From my novel Seeing . . .
From the middle of Chapter One
He stared into the mirror above the sink, willing himself back to the present by focusing on his expression—clearing the evident sadness out of his eyes. It wasn’t that he wanted to forget any of it, even the grief. It’s that it was so long ago and he was just now desirous of moving on. To who knows where but somewhere else besides the gloom of sorrow’s place etched forever in his mind by the memory of his first and only too-short-lived love.
“Lord,” he whispered as another man entered the restroom.
A simultaneous nod and Micah exited.
He scanned the restaurant portion of the truck stop, noting the booth where he usually parked himself was occupied, so he sauntered over to the quieter side of the room and planted his now weary frame on the bumpy red vinyl seat. He picked up the menu from behind the condiment holder just to make sure he wouldn’t change his mind about what he planned to eat. A new breakfast special teased his hunger, and he couldn’t resist it. Before he closed the menu, a cup of black coffee was set on the table with three small cream containers.
“Thanks, Ros—” he started to say as he slipped the menu back in its place.
Sexual abuse.
“Not over here. This is my section,” the girl from outside the entrance said good-naturedly. “Rosie told me you take cream with your coffee.”
Her eyes were a pale blue with little expression in them in spite of the smile. Always when his eyes connected with certain strangers, it happened. Nothing to foretell it. Just the information. Concise. Sometimes chilling, as this was. He looked at her nametag pinned above her left breast on the short-sleeved red and white striped uniform blouse.
“Bonita,” he said aloud. “Thank you.”
Her eyes dropped slightly. “Crazy name, I know. My mom thought I was a pretty baby. She stuck me with it.”
“It fits,” he said kindly with no flirtation.
The girl had lived long past blushing, but she seemed to appreciate his comment, perhaps surprised there seemed to be no agenda attached to it. “Maybe once upon a time. Not so much anymore. Now, what can I getcha?” She managed another smile.
“The special, please. Eggs over easy. Skip the sausage. A tall glass of milk and please keep the coffee comin’.”
“Got it. Rosie said your name’s Micah.”
“That’s right.”
“Is it short for Michael?”
“No. Just Micah. Named after a biblical prophet,” he offered for explanation, more to see her reaction than for any other reason.
“Huh. Like the guys who predict the end of the world and stuff?” she asked, no sarcasm.
“Well, yeah, they did do that, but they also told of how and where God’s Son would come to earth and offer salvation.”
“And that would be Jesus?” she asked with the hint of a smile.
“That would be Him.” Micah smiled back.
“I’ll go place your order, Micah.”
It wasn’t easy knowing such intimate details about strangers, but he’d learned from experience it was the way the Lord required him to pray for people. There were a few whose names he never got to know—just how to pray for them. Until the time came when the Lord let the burden pass on to someone else he supposed.
The coffee pouring into his cup brought him back to the present tense.
“Sleepy?” Bonita asked.
“Yeah, maybe a little.” He gave her a grateful smile. “Thanks,” he said as she pulled three more creams out of her pocket.
When he glanced up at her, coffee pot in hand, he strained to keep his face expressionless as flashes of the terror and pain on her face at a much younger age zipped through his mind. “I’m sorry,” he said without meaning to.
“What? You’re sorry? About what?” she asked, confused.
He scrambled for logic. “Oh, uh, you know, not very talkative. That’s all.”
She laughed. “No problem. Sometimes there’s just nothin’ to say, you know?”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
“I’ll have your order in a coupla minutes.”
“Thanks.”
The place had gotten busy during his reflections. Hungry truck drivers and a few of the townsfolk who knew where to come to get a good breakfast. The food here was good. Especially the breakfasts. Whoever their morning cooks were, they knew how to make the selections just the way you ordered them.
He sipped on his coffee and wondered why the Lord had allowed him to see this girl’s pain so vividly. That was a new twist to these revelations, and it took him by surprise, threw him off guard.
Lord, apart from you, I can do nothing. So I thank you for every story, every word, for sustaining me through each book. You're amazing. Please continue to help me be the one you designed me to be. In the Name of Jesus.
Into the Fire 