Single Scarlet Thread
Chapter 9
I believe God sees the world much different than we do. We see it in a breath, a short span of 70+ years or so here on earth. Yet God is omnipresent and omniscient. He sees how the faithfulness of one can lie dormant for generations, only to crop up like a long-buried seed two or more generations later in the life of another.
In today’s chapter we begin to see that single scarlet thread weaving its way from one generation to the next, and the next. First with Joseph, then with Thomas, then with Stephen, and now with Jacob.
If you are praying for a loved one, or for a legacy of faith to emerge in your children, and one day your grandchildren, I want you to know that faithfulness — simply showing up to love and be present — is a powerful seed in the hands of God. You might not see that seed being planted, or the tiny shoots reaching for the sky, and yet God is doing more than we can imagine with it.
If you have missed previous chapters or the previous book in The Legacy Series, you can find them here.
Thanks again for joining me on this novel adventure. I treasure you! Now, let’s jump into the next chapter!
Chapter Nine
She was 37 years old and her only child was leaving home. Julie placed her hands on her flat stomach. If she had been able to carry the babies to term, there would be two more children still at home. They would be in fifth and seventh grade. Life would be wrapped around ballgames and youth activities and PTA meetings. She often imagined them.
Perhaps a girl and a boy. Fair like Stephen.
She and Stephen tried to conceive for a long time, only to lose the treasured pregnancies in the first trimester. After the second miscarriage, Julie gave away the tiny garments Jacob had worn as a baby. She and Stephen contemplated adoption, but soon the house was filled with neighborhood kids and, of course, Ethan.
Time passed. Life was full.
She pulled a running list off of the refrigerator door and scribbled across the top: Clean Jacob’s room. She had decided a long time ago to let her soon keep his room his way — clean underneath and a mess on top. As long as he kept it contained in his room, she didn’t care. Years of his life were tucked in the corners and crevices of the four walls. Julie bent down and pulled two large bags from under the counter. This would be a big job, but maybe it would take her mind off the loss that threatened to break her heart.
The doorbell rang. When Julie opened the front door, the youth pastor’s wife, Maddi, stood at the door. Julie couldn’t help but smile. The 25-year-old wore a suede jacket and beanie. Her long red hair hung down in two tails. She held out a warm casserole dish, and the smell of steaming cream of mushroom soup and cheese escaped, making Julie’s stomach growl.
She welcomed her in.
“This used to be Jacob’s favorite,” Maddi said, pulling off her jacket. She set the casserole on the stove. Her hazel eyes crinkled at the edges as she reached to hug Julie. “Where he? I was hoping I might catch him. How’s he doing?”
Julie shook her head. “He isn’t here. In fact, he’s going to live with Ethan.” Tears filled her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’ve turned into a massive crybaby lately. I’m stronger than this, at least I keep telling myself that.” She laughed through her tears.
Maddi sighed. “I’m so sorry. Isaiah was planning on coming over later tonight to see him. He’s practicing with the worship band this afternoon, so he couldn’t get away, but he definitely wanted to see Jacob. You know he stopped by the hospital. . .”
Julie did know.
Jacob was out of the room, having an X-ray taken of his arm when the youth pastor must have stopped in. When they returned to the room and found a note and homemade cookies, she saw relief in Jacob’s face. It was clear he didn’t want to talk to the man he once thought of as an older brother.
Maddi continued. “He wasn’t sure how Jacob would feel about seeing him, but we miss him so much. It’s not the same without him. To be honest, we’d do just about anything if it would make a difference.” She hesitated.
Julie could see the uncertainty in the young pastor’s wife’s face. She carried a big burden, ministering with her husband to over 100 teens each week. They loved each one as if they were their own children.
“I hope that Isaiah or I didn’t do something to hurt him. We’ve talked about it a hundred times. We love him and wouldn’t do anything to offend him.”
Julie sat at the table and Maddi joined her. She reached over and clasped the younger woman’s hand. “I appreciate everything you’ve done — all the calls and notes to him. Several of the teens came by for months after he quit coming to church. I’m afraid he discouraged them after awhile. It’s not you, and it’s not the church, at least I don’t think so. It’s something we don’t even have a name for. I wish we did.”
“Do you think it would help if Isaiah dropped by the apartment?”
Julie stood, walked to the refrigerator and poured two glasses of iced tea and set them down on the table. “I understand my son is an adult, but everything has kind of come to a head right now. I’ve examined myself over and over to see what I’ve done to fail my son.” Julie’s hand shook as she sipped the sweet tea. “It’s not easy confronting your past.”
Maddi shook her head. “Your past?”
“I was barely 16 when I met Jacob’s biological father. He was 19 and charming. He was funny. He swept me off my feet, literally, when I was coming off the football field. He said he had his eye on me and knew I was his girl from the first time he met me.”
“Whoah, that’s something,” Maddie said with a smile.
“He convinced me that if I truly loved him, we’d be intimate. I don’t blame him entirely. I made the decision too. I resisted for a long time, but then my 16-year-old brain informed me that since we were going to be married one day, it was okay. And then I found out I was pregnant.”
“I know it’s not the way you wanted it to happen, but Jacob is a gift. . .”
“He is, but his birth father never treated him as such. When we told our parents, they convinced us to get married. I was a junior in high school, but also a wife and soon to be a mother. My parents said they’d support me, helping to babysit so I could finish school and go to college. I was an AP advanced student and already building college credits, but we lived with his parents because that’s what he wanted. They weren’t bad people, but it was nothing like my home. They fought a lot, and he escaped by running with his friends, even after Jacob was born.”
“Where is he now?”
“No clue. One night he didn’t come home. I found out later that he was with someone else, and then he was gone. . .”
Maddi shook her head. “You were both so young. I’m sorry.”
“I moved back in with mom and dad. They helped me to annul the marriage. It was supposed to make it as if nothing had ever happened, but it doesn’t work that way. I had a beautiful little boy, and I had to figure out how to be a mom and move on with my life. My parents were pretty amazing. They loved Jacob, and continued to love and support me. I got my GED and then went on to community college, eventually finishing up at the university. That’s where I met Stephen.” Julie smiled, still thankful all these years later for the kind, giving man who had stepped into the shoes of a man who didn’t know how to be a father.
“You’ve been good parents,” Maddi said. “And not just to Jacob.” She hesitated. “It sounds like Jacob’s running from something. He must be miserable. I had never seen a teenager so focused on what he wanted to do in life. That’s why I know this can’t be easy for him.”
Julie picked up a Bible from the middle of the table and opened it. She pointed to the words written inside the cover.
Jacob Nathaniel Parks, future missionary.
“Jacob wrote these words in his Bible when he came back from camp the summer after his sophomore year. I’ll never forget how mature he looked when he walked in the door. He had his duffel bag with him and set it on the floor and asked to speak to his father alone. When they came out, Jacob and Stephen were both crying.”
Maddi smiled. “Isaiah told me what happened at camp. It’s not often that God speaks so clearly.”
Julie shut the Bible. “Jacob said that God called him. Those were his exact words. He said he was sitting in the pew and the preacher was speaking about the mission field. He said he heard his name and looked around. He heard it again, and though it was not audible, he heard it as clearly as if it had been spoken out loud. He felt the Lord had called him to be a missionary.”
Maddi listened intently, a gentle smile playing on her face. “What did Jacob do then?”
Julie rubbed the faded cover of the Bible with her fingertip. “He and Stephen discussed Bible schools and all the different opportunities. I wish you could have seen him. He was so tall and handsome, wearing the silver cross that Grandpa Tom had given him years ago. In fact, Grandpa Tom was the next person he called that night.”
“Jacob talked a lot about him. I understand that Grandpa Tom was raised on the mission field.”
Julie closed the Bible. “Sort of. He was born in China. His mother was carrying him when they made the journey. He was only 7 or 8, I believe, when they left. They thought his father had been killed. He was left for dead in the street, stoned because he shared his faith openly. Grandpa Tom’s mother was devastated, and they fled on a ship back to the states.”
“Oh my goodness. Really? But I’m confused; he wasn’t dead?”
“No. He was rescued by a good Samaritan who nursed him back to health. He couldn’t let anyone know because the Boxer Rebellion was in full swing, and danger was everywhere. He also couldn’t put his friends in danger, including the man who rescued him. He eventually sent a letter with a ship captain, but it only made it to his wife the day before he arrived. Can you imagine? You think your husband and father is dead, and he arrives at the farm the very next day. Grandpa Tom said his mother didn’t tell him about the letter. She was afraid he might not make the journey home. Times were treacherous, but then he saw his father walking down the dirt road, emaciated but radiant.”
Maddi barely breathed she was so into the story. “That feels miraculous.”
“You would think Grandpa Tom would be bitter,” Julie said, “but he is proud of his father — and his mother. He cried when Jacob called him to tell him he wanted to be a missionary.”
“What about Grandpa Tom? He was a child dealing with an unfamiliar country and culture, and fleeing across the world to be safe. . . I imagine that’s quite a story too.”
“Someday I’ll share more. It’s quite the love story, in more ways than one.”
Maddi stood. “I’m intrigued but I have to go, but know this: we are all praying for Jacob. We won’t stop until we have an answer.” She hugged Julie again, then opened the door. “If you want Isaiah to visit him, just give us a call. We’ll do anything.”
“What about the casserole?” Julie started to walk over to the stove. “Take it home. Isaiah will appreciate it.”
She shook her head. “You and Stephen enjoy it. You’ve had enough going on this week. That way you don’t have to cook tonight.”
Julie thanked her and shut the door behind her young friend. She walked down the hall and opened the door to Jacob’s room. Without her son’s clothes, the smell of his cologne, the clutter — all the things that made it his room — it would only be another room in the house.
She knelt and began to pick up the pieces of her son’s life.
An hour later, Julie took a break. She grabbed a fresh glass of iced tea, picked up the worn Bible off of the table, and walked back into Jacob’s room. She sat on the edge of his bed, lay back, and flipped through the pages.
Church bulletins and handwritten notes were tucked inside, some falling onto the bed as she flipped through. A yellow highlighter marked favorite verses. Jacob’s scrawled handwriting, his thoughts and comments, were cramped in the margins.
This was the Jacob that she knew.
