Gloria raises her hands in the air. “Hold on! Hold on! I haven’t said anything yet.” She nods. “Yes, there would be some expense, but we have generous donors.”
“But is it a good idea?” Lauren asks, uncertain.
“I like it, and I think it’s needed. Who knows how it could inspire one of our kids here?” Lauren smiles. “Let’s talk it through with Dalton, Heddy, Miriam, and even Marshall. Let’s hear what they think.” Lauren begins to leave the office. “Who would teach the classes?”
“Me,” Lauren says. “If you’ll let me.”
TWENTY-FIVE
November 1972
John examines the fourth table leg and sighs. “Finally! All four legs.” The doctor has scheduled Joan’s surgery four days from now, firmly believing that her weight is close enough. Between work, helping with the children, and grocery shopping, he manages to sneak in an hour or so of work on the table every few days. He hopes, even prays that he can have the table finished by Christmas for Joan. He has taken his family to church for the last two months, and if Joan is able following her surgery, he envisions taking them to the Christmas Eve service and then coming home to put Gigi and Christopher to bed. He and Joan can put the presents beneath the tree and then he can make sure that she is resting comfortably in bed before he brings the table inside from the workshop. He can only imagine Joan’s face when she sees it on Christmas morning.
He looks at the pieces of the table and wishes again he could remember the name of the man he met in the hospital cafeteria following Joan’s surgery. He would love to talk to him about the table and even more. He would love to talk to him about Joan’s surgery, about prayer, about why cancer exists in the first place, and about doubting all that he’s learned to believe in the last few months. Even with a few extra pounds, Joan is weak; he knows that, and the surgery scares him. He presses the palms of his hands into his eyes to hold back the tears. In the last several months he has tried to be strong for Joan and his family in every way, but fear spreads across his chest.
Tears fall over his face and he swipes them away. “Don’t!” he says to himself. He picks up one of the pieces of wood for the tabletop and examines it. He needs to glue these pieces together. Another tear falls, and John brushes his shoulder against his cheek. “Stop it!” he yells. “Stop!” He throws the tape measure, pencils, and clamps from atop the workbench across the room and slides to the floor. “I’m trying to believe,” he whispers. “She’s my world. I’ve loved only her. She’s the only one.” A knock at the door startles him, and John hurries to his feet. Who would knock? Joan, Alice, or the kids would march right in. He uses the tail of his shirt to wipe his face and hears another knock. He walks to the door and opens it to a man he’s never seen before.
“John?” The man is in his late sixties or early seventies, with thinning brownish gray hair and glasses. “When I knocked on your front door, your mother-in-law told me you were out here. I’m Ed Grassle from church. I was told about your wife and wondered if I could come visit with you. Is that okay?”
John feels a lump in his throat and nods. “Sure. Come on in.” He leads Ed into the workshop and points at a metal stool. “You’re welcome to sit there.”
“Maybe in a minute,” Ed says, noticing the pieces of wood on the workbench. “Are you making a table? Beautiful wood. Black walnut.”
John nods. “Yeah. I started it a few months ago. You know it’s black walnut?”
Ed picks up one of the table legs. “I’ve been dabbling for years. This is beautiful work. You’re very talented.” John smiles. Ed holds the leg higher, examining it.
“I don’t know about that. I spend a lot of time just standing here and staring at the wood, it seems.”
Ed smiles. “Then you’re a craftsman through and through!” He holds the table leg closer to him and runs his hand up and down it. “Have you ever thought about a piece of wood? Or even a tree, for that matter?”
John looks at him, surprised. “Yeah, I have!”
“Amazing, right? No lab can come up with a tree.”
“Or a seed,” John adds.
“Or a seed,” Ed says, agreeing. He sets the table leg down and looks at John. “There’s a lot we can’t do, isn’t there.” He doesn’t say it as a question, but rather as more of a statement. Ed knows his place in the universe. “John, when I heard about your wife, I wanted you to know that you’re not alone.” John bites the inside of his mouth, nodding. “I know you must be awfully scared right now and wondering about what will happen.” A tear falls down John’s cheek, and he brushes it away. There are people who make you feel instantly at ease and immediately cared for because their words, the way they slip their hands into their pockets, even the way they walk let you know that the only place they want to be right now is with you. This is Ed to John. “You don’t know me, but I’ll do anything for you and your family. My wife and I both will. We don’t want you or your family to feel alone, John.” The fear, pain, hurt, stress, and anxiety rush to John’s chest, and he wraps his arms around Ed. Ed claps him on the back just like
