Wind-Borne Sister. Melinda Holland

      We saw the last of the frost before long, and soon I was packed and ready to begin my journey. Ebenezer did not wish to stir from my side as I rose earlier than normal, and he greeted me with a grumpy meow of complaint. I would miss him and yet was glad he would remain as furry companion for Susannah in my absence. Susannah also was preoccupied, wondering if she and I had packed and prepared properly for all that lay ahead. A woman alone carried risks with her that male travelers did not. I would not be going by boat this time, and one never knew who might be met on the road. I thought of my meeting with Allan, of Michael and his description of my “sunshine,” of the surly man on the first day of my journey many months before. Would I be as fortunate in future as I had been with Susannah? As I packed a last few things, I spied on a small shelf of treasures the pearl “given” to me by the albatross. Anna had been on the brink of death, but she and her companions had come to land. I put the pearl in my pocket, remembering. The good Lord would go ahead of me, as the albatross had led Anna, and take me to places of hope. On my journeys of change, perhaps yet threaded through with grief, I would ever be held up on his sustaining wings.

      Susannah was older and more practical, it seemed. A few moments later, she turned to me with a different tone to her voice than I had heard over our many months together. In her hand she held a short, sharp dagger, with a hilt inlaid with amethyst. “This belonged to my husband,” she told me. “I have never used it and pray that you will have no call to wield it in self-defense. But it may be useful for other reasons; it may help you in tight situations. I awoke this morning certain I was to give it to you.” She sheathed it carefully in a leather case and held it out for me to take. “Gabriela, go with God. You have been a blessing to me these many months. You helped me to navigate a hard winter. You let me hear Anna’s letters again. And to be able to see light and form again! What a marvelous grace to an old woman who aches to work with her hands. I know that the Lord brought you here; I pray that he will bring you back again one day.” She paused and then held out an envelope to me. “Allan gave me this when he was last here. He said that I was to give it to you as you left on your journey. You are not to open it until the seventh day. Allan is not usually given to such strange directions; I imagine he wants to be sure that you will be well beyond his village before you read what he has written. But Brie, know that he is not an unkind man. He just carries so much pain that he cannot always walk in welcome.”

      She embraced me then and waited patiently as I packed the last of my provisions. My heart felt divided between a longing to stay in this place of safety, known and loved well, with Susannah and Ebenezer and the song of the sea to lull me to sleep each night, and a longing to risk what lay ahead, to follow the promptings of my heart that called me forward and away. Susannah interrupted my thoughts with a final word, “For I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” I took a deep breath. “It will be all right, Gabriela. Know that it will be all right.” Ebenezer rubbed up against my leg one last time, and I rubbed him just under the chin, where he loves it best.

      Then I knew it was time. I looked around the cottage, at the grace of Susannah’s sculptures, the warmth of her home, at her lined and love-filled face. “God be with you, Susannah. You have blessed me more than you know.” And my new journey began.