Hi! Here is yet another chunk of my short story, Adopting Love. It picks up right where the last left off.
Sean and Lydia both laughed. “Of course.” Sean said.
Gabe wrote his entire testimony himself. I took what he had, added a couple pictures of him, and a little backstory and the article went live to a mainstream Christian website later that week—I’m not traditionally a Christian writer, but I do wield some clout in the writing world—enough to get my article read and liked by the editor.
I didn’t know how it would work out that night, but I was excited for the possibilities. We ate some ice cream and talked some more.
But then, I got a call.
It was my editor, Thomas Burton. I knew what he wanted.
There was a story to be written. I was soon going to be on another flight to another country, back at my profession.
As I stared at his name on the display of my phone, it felt like I had a world of experience in just those couple seconds.
My reaction was to answer it. But something else called me.
Isn’t there more to life than writing? Isn’t there more to life than endless meetings and interviews? I had a vision of myself sitting in front of a president who wasn’t even born yet, still working this same old job, jetting around the world. I’d have made all the money I could have ever spent (at least, while working nonstop), I’d have met the most famous people in the world, I’d have fulfilled my dreams.
But this night in Texas seemed to tell me that there was more that I wanted. Some faint whisper asked me if I didn’t want love. Love like this family knew.
Another vision of myself flashed across my mind. I was out in a garden like the Worth’s had, digging with my hands in the dirt. I had time to think, time to be alone and quiet and not be moving like an electron. I had peace, a family, and time to be with God. That was the life I wanted.
But evidently not enough to do anything about it.
“Sorry guys. This is my editor. Do you mind?”
I was excused and ducked onto the front porch, clicking the receive button.
“Owen.” My employer said excitedly. I got no ‘sorry for calling you this late’ or anything. “I’ve got you hooked up with Mizrahi in Tel Aviv for an exclusive.” I’d better stop here and tell you that this was the interview I’d always wanted. Not only was it an interview with the out-of-office prime minister, who I had been dying to meet, it also brought me into a new caliber of world leaders—the kind I’d only hoped for. My editor tried to give me all the details at once.
“This is great, Tom.” I interrupted. “Can I call you back later?”
He was put out, but I wasn’t budging. “I’ll call you back when I can,” I promised.
Then I hung up.
Why did I do that? I remember thinking. I still don’t know. Some measure of disgust, I guess. I was horrified by the world that had nothing but business and planes and interviews in it.
I breathed in deeply to smell the breeze. A gilded harvest moon was cresting the treetops and the stars above were deeper and brighter than I remember being possible. I looked for the Pleiades, but I’d forgotten where even my favorite constellation could be found.
I’d been in the most impressive airports ever built. But when was the last time that I’d seen the beautiful architecture of a sprawling oak? In the same manner, I’d eaten at expensive restaurants but not the fruit from my own garden and I couldn’t remember the last time that I’d slept in the same bed for more than a week.
It was time for this to change. I knew if I wanted these things, wanted a home, it was time to put down the anchor.
But I didn’t have an anchor.
“God. I need an anchor. If you want me to stay here, please give me an anchor.”
Taking a deep breath, I turned around and walked back inside, careful not to let any June bugs in with me.
“Good news.” I said, looking at my new friends. “I’ve gotten an interview with the resigned Israeli prime minister.”
They were all happy for me but I was still wondering if I was happy about it. Something wanted me to not be successful so that I’d have an excuse to quit.
The hour was getting late and some of the kids, bleary eyed. I had to go. I promised them that I would come back when I could (which wouldn’t have been less than a year). I told Gabe that I would be emailing his dad soon. And then, after hugging Sean and a couple of the kids, I left. Some of the kids followed me outside to my car. Soon, I was inside and for some reason unknown to me, I found myself crying.
What do I want? I practically blubbered to myself. I wanted love. I knew it. I wanted a home. But I felt so called to working as I was, making the best of my talents as I knew how.
“God, if you want me to stay in a harbor, I’m going to need an anchor.”
What anchor exactly I wanted, I can’t really say. Maybe a job, a wife? I didn’t know.
But having peace in my heart, I was able to pull out of the Worth’s driveway and start on my way home.
The peace that was laid on my heart was a strangely expectant type, as if I was expecting God to do something right then. I don’t know where I got the idea. I mean, I guess it was the Holy Spirit, but I’ve never felt the Spirit move like that. By the way, don’t limit God to your experiences.
I’ll wrap it all up next time!