Into the Fire

                                      (From Chapter Four of Breath of Life)

Sometimes at night, Shay wondered if her life held any value. She tried diligently to avoid that kind of thinking because it led to all kinds of devastation of the soul.
    

     “Shay,” Lonnie had said to her as she leaned back against his iron bare chest propped in the sand between his knees, his quads and hamstrings bulging in that flexed position, while the brilliant copper of the San Diego sunset signaled a visual siren of heat. His rock hard arms folded around her, chastely holding her as she treasured feeling him breathe. “Shay, do you see all of this? This is God’s handiwork, and this is our time to enjoy it. Our time together. I’ve explained to you that He has ordered my steps, and they’ve been strict and firm. Just what I needed. He knows what’s ahead and what’s been left behind. He’s given me this time with you to allow me a taste of love. But it may only be a taste, Shay. That may be all we have together.”
    

     She would wonder then why she remained when he was so valuable as a man, as a person, as a son, as a soldier. It embarrassed her to think all she did was write intense mysteries, thrillers that exposed the human psyche often at its worst and rarely at its best. She smiled to herself and rubbed her big dog’s head when she recalled Lonnie’s shock at learning she was Cabin LuCaine, his favorite mystery writer. That had to be her little gift from a God she wanted so desperately to believe held the answers to things she didn’t even know to ask.

Again and again, Lord, apart from you, I can do nothing, and thank you is never enough. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.