CHAPTER 1
Summer
i thank You God for most this amazingday: for the leaping greenly spirits of treesand a blue true dream of sky; and for everythingwhich is natural which is infinite which is yes
(i who have died am alive again today,and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birthday of life and of love and wings: and of the gaygreat happening illimitably earth)
how should tasting touching hearing seeingbreathing any—lifted from the noof all nothing—human merely beingdoubt unimaginable You?
(now the ears of my ears awake andnow the eyes of my eyes are opened)
(e.e. cummings, 1894–1962)
December
The oak leaves are out in full, becoming a darker green thanbefore. Turning fifty is behind me, Lord, and it all went betterthan anticipated. It is a good age to be, after all.
Help me, Lord, to become older gracefully. Grant me courage,grant me peace.
With that, Clare closed her journal, and said to herself, All elsecan wait.
Clare was watching the goldfish in the pond atthe bottom of the garden. She had taken anearly morning walk to do so. This was where shesometimes came to think things through, and this morningwas such a time. There was a still freshness in the air thatflushed her cheeks and helped her towards clarity of mind.She was deeply concerned and needed to gain perspective.
There were often tricky situations pertaining to family,friends or acquaintances that she felt needed her prayers andlove. Discovering how she could be a possible part of thesolution needed reflection. The shady nook in her garden wasan ideal place for this. As her two sons grew and developed intoadults, their needs naturally changed, and she had to make sureshe was not stifling them with her habitual maternal instincts.
Her younger son Matthew, aged twenty-three, was in lovewith a young woman, Nicole Hayden, who Clare had reasonto believe was seriously ill. When she recently saw Nicole shehad an almost deathly pallor. Nicole's doctor had scheduledher for an appointment with a haemotologist later that day.Clare had asked Matthew to let her know the outcome at theearliest opportunity.
'I will, Mum, as soon as we know. In the meantime, keepher in your prayers.'
And Clare was doing just that. For her not to pray wouldbe like ceasing to breathe. It was her life force, her centralfocus, her reaching out to her Beloved. Her husband, Craig,understood this, although he did not share her ardour.
Craig MacMillan was already in his study working. Aneconomist of note, and a consultant, he studied the financialworld to keep abreast of current trends. The past year had beenparticularly stressful due to the onset of the financial crisisin the United States and the instability in the South Africanmarket caused by the abrupt recalling of its president. Therewere a number of younger people he mentored, regarding theiroffshore investments, some of them friends of his sons. Theycame to see him in his home office, and so Clare also got toknow them.
Clare and Craig had settled into a comfortable patternwhere there was still space for passion but where therelationship was not dependent on it to move forward. Whenshe was twenty, Clare had been desperately in love with asuave and wealthy lawyer, who whisked her around the worldin luxury ocean liners and private jets, but passion had at lastconsumed the very relationship itself. When Craig came alonghe was so solid, so reliable, so stable and so homely by contrastthat she gravitated towards him like a rose to gentle rain. Sofrom the start Craig enveloped Clare with a sense of securitywhich felt like the warm, loving embrace of a friend ratherthan the passionate kiss of a lover. Not that there wasn't roomfor both.
Clare mostly felt very grateful for all her blessings.Sometimes, though, when her elder son Jerome and Craigwere more grumpy than usual—or when her gentle Matthewwas uncharacteristically sharp—she longed to return to theharmonious rhythm she normally enjoyed.
Later in the day, when she was busy sculpting in her studio,making a bust for one of her clients, Matthew called Clare.
'Mum, start praying with even greater seriousness. Nicoleis very ill. I'll tell you more when I get home.' Matthew stilllived partially at home, but mostly in the apartment he wasbusy renovating.
'It's a kind of cancer, Mum,' he said, before he'd properlyentered the kitchen. 'A kind of leukemia. They've caught itrelatively early so there's hope, though to Nicole it feels like adeath sentence. Please pray for her, Mum.'
By now Matthew was sitting down at the kitchen table,his head in his hands, trembling, distraught, and trying totalk hope into himself. They had thought Nicole might beanoerexic, as she'd been off her food and lost a lot of weightsuddenly. That seemed bad enough but this seemed worse.
'What is the prognosis, darling? What did thehaemotologist say?'
'He said Nicole must start on a course of chemotherapyimmediately and if she responded well, there was plenty ofreason to be hopeful. Mum, we have to pray with all our mightthat she will respond positively to treatment.'
'Of course I shall join you in praying with all my mightfor a successful outcome. For Nicole's sake, we must allexpress full confidence and hope. Our faith will be stretchedbut God always rewards faith in him. His goodness willprevail over evil.'
'Will it, Mum? Can you be sure? That is what I wantto believe too. Thank goodness Nicole's parents are alsoChristians,...