Page 79 of A Twist of Faith
“Yes.” Dee relaxed back onto the stool. “Rainey should be here any minute, though. She dropped me off and went to her house for a casserole.”
“Oh good, that will give us a little time to talk.”
Tension spiked up through Dee’s spine. Her phone conversation with Alex ended well before she came into earshot of the house. Hadn’t Lou said something about Mrs. Mitchell sniffing out fibs? Oh where were her lucky rocket underpants when she needed them?
“Now, now, honey, there’s no use gettin’ your back up. I was just wondering if you’d heard from your mama?”
Dee released her held breath on a sigh. “She called last week to tell me she’s enrolled into a program.” Dee added in a lower voice. “For the twelfth time.”
“Well, you never know when the twelfth time will be the one that matters most.” Mrs. Mitchell stuck a serving spoon in the cobbler and set it up on the bar. “God’s timin’ doesn’t always suit us.”
The truth of those words reverberated all the way to her PhD. Much too long. Or was it? If she had graduated two years earlier, like typical a student, she wouldn’t have come to Ransom. Never met Reese or his kids. And if Alex hadn’t wounded her pride, she wouldn’t have agreed to the wager, then … Clarity nudged her begrudging acknowledgement. Alex Murdock helped her fall in love with Reese Mitchell? The thought nearly brought a chuckle.
“I guess we realize it in hindsight.”
“Most of the time it’s a bit clearer that way, ain’t it?” Mrs. Mitchell tossed her towel over her shoulder and peeked into the oven. “God brought you to Ransom, and to our family.”
“I think you have things the other way around, Mrs. Mitchell. There’s nothing I can bring to your family, but your family have certain brought so much to my life.”
“Are you saying helping Reese with an opportunity to save this farm isn’t big? Or being a friend to my daughter isn’t important?” She approached the counter, brow as pointed as the fork she raised. “Or that big ol’ smile on my son’s face every time he talks about you—don’t mean nothing?”
Emotions swelled to a knot in her throat. “I … I never thought about making any sort of difference like that? I’ve always thought—”
“You know, I read this quote one time from Mother Teresa and it made good sense to me.” She plunged a serving spoon into the pan of cobbler. “I think it went something like,we can’t do great things, only small things with great love.” Her smile creased. “I like that. Sometimes we get so caught up in thegreat thingswe forget about the big differences we make in the small things.” She slid a dish of cobbler across the counter to Dee. “One ingredient at a time.”
Dee looked down at the delicious offering, two seconds away from bawling like a baby. How any of the Mitchells accepted, or even saw, anything beautiful in her, let alone God, she couldn’t understand. How could she pay them back for such a love?
“Your family …” Dee stopped and considered her words as Mrs. Mitchell stirred something in a large pot. “I’ve never known a family like yours. You really live what you believe.” She shook her head, the grandeur of their faith as out of reach as half the dulcimer tunes from her past. Lost to time and trouble.
“Sounds like you ain’t too sure about your place in our family or God’s?”
“I haven’t really talked to God in so long.” Her words disappeared into a sigh, her failings a giant weight upon her shoulders. “If you knew the truth about me. Really? I don’t think I deserve either family.”
Mrs. Mitchell stopped stirring. “Seems to me God takes a special interest in the undeserving. And besides, I think you’re trying to measure goodness in a twisted-up way. You keep boucin’ between trying to prove yourself through good works and beatin’ yourself up because you never make the mark. How’s that working out for you, sweetheart?”
Dee gave her a sad chuckle and played with the fork on the dish. “Not so good. It’s pretty exhausting.”
“I think the problem is that you’re missing the secret ingredient.”
Dee swiped at a rebel tear. “What?”
“My Aunt Lynn cooked the best peach pie this side of the Mississippi. It was like takin’ a taste of summer. I spent five years trying to make that pie. Took every recipe I could find, and then some, but none of my peach pies ever tasted like hers. I did everything I could, but nothing worked. It wasn’t ‘til I asked her about it, did I realize what was wrong.”
“What was it?”
“The secret ingredient. The one thing my aunt added to her pie to make it unique. I could keep trying everything else, working so hard to get it right, but without the secret I’d always be trying … and failing. Seems to me, Dee, you’re trying all the wrong things to find the right answer, but you’re missing the secret ingredient.”
“Faith?”
“Jesus.”
Dee nodded, ticking his name off her list. “But then what else?”
Mrs. Mitchell’s eyes widened. “What else?”
“Yes. Confess. Believe.” Dee mentally ticked them one by one. “What else? Feed the poor? Serve the hungry? Be a good neighbor? Never lie? And what about white lies? How many of those do I have before I am completely kicked off the Heaven list?”
“Whew, that’s one big list, ain’t it? No wonder you’ve worked up a lather.” She chuckled and set down her stirring spoon. “Only Jesus. He’s the secret ingredient that holds all the other stuff together. The secret ingredient that makes everything else worthwhile.”
