Is healing really a phone call away?
Cassandra McAdam volunteers at the church-sponsored crisis line. With a wall around her heart due to early losses, she believes all she can do is listen. Only God's help gives her anything of value to offer.
A devastated man calls the Powerline to discuss his thoughts of suicide. Jeff Hadley recently lost his wife, and questions why a loving God allows such suffering. Though caller and client are not supposed to meet, a neighbor's illness accidentally brings them face-to-face. Jeff realizes Cassie's voice is that of the woman on Powerline.
Cassie soon wonders if a relationship of helping can possibly turn into a partnership of equals.
Cassie pounded along the path toward the reservoir. Her pulse was up nicely, her legs passed beyond pain to a second burst of energy. The misty spring air felt good on her damp back. She always made herself wait until she approached the dam abutment for a breather. Two miles out, two miles back. Just about right.
She reached the abutment, paused for breath on the narrow road riding the top of the dam. She bent from the waist, placing her hands on her hips. Deep breaths tickled her nostrils with odors of moist soil, water, earthworms.
Thirty yards away, another human, a sight unusual enough to stir curiosity. She peered at the shape. Male or female? At first she couldn't tell. Walking around to cool her muscles gave a different angle. People rarely lingered around the dam so early in the day, except during hunting season. Hunters were supposed to wear bright orange, but if this was a hunter, he courted trouble in such drab colors. He turned out to be male, and big. A runner, not a hunter. He was dressed like her, in Nikes and black shorts. A gray tee shirt stretched taut over muscular shoulders. He had his knees drawn up tight to his chest, arms crossed, head down. A mop of glossy dark hair was all she could see of his head. He seemed to be catching his breath in some weird fashion. Her eyes narrowed. Or were those broad shoulders heaving?
Oh, wow. He wept? For a moment temptation struck, She took an unseen half step. A check in her spirit stopped her. He needed no intervention. Worse, it could do harm if she interrupted now.
She could only pray for help for the unknown need. Her heart went out to him, but God would have to undertake for him. She slipped away, wishing she could ease whatever burden he bore. Her gaze fastened on the long muscular back in the gray tee shirt. He looked young, too young for the pain so obvious in his body language. Quietly, avoiding notice, she edged back onto the forest path and left the distraught young man at the dam.
All day the image haunted and nagged. If he was, Cassie prayed for an extra helping of amazing grace.