A Child Shall Lead Them. Carole Page Gift
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“How can we be sure we make the right decision, Eric?”
His eyes took on that warm, crinkly look Bree loved. “Prayer helps. We trust God to bring us the right parents for Charity. And we trust Him to give us the wisdom to recognize them when we meet them.”
“You make it sound so easy.” Bree shifted in her chair. What she wanted to say was, When the time comes, how do I let Charity go?
“A penny for your thoughts,” mused Eric.
The heat rose in Bree’s cheeks. “It’s nothing. I was just thinking of Charity and how much I want the best for her.”
“So do I,” said Eric with a surprising little rumble of emotion in his voice.
CAROLE GIFT PAGE
writes from the heart about issues facing women today. A prolific author of over 40 books and 800 stories and articles, she has published both fiction and nonfiction with a dozen major Christian publishers, including Thomas Nelson, Moody Press, Crossway Books, Bethany House, Tyndale House and Harvest House. An award-winning novelist, Carole has received the C.S. Lewis Honor Book Award and been a finalist several times for the prestigious Gold Medallion Award and the Campus Life Book of the Year Award.
A frequent speaker at churches, conferences, conventions, schools and retreats around the country, Carole shares her testimony (based on her inspiring new book, Becoming a Woman of Passion) and encourages women everywhere to discover and share their deepest passions, to keep passion alive on the home front and to unleash their passion for Christ.
Born and raised in Jackson, Michigan, Carole taught creative writing at Biola University in La Mirada, California, and serves on the advisory board of the American Christian Writers. She and her husband, Bill, live in Southern California and have three children (besides Misty in heaven) and three beautiful grandchildren.
A Child Shall Lead Them
Carole Gift Page
The Lord your God in your midst,
The Mighty One, will save;
He will rejoice over you with gladness,
He will quiet you in His love,
He will rejoice over you with singing.
—Zephaniah 3:17
To my dear sister, Susan Gift Porter.
Susi, you are awesome! So talented, so caring, so committed to our Lord. I love you with all my heart, and I’m so proud of you. You are my soul mate, my friend, my partner in prayer. You bring joy to so many, especially when you step out on stage and sing so vibrantly of your Redeemer. Thank you for your constant love, encouragement and support!
Dear Reader,
I hope you’re enjoying the continuing saga of Reverend Andrew Rowlands and his three spirited daughters. I know I’ve enjoyed making the Reverend the kind of devoted, fun-loving, larger-than-life daddy we gals dream of. And yet Andrew is human just like the rest of us. Even as he ministers to others, he struggles with heavy issues in his own life—problems that lead him to search for a closer walk with his Heavenly Father.
Andrew’s three daughters must confront their own complex issues, as well. This time, it’s Brianna’s turn. She faces a series of losses that threaten to overwhelm her. But each time she realizes afresh that God is there for her. Both Brianna and Reverend Rowlands come to know Christ better as they experience a roller-coaster ride of conflicting crises and emotions. They are reminded that Jesus loves them with perfect love…and perfect love casts out fear.
It’s a lesson for all of us to remember. When we look outward at our troubling circumstances, we may experience fear and anxiety. When we look inward at ourselves, we often feel inadequate. Only as we keep our eyes on Jesus can we experience His comforting presence and face life with confidence and joy. Trust Him, and He will fill you with His love, joy and peace!
I’d love to hear from you, my friend. Write me c/o Steeple Hill Books, 300 East 42nd Street, New York, New York 10017. And please keep reading! May God bless you with His very best!
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Epilogue
Chapter One
Brianna stood in the doorway of the music room in an oversize V-neck T-shirt and stone-washed jeans, her tawny hair framing her luminous face, her large, velvet green eyes looking worried. “Daddy, are you coming downstairs to dinner?”
She had assumed a tentative stance, her head cocked just so, one hand on the doorjamb, her rosy lips pursed questioningly.
Andrew’s heart lurched. Something in his daughter’s winsome face reminded him of his beloved Mandy. Like mother, like daughter. He half expected to see Brianna cradling one of her scraggly strays in her arms—a mongrel pup, a scrawny alley cat, a wounded bird. Since she was three she had managed to drag home every lost and homeless animal within a ten-mile radius of La Jolla. Mandy had been the same way, nurturing and comforting every ragamuffin child, every downtrodden soul, every wounded spirit. It was what had made her a great minister’s wife.
“Daddy? Did you hear me? You look a thousand miles away.”
Andrew’s reverie broke. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“I said dinner’s ready. It’s Friday, so Frannie made her usual spaghetti. Your favorite.”
“Sounds great, sweetheart.” Frannie, his youngest, had designated herself chief cook and bottle washer after Mandy’s death six years ago. In fact, all three of his daughters had appointed themselves their father’s keepers, mollycoddling him like doting little mothers. His three precious girls: Cassandra, Brianna and Frannie. What would he have done without them?
But now there were just two left at home.
He cleared his throat and said with more enthusiasm than he felt, “Tell Frannie I’ll be down in a minute, okay?”
Brianna lingered in the doorway, looking unconvinced. Yes, no doubt about it. His middle daughter, with her wholesome peaches-and-cream, girl-next-door attractiveness, was at heart a mother hen—a cross between Mother Teresa and Florence Nightingale. And now Andrew was the object of her overweening concern.
“You’re thinking about Cassie, aren’t you, Daddy.”
Andrew swiveled on the mahogany bench, his right hand remaining on