Richard helped Joanna learn how to balance her gift with her responsibilities as a pastor, mother, and wife, but it concerned him that sometimes she would be taken with a particular problem and wouldn’t let it go, despite the personal toll it would take on her. A lifetime of this work had aged her prematurely, and her hair had turned so light, it was almost luminescent. Perhaps her physical challenges were the price she was to pay for her gift. However, if God chose her to intercede in a particular situation, she knew not to question His wisdom, although it had become more difficult in recent years. And that was her plight on the morning of the Turner family murders.

All through the night, Joanna kept pushing Danny to forget about his insane scheme and to drive away with the young man waiting in the garage. At one point, he had a moment of clarity and decided to forget about his absurd plan. Joanna rejoiced that she had finally reached him, but then he abruptly turned around, rushed into the living room, and cut the cord to the lamp. He decided in that instant that it was too late to turn back. How would he ever explain cutting the cord to Rachel and the kids?

Danny began to walk up the stairs, the cord dragging at his feet, convinced he was past the point of no return, unaware of the dark figure at his back, urging him toward the horrid actions that would soon result in so much misery.

When it was all over and she sat by the window early that morning, trying to let the cool breeze assuage the pain that racked her body, she felt she had in some way failed. Perhaps it was too late now to do anything for this family. Perhaps she should ignore this particular problem. Perhaps it was really none of her business. The agony and horror that filled this world were much bigger and stronger than she was. Perhaps she was too old and tired to take on this problem. Better to leave it for someone younger.

And then she saw her father’s smiling face in the reflection in the glass, confident and happy, and she was reminded of the amazing healing power of the Lord. She laughed when she recognized the true author of her doubts, and how skilled he was at subtly encouraging her to quit. But she saw it for what it was: just another devious trick.

Don’t worry, Dad, your scrappy little girl won’t give up without a good fight, she thought, and then she said in a bold, loud voice: “Okay, now I’m ready.”

CHAPTER 12

A Thread of Light

To love and win is the best thing;
To love and lose, the next best.
—William Makepeace Thackeray