Devoted Read Free Page A

me.
    â€œIt’s important to remember that we must pray for Lauren and for all those who have discarded the path Christ has set for them, but we must also remember what Scripture tells us about walking with the wise. We must remember that we should avoid speaking with or interacting with those who have left the flock.”
    â€œAmen,” Mom whispers, her eyes pressed shut.
    â€œAmen,” we all echo.
    Then the little ones form a line in front of Dad, and he stands up so he can lay his hands on them for a nightly blessing. His rough, callused palms are so large that one alone covers each small head.
    â€œLord, let salvation spring up within my children, that they may obtain the salvation that is in Christ Jesus, with eternal glory,” he murmurs over and over as each little one approaches.
    The younger ones kiss Mom good night, and, even though it will be hours before we’ll finish our chores and go to bed ourselves, Ruth and I stand for a blessing from Dad. He stops in front of each of us individually, so he can lay both his hands on us. My dad’s hands are so heavy on my head that sometimes I imagine myself sinking under their weight, folding in on myself straight into the house’s foundation.
    â€œSubmit yourselves therefore to God,” he says in his quiet, confident voice. “Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.”
    One night, after we had gone to bed in the room we shared with Sarah, Ruth whispered to me from her bed, asking why Dad always used the scarier verses with the two of us. The ones that mentioned hell and the devil.
    â€œBecause the devil is real,” I whispered back. “And it’s Dad’s job to make sure we stay vigilant against temptation.”
    Tonight, after we read stories and tuck in little bodies and bring last minute glasses of water and kiss and kiss and kiss good night, I carefully shut my baby brothers’ bedroom door behind me and step into the upstairs hallway, stretching my arms up over my head in an attempt to unwind. I want to curl up in bed with my favorite book, A Wrinkle in Time , but instead, I head downstairs to the family room, sit down at the desk in the corner, and start up our ancient computer. It whirs pitifully as it struggles to come to life, but eventually the log-in page pops up.
    My dad is still sitting on one of our old, well-loved couches, reading his devotional. He glances toward me, watching as I carefully type in the log-in and password everyone in the family shares. Once I’m logged in, his eyes go back to his book.
    A few years ago, I talked my parents into buying a how-to book for online businesses at the resale shop, and with its help I built a website and an online billing and appointment system for the landscape and tree trimming business Dad runs with my older brothers. I even set up a way to keep track of the books online with some simple accounting software I downloaded for free. It’s a sin to be prideful, but I can’t help but feel proud of myself for figuring it all out on my own.
    When I got the idea to do this, there was a lot of concern from my dad about whether or not this was appropriate or even safe. After all, God’s plan for me is to be a wife and mother, not a businessperson, and the Internet is a dangerous place full of temptation—I only need to remember James Fulton’s embarrassed face in front of the congregation to know as much. But after praying over it with Pastor Garrett, Dad decided to let me use the computer to work on the business as long as someone was always monitoring me. And anyway, I’m helping Dad, and I think that’s practicing to be a good helpmeet.
    My fingers have been clicking away for about twenty minutes when my father puts aside his devotional and gets up from the couch.
    â€œAre you going to be much longer, Rachel?” he asks. We try not to do too much on the Sabbath besides church and family time, but if work has piled up,