To Sing Frogs Chapter 4d

Our Michigan home in the autumn.

Amy’s sobs dissipated while she desperately listened for my response to her pleas. She experienced the same humming buzz I met when I first picked up the phone.

My heart pounded and I pressed a thumb and forefinger onto my closed eyelids. I thought about just hanging up. My wife had no right to request what she was asking of me.

Suddenly, I dropped my hand and my eyes sprang open. Amy believed God was completely handling everything. That was the answer. I threw out the anchor without hesitation. If my wife wanted to avoid capsizing the ship she would have no choice but to lower the sails.

“You said all along, you felt like there were specific little girls we were supposed to adopt. Were you wrong?” Take that, fate.

“What? I mean, no. I mean, I don’t think so. What do you mean?”

“If God is directing us to specific little girls, it’s pretty obvious this is not the right referral.” I shrugged, even though she couldn’t see me.

Amy stopped crying and took a deep breath. “You’re right.”

What?!

“I think you’re right. I have always felt like there were two little girls who were supposed to come into our family. Maybe this is the wrong referral.”

Um, um, ummm. “Uh huh.”

“What if God wants these children to go to another family? I mean the last thing I want is to adopt the wrong children.”

“So… you’re okay?”

“I will be. There have to be specific children that God wants in our family. I need to pray about this, but I think you’re right.”

“You’re sure you’re okay…”

“Really, I’m good.” She was actually starting to sound cheerful. “Thank you Sweetheart. You always know what to say.”

How did we avoid that collision? “Okay, well, I love you. See you soon.”

Warm light glowed from behind the vertical blinds of the sliding door to the kitchen. I drove past and parked in the garage. I didn’t get out immediately and finished listening to the song on the stereo. Then the door lowered behind me as I sat and gathered courage. Even though Amy sounded good by the time I hung up the phone, I was leery.

The sweet smoky smell of seared beef tantalized my senses as soon as I opened the back door. Steaks. My favorite. That isn’t right. I should be consigned to sleep on the couch tonight. When I opened the door from the mudroom and walked into the kitchen, Amy threw her arms around my neck and kissed me. “I’m sorry, Sweetheart. I feel bad about putting you in such a difficult position. This has to be hard for you, too.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s tough for all of us.” I slipped through the kitchen and into the living room looking for evidence that would reveal my wife’s conviction to her words.

Amy had done the right thing and removed the photograph. She didn’t rearrange the other frames to compensate for the loss, though. The ugly void on the dark rustic mantle was the most obvious thing in the room.