“Don’t worry, son. That’s one of the reasons we’re talking. We’ll take it a day at a time. How’s your spiritual life going?”
“I’m doing my best. It’s hard to trust again, though. Sometimes I’m not sure if God even exists anymore.”
Pastor Gregg was silent as we made our way down to the lake. The staff and campers were at dinner, and we had the place mostly to ourselves. The mountain stood like a familiar soldier in the distance, keeping watch over Bridgeport. The same immovable force it had always been, only this time it felt different. Smaller somehow. The lake sloshed against the sandy banks and rattled against the rocks above. And an ache I’d been trying to avoid pulled in my chest. “It’s all I can do to think about Him.”
“I can only imagine.” Pastor Gregg shook his head. “Tragedy has a way of taking the wind out of our sails, Carter. Now, I can’t say I’ve been through it like you. I never lost my wife, but we did lose a child. Our second born, Melissa.” He looked out over the lake, his gaze softening.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I never doubted God’s existence afterward.” He turned his attention back to me. “But, I doubted His goodness for a time. All the while, He never let me go.”
My chest seized up. I’d wondered on more nights than one if He could be good after what I’d been through. What I’d seen. What I’d lost.
What I’d caused.
“Grief’s a process,” Pastor Gregg continued. “And, everyone has their own experience with it. Don’t beat yourself up for feeling different toward Him than you did before. It’s a part of being human. Good news is He’s big enough to handle our opinions. If you need to get it off your chest, tell Him. And, if you need someone to talk to, I’m here for you, son.”
“Thanks,” I said past the lump in my throat.
“All right if I pray with you?”
“For sure.” I bowed my head.
But Pastor Gregg’s words just slid past, sound-waves fading into the burning orange sky. Was there even anything out there to listen? He’d felt so real once. He’d blessed me my whole life—my parents were awesome, I was a starting linebacker on my high school football team, a forward on the basketball team, and I’d met the love of my life—and married her—before I was twenty. I’d joined the marines and planned to climb the military ladder. But here I was, a widower and a cripple. Completely alone.
And even if He did exist, it wasn’t like I could ever trust Him again.
“You know our accomplishments,” Pastor Gregg interrupted my thoughts, “and You know our failures. In our weaknesses, Lord, there You’re strongest. Help Carter here and now. Overcome his pain for him, Lord. Heal his wounds, as You promise You’ll do for those who draw close to You. Help him draw close.”
Megs would’ve wanted me here, fighting to find God again. I owed her, I owed Dad and Mom too. I owed everyone.
“In Jesus’s name, I pray, Amen.”
“Amen,” I repeated. “Thank you, sir.”
Pastor Gregg nodded. “I think that’s it for today. For your first assignment, I want you to try and have some fun this weekend.” He grinned. “Your new roommate, Cory, likes to take folks out night fishing. And he has a no-talking policy. Might be a good start for you.”
“Sounds like a pretty good idea.”
“Good night, Carter. God bless you.” He retreated from the lake, but I stayed, something about the calm water not letting me go.
God, if you’re out there, please give me some sort of a sign.
A faint sob broke through the quiet. A dark-haired girl was sitting on an Adirondack chair on the shoreline ten yards away, her face buried in her palms, her shoulders shaking—basically looking like how I felt inside. Every day. For the past year. I wanted to go to her, try and comfort her somehow, but I stopped myself. If I were in her shoes, I’d probably just want to be left alone.
Pastor Gregg’s prayer ricocheted through my mind—that part about weakness. Weak’s all I could be, ever since I woke up in the hospital, the bottom half of my leg gone, my wife gone, my child gone. My world ravaged. There was nothing I could do.
A US Marine.
A marine on leave to spend some time with his wife before heading back on tour.
A marine who’d failed to save her life.
How could He let it happen? He knew I was out cold. Why didn’t He save her?
Weakness…
In my weakness, He was strong.
Megan was so strong that I’d always just believed along with her. She believed in God with all her heart, and she knew better than anybody why. She didn’t let anything get in the way of her faith. Not even her infertility. That was the first knock for me.
But losing her the way I did?
That’s when things got dicey.
I needed to know there was a reason for it all—her death, my failure. That Megs’ belief in Him wasn’t in vain.
That I could still believe too.
With another long sigh, I headed off to the men’s lodge to find my room and Cory. I didn’t want to think about it anymore and night fishing in silence sounded like the perfect cure.
-LAUREN-
I knocked on Hailey’s door, still completely exhausted from my late shift at Bridgeport’s coffee shop. It was taking her an eternity to answer. I honestly wanted to ditch out on the whole night fishing thing. The only reason I’d agreed to go was because Hailey wore me down. Every day at work this week she’d asked me to hang out afterwards, pray at chapel, sing around the campfire, go to a movie in town. I got that people knew my best friend had just left, and Hailey was just being nice . . . but hanging out with the perfect Christians here made me feel like a total hypocrite.
The door finally opened. Hailey’s bestie, June—and
