s not your fault. Forgive me.


Abby

P.S. Please don’t show this note to anyone else.

After they shared their letters with each other, they also shared memories of Abby. Annie mentioned conversations she’d had with Abby in which her sister had revealed her dissatisfaction. She’d really not shared it with anyone else.
Kate revealed that she’d suspected Abby of experimenting some with drugs and had thought then that she might be struggling with some unhappiness beneath her have-everything façade. But Kate understood the appeal of a façade.
Clare admitted she’d never suspected and that she felt so stupid for not suspecting, so guilty. She was the thinker of the family, supposedly. She should have seen Abby’s unhappiness before anyone else did. Why that was what literature was all about. Things and people being more than what they seem. But she’d not seen and could not forgive herself.
Annie shared her own journey to forgiveness.
Clare listened to her baby sister humbly, feeling that she was now the younger sister. She hugged Annie fiercely and told her how much she appreciated her words.

Questions to Answer

1. What difference does it make to remember your Creator in your youth? Why does Solomon include this poetic description of aging at the beginning of this chapter?

2. How could Abby’s life have been different if she’d remembered her Creator? Note what this chapter says about hidden things and think about how this principle applies to Abby’s situation and her family’s. Compare Abby’s story with Lauren’s.

3. Have you remembered your Creator? How do you remember Him? What might He reveal about you?



Study Number Twenty-One

Reread Ecclesiastes 12.

Annie greeted Allison with a big smile. She hadn’t realized she was present until the wedding was over. Annie admired the young woman’s new hair cut, a softly-layered, short style that flattered her face and wide eyes and somehow managed to make her look younger and also more mature at the same time. She held a baby up against her, a little bundle dressed in white lace from head to toe, starting with her bonnet and ending with her booties, the frilly dress in between somewhat insubstantial but made less so by the crotcheted white blanket wrapped around the little body.
“May I hold her?” Annie asked quietly.
Allison nodded and handed her baby to her former teacher.
“She’s so soft and sweet,” Annie said. “Your mom said you named her—“ Annie hesitated.
“Yes,” Allison said quickly. “We named her after you. And after my mom and Greg’s. Anna Hope Carol. I know it’s a mouthful, but we didn’t want to leave anyone out.”
“It’s a wonderful name,” Annie said.
Drew, who stood at Annie’s elbow, laughed quietly.
“What are you laughing about?” Annie said.
“Well, of course you like the name,” he said.
Annie smiled but didn’t comment.
“I like it too,” he said.
“And so do I,” said Carol. She had just joined them. She immediately reached to take her granddaughter from Annie’s arms. “I’m sorry, Annie, but I can’t resist. Whenever I see this little one I feel like I have to hold her.”
“All right, all right,” Annie said reluctantly.
“Can’t believe my daughter insists on dressing her in all white. She obviously doesn’t know the first thing about babies. Spit up and diaper blow-out here we come. But she does look beautiful.” They all chuckled as Carol left with her warm armful. “See you at the reception,” she called as she started toward the wooden stairs leading up from the beach. Annie had decorated the railing with ribbon and flowers, transforming it into a fairy staircase.
“How are things going with you and Greg?” Annie asked Allison quietly.
Allison’s eyes clouded slightly. “I’m not sure. I don’t see much of him. I’m so busy with Anna and he works long hours. When we are together we’re both tired and arguing a lot over stupid things. Like who’s doing the most. Pray for us.”
“I will,” Annie promised. “I do.”
“She does,” Drew echoed. “I’ve heard her.”
“Thank you,” Allison said simply. Annie gave her a hug and prayed for her silently as she did so. This girl was her girl in so many ways. If there was anything Annie could do to help her, she would.

“Clare!”
Clare lifted her skirt and ran, enjoying the feel of the sand between her toes and the abandon of running like a child, though she was far from it. Who cared that she was a college professor who probably had no business acting this way, particularly in public? Maybe that wasn’t what she was any more. Or maybe she was that but differently from the way she had been it in the past.
The wedding party and most of the guests were long gone from the beach, at or making their way to the shelter and its surrounding tables, all decorated so nicely one could almost forget they weren’t in a banquet hall. But there were also hints of the sand and sea every where, including the driftwood and flower masterpiece Annie had helped Lauren and her husband design. Two of the groomsmen had carried it with them to the reception where it would continue to be appreciated.
Clare’s husband and sons were tossing a Frisbee back and forth as they stood near the water. Andrew was having the most trouble catching it and had to keep running after it when it came his way.
When Keegan saw Clare he threw the Frisbee to her. She lunged for it, but it slipped from her fingers and fell on the sand. Andrew smiled. “You missed it, Mom,” he said.
She laughed at the delight in his voice, knowing he wasn’t happy she hadn’t succeeded so much as he was happy that someone else was struggling like he was.
She picked the Frisbee up and threw it to Aaron, who was closest to her.
He also was unable to catch it. Andrew laughed again. Aaron frowned at his brother. “I wasn’t ready, Mom,” he said.
“You still almost caught it,” Clare said.
“Yea, I did,” said Aaron. He grinned and threw the Frisbee to Andrew. “Think fast,” he said. Clare laughed. She knew he’d heard that expression from his father.
“We’d better head to the reception soon before all the food is gone,” said Clare.
“You don’t really think there’s any chance of that, do you?” Keegan asked.
“Well, there are a lot of people here,” Clare said.
“All right,” Keegan said. “Come on, boys. Let’s go eat.” He walked to Clare, put his arm around her and steered her toward the stairs.
“But I just got here,” she said.
“You were the one who said we’d have to hurry or there wouldn’t be any food left,” he said, looking at her, puzzled.
“I said we’d need to go soon. Not yet. No reason not to enjoy the present, stay here by the ocean a little longer. If we leave right this minute we’ll just have to stand in line.” Clare laughed a little. She couldn’t seem to stop laughing. “Kate will save some for us. We can play for a while and then go when the line is shorter.”
Keegan shrugged. “Food does always taste better when you’re really hungry for it. And there’s nothing like anticipation.”
“No, nothing like it,” Clare said. “Except for maybe enjoying the present. What’s lacking now makes what comes later better but doesn’t mean now has no joy. Especially if you’re not expecting to find ultimate fulfillment now or looking at these present events as being the source of fulfillment.”
Keegan raised his eyebrows questioningly.
“I think I’m finally starting to understand,” she said.
“Your family talk this morning was helpful?” he asked.
“It was,” she said, “but it also made me really sad and even kind of depressed, in a way. Annie told me quite a bit about her struggles and her difficulty with truly feeling—forgiven. What she said helped. The wedding itself helped. Well, not the wedding actually—but— I don’t know if I can explain. It’s also—it’s all something I’ve been realizing over time and will continue to have to realize and pray for. I think God has been showing it to me.”
Keegan put his arms around his wife. “You don’t have to explain,” he said, “but later if you want to tell me more I’d love to hear it.”
“I have so much to tell you,” Clare said. It would be painful to dredge it all up again, but she really felt she wanted to. In fact, she was surprised she’d been able to keep it all from Keegan for so long. He knew about Abby’s death of course, but not about the letter—letters. “Do you know how much I love you?” Clare asked.
“I think I have a hunch,” Keegan said with a smile. His eyes were tender and warm. He reached for her hand, and as always she enjoyed the warmth and strength of his large hand enfolding her smaller one.
“Dad!” yelled Andrew. “The Frisbee went into the water!”
“Oh, my,” said Keegan. Then he looked at Clare. “Kids,” he said, rolling his eyes.
“Dad!” Andrew yelled again.
“I’m coming!” Keegan called back. “I’ll rejoin you in a moment, fair madam,” he said to Clare.
“I’ll be waiting,” she said. “Will you bring our princes and their royal disc?”
“We’ll see,” he said. “I don’t know if I’m up to it.”
As he left, Clare watched his long strides, appreciated the way the sun glinted on his hair, and decided her boys could use some more feminine influence in their lives. She would pray for a daughter.
It was very possible God wouldn’t answer her prayer affirmatively. She was getting older and she’d already had a miscarriage since the boys. But if the Lord said yes, Clare hoped to name her Abigail. Abby Joy.

Questions to Answer

1. What does it mean to say that the words of the wise are like goads?

2. What makes life meaningful, according to Ecclesiastes?

3. What do you think Clare and her sisters have discovered/are discovering? What do you think will happen to them next?

4. Whose wise words have been like goads to you? How have you and can you speak words that are like goads to others? What else has God used to show you Himself and to help you show Him to others?

5. What do you believe God is showing you or has for you? How can your life have meaning?

Ecc 19

Study Number Nineteen

Reread Ecclesiastes 11.

“let your heart give you joy”

Annie tilted her head to one side as she tried to decide if the flower arrangements on the piano and organ overwhelmed the one on the communion table. Usually she placed smaller arrangements on the instruments but this time she’d put a smaller one on the table with a piece of stained glass behind it. She’d hung mock stained glass windows on the wall behind the choir risers as well. They’d been fun to make; she’d enjoyed watching the purple glass harden after she heated it. They were very simple, just alternating purple and clear glass, but they looked elegant, she thought. She planned to also use them as part of the decoration in the picnic shelter near the beach where Lauren’s wedding was to take place. The shelter and some outlying tables would serve as the site for the reception. Annie planned to make it look a little more elegant yet with pretty tablecloths and tall narrow vases of flowers, though she still intended to preserve the beachy, outdoorsy feel of the ceremony, by using sand and sea shells on the table and possibly transferring the driftwood back drop to some place near the tables.
Annie decided to make the arrangement on the communion table a little smaller yet and walked toward the table to pull a few flowers from it when a low voice said, “It looks great, Annie, a vast improvement on last month’s grouping of wreaths. Was it just me, or did they look like a bunny with big, loopy ears?”
Annie laughed in spite of herself. She adjusted the floral arrangement to her satisfaction and then walked eagerly down the aisle toward Drew. She spoke in a low voice when she reached him. “You shouldn’t say such things. Pastor’s in his office just off the auditorium. His wife put those up. But I did think they looked like a bunny too—two bunnies actually, one on each side of the podium.”
“Both groupings were the same, weren’t they?” Drew said. “Nice to have had two of them, instead of just one, don’t you think? Every bunny needs some bunny.”
“Oh, Drew, stop,” Annie said, but the smile on her face was irrepressible.
Drew smiled back. “Maybe next week Carole can incorporate her cow collection into the church decorations.”
“I think her cows are cute,” Annie said.
“You do not,” said Drew.
“Well—“
“Annie, will you marry me?”
The request was so sudden, so unexpected, Annie found it almost impossible to process. She had been thinking about Carole’s ceramic cows on the window ledge above her kitchen sink and the many other cow items family and friends had given her because they thought she must particularly like them. She’d confided in Annie that she’d actually just kept the figurines in a place where she often saw them because they were her mother’s and she liked to be often reminded of her mom, who had passed away a couple years ago. Annie thought the memories might be painful, but not for Carole. “When I was growing up, my family was almost always a happy one—my memories are happy memories. My kids on the other hand—that’s another story.” She’d been struggling to regain her upbeat outlook on life, since Allison’s marriage. But Annie hastened to assure her that her girls’ childhood memories were primarily happy ones too—that she’d been a good mom.
Annie prayed that Greg and Allison would be able to truly love each other and the baby God had given them. “God is a God of second chances,” she’d told Carole firmly, and she didn’t have to relate her own experiences again for Carole to know immediately what Annie spoke of. Annie had told Carole and her family about her past, a few weeks after she talked to Allison. She still struggled with the guilt but was beginning to truly accept God’s forgiveness and that He still had something for her and perhaps someone as well, someone who would love her and whom she could love in a right way—someone who would have loved the child she shouldn’t have even dreamed of destroying—someone with whom she would never be able to have a child physically but might adopt one. It was Annie’s secret wish. But, could it all be really happening, now? Could it be more than a dream, hope, or prayer for the future? More than a wish? Annie suddenly felt as blessed as she’d always thought Abby was. And on the heels of that thought was the question if her situation was as deceiving as that one had been.
Abby had told Annie several times that she felt fat and ugly and unloved. Annie had almost thought her sister was just trying to make her feel better. Annie, the baby of the family, had only that status going for her. She was a painfully plain child and an awkward adolescent. Actually, Kate and Clare had been rather awkward adolescents too. Really, weren’t most adolescents awkward? But not Abby. Abby had been beautiful, perfect. She’d seemed very happy and confident. Annie thought she was the only one who’d ever heard her sister express feelings of inadequacy, and she’d thought so little of them, until that day. Then Annie’s guilt was colossal, because she thought she might have been able to do something—if only she’d told someone what Abby had said to her—before it was too late.
Abby was a big part of the reason Annie had run away and a big part of the reason she’d turned to Todd, though her sin was still fully her fault. Annie couldn’t believe that if Abby was unable to feel someone could truly love her, Annie could ever hope to have a great love. What man would want her? Surely no man that she’d want. Besides, she had a knack for choosing the wrong kind of man. Even in grade school she’d rather favored the troublemakers.
Could Drew be different? Annie was glad she’d told Drew about Abby and about Todd and the baby one afternoon over coffee. She’d thought he’d for sure lose interest in her afterward—even as a friend, which was what he’d limited himself to after she told him she wasn’t interested in pursuing a relationship with him. But he hadn’t. He’d been as loving as a person could possibly be and had told her that he’d also struggled and made wrong choices in his past, in his case, in response to parents who fought continually and then divorced when their kids’ were out of the home. His consequent dissolutionment with the Christianity he’d been brought up with had resulted in, for a while, his life’s being nothing like the life of a committed Christian. But the hound of heaven hadn’t left his child alone, and a guilt-ridden Drew had finally, thankfully returned to church and sought counseling, finding joy in again pursuing his relationship with Christ, though not without struggles.
Yet, even after he shared so openly with her, Annie was still somewhat wary of him, particularly of a future with him. But becoming less and less so. She was starting to dare to hope again.
And now it seemed that her dreams were coming true.
She wanted to hear Drew say those words again but was afraid that she’d only thought he said them the first time.
“I’m sorry,” Drew said. “I shouldn’t have done it this way. I wanted to take you for a walk in the park, recite you poetry, I—“
“Stop,” Annie said softly.
“You’re just not ready for it anyway, are you? Even if I’d done it like that—“
“Stop,” Annie said again. “Don’t say anything else. Just let me appreciate those words ‘will you marry me?’ before you regret them. That is what you said, isn’t it?”
“Absolutely. And I have no intention of taking them back,” Drew said quickly. “I love you and I want you to be my wife. I—I’ve hardly ever meant anything more.“ He swallowed hard. His dark eyes were intense and sincere.
She threw her arms around him and kissed him.
When she released him, he said, with a half-smile on his face, “I take it that’s a yes?”
She nodded, her smile lighting up her whole face. “Sometimes things are better said without words.”
“Could you say it without words again?” he asked.
Annie laughed, and proceeded to do so.

Questions to Answer

1. How can your heart give you joy? Why does Solomon say to follow your heart but know that you’ll be judged for following it?

2. What do you think is the point of verse 10?

3. How have both Drew and Annie experienced judgment for following their hearts and joy in following them? How do the instructions regarding youth apply to those who are not as young?

4. Has following your heart brought you joy or judgment? What makes the difference?

Ecc Studies 17 & 18

Study Number Seventeen

Reread Ecclesiastes 9-10.

“words from a wise man’s mouth are gracious”

Clare and Keegan and the boys had been visiting Clare’s parents in western Kansas for the past four days. They’d gone swimming at the local pool, biked almost all the town’s bike paths and played Frisbee golf, which Clare had never heard of before and Keegan had only tried one other time. Keegan really enjoyed all the activities. Most of them had been Clare’s father’s ideas but she knew he planned them remembering Keegan’s love for action.
Aaron and Andrew kept their parents and grandparents on their toes, initially considering almost nothing off limits that looked like a toy, especially in Abby’s room, until Clare sternly told them the dress up costumes and dollhouse were strictly untouchables. In fact, Abby’s room in its entirety they were better off leaving alone. Clare was shocked that her mother had originally planned for the boys to stay in the bedroom. Shortly after they arrived late Monday evening, Keegan unloaded their van. He placed Aaron and Andrew’s suitcases on the floor by the bed, as Clare’s mom said to do, without Clare’s being aware of what was going on. When Clare was on her way to the bathroom and saw Aaron in the room, she quickly pulled him out and started to close the door, when she noticed the suitcases by the bed. She pulled them out as well and shut the door, told Aaron to stay out of the room, and went to find her mother.
“Why were the boys’ things in Abby’s room?” Clare asked her mother, who was reading Andrew a storybook she’d recently purchased for him.
“I told Keegan to put them there,” she said complacently, looking up at Clare briefly and then returning her attention to Andrew who was asking questions about a picture in the book.
“I can’t believe you think the boys should stay in that room,” Clare said. “You never have anyone stay in there.”
The older woman finished reading the last page of the book and set it aside. “Just two weeks ago we had a missionary family over and two of the kids stayed in the room. A month before, we had four college kids in a singing group from their school perform at church. We put the two girls up here. I gave them Abby’s room. Another family in the church took the boys. The girls were sweet but stayed up late talking. I heard them in the room at one o’clock in the morning, when I got up to go to the bathroom. For a minute, I thought it was Abby with one of her friends from school. You remember how she used to have friends over all the time?”
“She was very popular,” Clare said. “Homecoming queen, women’s student council president. She was more well-known and liked than any other girl at our high school. Even Kate and I were known as her sisters by quite a few people, though she was younger than the two of us. Annie didn’t have a chance at being her own person.”
“What do you mean?” Clare’s mother said.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. I was just so startled that you had Keegan take the boys’ things to Abby’s room,” Clare said. Her voice was deliberately dismissive. She really didn’t want to talk about Abby. Particularly not with her mother.
Andrew slid off Grandma’s lap and went on a quest for Grandpa, who was calling him, promising some ice cream. Clare was surprised the boys had as much energy as they did. She’d thought they’d be ready to drop by the time they arrived. It was, after all, already a half hour past their bed time. Still, there was no putting them to bed now, not with ice cream on the table.
Clare decided to leave the room before her mother had a chance to say anything more. “I’d like some of that ice cream too,” she said.

The boys ended up in Kate and Clare’s old room, which was next door to Abby’s. Clare’s parents had recently converted the room into an office/hobby room and it looked a little like a catastrophe waiting to happen as a bedroom for a six-year-old and a five-year-old, both active boys. Probably no better than Abby’s room as far as being temptingly full of things to get into. But Clare was thankful for the change. She put the boys’ sleeping bags side by side on top of a foam mattress her father pulled out of storage after everyone finished their ice cream. Keegan helped the boys get ready for bed. Then they gave everyone kisses and Keegan and Clare tucked them in for the night.
Clare managed to beg out of the conversation and head to bed herself not too long afterward. She’d gotten up so early that morning and after a long day of driving, she was hardly able to keep her eyes open. Keegan woke her when he joined her a little later. He’d been talking to her father when she went to bed.
She and Keegan were staying in Annie’s old room, her white four-poster still sporting the crazy quilt that had belonged to Grandma Nancy. Annie had found it stored away in Mom’s hope chest and begged to use it on her bed. It was easy to see how the riotous colors might take Annie’s fancy and the quilt was a perfect match for the painting Annie had made that was hung over the bed. It had all the same colors in it, which were pretty much every color there was, Clare thought. At first when Clare had seen Annie working on the painting, she’d thought it was just some abstract sort of thing, until Annie drew a coat on top of the colors, cut it out and mounted it to thick cream colored paper. She framed it close to the coat, so just a little border showed around it. Joseph’s coat of many colors, Clare thought, wondering if Joseph’s family problems were in Annie’s mind, but she never asked her younger sister about the painting. Annie had made it after they’d stopped asking each other questions, after they’d realized how little they really knew about each other after all and how little they felt prepared to face such knowledge.
“What time is it?” Clare said when she heard Keegan climb into bed. The room was so dark she could hardly make out his profile, as he lay next to her.
“Sorry I woke you,” Keegan said, “but since I did—“ He scooted closer toward her and pulled her up against his chest, resting his chin on top of her head. “Mmm, you feel good,” he said.
“I feel worn out,” Clare said. “What time is it?”
“Not that late. Ten thirty, maybe,” he said.
“Aren’t you tired?”
“Not too bad. Your dad and I had an interesting conversation.”
“What about?” Clare suddenly worried that Keegan and her father might have talked about Abby. First her mother and then her father too.
“He wanted to know how things are going with the teens. He’s tried to start a youth group without much success and he doesn’t have anyone else interested in working with the few young people who attend. It’s too much for him to work with them too with everything else he has to do.”
“He still wants us to move here, doesn’t he? He wants you to help him at the church.” Clare couldn’t count the number of her times her father had made some sort of suggestion to them along those lines. Sometimes she thought Mom had put him up to it. She was even more eager to have Clare closer with Aaron and Andrew, of course. Mostly because of Aaron and Andrew, Clare thought. But who could blame her? What grandparent doesn’t want to see more of grandkids who live far away? And Keegan and Clare closer to Clare’s parents than Nick and Kate were
“He didn’t say anything like that this time—exactly—though he might have been hinting at it. Go to sleep,” Keegan said. “Tomorrow will be a busy day. Dad has lots of things planned to do while we’re here.”
Clare was going to ask what but her body suddenly felt so weary she didn’t feel like making the effort to speak. She’d find out soon enough.

Clare woke to clattering sounds in the next room. Abby’s room. She felt sick. Keegan was gone.
Someone was crying. It was Andrew. She got out of bed and hurried next door.
Keegan and Andrew were talking, Keegan with his arms around his little son, who was in tears. They both looked up when Clare entered the room.
“What happened?” Clare asked.
“I found Andrew in here and told him not to play with this dollhouse—there are too many small and fragile pieces. I sent him outside to play while I took a shower, but when I got out, he was in here again. And look, he broke this.” Keegan handed Clare a small wooden dressing table that was in two pieces. “I think I can glue it back together with wood glue,” Keegan said.
“You punished him?” Clare asked.
Keegan nodded. “That’s why he was crying.”
“I’m sorry, Mommy,” Andrew said.
Clare smiled a little shakily. “Don’t let him play in here, please,” she told Keegan.
He nodded. “Too many toys that really aren’t appropriate for him—too fragile,” he said.
Clare had already walked out of the room.

Dad did have a full day of activities planned, and Clare enjoyed every minute of it. Keegan and her boys had managed to make her into more of an outdoors girl than she ever thought she’d be, growing up the prerequisite bookworm destined to turn into an English teacher. She really had fun watching the boys try to keep up with their Daddy and Grandpa, playing Frisbee golf at the park. Although they enjoyed trying to throw the Frisbees into the goals, or just find them after Daddy threw them so far no one could tell where they’d landed, she thought they most enjoyed running through the sprinklers that came on around 11:30 and gave everyone an unexpected dousing. Aaron and Andrew laughed at Clare’s squeals and stayed in the water, while she ran away from it. Soon they were completely drenched.
When they got back to the house, Mom had lunch waiting for them. Hotdogs and macaroni and cheese, the boys’ favorite, as Grandma well knew.

Later, the boys took naps—at least Andrew did; Aaron probably paged through library books Clare had brought with them and reluctantly brought inside the house. He usually looked at books during his “rest time.” Hopefully they wouldn’t lose any, as they’d brought them all the way from home. At any rate, the boys were quiet for a little over an hour and a half.
Clare’s mom obviously wanted to talk. She followed Clare to the bedroom and asked her if she had a few minutes. Clare agreed but said she wanted to lie down for a while herself, as long as the boys were down.
“All right,” she mom said, though Clare sensed she would have liked to talk longer and perhaps would save the subject she had in mind for a later time. Clare hoped she wouldn’t bring it up at all. She was fairly certain that she knew what it was and didn’t want to talk about it. “They do wear you out, don’t they?” her mom said of the boys.
“Yes, they do,” Clare said, smiling slightly. “I don’t know how I keep up with them. Not well, I’m afraid.”

The next day, also shortly after the boys went down for their naps, Clare’s mother again asked Clare if she had time to chat for a while. Clare felt tired and thought about begging out in order to take a nap again, but sensed that her mom would persist until she made time for her, and Clare did want to visit, though not about what she was afraid her mom had in mind. So Clare settled herself in an armchair across from her mother and waited for her to speak. Might as well get it over with, Clare thought. Might as well put in words what went through her mind almost every day. But would talking just make it worse? Clare shuddered slightly. Perhaps there was still some way she could avoid the topic she so dreaded.
What her mother had to say completely took Clare by surprise.
“Annie and I had a long talk recently,” she began. “I would have preferred it to have been in person, but it just wasn’t possible, so we made do with the phone.”
She hesitated before continuing. Clare still thought that her mom intended to talk about Abby and was just working up to it. She tried to think of ways to keep the conversation from dragging on, ways to convince her mother that she didn’t see Abby’s still face so often when she closed her eyes. But how could she possibly lie to her mom? She would know that Clare wasn’t telling the truth, and she’d be disappointed in her.
“Annie told me that she aborted one of my grandchildren,” Clare’s mother said so abruptly that all Clare could do was stare at her in surprise.
When she finally found her voice, Clare said simply, “What did you say?” and her mother repeated herself, adding, “It’s so sad that she didn’t feel she could tell me sooner.”
Clare still wasn’t sure she understood. She remembered suspecting something like that a while back when Annie had been so devastated but yet was so close-mouthed about what had happened between her and the unsaved guy she’d dated shortly after she moved to California, but that had been some time ago. Now it seemed like about the last thing she expected to hear. “Annie was pregnant?” she said stupidly.
“When she was seeing that boy when she first started going to that college,” Clare’s mother said. “My smart stupid girl.”
Clare wondered if her mother had ever used that expression to describe Clare. Clare thought that it would be fitting. And it would work for Abby too. Even Kate, perhaps, though Clare thought Kate’s strength had always been, just that, her strength, accomplishing through physical hard work what no amount of reasoning would ever get done. Still there were times her strength wasn’t enough just as Annie’s creativity and Clare’s constant analyzing didn’t necessarily solve problems. Clare often wondered what it would take for each of them to truly find satisfaction and why they so often chose such unsatisfying and heart-breaking approaches to dealing with life.
“She aborted the child because she thought he would hate her if he found out she was pregnant. But as it turned out, he’d already found someone else before she had the abortion,” Clare’s mom said.
“How awful,” Clare said. “I just can’t believe Annie would do something like that. After the way she was brought up especially.”
Her mother shrugged. “How can you know what you would have done in her shoes? She was all alone, looking for love. She had the hardest time of the three of you with Abby’s death and she really felt her life was so meaningless. She’d always thought of Abby as being some sort of great planet that she was a moon revolving around. And then she really felt she needed someone to take her sister’s place, in a way. Someone who would appreciate her even if only because she did things for him. Someone who would make her life seem more worthwhile. It seems like we’re all willing to—wrongly—sacrifice what we believe in, what we know is truly valuable, from time to time, in order to achieve, or hope to achieve, something we feel is more important at the moment to us.”
Clare knew her mom was right. Knew she had wanted fame so badly she might have done almost anything to achieve it, and then had found it not nearly so sweet to the taste as she’d hoped it would be. Knew she’d thought money would fill the hole in her and had pursued it headlong for a time. Knew she’d dreamed of great love, and done many stupid things along the journey before the Lord had given her Keegan and the boys and even with the joy they’d brought her, her life still disappointed her. Knew she’d despaired so much of the life that she lived at times that she’d been desperate of some way to change it, through pouring herself into something, or out of it.
“I ache for the baby and for my daughter,” Clare’s mom said simply. “I’m tired of aching and of seeing my children ache,” she continued. “We need to give ourselves and our sorrows wholeheartedly to the Lord and not hoard them to ourselves or keep them from each other. It’s far past time that we deal with it. And I’m afraid it’s not something we can do just once, but something we have to do daily. I admit—I don’t just want to talk to you about Annie—though she is on my heart and needs your love shown to her and your prayers held up for her as well as mine. I also want to talk about Abby. I think you need to talk about her. ”
Clare stiffened. “No, Mom, please, not now,” she said.
“If not now, then when?” her mother asked. “We must face the truth, Clare. We can’t keep running from it or it will become even more terrible than it actually is.”
“I’m not strong enough for this right now,” Clare said. “Tomorrow, maybe. The news about Annie is enough for today, don’t you think? Tomorrow.” She closed her eyes but found it worse to deal with her thoughts without her mother’s face in her vision. What her mind saw was worse than what her eyes beheld.
Her mother nodded, though she looked a little sad. “Tomorrow,” she said softly. “I’ll hold you to it.”

Questions to Answer

1. What do these two chapters indicate the wise and the foolish have in common? What do they not have in common?

2. Why doesn’t Clare want to talk to her mother about her sisters?

3. What do you think of Clare’s mother and what she says to her daughter?

4. How do you deal with problems? Do you often try to deny that they exist?


Study Number Eighteen

Read Ecclesiastes 11.

“Cast your bread upon the water.”

Kate paced back and forth the length of her kitchen, which was long and narrow and perfect for pacing. She finally made herself stop and pulled out ingredients for cookies. Jason would be home from school soon and he would be thrilled with freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. Besides, she needed to do something. There wasn’t enough to do now that Jack and Lauren were gone. Jack hardly ever called. He was too busy at school, and Lauren’s calls weren’t as welcome to Kate now as they had once been. All she wanted to talk about was her wedding and her fiancée, when all Kate wanted to talk about was her little girl.
There were always church responsibilities, though Kate grew weary of them and how little purpose they sometimes seemed to have. After all, did it really matter if she prepared extensively for her Sunday school lesson? She sometimes seemed to do better and get more discussion going when she was less prepared. And more God-dependent, rather than self-confident, she admitted. She knew it was important to be prepared and to do her best, but when she did she found it harder to be aware of her need for God’s help. Perhaps she should be stepping back more and pushing others forward to do some of the things she did. She should take a break from some of her responsibilities and get a fresh perspective.
Maybe she should get a job. Nick probably wouldn’t mind, if it was just part-time and didn’t cut in to her other responsibilities. He’d probably appreciate the extra income. They were trying to help Lauren some with her wedding expenses—not as much as the bride’s family traditionally did, but it just wasn’t feasible for them to pay for the whole wedding, with Nick’s salary, as a pastor of a small, perpetually struggling church. Sometimes Kate felt she was repeating her parents’ life, but then she’d remind herself of all the differences between her family and her parents.’ Why, just the other day, Mom had called to tell her Annie had just admitted to aborting a child when she was in college. Kate could hardly believe it of her sister. But after Abby, she supposed she should be able to believe it. It was only marginally worse. Some might consider what Abby did to be worse, actually. Then again, self-righteous Kate, Kate told herself, who was to say one was worse than the other, or even that either was worse than any other sin? Though the consequences certainly did seem greater.
Kate wondered how old Annie’s child would have been now. Would she be close to the same age as Lauren? What a thought that was, especially as Lauren was now living near Annie, and Annie sometimes was functioning as a mother toward her. Kate suspected Annie had had the same thought herself. How could she help but imagine, ask what if?
Kate also asked “what if?” sometimes. What if Nick had been something other than a pastor of a small church—a smooth-speaking leader of a large congregation, maybe, or even a missionary on a foreign field, enjoying the freshness and excitement of new converts. Not that Nick ever would be the smooth-speaking type. What if Nick hadn’t been in full-time Christian work at all?
Jason burst through the door and dropped his book bag, narrowly missing a figurine sitting on a small table in the entry way. He’d knocked it off before, even broken it once. Kate had glued it back together. She didn’t think it was obvious unless she looked at it really closely. She probably should move it or throw it away, but it was a shepherd with three small lambs and it was meaningful to her. Whenever she saw it, she prayed that the Shepherd would continue to keep her three lambs safe.
“Warm chocolate chip cookies, Mom, wow,” Jason said, surveying the countertop and peering into the oven. “I could eat them all.”
“You’re hungry?” she said, unnecessarily.
He nodded. “Had phys. ed. last hour and we had to run laps practically the whole time. It was awful.”
“In basketball season you do a lot of running at practice and at games—probably more than in one PE class,” Kate said.
“It’s not the same,” Jason mumbled, his mouth full. “I get used to it.” He reached for another cookie and Kate swatted his hand, much as she had when he reached for things he shouldn’t handle as a small child.
“No, more,” she said. “We’ll be having supper early tonight and you won’t eat properly if you fill up on cookies.”
“Can’t spoil my supper, Mom. I’m having steak and no matter how many cookies I eat, I’ll have room for that,” Jason said, but he left the cookies alone and pulled a glass out of the cabinet, then went to the fridge for milk.
“We’re not having steak, Jason,” Kate said. “I don’t know where you got that idea. Your dad, I suppose.”
“I’m not eating here,” Jason said, looking at his mom in surprise. “I’m taking Becca Carter out for dinner. We’re going to that new steak house. I told you about it, remember? You know how long it took me to get up the guts to ask her.”
“That’s tonight?” Kate said. Jason nodded. “I forgot,” said Kate. “We’re having people over and I’m fixing chicken divan.”
“Save me some if you can,” said Jason. “I’ll eat it tomorrow, or maybe tonight if I can’t afford to order enough to fill me up or I’m too nervous to eat it.”
“You really like her, don’t you?” Kate said. At least the Carters lived in town.
“She’s nice and smart and pretty. She’s a real sweet Christian girl.” He reddened slightly. “What’s not to like?” He wiped milk off his mouth with his hand and started to leave the room.
Kate handed him another cookie. “Here, eat it,” she said.
His eyes widened in surprise and he started to say something, but Kate shook her head.

Clare wasn’t sure how she’d managed to avoid talking to her mom about Abby for so long, especially with her recent intensity about the subject and her determination to discuss it with Clare, no matter how unwilling Clare was. But it wasn’t until the day before they left that her mom finally cornered her. Clare had managed to find an excuse or go somewhere every afternoon while the boys napped. She told her mom the day after she told her about Annie that she needed to get away with Keegan for a bit and asked her mother if she’d keep an ear out for the boys until they returned. Keegan himself had figured out what she was up to, and the day before they were to leave, when she tagged along with him outside presumedly to help him work on the van, he raised his eyebrows and asked her if she couldn’t come up with a better excuse for avoiding her mother.
She admitted that’s what she was doing and, feeling a little chagrined, she returned to the house and tapped on her mom’s door. No one answered right away, so she turned to go, feeling very relieved, but then her mom walked out of the room and saw her, “Keegan sent you back in,” she said simply.
Clare nodded and frowned. “Did you say something to him?” she asked.
“I didn’t have to,” her mother said. “You were pretty obvious. I think all of us are aware of what you’ve been up to—have been aware of it for a while. You’ve been avoiding talking about Abby for a long time. It’s just now getting harder, since I’m no longer willing to help you.”
“You’re plotting against me,” Clare said, and then felt a little childish saying it, particularly as her tone of voice was that of a pouting child.
“Yes,” her mother agreed. Clare was surprised to hear her say it. “But not just you, Clare,” she continued. “We all need to talk about it—all three of you girls and me and your father. That’s not possible right now but it will be soon. Soon we’ll all be together for the first time in quite a while.”
“Not—Lauren’s wedding,” Clare said.
“Yes, that’s what I mean,” her mother said. “I know it’s a happy occasion and I don’t want to put a damper on it, but I don’t think this should wait any longer. We’ll talk before the wedding, and then we’ll enjoy it more than we would have otherwise, I hope.”
“You think it’s just as easy as that—just talk about it as a family, and that’s it. After all this time you’re telling me that’s all we need to do, all we ever needed to do?”
Clare was tempted to go back outside, but knew Keegan would just send her in again. She thought about saying she was tired and heading to her room. She would have to face her mother, eventually, though, that was obvious. And maybe it would be worse to talk with her first at Lauren’s wedding, with Kate and Annie present as well.
“No, I don’t think it will be easy,” her mom said. “Not now, not then. And I’m not sure if it would have done any good or even been possible then. But I don’t think we should have waited this long either. Your father and I just went to a seminar about dealing with suffering—“
“Mom, I don’t want to hear about some seminar. This isn’t a theory, it isn’t some church members. It’s Abigail, and I’ve never told anyone what really happened, not all of it. You’ve never told anyone what really happened. I don’t think you ever admitted it to yourself. Maybe you still haven’t. Maybe you don’t—can’t realize the truth. ”
“Of course, I can and I have,” the older woman said. “Abby committed suicide.”
Clare felt suddenly faint. She took several steps back from her mother, who took her elbow and led her to the living room couch. “You’d better sit down,” she said. Then she seated herself in the armchair across from her daughter.
Clare’s head hurt and she felt weary. Surely now she could very legitimately claim she needed to lie down.
She needed to sleep. She was tired of thinking. It had been her life for far too long and only just recently had she also found herself able to take refuge in living, all the business of life. She was now able to identify better with Kate, who had always found activity to be a solace. She didn’t want to go back just yet, not now that her thoughts were becoming almost impossible to control. She’d gone from teaching full-time, to part-time, to not teaching at all, and without the mental requirements of her job, there was less and less to keep her from thinking about the emptiness about Abby.
“You thought I believed Abby just died in a car accident. You thought you needed to shield me from the truth. You were afraid that you were responsible, in some way. All of you felt somewhat responsible, I think, possibly Annie most of all.” Clare’s mother sighed. She leaned back into the armchair and closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again. “Annie and Abby were so close, you know. Only Annie knew Abby’s heart.” Clare’s mom sighed again. “Abby was so popular. It seemed impossible to believe that she was unhappy. She certainly never said anything to me—or, I daresay, to you—to make me think that. But—“
“Mom,” Clare said. “Please, don’t go one. My head hurts. I—maybe another time,” she finished lamely.
“Now is the time,” Clare’s mom said. “No more excuses. Hear me out.”
Clare fell silent, but turned her body slightly away from her mother, as if to protect herself.
“Abby ran that car off the road over the embankment, not because the weather was bad. She’d driven in much worse weather before without any problems. She wanted to end her life and she deliberately chose to do so in a way that would be less embarrassing to us. She hoped it would be seen as an accident by others. She didn’t want people at the church talking. But she did want us to know what had really happened. She left me a letter, Clare.”
Now Clare turned back toward her mother in spite of herself. She searched her mother’s face. Was it possible? For so long Clare had thought that she was the only one who knew that Abby had committed suicide. For so long Clare had wondered if Abby had let only Clare know because she somehow held Clare responsible, her know-it-all older sister who was so wise and yet so stupid. Abby had been a reminder that life wasn’t what it seemed. That happiness was deceitful and elusive—earthly happiness anyway.
“She left me a letter too,” Clare said in a whisper.
Clare’s mother nodded, looking only slightly surprised. “I think she may have left each of us a letter,” she said quietly. “It was a full year before Dad and I realized she’d written to each of us. She said not to tell anyone else what she wrote. I don’t think she was trying to divide us, but just keep us from talking about her. She didn’t realize how much we would need to talk about her in order to heal. Keeping a secret is so painful, particularly when that secret is all about pain.” Clare’s mom’s voice lowered with her last few words as though she was talking to herself, and then she said very quietly. “Annie certainly found that out.”

Questions to Answer

1. Ecclesiastes 11:1 advocates being adventurous, living as a seaman for a year, for example. Verse two advocates generosity. How might you connect these two verses?
2. Because there is much in life we can’t understand, we should do what, according to Ecclesiastes 11?

3. What do you think Kate is thinking about in her conversation with her son? Compare their conversation with the one Clare has with her mother.

4. What do you think of Kate and Clare’s methods of coping with their struggles? What about their mother’s?

5. What adventure do you think God might have in store for you—in your relationships with others or in moving past something that has held you back or in embracing some new challenge or worthwhile experience?

Ecc Study 16

Study Number Sixteen

Reread Ecclesiastes 9. Read Ecclesiastes 10.

“Enjoy life with your wife, whom you love”

Annie gazed silently at her beautiful niece. Lauren’s thick shiny dark hair touched her shoulders. Her skin was clear and rosy. Her wide dark eyes were so hopeful. They reminded Annie of Kate’s, which were also very round, though Lauren’s dark coloring was her father’s.
Lauren was talking earnestly about her wedding plans. She wanted to get married on the beach. She wanted to be barefoot, feel the sand between her toes, and wear flowers in her hair, but she didn’t want to feel like a sixties’ flower child. She wanted a relatively elegant and solemn service, one that expressed the greatness of the commitment of marriage and that was truly God-honoring. She wanted to know if Annie thought she should stand under an arch or something.
It was time for Annie to say something, but she didn’t particularly want to join the conversation. She wanted to touch the fabric of Lauren’s cap-sleeved, empire-waisted blouse. It was filmy and shimmery and changed colors with Lauren’s movements, from gray blue to pale green to gold to salmon and then to a purplish color. It seemed to catch the light and work almost like a prism with all those different hues. Like Lauren herself, beautiful, fascinating, multi-faceted, full of promise. Annie had no idea what it was made out of, some man-made blend that managed amazingly to be both casual and dressy and wash well, probably, as Lauren wore the blouse quite frequently and it always looked nice, even though Lauren wasn’t particularly fastidious. Today she wore it with white Capri pants. Last time Annie had seen her in it she’d paired it with a knee-length skirt, also white. White was the bridal color after all.
“Do you think an arch is a good idea?” Lauren said. Annie was aware she was repeating herself, and thankful for the lack of impatience in her tone. She was used to her aunt.
“Some kind of back drop is a good idea, if you don’t have the ocean behind you,” Annie said. “A piece of driftwood, maybe, decorated with flowers. What kind of flowers do you plan to use?”
“I don’t know,” Lauren said. “Not roses. Wild flowers, probably.”
“Sounds good,” said Annie. She lifted her mug of coffee to her mouth to take a sip. The Eiffel tower charm on her charm bracelet clinked on the side of the cup. She’d gotten it when she took a group of students to Europe last summer. They’d spent two full days at the Louvre. Annie could lose herself in almost any art museum, not matter how small. She thought she could have spent a year at the Louvre and still been eager for more. But of course, she’d had to give herself and her students a deadline.
Annie wondered how it was possible for Lauren to be so single-minded. For her own part, Annie was growing very weary of wedding plans. It seemed like the wedding was all she and Lauren ever talked about when they got together any more, even when Ben’s sister Sarah had stayed with Annie while Sarah was visiting Ben over a weekend. Ben and Lauren had come over for the day Saturday and on Sunday afternoon. They’d looked at bridal magazines and listened to wedding music and gone to dress shops and party stores. Annie had left them to their own devices, not going shopping with them, and puttering around the house while they visited in the living room, but she still heard the chatter and knew what they were up to. Lauren liked to run ideas past her all the time too. She had gotten it into her head that Annie was sort of her wedding coordinator, it seemed.
For her part, Annie had had enough of weddings. As a teacher, Annie was invited to quite a number of weddings, though probably not as many as Clare, since Annie taught high school students and Clare taught at a college. Still, Annie had had a number of students get married a year or two, occasionally even immediately, after finishing high school, and sometimes even those who waited until they finished college to marry, still had kept up with or remembered their old art teacher and were fond enough of her to want her in attendance on their special day. Annie usually enjoyed the weddings, except for a fleeting feeling of regret that she couldn’t quite define, even for herself. But then there was Allison’s wedding. After Allison’s wedding, Annie no longer appreciated the invitations, no longer very much wanted to be a part of even her niece’s. She felt too much sadness to share in their joy.
Allison had asked Annie to help her with her wedding much as Lauren wanted Annie’s help. Annie had been a little reticent. Although she knew Allison was really “crazy” about Greg, her parents weren’t as certain that he was the best choice for her. They didn’t forbid her to marry him, but they did ask her to wait a little longer. Their disapproval only seemed to make Allison more determined to marry Greg as soon as possible. She wouldn’t listen to anything anyone said to deter her.
It was Annie who found out why the young girl was in such a hurry. As Allison left her classroom one morning, looking a little nauseated, Annie decided she would get an explanation for what she felt sure was occurring. She intended for Allison to tell her in so many words so that there would be no doubt. When Allison returned to the room, Annie asked her to stay after class.
Allison tried to slip out of the room with the other students, but Annie caught her by the arm as she started for the door. “Where are you going?” Annie said, keeping her tone light, as one of the other students looked on curiously. “You didn’t forget I asked you to stay after class, did you?”
Allison’s answering smile was small and quickly faded. “I guess I did,” she said. Annie was fairly confident the girl was lying. She seemed aware of her teacher’s knowledge and wouldn’t look her in the eyes.
When the classroom was empty, Annie said, “Look, I know you want to get to lunch, so I won’t keep you long. I’ve just noticed that you haven’t been quite—yourself—lately. Actually, you’re probably not that eager for lunch. Stomach not quite up to it?”
“No, I’m hungry,” Allison said quickly.
“Maybe so,” said Annie. “Sometimes being hungry makes you feel sick to your stomach.”
“I think so,” Allison said.
Annie had to agree that such was possible; she even knew that Allison’s condition might make it more so. “Been really hungry lately, huh? And queasy a lot too? And tired? And—“
“Don’t say it,” Allison said quickly. “I don’t want to talk about it. Soon it will be over and nobody has to know.”
“What are you talking about?” Annie said. “What do you mean it will be over soon? You’re not going to—“
“I might,” Allison said defiantly. Now her eyes met Annie’s. They were harshly bright. Her face looked tired and her hair looked like it could use a wash. “You can’t stop me,” she said. “I’ll do whatever I want.”
“Oh, Allison,” said Annie.
Allison started to cry. She folded her arms across her chest and tried to hurry from the room. Annie grabbed her and pulled her back. “I know you’re hurting. I know you think you’ve discovered a solution, but you haven’t. Does Greg know? It is Greg’s, isn’t it?”
“Of course, it’s his,” Allison said, still defiant, “there’s never been anyone else.”
For you, Annie wanted to say, but knew doing so wouldn’t help the situation. Allison would surely lash out at anyone who questioned Greg’s character, even if it seemed obviously questionable.
“Does he know?” Annie said again.
Allison nodded. Annie loosened her grip on the girl’s arm but didn’t release her. She waited for Allison to respond verbally.
“I told him. He says we’ll just tell people the baby is premature. That’s why we moved up the wedding date. Even if they realize the truth, he says it’s not a big deal—everybody’s doing it, living together and stuff, even Christians,” Allison said in a whisper. Annie was hardly able to make out her words. “But I don’t know if I’m ready to be a mother. And I don’t know if Greg wants to be a father. I think he blames me for letting this happen. Maybe he feels pressured into marrying me. Maybe he’ll resent me. So I’ve thought about taking care of it.” Allison’s whispered the last few words and dropped her head slightly. Then she raised it and her eyes suddenly blazed with hope. “But I want him to marry me and he’s going to. Maybe he’ll just love the baby when he sees it, and he’ll be glad for it. Dad and Mom will forget about not liking him. They’ll forgive me. They’ll love the baby too.”
Annie was having trouble sorting through Allison’s thinking processes, and she didn’t know what to tell the girl to do. “You don’t have to marry Greg, you know,” Annie said finally, knowing even as she spoke that those words were the ones Allison would be the least receptive to. “But I do think you should keep the baby and tell your parents. They love you.”
Allison looked dubious. She pulled away from Annie. “You won’t tell Mom, will you?”
Annie hesitated.
Allison’s face clouded. “You’re not my friend if you do,” she said. Her words were childish, but filled with adult emotion.
Annie knew it would be very difficult for her to do something Allison would perceive as betrayal. She spoke slowly, “I think you need to tell them. No—I know you do. You must, Allison.” Annie’s words were firm and deliberate. She prayed Allison would be swayed by them. “I need to tell you something I’ve never told anyone else. Sit down. You can share my lunch with me.”
Annie divided her taco salad into two portions, scooping hers onto the lid of the container she’d brought it in. She handed Allison the rest of it, and scrounged around in her desk for another plastic fork.
While they ate, Annie told Allison the entire sordid tale, how she’d found out she was pregnant and had know immediately that if she told Todd about the baby, their relationship would be over, how she’d “taken care of it,” and then, almost immediately, found Todd with someone else, how she’d left and never told anyone about the baby, though she ached inside, though she saw in Allison herself what she could have had. “She—I always think of her as a girl—would have been about your age,” Annie said. Causing me heartache like you are your parents, Annie added mentally, but also bringing joy. How I wish—but wishes were merely that. And yet they seemed inescapable. “I wish so much that I’d told my mom or even one of my sisters,” Annie said. “They would have told me to keep the baby, and I think—I hope—I would have listened. It would have been difficult, but it would have been so much better. You wouldn’t believe the guilt I feel—even now. On top of the guilt I struggle with because of—well, all together, it’s truly almost unbearable. Sometimes I think I—can hardly stand it. Even though I know I’m forgiven in Christ.” Annie closed her eyes for a brief second, recognizing, as she had before, that God was displeased with her feelings. Yet, to some extent, she saw them as an appropriate part of her punishment for what she had done. And then she heard a voice in her head, almost audible, say, “You can’t pay for your sins. Only I can. And I already have.”
Annie struggled to finish her portion of the taco salad, though it was very good. Allison also took a while eating hers. When she finished, she said quietly, “Thank you for telling me,” and left the room without another word.
Allison didn’t talk to Annie about the baby again. She did enlist Annie’s help in making her wedding preparations. Annie made a pencil drawing of the couple, and they used it in their invitations and programs. She also helped decorate the church and serve the punch and cake. Their ceremony took place in the church on a Saturday afternoon. It was short, small, and anything but lavish, with the primary decoration being two orange, red, pink, and yellow flower arrangements at the front of the auditorium. Annie had put them together in pots that she had painted herself. The bride carried a single long-stemmed yellow rose in her arms. Her only attendant was her sister and Greg’s brother stood with him. Just the first three pews had people in them.
Allison wore a pale pink bridal gown. She wasn’t sure she should wear white. She wasn’t showing, but everyone present—basically a number of her and Greg’s family members and a handful of friends—knew she was pregnant.
Carole had cried when Allison told her. She called Annie immediately and thanked Annie for encouraging Allison to talk to her parents right away. Annie was relieved that Allison had taken her advice and very thankful to know that the child was completely out of danger in that there no longer seemed to be any chance of Allison’s aborting the baby.
But Carole’s disappointment pained Annie. She felt it too. She also was concerned that the young couple might not be making the right choice in this hurried wedding, but understood that they felt it was the best thing for themselves and the child, mostly for the child. Annie couldn’t help but feel incredibly thankful that this child would have a chance at life and prayed that that life might be a happy one. She saw herself in Allison’s face and tried not to see his—she made herself think the name—Todd’s face in Greg’s. At least Greg was willing to marry Allison.
As Annie handed Carole a glass of punch at the reception, Carole mouthed “thank you, please pray for us” and quickly turned away, brushing tears from her eyes. No, such a situation wasn’t what you dreamed of for your daughter, but there was still hope. Still an opportunity for Greg and Allison to turn to God and strive to live the remainder of their lives His way, with this wrong far behind them, covered by God’s forgiveness if they chose to ask Him for it.
Annie’s slow acceptance of her realization that she had needed forgiveness more than they, and had been given it just as freely when she asked, made the bittersweet time more hopeful yet, though still very sad because it was so disappointing, compared to what it could have been. But Drew’s presence at the wedding disturbed her. She was beginning to believe that he might be very different from Todd. She’d noticed recently that he’d repeatedly volunteered to help out at church, with a building project—she was surprised to learn he had some construction skills, though she’d known he had administrative abilities that would aid in managing financing and hiring laborers as necessary—and with the Christmas program. Annie had almost fallen off the pew onto the floor when Drew crossed to the podium, dressed as a donkey. His monologue about Christ’s birth from the donkey’s perspective was both hilarious and thought-provoking.
Maybe it was possible for a man to be drawn to Annie and Annie to a man who desired to please God first and a woman second, someone who would honor his commitments. Maybe God would give Annie a second chance. If God would do it for Annie, He very well might do it for Allison too. He might change her husband into such a man. If only Annie could be more confident that Greg had the potential to change.

Lauren’s situation, thankfully, was completely different. Kate had no reason to worry that Ben would be unfaithful to Lauren because of a propensity toward sexual sin, nor did she have the concern of seeing a marriage begin with the blight of sin on it and the birth of a child who might not be completely welcome. But even Kate wasn’t thrilled to have her daughter marry. She far from relished the thought of her little girl going an even farther distance away from her.
God’s ways aren’t our ways, Annie thought suddenly. And He has a special plan for each of us, even when we sometimes fail to listen to Him. Annie would do whatever she could to make Lauren’s wedding beautiful. She wouldn’t even fault her for choosing to marry so young, so long as she kept her focus on serving God. What a beautiful thing to not waste your youth but use it for the Lord. He would give wisdom where strength failed. On the mission field, possibly Lauren and Ben could be more effective together than they could have been as singles. Annie for one, intended to help to keep them accountable.
“You’ve spent so much time thinking about this wedding,” Annie suddenly told her niece, who seemed unperturbed by Annie’s long silence, “and I’m sure it will all turn out well, but a wedding is just a day to celebrate the future that will follow. It’s what that future holds that is truly worth working for.”
“You’re right,” Lauren said. After a brief moment of silence on her part, she laughed. “I guess I’m a little scared about that future, even though I am anticipating it. Ben and I’ve had it pretty easy, really—God hasn’t had us face much sorrow. I have a feeling that won’t always be the case, and I hope I’m—we’re—ready for what comes next—whatever it is.”
Lauren glanced at her watch and Annie knew from the apologetic expression on her face that she was getting ready to tell her aunt she needed to go. Annie stood before Lauren had a chance to speak.
“We should be going,” Annie said.
Lauren brushed invisible crumbs off her white Capris. Annie had a feeling Lauren’s wardrobe would change on the mission field. Hey, even being a mom would probably change it. Best she enjoy it while she could.
Annie looked forward to seeing her niece in her gorgeous silken wedding gown, pure white with flowers embroidered on the bodice and on the edge of the skirt. Lauren would have a profusion of different kinds of white and blue and a few purple flowers at her wedding. Mostly wildflowers, naturally beautiful, like this girl.
She would have a huge bouquet, as would her four bridesmaids and Annie would make a driftwood and flowers concoction for a backdrop for the wedding party that even the ocean might be envious of. As they walked to Annie’s car, she told Lauren nothing of her plans and was pleased with the girl’s silence. When Lauren said, “Ben and I have been so inspired by missionary biographies we’ve read and by our parents’ and grandparents’ lives, but I don’t think there’s any way we can possibly live up to them,” Annie was inordinately pleased that the girl was taking her advice and thinking about the life she and Ben would have together, rather than just their upcoming wedding. She reached for Lauren’s hand and squeezed it tightly, then let it go.

Questions to Answer

1. Although from our perspective, life is not always equitable, God does, even in this life, reward wisdom. But how can a little folly outweigh wisdom and honor?

2. What can food and money accomplish for us, according to Ecclesiastes 9-10? What can’t they accomplish?

3. How does Ecclesiastes 9 indicate that work is difficult but rewarding?

4. What does Ecclesiastes 9 say about being careful in our speech?

5. Compare and contrast Allison and Lauren. In what way does Allison’s folly outweigh her and her family’s wisdom? How does Annie deal with her? Do you think she handles the situation well?

6. Does Annie feel Lauren has a proper focus? Does Annie have a proper focus?

7. Which of these issues do you struggle with? Something you’ve done that has tarnished your reputation, having right priorities, being careful in your speech?

Ecc Studies 14 and 15

Study Number Fourteen

Reread Ecclesiastes 8.

“then I saw all that God has done”

Later, as she drove to the school to pick up some papers she’d left in her classroom, Annie reviewed the evening in her mind, with a smile on her own face and then let her thoughts dwell on her friends Rod and Carol and their girls. She saw Rod’s tan, very young-looking face, the dark curls on his forehead, his wide, puzzled blue eyes and wry smile. Rod and Carol really were young to have teenagers, even young teenagers like theirs. They’d gotten married at twenty and had the girls just a little over a year later. It amazed Annie to think that she too could have a child Allison’s age, a similar part-child, part-adult, dealing with a newly developing body. The thought was only bitter, not sweet at all. A fresh-faced toddler with warm, sticky fists, a lanky grade-schooler, all nonexistent, all eaten up by pain, by injustice, by wrong, by sin. Annie didn’t blame him so much after some time had passed since she’d dealt with her problem in the way she had. Then she didn’t blame him at all. She had been chiefly at fault for her actions—more accurately, completely at fault for them.
Rod and Carol’s life seemed so nice in comparison to Annie’s, so idyllic. They must have done everything right while Annie did everything wrong. And yet, Annie knew that Rod had had an affair two years ago, and it had almost ruined his marriage. Carol had told him to move out and the girls didn’t see him for several months because she didn’t want him to and because he couldn’t face them.
Ironically, Rod had been at the top of his career during that time period, making a tremendous amount of money in sales. After his marriage almost disintegrated, he quit his job and did all he could to reconcile with his wife and daughters. It had been a slow and difficult process, on all their parts, but it certainly had been worth it. Now he was teaching and coaching at the school the girls went to, the school where Annie taught art. His salary was significantly less than what it had been, and he’d been recently diagnosed with a failure of a kidney, not life-threatening, but not pleasant, and his medical care was very expensive for the family—they’d taken out a second mortgage and borrowed from the girls’ college money though they only had a few years of high school left--with their limited insurance coverage. Yet, the family seemed so happy in their life together now, the past forgotten, the future bright, despite his health concerns. They didn’t seem to be still dwelling on the past at all, while Annie didn’t go a day without thinking about the two events in her past that had so affected her then and continued to affect her. Rod and Carol’s girls were sweethearts, smart, fun, and filled with promise. They’d had a little harder time forgiving their dad than even Carol had had. It certainly hadn’t been easy for any of them. But when they’d gotten to that point—it had been wholehearted. Carol had blamed herself—a little bit. But when Rod returned to her, he wouldn’t let her blame herself at all. He fully accepted responsibility for his actions. And he seemed to have been able to accept his family’s forgiveness too. He’d not expressed—to Annie’s knowledge—any feelings that his kidney failure was some sort of punishment for what he had done, though Annie had often wondered if it might be. No, Rod and Carol and their girls seemed to have fully put the past behind them and apparently were truly trusting God for the future, in as much as their humanness did still cause them to stumble now and then. Yet Annie couldn’t seem to stop worrying about Allison’s boyfriend Greg, more even than about Rod’s situation. Annie so wanted Allison to have far more joy in her life than Annie felt she’d had in hers. Surely the girl would make better choices than Annie had.
Carol said Rod had only come to know the Lord after the affair. She said that it was the affair and its aftermath that had helped him realize he really wasn’t a Christian, trusting in Christ for salvation, but merely a churchgoer without a personal relationship with Christ. But Annie knew it was also possible for someone who knew the Lord to do terrible things. She knew from personal experience.

Annie unlocked the double doors with her key and walked down the long hallway to her classroom at the end of it. Her footsteps echoed in the empty building. In her classroom, she hesitated at the bulletin board beside her desk. It was covered with kids’ art work, pages and pages of paintings and drawings arranged in the shapes of arrows pointing in all directions. Annie adjusted a pen and ink drawing of a sunflower. She was rather persnickety about everything lining up just so, almost as bad as one of her high school English teachers had been about margins and spacing. She thought of Clare and smiled to herself.
“Ah, the little teacher hard at work,” a low voice said.
At the unexpected sound, Annie froze for a moment, and then turned around slowly.
He was tall, dark-haired and dark-eyed, though at the moment he wore sunglasses, which hid his eyes from view.
“Drew,” Annie said. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh, I had to grab some papers, some mail I wanted to go through this weekend. Thought I’d just take it home and do it there. You? Surely you’re not just here to straighten that picture.”
“No, no,” Annie said. She forced a laugh. “No, I’m just doing the same as you. I mean, I’m here for papers, too, not mail, though—some tests I thought I’d take home to grade.”
“Ah.” He regarded her silently for a few moments and then took off his sunglasses and allowed his gaze to penetrate hers. His eyes were so dark. She looked away. He took a deep breath and spoke. “You’re not really interested in a relationship with me, are you?” he said softly.
“Not really,” Annie said quietly, after a moment. She’d been taken aback by his abruptness. They’d had a few dates and they chatted with each other frequently. There was a certain undercurrent in their conversations, in their just being in close proximity with each other, and there were some rumors about them. But neither of them had ever verbalized interest in the other beyond friendship. His dismissive question certainly seemed to her to be as unexpected as his ignoring her completely would have been. Maybe more so. And she felt such an unexpected sense of loss as well, after she’d agreed that there was no point in his pursuing her. As though something she’d hardly even dreamed about having was no longer something she could even dream about. She stared at the floor, the sloping gray concrete. She almost corrected herself, to say she was interested, but she saw that scenario heading down a road she’d gone before and dreaded the similar steep drop off at the end of it.
“Well, thank you for your honesty,” he said. “I won’t continue to trouble you.”
He left Annie staring at the drawing of the sunflower, wondering why the dark center of the flower wasn’t larger and hadn’t been filled in more thoroughly. There was far too much white showing through. Maybe it wasn’t really right to call it a sunflower after all, though that was what the student had labeled it.

Questions to Answer

1. Why do you think God apparently does not always clearly punish wickedness and reward righteousness on this earth?

2. How is Annie’s response to Drew influenced by her past experiences?

3. Do you struggle with lack of repentance, bitterness, guilt? Do you find it difficult to believe God has forgiven you even though you’ve confessed the sin to Him? Are you afraid you’ll still continue in it? Do you find it difficult to “forgive” God for something He’s done that you perceive as unfair?


Study Number Fifteen

Read Ecclesiastes 9.

“wisdom is better than strength”

Clare watched Aaron and Andrew race toward the playground. Keegan came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Don’t you wish you were them?” said Clare, turning toward him. “Everything’s an adventure.” He released her and fell into a companionable stride beside her. She reached for his hand.
“Everything’s an adventure for me too,” said Keegan. “My beautiful wife. My nine-to-five job. Our minivan. Our split-level.”
Clare laughed. It couldn’t possibly sound more mundane. But though they did drive a minivan and live in a split-level, Keegan definitely did not have a nine- to- five job. Never had. He went to as many of the young people’s school activities as he could and often got calls from them about a problem or an invitation to a birthday party at some point during the week. Clare wondered if he was starting to resent the time beyond his hours at church it took to minister to his teens. Helping Clare in dealing with their two toddlers on his off hours was exhausting enough.
She didn’t really miss teaching, though she still thought she might go back to it at some point. She was enjoying having the extra time to write, mostly during the afternoons while the boys napped and at night before they went to bed. The second two books in her series were not as popular as the first had been, but they did provide an extra source of income and she continued to find herself tempted to use the money in a fruitless quest for happiness. She’d go on occasional buying sprees only to feel remorseful and certainly no more fulfilled. Finally, she put the money into investments and worthwhile contributions. She didn’t find it as difficult to live frugally on the salary Keegan made. All her growing up years, she’d had her mother’s example of thriftily taking care of a family. She and Keegan also planned to help support Lauren and her husband, along with other missionaries they were already supporting. Keegan was always careful to make sure that those they gave to were really using money properly. His folks had been discouraged because of a missionary couple their flock had supported who’d they’d discovered to have been living at a level quite a bit higher than those of their congregation.
Keegan and Clare sat down on a bench near the edge of the playground and watched the boys climb up the steps to the top of the slide, slide down, and then climb up again.
“I love you, Keegan,” Clare said suddenly, “and I love our boys. I think I’ve grown up a lot since I’ve become a mom. I’m not so critical, I hope.”
She glanced at her husband. He smiled slightly but didn’t say anything. “It would be fine with me if you wanted a change of careers,” she said. “You work too hard, I think.”
“I think the same about you,” Keegan said. He shrugged. “I don’t think I want to quit, yet, though it might be smart to step back a little more. Not feel like I have to be quite so available to the teens all the time. You and the boys come first.” But Clare already knew he felt that way. He usually took them all with him to as many activities as he could, though the kids weren’t always particularly well-behaved. She and Keegan took turns coaching, refereeing them. And Keegan never neglected his end of the deal. He often spent more time keeping them in line than she did and he seemed to truly enjoy being with his boys.
Keegan stood up and walked to the slide. “Hey guys, let’s try out the merry-go-round,” he said.
Clare closed her eyes. She was so thankful for him. He did seem tired though. She was tired too. Maybe they both were just doing too much.


Kate had known this day would come, had even known that it might be coming soon, but it still took her by surprise the Sunday morning when Lauren called. It was unusual for her to call on a Sunday morning, when Nick wasn’t there and Kate really didn’t have time to talk because she was getting ready for the service herself, practicing music, and starting meal preparations which often involved putting something in the crock pot to be ready when she got home, most likely with some of their church family or visitors in tow. Sometimes she called to remind the day’s nursery workers of their responsibility or hunt down a substitute for someone or quickly reviewed her Sunday school lesson. The teaching position hadn’t worked out after all, and Nick had ended up staying at the church. Jack had gone ahead and gone to the Bible college, only a state away from his parents. But Lauren had ended up on the west coast—far from home, like Annie, actually very close in proximity to Annie. Kate had really been opposed to the idea when Lauren first suggested it. She kept thinking about Annie and worrying that Lauren might turn out like her. Or might never live close to her just as Annie had stayed in California, so far from her family. But of course it was illogical to think that going to the same part of the country as her sister would make her daughter behave like her sister. Still, it was Nick who told Lauren she could attend the school in California, when she finally told her parents she’d been accepted at a college in the state, near Annie’s school, though not at all affiliated with it, Annie’s being elementary and secondary. Both were Christian schools though. Kate reluctantly gave her husband her support. She’d been supporting him for almost twenty years now, after all.
More surprising than when Lauren called was what she had to say--it was that that Kate had known was coming but still wasn’t ready to hear. After apologizing for calling on a Sunday morning, Lauren told her mother that Ben, her boyfriend, wanted to come home with her at Christmas time, just a few months away, to ask her father for his blessing on their marriage. “I wanted to tell you right away. I almost called last night, right after we got back from our date, but it was so late. Oh, Mom, I’m so excited. I’m getting married. Can you believe it?”
“When you finish your four-year degree?” Kate said quickly, only partially as a question. She emphasized four-year.
“No, right away, Mom, this summer, if you and Dad are okay with it, of course, but surely you will be,” Lauren said just as quickly and even more definitely. “Two years of college are enough for me.”
“But sweetheart, I thought you really wanted to finish your program and get your degree. Won’t you need it to go to mission field?” Kate moved to the kitchen table where she was folding bulletins for the morning service. As it turned out, her daughter had told them last summer that she wanted to go to the mission field. She wouldn’t be staying in California, but she wouldn’t be living close to her parents either.
“No, Ben and I have already been accepted by a board. A two-year Bible degree is enough.” They’d almost finished a two-year program, but it was one that segued into a four-year program and Kate had thought, even expected, that they’d transfer into it. “Then we’ll study some at the missions’ institute and learn the language before we go to the field—somewhere with unreached people groups. Ben and I both feel strongly about that,” Lauren said.
How could Kate say anything negative when it seemed obvious that her daughter’s goals were good ones? And Kate herself had been young when she married. She’d never finished her college degree either, though she had taken some more classes after she and Nick were married, before the twins were born. Kate had wished she’d finished, and maybe even gotten further education yet, like Clare, but if she’d had to trade Nick and the kids for school, she definitely wouldn’t have done it. Now Kate was suspicious that Clare rather wished she’d married a little earlier and been able to have more children than just their two. After Andrew, she just hadn’t been able to have another. But there was still time. Andrew was just a little over five years old. Kate knew siblings with wider age gaps—why the twins and Jason were almost six years apart—and Clare wasn’t that old yet either. And anyway who was to say for sure that her age was responsible for her not being able to get pregnant again—many younger woman struggled with infertility.
Kate mechanically finished folding the bulletins and emptied the dishwasher, put a roast in the oven and handed Jason her Bible and lesson book to take to the car while Lauren talked about Ben. Most of what Lauren told her she already knew. The two had been dating for almost a year now, after all. Sometimes it seemed to Kate that Ben was all Lauren talked about. He did seem like an exemplary young man, from a good family, a missionary family actually, working in a small church not unlike the one Lauren had grown up in, with her father as the pastor. Of course, Ben’s parents had had language and cultural differences to deal with, as missionaries in France. Although Ben had enjoyed growing up and ministering in France, he was burdened for the 10/40 window, wanting to share the gospel with those who’d had no exposure to Christianity whatsoever. He was willing to learn a new language, along with Lauren, who spoke only English and would have to learn the language of almost any place overseas where they chose to go. Ben was a good student and Lauren was also a fairly quick study. Kate felt sure they’d do fine. But she hated the thought of their being so far away. She’d hardly ever see her grandchildren. And my mother didn’t get to see hers that often either, Kate thought, with our living in the Wisconsin and she and Dad in Kansas. Clare is closer to her, but still almost half a day’s drive and Annie’s on the West Coast. Still, they’d kept up contact through phone calls and letters and visits. They’d drifted apart sometimes and were closer at others, but hadn’t that been true even when they all lived in the same house? There had been a time when they rubbed shoulders daily and were miles apart. They were linked though, irrevocably so, so much so that sometimes Kate found it difficult to know where one stopped and another began.
“We’re going to have the wedding on the beach. It will be beautiful,” Lauren said. “We’ll use driftwood as a backdrop for the wedding party, and of course the ocean, though I haven’t decided if the water should be behind us or to the side of us. Aunt Annie says it doesn’t matter—either way can be equally nice. She’s going to help us with anything we want her to. She offered, and I sure plan to take her up on it. And of course we want your help, if you can, and Ben’s family’s too, though you’re all farther away. I hope you can come for several weeks before the wedding. Do you think you’ll be able to?”
“I’ll try,” Kate said, still trying to take it all in.
In spite of Kate’s initial concerns that Lauren would turn out like Annie, Kate had been thankful that Lauren chose to go to a school near her aunt. While Kate would have preferred to have Lauren near her, or maybe even near Clare, she thought it better for Lauren to be within close proximity of some family than completely on her own. Though there was still a dark shadow over her, Annie had matured a great deal the past few years. She’d repeatedly won teacher of the year awards and was obviously a favorite at the high school where she taught art. She’d also sold some of her work. She was still resolutely single. Kate wasn’t sure she’d ever marry, but she kept holding out hope for her. Thirty-four was by no means beyond marriageable age, if there even was such a thing.
Annie had been an encouragement to Lauren, had actually started taking her to her church and Ben attended the church as well. So, to some extent, Annie was responsible for their getting together, and with her artistic abilities, she’d be a tremendous asset in planning a wedding, especially as Lauren’s taste also tended toward the artsy and her beach theme involved incorporating wedding decorations into the beauty of the outdoors so that the two complemented one another. Annie would be able to pull things together wonderfully.
Kate sighed. If only it weren’t so far away. If only all of Lauren’s plans weren’t pulling her farther and farther away from her family. Kate had often thought sheer hard work and will power would eventually win out, and many times they did, but there were times there was nothing she could do to turn things her way. There were times she simply had to accept that God’s ways weren’t her ways. And this was one of those times.
“I’ve got to go,” Lauren said, “I’m not even dressed yet. Ben’s sister is visiting him and we’re going to hang out at Annie’s house this afternoon. She’s staying there. I offered to let her stay with me, but who wants to sleep in a dorm room if you have any other option? Well, I’ll talk to you later, Mom.”
“Yes,” Kate said a little absently. “I need to get going too.”
“Break it to Dad for me, will you?” Lauren said. “You’ll know just what to say.”
“I think you really should talk to him yourself,” Kate said. Of course Nick would agree. He’d probably be excited. He liked Ben. But he might think Lauren should finish school first. That was probably why Lauren wanted Kate to talk to him first. Kate should be flattered, she supposed, that her daughter found her more sympathetic than her father—this time.
“Oh, I will,” Lauren said quickly. “After you do, please, Mom. Tell him I called but he wasn’t there.”
Kate started to say Of course he’s not here; it’s Sunday morning, but Lauren said goodbye, and I love you, and Kate said the same.
Jason walked in then and looked at her quizzically, mouthing, Who is it?
Kate mouthed back, Lauren, and his eyes got big.
“She and Ben--?” Jason said out loud.
Kate nodded.
“And she wants you to tell Dad?” Jason said.
Kate nodded again and hung up the phone.
“Does she want to get married here?” Jason said.
“No, there, on the beach,” Kate said. She’s already got it all planned, Kate thought. She picked up the bulletins and shoved them into her tote bag, then handed it to Jason while she pulled on a jacket. “Annie’s going to help them,” she said as she and Jason walked out the door and headed to the car.

Questions to Answer

1. Because many times in life it seems that there is no advantage to doing right--after all both the righteous and the wicked face difficulties and eventually die--we might be tempted to stop trying. What should we do according to Ecclesiastes 9?

2. Why is wisdom better than strength, although people don’t always acknowledge this truth?


3. Is Clare learning to value what God has given her?


4. Why is Kate unhappy and how does she handle her feelings?

5. Are you thankful for the gifts God has given you? When you struggle with some sort of unhappiness in life—and you do struggle with unhappiness, even as a Christian, do you try to“fix” your problem with physical effort?

Ecc Study 13

Study Number Thirteen

Reread Ecclesiastes 8.

“days will not lengthen like a shadow”
“it will go better with God-fearing men”

“I’m sorry. It’s the only thing to do, really. The cysts are at the point where only a hysterectomy will take care of them completely. It’s a fairly routine procedure. I hate to tell you this, Annie. You’re one of my best friends and one of the people I most admire. I’ve never seen anyone else give so much of herself to her church family. Not to mention your students.” Carol shook her head in amazement, her pale green eyes wide, the red curls on either side of her face and the freckles on her white nose looking strangely out of place with her solemn expression.
No, Annie said. No, she hadn’t actually said it, just thought it. Thankfully. “There’s no other option then,” she did actually say, though she found it difficult to speak the words.
“Not really,” said Carol.
“Well, God knows what He’s doing,” Annie said, a part of her simply hoping, a bit dejectedly, that what she said was true, rather than fully believing it.
“Yes,” Carol said simply. Annie was grateful she didn’t elaborate. “Would you like to go ahead and schedule the procedure?”
Annie closed her eyes for a moment. The procedure. It’s routine. Then she opened her eyes and nodded. “Let’s do it,” she said.
“Still coming over tonight, I hope?” Carol asked quietly before Annie left the room.
Annie looked up from scuffing her toe on the dark purple Berber carpet. She’d told Carol once she thought purple a bad choice for an examining room. Reminded her of bruising. Carol said it wasn’t purple, but eggplant, and that it was supposed to be warm and homey, better than the cold, white tile on the floors of many of the rooms. Also it didn’t show stains, which was always a good thing, she said.
“The girls want to show you their room,” Carol said. “They’ve redone it. And they’ve hung up the pictures they made in your class.”
“Great,” Annie said. Her smile was genuine, though she was still replaying Carol’s words in her head. She would never have a child. Once again, justice was done. She didn’t deserve to bring a life into the world. But she would be a credit to the lives she touched that were already in the world. Somehow. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Annie stood on Carol’s doorstep, waiting for Allison to open the door. Annie could see her through the window fumbling with the lock. Finally she threw the door open and almost hit Annie. Annie stepped out of the way just in time.
“Sorry,” Allison said. “Come in.”
“I brought some cookie bars,” Annie said, holding out a covered casserole dish for Allison to see. She pulled up the corner of the fitted plastic lid so Allison could look inside.
Allison leaned forward and sniffed. “Chocolate chip cookie bars. Oh, they smell good.” She took the dish from Annie, fastened the lid back on, and headed to the kitchen at a trot, with Annie right behind her, though at a considerably slower pace. “Mom, Annie brought cookies!” Allison called to her mother, who was setting the table at the other end of the room.
“Hi, Annie,” Carol said, looking up from the table at her guest. “Rod should be back soon. He ran to the store to get drinks. It’s so hard to keep pop in the fridge, or anything else for that matter, with two teenage girls in the house.”
“I thought it was just the boys that ate so much,” Annie said.
“You should know better, teaching high schoolers,” Carol said.
“Yes, I guess I do, now that I think about it” Annie said. “I’ve seen some of my girls really put it away.” Allison set the cookie bars on the table, searched out a butter knife, and cut the huge rectangle into rows and rows of neat squares. Allison glanced at her mother and when Carol bent over to set another plate on the table, the girl quickly shoved a cookie into her mouth and had almost finished chewing it before her mom looked up.
“Wow, that was fast,” Annie said.
“What?” asked Carol.
Allison held a finger up to her lips, pleading for silence with her gesture and her eyes.
“Do you need any help?” Annie asked, moving to take the handful of silverware on the table.
“Sure,” Carol said. She started to say something else, but Annie cut in.
“Could I go look at the girls’ room when I finish helping you set the table? I saw the potato salad and beans on the table, and I bet Rod’s going to grill those hamburger patties, so you don’t really need any more help here, do you? I don’t think I can wait until after we eat to see the room,” Annie said.
Carol laughed. “Sure, you can wait,” she said. “You just don’t want to.”
“True,” Annie said with a smile.
“Come see the room now, Annie!” Allison said.
“You’re worse than I am,” Annie said. “I’m almost done.”
“She’s Miss Martin to you, Allie,” Carol said.
“Right,” said Allison.
“Sounds kind of stuffy for here at your house,” Annie said.
“Well, it wouldn’t be very good for her to slip and call you Annie at school,” Carol said.
“True,” said Annie. “Miss Martin it is then, I suppose.” But Allison was special to Annie. She thought of her as rather more than a student. More like a daughter. Sort of an adopted one. The only kind of daughter Annie could ever have now, she thought, a bit wistfully, though without much if any bitterness. The surgery seemed so perfectly just—after what she had done.

The room was painted a soft, very light salmon color. The dressers were white and the two twin beds had white iron headboards and white nightstands. Frilly white bedspreads covered the beds. The room would have seemed very innocent, sweet, and little-girlish, if it weren’t for the huge paintings over the beds, one a multi-colored abstract of what looked like a tangle of green, yellow, and purple streaks of lightning, the other a methodical painting of a tattered and faded blue kite, stuck in the detailed, heavily-veined but barren branches of a maple tree. Also, bright colored pillows, pulling out hues from the paintings, made the white beds more grown up. The girls had written an adaptation of a verse in calligraphy at the top of the wall across from their beds. There was no reference and it was only part of the verse, but Annie readily recognized it as such. It read, “The heart is the well-spring of life.” Annie thought that they should have written out the whole verse. If anything, it seemed to her that the part they’d left out was almost more important than what they’d used. “Guard your heart,” was how the verse began. Annie wished she had.
The bookshelf below was an antique, not completely level, having settled a bit on one end. The girls had it heavily but tastefully laden with books and knickknacks, including a sculpture that Allison had made in Annie’s art class of a boy and girl holding hands.
Annie had stopped to admire the sculpture when Allison was working on it in class, and Allison had said, “It’s me and Greg, the boy I’ve always loved.”
Annie had raised an eyebrow in surprise and perhaps, displeasure or disappointment. She didn’t want Allison to turn out anything like she had. Allison was to her everything that Annie had missed, in so many ways.
Allison shrugged. “He’s been my neighbor forever. We’ve known each other since we were toddlers. He’s a nice boy.”
Annie had her doubts.
“So how is Greg?” she asked Allison now, after she praised the girl on her beautiful room.
“Oh, great—“ Allison began. It seemed that she would have said more, but just then her sister Isabelle ran into the room and made a beeline for Annie, whom she quickly gave a huge hug.
“Do you like it?” Isabelle asked when she stepped back from her teacher.
“I do,” Annie said. “I really do. It looks and feels—compelling. It makes me—think.”
Isabelle wrinkled her nose. “Is that good?”
“Yes,” Annie said with a laugh. “I didn’t always think so, but I’m starting to change my mind.”
“Hmm,” Isabelle said. She glanced at Allison as if to say, “Teachers.”
As they left the room, Annie noticed the floor was hardwood with a large area rug. It was white and wouldn’t hide any stains at all. She thought she could already see a small spot on it, near the bookshelf.

Dinner was delicious. The hamburgers were cooked just right, neither too pink nor too black and Carol had all the fixings to put on them, pickles, purple onions, lettuce, tomato, cheese, bacon, and almost every condiment imaginable—several different kinds of mustard, sweet, spicy, and regular, ketchup, mayo, salsa, which one of the girls liked on hers, and butter, which Rod used liberally. The potato salad was creamy and not too eggy, the baked beans had just enough of a barbeque sauce kick, and the cookies were gooey and still slightly warm.
Afterward, though, Allison jumped up from the table and hurried to her room.
“She has a date tonight,” Isabelle said. “With Greg.” Isabelle didn’t seem too happy about it. “They’re always together.”
Carol frowned. “They do spend a lot of time together,” she said. “And I’m not sure he’s on the same page as us, you know? I mean, they do go to a good church, not ours, but, well, I’m not sure whether it means much to Greg. I think it’s just something his parents do and he’s along for the ride.”
“He’s also a lot older than Allie,” Isabelle said.
“A couple years,” Carol said.
“I’m three years older than your mom,” Rod said.
Carol and Isabelle both frowned at him and he shrugged his shoulders as if to say “What’d I do?”
Annie started to speak when Carol said quickly, “So what is going on with you and Drew Peters? I’ve seen you together around town several times lately.”
Allison returned, came up to Annie and stopped. Annie noticed Carol look at her daughter quickly and then look away.
“The vice principal?” Isabelle said, incredulous. “You’re dating him?”
“We’re just friends,” Annie said quickly.
“He’s a nice guy. I approve,” Allison said. “I’ve got to go. It was good to see you.” She gave Annie a brief, slightly awkward hug. She’d always been more uncomfortable with public displays of affection than was Isabelle.
“Be good,” Annie said lightly, but she met Allison’s gaze with concerned eyes.
Allison smiled but looked away without responding and then headed for the door.
“So?” said Isabelle, after Allison had left. She’d apparently forgotten all about her sister.
“We’re just friends,” Annie said again.
Isabelle tugged on her reddish-brown ponytail in frustration, wrinkling her forehead as she puzzled something out.
“I mean it,” Annie said. Drew reminded her too much of him. He was differently but all too similarly dark and mysterious, attractive and aware of it. She knew very little about him. And anyway, she didn’t have any desire for a relationship, nor anything to offer it. Still she was drawn to Drew, much as she had been drawn to him. The sickness of it, of her, that she must continually combat, that she seemed to be so attracted to unhappy relationships with selfish, arrogant people. Or was she the selfish, arrogant person, caught up in herself and heedless of the suffering of others—she saw that blank, still, pale face again as clearly as if it had happened this morning, though it had been so long ago, and remembered feeling so cold and emptied out not as long ago but still a sad life-time away.
“He’s so—old!” Isabelle said.
Rod almost spit out his pop as he choked back a laugh. “He’s the same age as I am,” Rod said, when he recovered.
“Exactly,” said Isabelle.
“No hope after you hit my ancient age, huh?” Rod said.
“No hope,” Isabelle agreed, but she smiled.
“Age doesn’t matter for me any more at all—not in a man or in myself,” Annie said. “I have no reason to hurry to marry. Maybe I never will.” Annie spoke with a degree of passion that caused her to surprise even herself. Maybe she did feel some bitterness after all. Carol reached for her hand and gave it a soft squeeze.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I wish I’d had better news for you today.”
Rod and Isabelle grew solemn though they obviously didn’t know what Carol and Annie were talking about.
Annie forced a smile. “I’m all right,” she said. “Just a little disappointed.”
Isabelle opened her mouth and Carol shook her head. “Please, not now,” she said.
Annie didn’t bring up her situation again but tried to focus on the present and enjoy the time with her friends, not even allowing herself to worry about Allison and Greg.
They played Monopoly because Isabelle begged them too. It was the last game anyone else was interested in. But Isabelle’s effervescent personality generally did win the day. She reminded Annie a little of her younger sister. Allison reminded Annie more of herself and yet Annie fervently hoped and prayed that Isabelle and Allison would be very different from Abby and Annie.

Questions to Answer

1. Ecclesiastes 8 discusses adhering to authority and rules, as well as following protocol. What does this exhortation have to do with wisdom?

2. Ecclesiastes 8 indicates that ultimately it is better to do right than to be wicked. It also indicates that we can find joy in small pleasures and daily tasks. But man still cannot comprehend what goes on under the sun. Why not?

3. Describe Annie. Compare where she is now to where she was.

4. What kind of people do Rod and Carol seem to be?

5. Why does Annie’s heart particularly go out to Allison? Why isn’t she more aggressive in helping her?

6. How can you find joy in the tasks God has given you even when you have struggles? How can helping others aid you in finding joy and in experiencing personal growth?