The lamp inside the narrow gate had been filled twice, but Christiana was still awake.
She sat beside the bed with a worn letter on her lap. It was the first letter Chris had sent home. She had handled its corners until they were soft. There was one sentence she had once read quickly. Now she could hardly get past it: Mom, I have found a place where people are willing to help us.
On the next bed, her daughter slept with her cloth rabbit in her arms. Chris had the bed by the window. He had put his shoes neatly at its foot. At last, even in his sleep, his hands were no longer clutching his clothes. Her husband was packing food in the next room. Now and then she heard a bag’s drawstring tap against the table.
They had all come out. When the courtyard wall fell, they were no longer in the house. Yet whenever Christiana closed her eyes, she saw her old mirror. Her son stood beside her, holding an old book. Before he had finished speaking, she turned away and asked which necklace looked better.
She folded the letter, then opened it again. He had been only eleven.
A clean cloth lay on the table. She had used it to wipe her daughter’s face that afternoon. She picked it up and tried to rub a muddy mark from the letter. After a moment she realized that the mud had dried into the paper.
“Aren’t you coming to bed?” Her husband came in.
“I was wondering whether he had breakfast that morning.”
Her husband looked at the letter. He did not answer at once. Sitting down, he said, “Ask him tomorrow.”
“I’m afraid that if I ask, I’ll hear all the things I never knew.”
Someone tapped softly at the door. Goodwill brought in a jug of warm water. Seeing the letter, he set the jug close to her. Christiana asked, “Have I come too late? He was willing to leave so long ago. I waited until the house was really falling.”
“Have you admitted what you did wrong?” Goodwill asked.
She nodded. “But I want that day to come back, so I can do it again.”
“We cannot bring yesterday back. But the Savior can forgive those who confess their sins to him today. You do not have to make the past good before you ask him for mercy.”
“Even someone who heard, and pretended not to hear?”
Goodwill pointed to a small wooden board hanging inside the door. “The Lord Jesus says he will never turn away anyone who comes to him. You can depend on his promise. You cannot depend on having come early enough.”
He did not take the letter away. Christiana bowed her head. For the first time, she did more than ask God to keep her family safe. She admitted that she loved excitement and liked people to say how well she lived. She often refused to hear truths that made her uncomfortable. Her prayer was short, with several pauses.
When Goodwill had gone, she wrote a line on the back of the letter: Before, I did not listen. Now, please take your time and tell me.
She put it beside Chris’s shoes and blew out the little lamp by her bed.