The Greatest of These (Sequel to Kansas Summer) -- Faith

Epilogue

--Colin

        Both of us have tears in our eyes as we head east on Interstate 70. It was hard for me to say goodbye to Goodland, but I think it was even more difficult for Jenna.
        "I'm sorry," I repeat for the millionth time.
        Jenna sniffles, wipes her eyes, and laughs a little. "Colin, darling. You don't have to be sorry. If I didn't want to leave, we wouldn't be leaving. I have trust in you, no matter what happens." A few miles pass before Jenna says another word. "You know, I think that this move is good for me, too."
        "Why's that?" I ask.
        "The more I think about it, the more of an escape Goodland was. An escape from the world. I didn't want things to change, and since nothing really changes in Goodland, I decided that it was safe there." She shifts in the seat of the old pickup. "But I think that that's a sin. Complacency is just another form of sloth. I prayed to God about a week ago that if the convictions in my heart were true, that He would work in me. So, here we are."
        "To be honest, Jen, I'm scared too," I confess, gripping the steering wheel. "I know I have a job in Wichita, but I don't know what to expect. We have an apartment, but I don't know what it's going to be like."
        Jenna unbuckles her seat belt and scoots over to me, wrapping her arms around my middle, then she gives me a peck on the cheek. "I believe in you, Colin, and I'm sorry for being so stubborn about leaving. I realize that it didn't show you that I truly trusted you, but I really, honestly do. And it doesn't matter what happens, because the worst thing that could happen is that I would stop loving you, and I can promise you that that will never happen."

.        .        .

        I'm truly blessed that Jenna never gave up on me. If her determination was any less, she would have left me after I lost my first job; I wasn't even with the company for two months before I lost it. However, Jen was patient with me, and very supportive, and even though it took another 6 months and me working nights at the railyard for minimum wage, I was able to land a decent job that was able to provide for both of us. It provided so well, in fact, that we moved out of our apartment in four months, and into our very first house.
        I've never seen my wife more excited about anything in her entire life. Coming home from work every day for the next month and a half was interesting because it seemed that every day, Jen would do something new to the house: add a picture, rearrange the furniture, a new rug for the entryway, you name it. Still, it was missing something.
        For our third anniversary, Jenna had surgery to fix her infertility. Thankfully, the procedure went very smoothly, and we finally were able to have kids--except that we were ordered by the doctor to "abstain from relations" for three months while Jenna healed. Those were probably the worst three months of our entire lives, but with a lot of prayer, we made it to the other side.

.        .        .

        Jenna's first pregnancy was very awkward for the two of us; even though we did have many friends at church who had been through it already, it was still a great mystery to both of us. There were the trying times of my darling wife screaming at me because I forgot to make the bed when I got up (what's the big deal about that?), and there were also the romantic moments, the nights spent on the couch, touching, holding, wondering.
        On September 6, 2007, Jenna gave birth to a healthy girl, Bethany Amelia King. Our lives changed forever that day in a good way. Having the responsibility of a human that can't walk, talk, or even control their bowel movements is enough to give anyone a complex. It was a good humility lesson, but we must not have learned it so well, because seven months after Bethany was born, we learned that we were expecting twins. Nine months later, we welcomed into the world Royce Alan and Mackenzie Samantha King.

.        .        .

        "Would you, could you on a boat?" I ask Bethany, who is sitting on my lap, while I read to her and Jenna sits exhausted, two newborns in her arms. "I would not, could not in a boat! I will not, will not with a goat!" I interject with a "baaing" noise which makes my two year old giggle. I look over to my darling wife to see her smiling back at me. I continue. "I will not eat them in the rain, I will not eat them on a train!" I barely make it through the first sentence, when Bethany puts another book in my lap.
        "Read, daddy," she commands. I put down Green Eggs and Ham and pick up what Bethany has laid in my lap.
        "Clifford?" I ask, teasing her, "but we've read this already!" I can't argue with her, but merely tousle her hair before I begin.

.        .        .

        "You know? You're a really great dad," Jenna remarks sleepily after the kids have been put to bed.
        "They're fun. I enjoy it," I smile, rolling over under the sheets to admire my woman. Jenna scoots over beside me and puts her head under my chin, letting me smell her just-washed hair. I kiss the top of it.
        "Yes, they're fun, but I'm going to sleep now," she yawns, curling up practically in my arms. "Mac is awful at staying asleep you know. I have a sneaking suspicion that she's going to be a problem child when she gets older."
        I laugh. "I will put Mackenzie back to sleep if she wakes up. You need your rest, my beloved."
        "No," Jenna groans into her pillow, "I'm not going to let you do that to yourself. You have work tomorrow, Mr. King."
        "But you need your rest, too, hon."
        "Yep, sure do. Night." With that, my wife rolls over and passes out. I kiss her again, wish her goodnight, and turn out the bedside lamp.

.        .        .

        "Jen. I think Mackenzie's crying. Jen?"
        Snores.
        I chuckle silently to myself. "An excellent wife, who can find?" Jenna is so sound asleep that she doesn't notice me get up. Before I walk out the door, I take one glance at my beautiful wife, peacefully asleep, mouth awkwardly open, probably drooling on her pillow. I take a few more moments to thank God for the honor to spend my lifetime with this incredible woman. The cries of my daughter pull me away from my reflection, and I reluctantly head down the hall to quiet her. Yes, we'd been through so much together, and there will still be more to come, but we now have hope.