trying to put on a front and act like everything was okay.
“Come on.” Tapping the fork against the ceramic plate, Angela tilted her head. “Talk to me. Please.”
“There’s nothing to say.” Eva shoveled some rice into her mouth.
“Is this about Marc? Because he’s pretty miserable without you too.”
He was? The thought shouldn’t make her happy. It didn’t, exactly. But it was nice to know he missed her. She shook her head. “It’s more than that.”
After a few moments, Angela broke the silence. “Well?”
“I feel worse off than I did before the race. How is that possible?”
“How did you expect to feel?”
“Less confused, that’s for sure.” Eva moved some food around on her plate but didn’t lift anything to her lips. “I truly don’t know where to go from here. I can’t even figure out what to do with my days, so I watch television and work out and cook and shop. But nothing brings true pleasure, nothing feels right—not returning to the heart center, not creating flower arrangements again, and definitely not working the business with Marc.” Eva paused. “And before you ask, I’ve talked with my counselor and we both agree I’m not depressed. Just stuck.”
“I know how that feels, believe me.” After a few moments of thoughtful chewing, Angela continued. “In a way, New Zealand was about healing, yes, but also about discovering happiness again. For both of us. But maybe happiness is this illusive thing that’s really dependent on circumstances—something we can’t find and control, much as we want to.”
The words niggled something in the back of Eva’s mind. “That reminds me of a conversation I had months ago with Sherry.”
“What did she say?”
Eva put herself back there, under the starry New Zealand sky. “I’m trying to remember the exact words, but basically that happiness and joy aren’t the same thing, and that joy is found in trusting God, even when life is at its worst.” Eva bit her lip. “The problem is, I don’t know how to trust God.”
“It’s not easy after what we’ve been through. Brent’s death took something from you, just like Wes’s death took something from me. But I’ve started believing our loss can still be used for good.”
“How?”
“Instead of letting grief overshadow our lives, we can let it transform us.”
What a thought. “I want that. I really do. But . . . how?”
“Like Sherry and Kylee and every other person we love has been telling us: one step at a time. Maybe grief isn’t a process to get through, in the sense of doing certain things and getting to check them off a grieving to-do list.” Angela smiled. “Maybe it’s more like our journey through New Zealand. Lots of ups and downs, winding roads and beautiful forests, flat land and mountainous regions filled with mudslides and floods that take us unawares. It was really difficult in some moments, but every challenge moved us closer to our goal.”
“But what’s my goal now?”
“Sorry, sis, only you can answer that. And I have to do the same for myself. I can tell you that my goal in life used to be mere survival, but what I really needed was to learn to experience the grief and realize it was okay to mourn, for life not to be perfect, for life to surprise me sometimes.” She fisted her napkin. “I’m still learning that in a way. Still trying to find a way forward in a few situations.”
“I’d like to know that all of this suffering hasn’t been wasted.”
“Me too.” Angela tilted her head. “I know in the past you said that Brent was your muse, and now that he’s not here, you’ve hidden your creative self away. But what if the ultimate muse is really God, and he’s got this amazingly full and creative life waiting for you, if only you’ll step back into it? Is it possible to allow all the pain and the beauty of life to inspire you? To allow God to inspire you—not just to create, but to live?”
“Wow. I . . .”
“I know, it’s a lot. I didn’t mean to barrage you with my thoughts.” Angela polished off her food and stood to collect the dishes, then headed to the sink and set down the plates.
“Thanks for coming over, Ang.” Eva joined her at the sink and threw her arms around her sister-in-law’s shoulders. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”
“I’m here for you. Just remember that.” Angela looked at her pointedly. “And I think Marc would be, too, if