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Back The Land Beneath Us Save as PDF
Chapters (62)
  1. Cover
  2. Endorsements
  3. Books by Sarah Sundin
  4. Title Page
  5. Copyright Page
  6. Presidential Radio Broadcast
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. Epilogue
  58. Acknowledgments
  59. Discussion Questions
  60. About the Author
  61. Back Ads
  62. Back Cover

The Pharisees grumbled about Jesus welcoming sinners. The elder brother grumbled about the father welcoming the Prodigal. And Clay grumbled about Daddy and Mama welcoming Wyatt and Adler.

“I’m the elder brother.” The wind riffled the tiny pages, and Clay read the whole story—the last four verses twice, his voice as rough as the ground beneath his knees.

“‘And he answering said to his father, Lo, these many years do I serve thee, neither transgressed I at any time thy commandment: and yet thou never gavest me a kid, that I might make merry with my friends: But as soon as this thy son was come, which hath devoured thy living with harlots, thou hast killed for him the fatted calf. And he said unto him, Son, thou art ever with me, and all that I have is thine. It was meet that we should make merry, and be glad: for this thy brother was dead, and is alive again; and was lost, and is found.’”

Clay’s hands coiled around leather and brass and wafer-thin paper, and shame bowed his head low. “Son, thou art ever with me, and all that I have is thine.”

As miserable as those last years in Kerrville had been, he’d always had his parents’ company and wisdom. He’d enjoyed Mama’s chili and Daddy’s jokes.

Wyatt and Adler might have flourished out in the world, but they’d done so alone.

Daddy and Mama were right to rejoice that their son had returned, repentant and grieving.

For so many years, Clay had seen himself as wronged. Now he was just plain wrong.

“Lord, forgive me.” He returned to the Scripture. The parable ended there. Did the elder brother continue to grumble? Did the Pharisees? Or did they see the wonder of the Father’s mercy and join in the celebration?

He gripped the Bible hard, willing the truth to transform his brittle heart. “I want to, Lord. I want to forgive. I need to forgive.”

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29

TULLAHOMA
TUESDAY, APRIL 25, 1944

Rita Sue fingered the bouquet of pink carnations on Leah’s hospital bedside table. “That baby gets prettier every day. Boy, do I see your husband in her.” She gave Leah a wink.

“Me too.” Sitting up in bed, Leah glanced at the clock. Two long hours until the nurse would bring the baby for her next feeding.

“I need to go home and make dinner.” Rita Sue tucked her purse under her arm. “You’re coming home tomorrow, aren’t you, sugar?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ll bring the truck. The kids can’t wait to meet the baby. But, sugar? She needs a nickname. Helen’s too grown-up for that little dumpling.”

Leah smiled. Helen was the perfect name. As small as she was, Helen exuded light and dignity.