Chapter 63
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
“Well dude, safe to say, if you marry Kit, you’ll have the coolest father-in-law in history. I feel bad that I cut you in line, but he and I had a sick fireside chat last night.” I check Levi for irritation. Only curiosity. Of course he’s chill about it.
“You’re kidding. Tell me.”
“I couldn’t sleep. He fed me hot dogs and s’mores and talked to me about Sophie. I think God set it up. It was cool.”
“Come to any conclusions?”
“Not going there,” I say, eyeing him.
“Alright. God’s got this. God’s got you.”
I clear my throat. “I laid some groundwork for you. When do you get to hang with him?”
“Thanks, buddy. I owe you big. Tomorrow. I was planning to take him out for Mexican.”
I pull a face. “Mexican? In Colorado?”
“Kit says it’s his favorite.”
“I can’t imagine Mexican being good this far north. Might as well eat lobster in Kansas.”
He chuckles. “Can’t rule it out. Maybe somebody’s Grandmaría runs that kitchen.”
“Great. Now I want her tamales.”
“If only. Anyway, your camping-vibe success has me thinking we should do something more low key. I wonder if it’s too muddy for a hike.”
“I say pray about it, bro. Can’t outplan the Big Guy.” I blink. It just came out. Like the old me.
He notices. “Great call.”
“Here, would you line these socks up from smallest to biggest?” Chelsea ties her auburn hair into a knot—exactly like Kit’s knots, except at her neck instead of on her head. Wading through the mountain of laundry she poured on the living room rug, she throws socks to me one at a time.
“You know, being a new Christian is a gift. You have what David called the ‘joy of your salvation.’ And you aren’t bogged down by knowing how the church does everything.
You can look at the Bible with fresh eyes.
So please speak up when church people act like there’s one way to do something and it’s not what you’re reading in your Bible.
We need you. Like this”—she motions between us—“I’m just so impressed by what you’re doing, Sophie.
Owning your background and weaknesses and pursuing growth is exactly what we should be doing as Jesus followers. ”
“Oh.” My chest warms, but my mind slaps a warning label on it. “Thank you.”
“Yep. Another thing—thank you for telling Kit about your counselor. Do you mind if I ask if you still see her?”
“Not really anymore.”
She nods, lowering to the rug. “Studies have shown that talking to a trusted friend can be as beneficial as counseling, but my experience is that some issues really call for a counselor’s experience and guidance.
Maybe Dr. Shannon, or maybe someone new, but please be praying about whether you should be seeing someone, okay? ”
I agree.
“Now, talk to me. What are you looking for in our chats?”
Austin and Mia are throwing a football at the park, so I can speak freely. The furnace fills the house with a comforting hum. Kit and Levi are canoodling somewhere, probably gazing into each other’s eyes as she shows him around her picture-perfect childhood.
I let out a sigh. “Honestly, I think you’d know better than me. I just want to know what makes a relationship good. To stay together, but also to like it.”
“The like on top of the love. It’s rare.”
I’m only nineteen, but I’ve noticed.
She shakes out a pair of jeans and folds them in quarters. “God, we love you,” she prays aloud. “Give me whatever words Sophie needs. Keep me from saying anything else. May your Spirit speak to her and comfort her and grow her. Honor her desire to honor you.”
Yes, Jesus.
Another pair of jeans.
“This is so much laundry,” I mutter.
“Yeah, and I don’t even have Kit’s anymore. But it’s not too bad if you know what matters to your people and streamline the rest.”
“What matters?”
“Like … Mav likes his button-ups hung right away so he doesn’t have to iron. Grey likes his socks in his shoe basket so he doesn’t have to run back upstairs. That kind of thing.”
“What does Archie like?”
“He’s a remarkable man, but he’s kind of a slob.
” She laughs. “Like those genius types. He doesn’t put his clothes away, and if I do it for him, they just get thrown around again as he digs in the drawers.
But then because of that, he can never find what he needs because it’s in a dirty pile on the floor. ”
I eye her.
She shrugs. “So I don’t fold his clothes.
I’m happy to wash his stuff more often than I wash my own because it takes no time at all to throw it in a basket for him.
” She gathers several of his workout shirts and illustrates with a toss.
“That’s not how I was taught to do laundry, but who cares, right?
He doesn’t care if it’s folded. And it’s these little things that can either be small acts of love or small steps toward bitterness.
No way am I sacrificing an ounce of what we have because of some extra laundry.
” A wadded pair of jeans and three unmatched socks … straight into his basket.
“You don’t mind catering to everyone’s preferences?”
“Really good question.” She smooths out a pair of smaller jeans.
“It requires a lot of self-awareness. I think selflessness needs to build gradually or it can actually be toxic. Is it Jesus making you more like himself? Or are you trying to earn belonging or love? Or is it some bitter-undertoned obligation nonsense? With my personality, I don’t have a hard time telling them ‘Your preferences are obnoxious. Do it yourself.’ So God has had to soften my heart so that I can see that this is a little gift I can offer the people I love.
But for a nicer person than me, they’d have different laundry soul-searching. ”
Sock after sock, I line them up as I digest. “But … how can you be sure it’s all fair?”
“Ah, yes … ‘fair.’ It doesn’t feel fair. Ever. ‘Fairness’ has been the theme of some of my biggest fights with Archie.”
“You fight?” I blurt.
She raises a cool brow. “Of course we fight. We had a huge blowup just last week.”
Bizarre. Austin and I never fought.
“But the longer we’re married, the shorter they get. And less frequent.” A smile quirks. “And kinder.”
“Okay. So, fairness?”
Her head tilts like Kit’s. “We’re both hard workers, and we both tend to be convinced that we’re doing the lion’s share.
I’m learning to aim for ‘reasonable’ instead of ‘fair.’ Not How much is he doing so I can do the exact same, but Is it reasonable for me to do even more?
That’s been working for me. Right now I have plenty of time, and I want to make my boys happy.
It’s reasonable for me to do their laundry.
I would never sit around relaxing while they’re working hard.
That wouldn’t be reasonable. And Archie does a million things every day for me.
Sometimes I have a crazy week and I ask them to handle their laundry.
It’s a fine line, but when I think of Jesus washing his disciples’ nasty, sweaty man feet”—she shoots me a Kit-grimace like she just smelled it—“this is nothing.”
I grin.
“How did you see the ‘fair’ thing play out in your relationship?”
So I tell her about Austin and how weird and wonderful he is.
How he gives until it hurts. How I wonder if we never fought because he didn’t tell me his side—his “preferences.” Chelsea doesn’t just nod politely, she leans in, like she cares about the details.
The soft “hmms” coax me on, and before I know it I’m spilling things I don’t usually say out loud. But I’m interrupted.
The front door opens, and Mia’s presence dials up the house volume five notches. Austin follows behind her, quiet but dragging less, even than yesterday.
Chelsea turns to me. “Are you a hugger?”
Finally someone asks. My clip slips loose with an emphatic shake no.
“Got it.” She gives my arm a quick squeeze. When she meets my gaze, it’s Kit’s blue but with a different spark. “Jesus loves you. He has beautiful plans for your life. And also”—her eyes smile—“I really like you. Now. Let’s get these last washcloths folded, and I’ll finish the rest tomorrow.”
I do as she says, already plotting a floor shirt for her: Mrs. Miyagi.
The awareness of eyes lifts my head toward Austin. But he’s already striding into the kitchen.