(If you missed the first part of this story, you can find it here.)
Rusty couldn’t help but smile when he saw that Natalia had already set an extra place at the table for Philip. It seemed like every day God gave him another reason to be thankful for the woman he’d married.
“Thanks, love,” he whispered in her ear, brushing her cheek with a quick kiss as she swept past him on her way to the kitchen.
“Anytime, my dear,” she whispered back with a smile.
Rusty turned back to Philip, who stood inside the front doorway grinning ear to ear. “Come on in and make yourself at home,” he urged. “Don’t be a stranger.”
“Thank you kindly,” Philip replied as he took off his coat and hat and hung them on hooks lining the hall of the entryway. Faye, who had followed a few steps behind, took off her wraps and did the same.
The smell of bacon and pancakes rushed to meet them as they came into the dining room. “It sure smells good in here,” Philip commented.
“Certainly does.” Rusty slung his jacket over the chair at the head of the table and motioned for Philip to take the chair at the other end. Faye nestled in on the bench between them, close to Rusty. He ruffled her hair fondly, and she squealed with glee.
Philip’s lips parted in another smile as he watched the exchange. Rusty sensed that the warm atmosphere was having a softening effect, just as he’d hoped it would. Thank you, Lord.
Natalia came from the kitchen, one hand laden with a plate of bacon strips and the other with a platter piled high with pancakes. Wisps of steam rose from both. She gracefully set the plates on the table. “I’ll be right back,” she said. She returned with a smaller plate topped with scrambled eggs and a glass jar filled with translucent honey-colored syrup, which she placed beside the pancakes.
After Natalia settled in next to Faye, Rusty bowed his head to pray. “Lord, we thank You for another day of life, for this beautiful morning, for this tasty breakfast, and for a friend to share it with. Guide our conversation and the rest of this day. In Jesus’ name, amen.” Silently, he continued to pray after opening his eyes. You’ve brought this man here. It’s clear You’re working in his heart. Please show me what to do.
The others lifted their heads and began putting food on their plates (Natalia helped Faye with hers). Rusty was quiet, waiting for the Spirit’s gentle nudge. He didn’t want to push Philip too hard too fast. For a while, only the sounds of clinking silverware filled the room.
It was Philip who broke the silence. After forking down a mouthful of syrup-drizzled pancakes and placing another serving onto his plate, he nodded toward Natalia and said, “Those are some splendid pancakes, ma’am.”
Roses bloomed in Natalia’s fair cheeks, and she dipped her head slightly. “Thank you,” she replied. “It was my grandmother’s recipe.”
“Could’ve guessed as much.” Philip bobbed his head vigorously. “They’re a lot like the ones my grandmother made when I was young. She was a good woman, my grandmother was.” A distant look glazed his eyes, and he paused eating for a moment.
Now, the Spirit whispered in Rusty’s heart. Time to tug on the thread and see where it would lead. He swallowed and took a deep breath, then spoke up softly. “Would you like to tell us more about your grandmother, Philip?” He took another bite of bacon and crunched it slowly. Now was the time to listen, not to speak.
“She was a good woman,” Philip repeated. “The kindest woman you’d ever meet. She was always cooking beef stew and taking it to folks that had less money than she did—and she didn’t have much, mind you. She believed in God like you do, said the Bible talks about taking care of widows and orphans and that’s what she wanted to do. She read her Bible so much the pages were all tattered. She went to church every Sunday. Took me with her sometimes. I didn’t understand a lot of it, but I didn’t mind much. I figured it must be something good if Mamaw went there. I stopped at her house most days after school, and she had a cookie or donut or something of the sort for me whenever I came to visit. Till one day…” His voice veered off, and a pained expression crossed his face.
Rusty thought he caught the glimmer of a tear in Philip’s eyes, but he couldn’t be sure because Philip quickly lowered his gaze. He continued, “One day, I went to her house after school, and she wasn’t there. That had never happened before, so I figured something was wrong. I ran over to the neighbor’s house and knocked on their door. When I asked them if they knew what had happened, they said she was gone. When I asked them where she’d gone, they said she’d gone to heaven. I stood there bawling like a calf and trying to get them to tell me more, but they wouldn’t. They told me I’d have to ask my dad when I got home. Soon as I got home, I did that, and he said that some ruffian had broken into her house and—” Darting a glance at Faye, he stopped. Rusty and Natalia nodded in understanding.
Silence swept the room once more. Rusty met Natalia’s gaze, and he knew from the look in her misty sky-blue eyes what she was asking without words. He gave a barely perceptible nod.
“Philip, may I share my story?” Her voice was as soothing as a spoonful of honey.
“Sure.”
“My grandmother died too when I was young.”
Philip looked up, his eyes fixed on her. Rusty quietly prayed. Natalia went on, “I grew up in Russia. Babushka lived with my family for as long as I could remember. She moved in when Dedushka—my grandfather—died, which was before I was born. She loved all of her grandchildren dearly, but I was her favorite. I was often sickly, and Babushka was usually the one to take care of me because Mama was occupied with tending to my younger siblings and helping Papa on the farm. Babushka made me soup and fed it to me, and she told me stories about her childhood to pass the time when I spent long days laid up in bed while my brothers and sister went out to play. We grew to be very close. I told her my dream of becoming a ballerina one day, which seemed impossible given my fragile state. But Babushka believed in me, and she told me that she thought I would make a beautiful dancer.
“As I got a little older, I slowly grew stronger, and I didn’t get sick as often. Meanwhile, Babushka grew weaker, though I didn’t notice it much at first. Then one day she got a terrible cough, and it never went away. None of the doctors she went to were able to help her. I tried to take care of her—I helped Mama make soup for her, and I sat beside her and told her made-up stories to try to distract her and make her laugh. Then one morning, I woke up, and she was gone.”
Natalia dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a delicately embroidered handkerchief. Taking a deep breath, she continued. “I was only fourteen. I had just started taking ballet classes a few months before, so Babushka never got to see me dance. I was angry and confused. I remember sitting on a hillside outside our home that afternoon and telling God exactly how I felt. Why did He take Babushka from me? Didn’t He realize I needed her?”
She paused. “That day I decided that if God wasn’t going to take care of me, I would take care of myself. For eleven years, that was how I lived. I became the best ballerina I could possibly be, and eventually I had the chance to come to the States. I had a successful dancing career for several years, but it was cut short by an injury. That was when I started talking to God again.”
Natalia fingered the napkin beside her plate briefly. Both Rusty and Philip sat with their eyes fixed on her, listening intently. Faye sat quietly as well.
“I was angry, and I didn’t understand. But this time was different, because I had recently met a man from the country”—she smiled at Rusty—“who was related to one of my closest friends. He invited me to go to church with him. When I refused, he asked me why I didn’t want to go. So I told him the whole story, and I told him that the day my grandmother died, I lost all hope of ever having faith again, because how could there be a God who loved me if He’d allow something like that to happen? Then he said something I’ll never forget.” She closed her eyes, remembering. “He said, ‘Natalia, trials aren’t a sign that God has forgotten you or that He doesn’t care about you. You’ve never left His sight for even a moment. Suffering is the soil where you plant a seed of hope.’” She laughed a little. “You could trust a man like Rusty to come up with a picture like that. Something about what he said—or maybe it was the way he said it—made sense to me. We talked a long while after that, and before I knew it, I was on the road to finding faith again.”
Philip rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “That’s quite a story.”
Rusty nodded his thanks to his wife, who gracefully rose from the table and said, “Well, I think I will leave you two to talk alone. Faye, come with me to the kitchen, please.” She gathered up the empty plates and piled them onto a stack, which she took to the kitchen. Soon the sounds of running water and clattering plates came from the other room, alongside soft murmurs as Natalia instructed Faye on what to do.
Rusty turned toward Philip, who sat quietly with his chin cupped in his palm. A softening had come over his face. Rusty sent a quick prayer winging its way heavenward, then spoke. “You’re welcome to stay a little longer if you’d like.”
“No, I should be going.” Philip pushed his chair back and slowly rose. He shook Rusty’s hand and met his gaze firmly. “Thanks for everything. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”
“I hope so,” Rusty said as he accompanied his guest to the door. “You’re welcome to come back next week at this time, if you’d like.”
“You know, I think I’ll do that.” Philip put his coat and hat back on. “I’d like that a lot.”
Rusty closed the door behind him and started turning back toward the dining room when he remembered something. Opening the door, he called, “Don’t forget to take Faith with you.”
Philip stopped on the bottom porch step and turned around. “No, I sure won’t,” he replied.
From the catch in his voice, Rusty thought he was talking about more than a puppy. He breathed another prayer as he turned to go back inside.
Beautiful, Grace! 🙂
💜