As she listened, the past came rushing back to her —the discontent she’d once felt in church, her restlessness and longing for something different. And with those memories came a flood of guilt. How arrogant she’d been to say that the church didn’t make a difference in people’s lives. She’d had no idea how God was working in their minds and hearts. She’d chafed at sitting here week after week, but the words and songs had worked their way deep inside her just the same, and she’d found them rooted there when she’d needed them so desperately. All along, this congregation, her parents, and her grandparents had been helping Ans nurture a relationship with God.

Opa wasn’t in his usual place behind the pulpit. Ans didn’t see him anywhere. One of the church elders stood in his place to offer the closing prayer and benediction. But Mama and Papa were in their usual pew, with Wim and Maaike and little Elisheva. Thank God, thank God.

The congregation crowded into the aisles afterwards, and tears filled Ans’s eyes as she watched her parents talking with people, smiling and laughing. She couldn’t get to them through the crush of people, so she would have to wait. But then her mother happened to look back and saw Ans standing in the rear of the church. She gave a cry of joy that startled the people around her, and she began pushing her way down the crowded aisle, elbowing people out of her way. She reached Ans at last and pulled her into her arms, holding her tightly, rocking her. There was no need for either of them to say a word.

Papa and the others hurried to her as well after people saw what was happening and cleared the way. He wrapped his strong arms around Ans, lifting her from the ground. “You’re as light as a feather! Welcome home! Welcome home!” The farm was home, and this church was too. Wim and Maaike each wanted a hug, but Elisheva held back. Ans was a stranger to her.

“How big she’s grown,” Ans murmured as she fingered Elisheva’s dark braid. She was as beautiful as her mother, with Miriam’s delicate features, her dark hair and eyes. But Elisheva had Avi’s smile.

Please, God . . .

“Let’s go home,” Papa said. He took Ans’s hand, plowing a path for her through the curious crowd, then out of the church and down the front steps.

“Where’s Opa?” Ans asked. “Why isn’t he here?”

Papa halted and drew her into his arms again. “He’s in heaven, Ans . . . with Oma.”

“What? . . . No! . . . Oh no! . . . What happened?” She pulled back and turned to Mama, begging her without words to say it wasn’t true.

“An ammunition train was destroyed and the Nazis came for reprisals. They were about to choose someone from our village . . . Opa offered himself.”