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the e-mail:
    I was reviewing our work in the past year. Last month, we helped organize a fund-raiser for Professor Timothy Torini. Professor Torini is well known for his very liberal opinions and outspoken pro-choice views.
    Just a month earlier, we sent meals to that family with the son who was an antiwar protester and got paralyzed in a demonstration in DC.
    Mixed in between those, we’ve been offering supportive services to the families of our lost soldiers and that one who came home after losing both his legs.
    There was also that woman who had been married five times, though I can’t remember what we did for her.
    Do you see how our support of all of these varied people might offer a confused view of what we believe and what our church is about? What kind of message are we sending to the community? Should we support any kind of sin as if we accept it?
    I’m wondering what Pastor Randy would think of this? I know we need to reach beyond the borders of our church, but should our funds be used to promote sinful, anti-Christian behavior?
    I know that you were instrumental in starting Broken Hearts, but I think this might be a good time to reevaluate the mission statement and direction. I want God’s blessings on all we do. Do you as well?
    Ava hit Reply before finishing the e-mail.
    We aren’t sending a message to the community other than if anyone is in a desperate state, we will be there to help you. Jesus didn’t condemn, so why should we? The gospel is about grace. And you are just a mean, spiteful woman! And by the way, Broken Hearts is not supported through church funds, so don’t give veiled threats—Pastor Randy supports everything we do anyway . . .
    She closed the program without hitting Save or Send. This was Angry Draft. Tomorrow she’d be better prepared to write a more diplomatic e-mail.
    Annoyance pulsed through Ava as she rose from the couch, picking up the remote to switch from television to a music station playing acoustic guitar. In the kitchen she turned on the teapot and pulled down three packets of tea. Sleepytime for Jason and herself, and a black for Dane.
    She opened the French doors and stepped out to take in the scent of an autumn night. Her mind wandered until she realized she’d walked down the path to the willow tree. Its silhouette cut against the night sky, and the leaves and branches fluttered softly as a wisp of a breeze moved through the yard.
    In the low light it was harder to see signs of further degeneration. For a moment, the tree appeared as whole and healthy as ever.
    But the last time she’d viewed it, the tree was certainly going downhill. It wasn’t just losing autumn leaves—they’d become brittle and dry.
    Ava sensed that she needed to stay here, to rest beneath the branches and wait for God to guide her. A whisper to her heart said, “Wait a moment.”
    Her life was filled with blessings. They’d had a long season with everything going well, yet something nagged at her. Her childhood had taught her to expect the worst. Every good season was shadowed with the fear of what bad would surely come. It was like swimming in a perfect sea with the fear of sharks lurking beneath every kick and stroke of her arms.
    A wisp of wind pushed harder through the leaves, perhaps God’s display of His presence. I am here .
    Ava’s restlessness got the best of her. She paused on the walk back toward the house, stopping by the pool, newly protected for the winter with a thick plastic cover. Their yard guy would be there in the morning, but Ava liked the mess of leaves that decorated the pathway and deck chairs.
    She gazed through the window with the sense of an outsider’s view of her family. A light switched off from the window above her. Jason was going to sleep, and her husband was still working on his computer. He’d moved from his spot on the couch, yet he hadn’t wondered where she’d gone or why Jason