Read Online Damascus Countdown by Joel C. Rosenberg - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Joel C. Rosenberg
Ads: Link
Nor did she want others to perceive her as acting like one. She didn’t want any of the real friends of the family asking who she was or why she was there, in large part because she had no idea how to answer such questions. Who was she to these people, really? Why was she there? She couldn’t just come out and say the truth. She wasn’t even entirely sure what the truth was. Was she doing this for the purest of motives, out of genuine, sincere love for the family? Or was she doing it for David, though he probably had no idea she was even there?
She could see the enormous pain in this family, and not just because of Mrs. Shirazi’s passing. These relationships were broken. The boys were estranged from one another. Worse, they seemed estranged from their father as well. There were clearly deep tensions just under the surface, and there were moments she feared those pains might explode into the open. She prayed throughout the day that they wouldn’t and that no one else would notice.
For some families, tragedies brought them together and helped heal old wounds. This didn’t appear to be one of those families. What the Shirazis needed most, Marseille began to see, was the same thing her father had needed most but never found. Not ancient traditions or a house full of family and friends or a piping-hot cup of Persian tea. What they needed was the healing touch of God’s Son, Jesus. They desperately needed Christ’s love, his comfort, the “peace of God, which surpasses all understanding,” that he had promised to all who followed him. Shewanted them to know the love and mercy and healing she had found after her mother was killed in the Trade Center attacks. She wanted them to know the amazing truth of God’s great love.
But now didn’t seem the time to say anything, and again, who was she? Why should they listen to her? Yes, Christ had poured into her heart an everlasting, transforming love she hadn’t known existed. He had adopted her into his family and truly healed the wounds in her soul. She desperately wanted this family to know the Jesus she knew. But “there is an appointed time for everything,” she recalled from Scripture. “And there is a time for every event under heaven. . . . A time to weep and a time to laugh; a time to mourn and a time to dance. . . . A time to be silent and a time to speak.” Tonight, she knew, was a time to be silent, and so she was.
Marseille glanced at her watch. It was now well past midnight. This very long day was finally winding down. She stepped into the kitchen and took a look around. Most of the guests who had come to mourn with the Shirazi family had gone or were in the process of saying good-bye. Dr. Shirazi hugged the last few to leave and then headed upstairs without a word. He had to be exhausted. But Marseille felt a twinge of disappointment that he wouldn’t take a moment and say good-bye to her as well.
She quietly began helping Azad wrap and put away the mounds of food that people had brought over. A few moments later, Saeed stepped into the kitchen but continued out to the back deck without a word, fixated on his BlackBerry and raising not a finger to help. Marseille tried not to let it bother her. She was exhausted after such an emotional day. She needed a good night’s rest and some time to herself before packing up and finally flying back to Portland late the following evening. But as tired as she was, she couldn’t quite bear to leave. Not yet. So she began wiping down tables and then rinsing dishes and loading them into the dishwasher.
There was something special about being back in this house. She loved how it looked, how it smelled, how it felt to be here. She smiled, remembering the love and affection the Shirazi parents had for each other. They held hands. They took long walks together. They doted onone another, and they seemed to genuinely enjoy each other. Marseille suspected they would have been deeply in love anywhere on the planet,
She could see the enormous pain in this family, and not just because of Mrs. Shirazi’s passing. These relationships were broken. The boys were estranged from one another. Worse, they seemed estranged from their father as well. There were clearly deep tensions just under the surface, and there were moments she feared those pains might explode into the open. She prayed throughout the day that they wouldn’t and that no one else would notice.
For some families, tragedies brought them together and helped heal old wounds. This didn’t appear to be one of those families. What the Shirazis needed most, Marseille began to see, was the same thing her father had needed most but never found. Not ancient traditions or a house full of family and friends or a piping-hot cup of Persian tea. What they needed was the healing touch of God’s Son, Jesus. They desperately needed Christ’s love, his comfort, the “peace of God, which surpasses all understanding,” that he had promised to all who followed him. Shewanted them to know the love and mercy and healing she had found after her mother was killed in the Trade Center attacks. She wanted them to know the amazing truth of God’s great love.
But now didn’t seem the time to say anything, and again, who was she? Why should they listen to her? Yes, Christ had poured into her heart an everlasting, transforming love she hadn’t known existed. He had adopted her into his family and truly healed the wounds in her soul. She desperately wanted this family to know the Jesus she knew. But “there is an appointed time for everything,” she recalled from Scripture. “And there is a time for every event under heaven. . . . A time to weep and a time to laugh; a time to mourn and a time to dance. . . . A time to be silent and a time to speak.” Tonight, she knew, was a time to be silent, and so she was.
Marseille glanced at her watch. It was now well past midnight. This very long day was finally winding down. She stepped into the kitchen and took a look around. Most of the guests who had come to mourn with the Shirazi family had gone or were in the process of saying good-bye. Dr. Shirazi hugged the last few to leave and then headed upstairs without a word. He had to be exhausted. But Marseille felt a twinge of disappointment that he wouldn’t take a moment and say good-bye to her as well.
She quietly began helping Azad wrap and put away the mounds of food that people had brought over. A few moments later, Saeed stepped into the kitchen but continued out to the back deck without a word, fixated on his BlackBerry and raising not a finger to help. Marseille tried not to let it bother her. She was exhausted after such an emotional day. She needed a good night’s rest and some time to herself before packing up and finally flying back to Portland late the following evening. But as tired as she was, she couldn’t quite bear to leave. Not yet. So she began wiping down tables and then rinsing dishes and loading them into the dishwasher.
There was something special about being back in this house. She loved how it looked, how it smelled, how it felt to be here. She smiled, remembering the love and affection the Shirazi parents had for each other. They held hands. They took long walks together. They doted onone another, and they seemed to genuinely enjoy each other. Marseille suspected they would have been deeply in love anywhere on the planet,
Similar Books
