Like everyone, she had heard the stories. Yet, what choices remained? She had to try, again.
Her husband had not exactly refused, but simply said, “This is just another empty foolishness.”
She understood what he was saying. Together, through many tries and unfulfilled guarantees from those who knew about these sorts of evil things, they’d been gradually ripped a part physically and emotionally. Dreams igniting promises of cure became a nightmare of ashes. Prayers seemed unheard and unanswered. “But what if the stories are really real?”
“They’re nonsense … purely … fantasy.”
“Well, what will it hurt if we go see?” Once more, she’d read his pain and felt the stab of her own.
“You’re as weary as I am. No, I can’t do it. I can’t go with you. I can’t chase another pointless expectation. We need to accept that our daughter isn’t ever going to get better.”
“I can’t do that. Let me go.” She knew he still wanted to believe.
With a whispered sigh he gave up objecting, “Okay … fine.”
So, she went by herself to find Jesus. Rumors said he was nearby in Tyre or Sidon.
(To be continued).