Read Online The Gate by Dann A. Stouten - Free Book Online Page A

before your supper company gets here.”
    As we walked back down the hill, I said, “Josh, I have so many unanswered questions.”
    â€œI know,” he replied. “But you’ve just got to be patient. Answers take time. Wisdom takes endurance.”
    After that, he put his hand on my shoulder, and we walked in silence.

5 encouragement

    Bart, having never received any words of encouragement myself, I’m not sure how they’re supposed to sound. But here goes: I believe in you.
    Lisa Simpson
    I was getting dressed when I noticed it: A two-tone, blue metallic ’57 Chevy Bel Air was parking alongside the cottage. As I watched, I realized that Florence Kowalski was inside.
    I couldn’t believe my eyes. “Florence!” I shouted from the open window. “Is that really you?”
    She waved, and I ran down the stairs and out the door to greet her.
    Florence stood outside the passenger side door with her arms open, ready to greet me.
    â€œJust look at you,” she said, hugging me as though it were perfectly normal for dead friends to come calling in the late afternoon. “Aren’t you the handsome one? You look so much like your mother. Of course, you always did. I can’t believe it . . . little Schuyler Hunt all grown up, and a doctor too. She’s so proud of you.”
    Florence looked like I had always remembered: wispy thin with platinum blonde hair, wearing a black-and-white polka-dot blouse, red pedal pushers, and a pair of sassy red high-heeled shoes.
    â€”——
    When someone we love dies, a part of us dies too, but a part of them also lives on in us.
    She was my mother’s oldest and closest friend, and when she died, a part of Mom died too. But a part of her also lived on in Mom’s memory and heart. They’d known each other since grade school, and Florence’s husband, Ray, grew up near Dad on College Avenue. In fact, they were the ones who set my parents up on a blind date. Dad was tall, cocky, athletic, and handsome, and Mom was beautiful but quiet. Dad always said he married up. But their families differed, and their romance almost ended before it started.
    Grandpa Jacobs was the vice president of Jansma’s Dairy, which meant that they lived well, and when it came to religion, he was old school. He and Grandma went to church twice on Sunday, and they also were regulars in Sunday school and the Wednesday night prayer meeting. They were Scofield Bible teetotalers who were loving but stern. The only time I ever got a licking with a belt was over Grandpa’s knee. I learned real quickly that you didn’t sass Grandma in front of Grandpa.
    What we believe ought to be visible in the way we live our lives.
    Grandpa’s world was very black and white. You either played on the side of good or on the side of evil, and there was no middle ground. “We’re living in the last days,” he’d say, and he believed it. He fully expected that without so much as a moment’s notice, Gabriel would blow his trumpet, the clouds would part, and the final Judge would come and separate the sheep from the goats, which meant that we all needed to be ready.
    As far as Grandpa was concerned, that meant that what you believed ought to be visible in the way you lived your life. Ten cents of every dollar he made went back in the collection bag on Sunday, and if someone knocked on their back door looking for a handout, they got one. “You never know when you might be entertaining angels,” Grandma would say. Inever saw any angels, but there was often an unexpected guest at their dinner table.
    Grandpa and Grandma lived only a few blocks from the freight yard, and during the Great Depression a lot of people rode the rails. Each of them was in as bad a shape as the last, and eventually the word spread around the hobo campfire that if you were hungry, Mrs. Jacobs would always share their supper with you. But be warned, because