James stood, stunned. He stared at the white ground, listened to his father’s footfalls growing fainter, creating more distance between them. Then, he was alone. Silence again. Not even the horses made a sound, not even the breeze, which had now stilled. Alone. Abandoned. Again.

I will lead the blind on a way they do not know; by paths they do not know I will guide them. I will turn darkness into light before them, and make crooked ways straight. These are my promises: I made them, I will not forsake them.

The words from Isaiah cut a path through James’s piteous disbelief. He was on a journey, on a path unrecognized, and blind to God’s reasons for allowing him to experience—to endure—this brokenness with the one person who should be the most supportive. But with the shred of faith still sparking his soul, James understood that if he endured, if he allowed God the time, the Lord could bring about restoration and healing. James had only to be patient and pliable.

Two things that had never come easy to him.

A smile tugged his lips as the realization hit him that he was like his father in that way. Some common ground on which to build, even if his father wasn’t quite ready to trudge that mutual path just yet.

A horse nickered as the wind picked up. James stood against the buffeting air and embraced the winter along with the challenges that lay ahead.

Determination. Another trait that had been passed from father to son.

~*~

James guided the truck across the unpaved, narrow back road. Crowded between Mary and him in the front seat of the pickup, Ian retained his sullenness while Abigail chattered on about a story the teacher had told her at school. His niece’s enthusiasm was infectious, and James smiled as he glanced at the passing landscape. Acres of flat farmland hidden under a blanket of untouched snow.

In the distance, the charred remains of a farmhouse came into view. As they approached, James slowed the truck to take a look. Part of a wall and the chimney stood firm, as though the bricks had forgotten to fall along with the rest of the building. Splintered, blackened wood jutted up at odd angles among the debris as if reaching for the sky in a silent plea for…what? Supplication? Mercy? A savior?

A small fountain of anger crossed James’s mind. He’d broken off that relationship with God. He needed to train his brain to not automatically turn to a Lord Who had stopped giving him answers. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe…he’d just stopped believing God would provide the answers. He had to deal with his problems himself, to face whatever was in front of him and take it on by himself. With an effort, James forced his thoughts towards yet another problem he should address.

Had Travis caused this devastation? James shook his head in answer to his own silent question. It was unfathomable. The Travis he remembered had been easy-going, constantly laughing, always in good spirits. He’d been so happy all the time that people gravitated to him, basking in his joy and innocence, regardless of the fact that his naïveté was a byproduct of mental challenges that Travis, in just being Travis, somehow made irrelevant.