Read Online It Really IS a Wonderful Life: The Snowflake Falls but Hearts in Love Keep a Home Warm All Year Long by Linda Wood Rondeau - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Linda Wood Rondeau
Tags: Romance, Literature & Fiction, Contemporary, Military, Romantic Comedy, Religion & Spirituality, Christmas, Inspirational, Holidays, Christian Books & Bibles, Christian Living, It Really is a Wonderful Life
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again.”
Once righted, Emma stared blankly at the door. “Mommy, why don’t we have our own church?”
“Don’t you like Grandma’s church?”
“I like it, but it’s not our church.”
Never far from earshot, Josh jumped down the last three steps. “Yeah, Mom. We have our own car and our own house. Why don’t we have our own church?”
“That’s a good question, and a good question deserves a good answer. Right now, I have to put Boomer into the cellar.”
Boomer secured, Dorie opened the door. “Last one in the car has to sing—”
Josh glared.
“Never mind. Let’s just scoot, okay?
“Yeppers”
“’Kay.”
Emma won the race.
Mom waited in the church vestibule.
“Where’s Daddy?” Dorie asked.
“He’s already gone to class. If you want to go ahead, I’ll bring the children downstairs for Christmas program practice.” Mom tweaked Josh’s cheek. “You are going to make a great Amahl.”
“How’s that?” Dorie asked.
While Mom tugged off coats and mittens, she explained how Gillian Davidson had adapted the musical version of Amahl and the Night Visitors into a play for the children.
Mom took the kids downstairs. Alone in the vestibule, Dorie scanned the bricks and mortar for any sign that she belonged in this place. She thumbed through the directory on the visitors’ table, recognizing only a few names aside from her parents and their friends.
Then she went into the sanctuary. Daddy said he chose Midville Community Church because of its historical importance—the first church built after the Adirondack town’s settlement in 1807.
Dorie walked aimlessly through the empty sanctuary until finally resting her hand on the Perkins’s pew. Every Sunday Dorie and the children trailed behind Daddy’s big frame, sheltered from the tornados that upended her life.
She thanked God for nurturing parents who cared for their children more than life itself, a familial bond that became her retreat after Devon died. Then why separate herself from them now? Had the time come to cut the spiritual umbilical cord? Was hers a second-hand faith, handed down like Grandma Perkins’s quilt?
Sudden hunger ripped through her. Not for the breakfast she’d missed. She knelt beside Daddy’s pew and heaved a silent prayer through her tears. I need to know You, God. I want to know who You really are, not what others say You are.
Her mother’s hurried steps interrupted her pleas.
“Dorie, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t tell me it’s nothing. A mother senses when her child is hurting. Not a day goes by without you and the kids in my prayers.”
“Is something wrong?”
Would Mom ever understand how difficult she made it to break away?
Chapter Ten
Dorie stacked the last of the dishes into the cupboard as the doorbell rang. She looked at the clock. Gabe must be the punctual sort, like Daddy, something Dorie had not inherited. Clocks should serve as reminders, not straightjackets.
Gabe would have to wait for her. She must be a sight with her still-soggy hair. It’d taken an hour and five shampoos to get all the fingerpaint out of Emma’s hair. “Josh, get the door. That’s probably Dr. Wellington.”
Gabe peeked into the kitchen as Dorie took off her apron. He eyed her like a man who’d been on a deserted island for five years. “Mission already accomplished. You look great.” He reached for her as if to draw her into a hug.
Dorie stepped aside and tilted her head in the children’s direction. “I need to change and do something with my wet hair. Josh and Emma are ready except for their coats.”
“Take your time, I’ll sit in the living room with the kids.” He winked at Emma. “I like cartoons. How about you?”
Emma picked up the television remote and brought it over to Gabe. “Mr. Bear likes cartoons too.”
The living room secured, Dorie hurried upstairs. She slipped on a dark brown skirt and off-white lace blouse, then made a quick check in the
Once righted, Emma stared blankly at the door. “Mommy, why don’t we have our own church?”
“Don’t you like Grandma’s church?”
“I like it, but it’s not our church.”
Never far from earshot, Josh jumped down the last three steps. “Yeah, Mom. We have our own car and our own house. Why don’t we have our own church?”
“That’s a good question, and a good question deserves a good answer. Right now, I have to put Boomer into the cellar.”
Boomer secured, Dorie opened the door. “Last one in the car has to sing—”
Josh glared.
“Never mind. Let’s just scoot, okay?
“Yeppers”
“’Kay.”
Emma won the race.
Mom waited in the church vestibule.
“Where’s Daddy?” Dorie asked.
“He’s already gone to class. If you want to go ahead, I’ll bring the children downstairs for Christmas program practice.” Mom tweaked Josh’s cheek. “You are going to make a great Amahl.”
“How’s that?” Dorie asked.
While Mom tugged off coats and mittens, she explained how Gillian Davidson had adapted the musical version of Amahl and the Night Visitors into a play for the children.
Mom took the kids downstairs. Alone in the vestibule, Dorie scanned the bricks and mortar for any sign that she belonged in this place. She thumbed through the directory on the visitors’ table, recognizing only a few names aside from her parents and their friends.
Then she went into the sanctuary. Daddy said he chose Midville Community Church because of its historical importance—the first church built after the Adirondack town’s settlement in 1807.
Dorie walked aimlessly through the empty sanctuary until finally resting her hand on the Perkins’s pew. Every Sunday Dorie and the children trailed behind Daddy’s big frame, sheltered from the tornados that upended her life.
She thanked God for nurturing parents who cared for their children more than life itself, a familial bond that became her retreat after Devon died. Then why separate herself from them now? Had the time come to cut the spiritual umbilical cord? Was hers a second-hand faith, handed down like Grandma Perkins’s quilt?
Sudden hunger ripped through her. Not for the breakfast she’d missed. She knelt beside Daddy’s pew and heaved a silent prayer through her tears. I need to know You, God. I want to know who You really are, not what others say You are.
Her mother’s hurried steps interrupted her pleas.
“Dorie, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t tell me it’s nothing. A mother senses when her child is hurting. Not a day goes by without you and the kids in my prayers.”
“Is something wrong?”
Would Mom ever understand how difficult she made it to break away?
Chapter Ten
Dorie stacked the last of the dishes into the cupboard as the doorbell rang. She looked at the clock. Gabe must be the punctual sort, like Daddy, something Dorie had not inherited. Clocks should serve as reminders, not straightjackets.
Gabe would have to wait for her. She must be a sight with her still-soggy hair. It’d taken an hour and five shampoos to get all the fingerpaint out of Emma’s hair. “Josh, get the door. That’s probably Dr. Wellington.”
Gabe peeked into the kitchen as Dorie took off her apron. He eyed her like a man who’d been on a deserted island for five years. “Mission already accomplished. You look great.” He reached for her as if to draw her into a hug.
Dorie stepped aside and tilted her head in the children’s direction. “I need to change and do something with my wet hair. Josh and Emma are ready except for their coats.”
“Take your time, I’ll sit in the living room with the kids.” He winked at Emma. “I like cartoons. How about you?”
Emma picked up the television remote and brought it over to Gabe. “Mr. Bear likes cartoons too.”
The living room secured, Dorie hurried upstairs. She slipped on a dark brown skirt and off-white lace blouse, then made a quick check in the
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