THE BREATHS THEY TOOK

By

Laura Dill

For David, always—

without whom this story could not have been thought of.

En honor y gracias a Eliut, 

un amigo de toda la vida,

que siempre me animó a escribir una historia—

esto es para ti.

“And these all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland.”

Hebrews 11:13-14

1

The pain was starting to become unbearable. Each breath she drew seemed to increase the anguish. She was alone on the mountain, about a half mile from the cabin. It had been raining and the skies told that dusk was upon her. She ran out of the cabin about an hour ago, just after the rain settled, and just after the pain was becoming too strong. She ran out in a panic, looking for him. This wasn’t like her. She was a strong girl, composed—both mind and body. But the pain was too great and must’ve made her unstable. He said he would be there. He promised her, and she trusted him.

        She lay there against soft branches and leaves that had fallen and formed a bed that seemed to be made just for her. The air was cool and fresh from the passing rain. A slight, calming breeze brushed her face and for a moment the pain stopped and she was able to take a breath of relief and even enjoy the cool air. She always did find a way to be grateful, even in the most painful circumstances.

        Her name was Milena. Mila, to those close to her. Lena, to her Joseph. He would call her My Lena, or her full name, but with a pause in between “Mi-Lena” to imply the Spanish translation of My Lena. It was endearing on his part, and pleasant to her ears. He was loving in that way. To everyone, but mostly to her. They were enamored with languages and tried to incorporate the few messy words or phrases they knew from any given language into their daily communication . Only with each other. Others were not amused. They had an unparalleled connection—uniquely strong and seemingly unbreakable. 

        Milena was beautiful. The rare kind of beautiful. She had just turned twenty-two when she found out she was pregnant with the child she was currently giving birth to. Her parents immigrated from Saratov right before she was born, and she had the best of every Russian quality—the high cheek bones, the full lips, the large, slightly-slanted eyes with full lashes. Her features were exquisite and stunningly lovely. Her parents and older brother had dark skin, but hers was slightly lighter. It had that smooth olive tone, and it was so soft you could hardly believe she had passed twenty. She had long, thick, dark brown hair that normally flowed with waves down to her waist. But currently it was pulled up high on her head with loose strands falling down her face as she rhythmically breathed in and out to maintain a steady heart rate for both her and her child. The strands of hair were now wet from the beads of sweat running down her forehead onto her high cheeks. Where is he?She thought. Where is my Joseph?

        They met three years prior in Vietnam, and as Milena lay there appreciating every second of tranquility before the next contraction, her mind took her back to the first day they met…

~

It had been a month since Joseph’s discharge, and to clear his mind he wanted to spend some time in a country he’d never been. Home would be too suffocating for him right now. He had heard from friends who had traveled often that Ho Chi Minh City—or Saigon, as the Vietnamese have come to prefer to call it—was remarkable. Joseph’s life allowed him to meet many people and make friends around the world. It is not odd that he happened to have a friend who owned a vacation home in Vung Tau where he stayed during his leaves from contracting. His name was Jonathan, and he welcomed Joseph with open arms to stay with him for a few weeks. He loved Joseph. Joseph wasn’t hard to love, but he was different. People don’t know what to do with different, so most simply keep their distance. But not Jonny. He was drawn to Joseph. He saw the goodness and wisdom and virtue that isn’t easily found in the world, and he knew he could learn from him. They could learn from each other.

        Vung Tau was a ways north from Saigon, and Joseph enjoyed the two-hour drive it took to get there. The free roads and rolling hills and crisp wind that blew on his face through the window of Jonny’s car freed his mind—as much as a recent combatant’s mind could be freed—and allowed him to think on things that blurred the images of war that were stained in his head.

        It was summer, and while the mornings brought thick heat, the afternoons brought heavy flashes of Saigon rain. Joseph spent most days alone, walking the streets and watching the people. Jonny would accompany him some days, but mostly he liked to stay home, as he wasn’t home often. 

        It was a particularly rainy afternoon when Joseph first saw Milena. She was standing on a street corner waiting for traffic to clear. Her hair was drenched and raindrops fell like streams down her face. What is this فرښته ^[1] doing standing in the rain on a street corner in Ho Chi Minh City? Joseph thought. She was a sight to see, and he had to inquire of her story. He hurried down the street with a book he’d been carrying and upon reaching her he held the book over her head. She looked up at the book, then at him. He was taken by her beauty. With sopping hair and wet face and big, questioning eyes, she looked like a helpless child. 

        “I didn’t have an umbrella,” Joseph said.

        She looked back up at the relatively small book that was hardly covering her head as raindrops continued to hit her face. She smiled and gently giggled at his poor attempt to protect her from the rain. He smiled and laughed back.

~

Milena wore the same smile as she lay under the tree in her bed of leaves thinking of that day. My Joseph, she thought. You’re always my protector. You began as my protector. Where are you now? Her smile quickly faded as the next contraction took over. Where are you, my love?

2

Joseph was a perceptive, God-fearing man. He spent much of his time reading the Scriptures and studying history. He did not study without analyzing and speculating and scrutinizing the world. He had knowledge of the world and a thoughtful perspective of the human condition that most humans disregard. His four years in the Marine Corps with two combat tours in Afghanistan allowed him to see the depths of the heart of man that others would never see. He did not allow the war to turn his heart black, although it could have easily done so in a second. He had wisdom, and there was a humility about him that kept him from indignation. Though saddened by the way of the world, there was a mysterious light in his eyes, almost as though he knew a secret, that gave him life and the propensity to wake with gratitude each day. He was a mystery to others, seldom understood. But he was admirable, perhaps the most admirable of any given group of men. He was kind and generous, and loved by nearly all who got to know him. If any man did not appreciate Joseph, it was due to intimidation.

        Apart from his intuitive wisdom and insight, Joseph was handsome. He was tall, well-built, with broad, protective shoulders. He had deep green eyes, tan skin, and light brown hair that fell to his eyebrows if he didn’t brush it back. He had a good sense of humor and made for enjoyable conversations. The only misgivings one might have about him were his indifference and separateness. It is not that he did not care what others thought of him, though he didn’t too much. He simply seldom cared for what others cared about. He cared not to occupy himself with frivolous pleasures and fleeting amusements of the world when his mind was occupied with war and life and death and philosophical speculations and theological mysteries. He was different, and it was obvious. This agitated a few, but it caught Milena like a breath of fresh air.

        A few weeks after the heroic rescue from the downpour, Jonny was packing to go back to his work in Afghanistan. He fought in the same battalion and regiment as Joseph, deploying together on both tours to Kandahar based out of Camp Rhino. He now worked as a defense contractor in Kabul, protecting the U.S. Ambassador and other government officials on a ghost team of six. It was far from an ideal job, but it paid well and allowed Jonny to avoid any prison job back in the States. He was honorably discharged a year before Joseph and they hadn’t seen each other since, prior to this reunion.

         Having Joseph in his company gave Jonny a warm sense of home.

        “It has truly been a pleasure having you here, Joseph. I’ve missed you.”

        The afternoon was refreshingly cool as Jonny finished packing and stepped outside to sweep his porch, getting ready to leave his home behind once again. Joseph was leaning on the wooden rail, looking out into the horizon of their surroundings. 

        “The honor has been mine, Jonny.” 

        “I thought maybe you were going to stay in.”

        “I had considered it. But after we got back and you had left, the action slowed down. And that’s the worst. Spending long days stationed in enchanting Hawaii, not a care in the world in anyone’s mind around you, as if what we had seen and lived through the past couple years wasn’t real, didn’t happen—” he continued looking forward, surveying the world in front of him, seeing clear images of what was actually there and at the same time what was pictured in his mind— “the Fall of Kandahar, the caves in Adi Ghar…seventy-five caves cleared…the mortars, the children—I could go on but I’m sure you can recall each God-forsaken event as quick as I can. I did want to go out again, but the Hajjis were taking a siesta. Gave us nothing to do. Four years was it for me.”

        “They were lucky to have you, even if just four years,” Jonny said. “And I’m a lucky bastard to have had the honor of fighting by your side. Those caves were a bitch, but there’s no one I’d rather have cleared them with.” He was sweeping every corner and crevice of the porch thoroughly. “It sure has been great having you here, Joseph. How am I going to go back to all the rogues back at the compound?”

        Joseph smiled. 

        “You know, we could really use you on our team. You say the Hajji’s are sleeping, but they don’t nap for long. Meerkat is leaving us, and there are few who qualify to replace him. Scarce men have been where you have, and seen what you have, and fought like you have, and are still breathing. If I talk to Rick, there’s no question he would have you flown over in a second.”

        “You know, I wondered if you might bring such an offer up,” Joseph replied. “I think of what I might do back in the States, and you know what I come up with?”

        “No clue.”

        “Exactly.”

        Jonny cheered, “So you’re in?!” 

        “But there’s a predicament I’ve found myself in,” Joseph added.

        “I knew it,” Jonny smirked. “You went from drinking with me every day and visiting Saigon only on weekends, to leaving me here by my lonesome for that city nearly every hour. You met a girl.”

        Joseph smiled back. “I have met a girl,” he said with pride. “Her name in Milena.”

        “What a beautiful name,” Jonny said.

        “You think her name is beautiful…you should see her. Nothing has quite taken my breath away since mortar smoke, and I undoubtedly prefer this cause of inability to breathe.”

        “A real beaut, huh?” Jonny said. “You know I have to look out for you, Joseph. I love you like no other. And to be frank, no one is good enough for you.”

        Joseph chuckled.

        “You are a good man, with a good head on your shoulders. You’re not like the others. And even though this religious faith of yours that you live and die by makes me wonder about you sometimes, you have my complete respect. You deserve the best, buddy. And I hate to say it, but women can quickly bring a man down. Especially the pretty ones. They make you lose your senses…completely lose all reason. And before you know it you find yourself in a place you don’t want to be.”

        “Am I hearing this from you? The lucky bastard who was married to the sweetest, finest gem out there?” Joseph laughed.

        “That’s the thing,” Jonny said. “I was. I was a fortunate bastard. Neila was one of a kind. The best thing that ever happened to me. But she was a diamond in the rough. They don’t make ‘em like that these days. When she passed, the world lost a true treasure.”

        “I saw what you had with her,” Joseph said. “It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. And I told myself I’d never marry unless I found a girl like Neila, and a love like you guys had. And I’ll tell you, with all due respect to Neila, my Lena surpasses any virtue I’ve ever seen in a woman. Her character is like a work of fiction only read in the most masterly novels…”

        “Hold on,” Jonny interrupted. “Marry?… My Lena?… Am I hearing this right? Sounds to me like it’s too late for any lecture or advice I might have for you. You’ve gone and fell in deep with her already!” Joseph smiled and Jonny smiled with him. Jonny was happy for him. He liked to joke and pretend he was giving Joseph advice, but he knew he didn’t need it. If Joseph was falling for a girl, he knew she must’ve been exceptional.

        “I’ll think about your offer,” Joseph said, though they both knew he was going to take it. “Just give me a couple weeks. She looks at me with such happiness and trust. I need some time to figure out how to tell her.”

        After dropping Jonny off at the airport, Joseph found Milena and let her know the place he’d been staying had become unoccupied. Milena was staying in the home of the pastor and his wife of the small church she was helping at. The church was planted a couple years back and still consisted of less than twenty members. But the members were delightful, God-fearing, and true. The church started an orphanage in the outskirts of Saigon, and Milena spent the majority of her time playing with, teaching, and caring for the children. So far, Joseph and Milena had only been meeting in coffee shops and parks, taking walks together and spending time in the orphanage. Joseph loved the children. And he loved this girl who had an incredible ability to take his breath away.

        They went to the church together on Sundays and spent Sunday evenings reading the Scriptures and talking about life and all that is good and true and beautiful in the world. As Milena sat in front of him these evenings, smiling and sharing with him her thoughts and ideas and dreams, he would stare at her and listen and take it all in and think to himself, This… this is what is good and true and beautiful. Milena was hardly nineteen, but she had intuitive insight that made her seem older. She was wise, with a wisdom compatible with Joseph’s, yet with different knowledge than his. Distinct experiences create different kinds of knowledge, and they spent their days eagerly learning from each other, though Milena insisted she was the true student in their relationship. She was wise enough not to trust anyone, but she trusted him. She was delicate enough to love with her whole being, and that she did. She poured love out onto everyone she knew, Joseph being the cardinal recipient.

        With Jonny away, they had a more comfortable and private location to spend time together. Joseph would look over at Milena in the passenger seat on the free road as he drove her from the city to Jonny’s, and he couldn’t believe he found such an angel in the most unlikely place. He was grateful and happy. He didn’t want to tell her he was leaving. He didn’t want to leave. Darkness always shadows the light, he thought to himself. It’s how you handle the darkness—what you do in that darkness—that maintains or shatters one’s honor. One simple thought would always lead his mind to multiple abstract and seemingly unparalleled others.  He lived in his mind often, having dialogues as if with himself. He looked back over at her. There is no darkness in this one. I don’t want to leave her.

3

Jonny’s place was dreamlike. It was a cabana-style beach home a quarter mile from the ocean. Sunlight shone into the large windows from nearly every angle, creating a warm glow in the house. Palm trees and bamboo surrounding the cabana were its only source of shade. The house had two bedrooms and a large living area where Joseph and Milena spent most of their time. A spiral stairway led up from the living area to the roof where Jonny created nearly a third room with no ceiling, fixed with a lounge sofa, a coffee table, and bed. The tropical heat and humidity kept Joseph and Milena inside more than out, but at night they would lay together atop the roof and look at the moon and stars. From the roof they could see the old military camp where Marines were based during the War. It was now run down and gray and told a sad story. Jonny’s place was like a haven in the midst of an awful world.

        “Why are you here?” Joseph asked Milena one afternoon as they lay together on the living room sofa, enjoying the air-conditioned house. He was brushing strands of her dark hair with his fingertips. She enjoyed it.

        “That’s a pretty deep existential question,” Milena joked, though such topics were not uncommon in their daily conversations.

        “No,” Joseph laughed. “I mean here in Vietnam. Of all places, of all parts of the world, from Saratov to California, how did my Russian girl end up in Vietnam?”

        “We had ‘pen-friends’ in primary school,” Milena replied. “We all were given letters from children all over the world, and my letter was from a seven-year-old girl in Vietnam. We became close friends just through correspondence. Most kids lost touch with their writing partners, but we wrote to each other for years after. Her world sounded terrible…so foreign. She lived in Saigon and I told her one day I would come visit her. Two years ago my church back home was given an invitation to come help a new church that was being planted right in the center of her city, with a nearby orphanage that the church started in need of help as well. I couldn’t believe the opportunity was upon me, and with finishing school early, my father agreed to let me go.”

        “That is incredible,” Joseph said. “I imagine you and your friend were thrilled to finally meet each other!”

        “We never got to,” Milena said as she stared up at the ceiling of the air-conditioned cabana. “She had troubles. She was a sweet girl. As sweet and kind as they come, from what I could tell. But she wasn’t the brightest. Her emotions overruled her intellect. She got herself involved in a relationship with an unavailable man much older than her, and much more dangerous than she realized. There were many details involved, and I tried to tell her to get out while she could. But by the time I arrived here, it was too late.”

        “That sounds terribly tragic,” Joseph responded. “I am so sorry. What was her name?”

        “Nhi,” Milena answered. “I have a picture of her at the pastor’s house. As well as all her letters. I regret not coming sooner, but what could I have done? There is no use in wondering about the what ifs. Two years later I am still here, with the privilege of knowing the joy of the children at the orphanage every day, and loving them.” She stopped and looked up at Joseph. “And loving you,” she smiled. 

        “Who would’ve thought?” Joseph smiled back. He paused, then asked, “That girl who helps with you at the orphanage, is that Nhi’s sister?”

        “Yes,” said Milena, “Anh. We met when I arrived here. She was so devastated from what happened. Her parents were unsympathetic, and she had no one to console her. She started coming to the church with me and soon became a member. Her parents disowned her for her faith, so she moved in with the pastor and his wife and I, and has been helping at the orphanage with us ever since. Nhi used to describe her as a dark, sorrowful girl. But these past two years she has become one of the most warm and cheerful humans I’ve ever met.”

        “Beauty from ashes,” Joseph said. “Except a grain of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone…”

        “But if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit,”^[2] Milena completed. “She died. Is that really how it was supposed to be? Is that what it means? Fruit was not brought forth in her life due to her death. Her death brought death. It was the end of her life and any possibility of flourishing. You know what’s crazy? We talked so much about death, her and I. Well, wrote about it. We discussed the Scriptures and the afterlife, and how beautifully the pages of Scripture paints eternity. She loved these discussions because her family was Buddhist and did not give her hope of a resurrection and restoration of all things. She struggled with the thought of not all being restored…of many actually being condemned for eternity. But she did not completely reject the idea, as she saw it plainly in Scripture and was starting to believe.”

        “Do you think she believed in the end?”

        “Honestly, I don’t know. I say she wasn’t the brightest. But she in fact did have some deep insight revealed in her letters. I remember one letter she wrote about longing for heaven. She said she had observed in the lives of some Christians that they speak so highly of heaven, yet show that they have no desire of getting there. If it is so wonderful, she asked, why aren’t we eager to get there? Not in a morbid, suicidal sense. But why do we fear it? And if not fear it, at least hope that it doesn’t come for us for a long long time? I’ve thought on this for a good while after. I can’t say I’ve stopped thinking of it. She was right. When we die and spend our first moment in the presence of Christ, in all His glory and in all the fullness of joy that we can’t comprehend now, we will not be wishing we had more time on earth. We will be eagerly waiting for everyone else to come share the splendor with us. 

          “I don’t remember exactly my response to her, but now I remember what brought that discussion on. She had told me she felt very much unworthy of heaven and feared death. Yet she said she thought death was far from her because she believed the Lord wouldn’t take her while she was so unholy. She said He waits until we have been disciplined into repentance and are at our absolute best condition, and that’s when He brings death upon us. And so, she wrote, she did not want to purify herself and walk in uprightness, for she believed that’s when the Lord would take her. And she feared that. Which, she observed, didn’t make sense. Because if heaven is as indescribably remarkable and joyous as it is described, then why does she run from it? Why do people fear it? None of it was logical, and so she feared death too until it took her.”

        “That poor girl,” said Joseph. “She was mistaken on every count, aside from the fear of God. That she clearly had.”

        “That she did.”

        “Did you explain to her the propitiation of Christ and our justification apart from our works because of His work?”

        “I did.”

        “And then?”

        “And then…”

        “She died.”

        “Yes.”

        Joseph was quiet for a moment. “You don’t know if she received that last letter?”

        “Her sister said she did.”

        “So maybe, just maybe, she read it…and believed it. And what do you know…the Lord took her while she was at her purest, just as she said. Not her purest in the sense of her own good works and righteousness, but she was finally clothed in the righteousness of Christ. Paradoxically, she had it right all along. Maybe.”

        “Maybe.”

        “I’m terribly sorry, Lena. That you never got to meet her. That you lost a friend.”

        “The sorrow lies in not knowing her fate. And knowing her life was cut short…far too short. She was so young. But then, if she did go to Christ, she is with Him, and it’s like she said…why do we mourn when we go to be with the Lord? She is far better off than we are. If…well, if she is.”

        “We mourn because death is tragic. It was never supposed to be good. But even the most tragic event in life the Lord has redeemed. So we mourn on this side of heaven, but we hold on to the hope we have that life will be restored to its fullest most radiant condition.”

        “And then there is this,” Milena said. “This, here and now, I am holding onto you and it is so real. I feel your body…I even feel your heart—the thoughts you speak and the spirit within you…so alive and vibrant and sensing. This is so real…yet we’ll be even more alive.”

        “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

        “The most.”

        They lay together, Joseph’s warm arms wrapped around Milena’s body. They were in love, and life was beautiful. Milena finally had someone who understood her. She loved him and felt safe. How serene heaven must be if it is sweeter than this. They desired each other physically to the point of frustration. But Joseph was respectful. Milena was an angel, and he knew better than to stain such a heavenly host.

4

        “It’s unreal here,” Milena said as she lay too comfortably in Joseph’s warmth. They had fallen asleep on the sofa and she had now been awake for several minutes looking around at the cabana’s decorative interior.

        “Here in Vietnam? It’s pretty dark.”

        “No. Vietnam is real. I mean here in this cabana of your friend’s,” Milena said. “It’s like a dream—colorful and sunny and shielded from the scars of war right outside its walls. It reminds me of back home and how I hated it.”

        “You hated the peace back home?” Joseph inquired.

        “I hated the ignorance, the blindness. Everyone laughs and plays and indulges in every given comfort and pleasure under the sun and still complains about what they lack. They know nothing of hardship and real life and war. It seems to me war is as real as life gets. And Western society sees nothing of it and knows nothing of it. Yet it is what’s shaped—shapes—history.”

Joseph grinned as Milena spoke words that could’ve been taken straight from his own mind, and wondered how such a girl could have these thoughts at her age with minimal experience of the world. “You are absolutely right,” he agreed.

        “Some days I would sit outside in the warm sun, not a plane in the sky or a care in the world, and it just didn’t seem…I don’t know…like the real picture. I mean, it was, of course. But it’s almost like there was a big curtain in the horizon and behind it was the truth of war and peace and life and fate and no one there sees it or wants to see it.”

        “And you want to see it?” Joseph said.

        “I hate ignorance,” Milena said again. “I need to know the truth and what is real.”

        “You are right in all you say, Lena,” Joseph said. “That’s partly why I hate when people boast back home ‘We support the troops!’ because they’re speaking of an occupation they know nothing about, of a war they know nothing about, and they hardly support anything by trivial catch phrases.”

        “I know what you mean,” Milena said. “Well, as much as I can say that, at least, being that I know nothing of war myself. But I know that I know nothing of war, besides what my imagination shows me. And while I am thankful for that, I also don’t like it.”

        “You don’t want to know of war, my Lena. I don’t want you to know of war. You are a delicate girl with a warm, tender heart. The truth of war can kill a person in every way if not physically. You don’t need to know the truth. You stay my loving, tender girl.”

        Milena lay in Joseph’s arms and enjoyed the comfort of his protection and warmth and she knew he was probably right. Who knew what the truth of war might do to her? But Joseph knew war, and she had him, and in an odd way that gave her satisfaction. She coughed…

        “You’ve been coughing a lot lately,” Joseph observed.

        “The air is really bad here,” she said. “I’ve been in denial about it, but the doctor has warned that I shouldn’t stay much longer. He insists I go back to California.”

        “Because the California-polluted air quality of thick smog is waiting there to heal you?” Joseph joked.

        She laughed. “It’s a lot better than it is here.”

        “I’ll tell you what,” Joseph said. “You marry me, and I’ll get you a house high up in the mountains. A beautiful mountain cabin. Where the air is clean and crisp and will give life to your lungs. You’ve breathed your share of ash and smoke and smog for a lifetime. I want to take care of you now, Lena.”

        Milena turned around so that her body was facing his. “You’re asking me to marry you?” she asked with a smile and her big, child-like eyes looking into his.

        “Who else is out there for me?” Joseph replied. “You’ve ruined me…no one else will ever do now. You’re my Lena.”

        She kissed him and sunk into his body.

        “I have to tell you something,” Joseph said after some time passed. “I have been given a job offer. It’s a contracting job in Kabul. My friend Jonny brought it up to me a couple weeks ago and I’ve been thinking of how I was going to tell you. He spoke with his lead about it, and the job is mine if I want it.”

        Milena stayed quiet for a moment. Her head was laying on his chest. She noticed a picture on the wall of a Warcraft flying over sunny rolling hills. “How long will you be there?” she asked. 

        “The offer is indefinite, but I will only commit to three years. And I’ll get breaks in between. I will come home to you, but only for short periods, then I’ll have to go back. It’s what you were just telling me, Lena. It’s real life. I understood everything you said, more perhaps than even you did. I can’t work a simple job back home after where I’ve been these past four years. At least not just yet. Understand me, sweet girl. The war is still over there. I thought it had calmed down, but wars don’t stay calm. Not until they are over. I won’t be enlisted anymore, but I have to be there.”

        Milena hated what he was saying to her. She hated the idea of him leaving. She hated the thought of where he was going and what could happen to him. But she understood. He was right, it was what she was just telling him. He needed to be among what was true and real, and she wanted to support him. She was proud of him, even. “You go, and I will wait for you,” she said as she looked again at him with her big doe eyes.

        “Of course you will wait for me,” Joseph smiled. “You will be my wife, and you will be a good wife.”

        “You will marry me before you leave?” she asked.

        “You think I will leave before having this body the way I’ve only been fantasizing of? زه اړتیا لرم ,”^[3] Joseph said as he caressed her all over with his hands. She giggled and enjoyed it. “Besides, I want children to come home to on my months off.”

        Milena smiled and butterflies filled her stomach as he continued to caress her body and she loved it. Children, she thought. Guilt and fear suddenly entered her chest but she blocked them out so as to enjoy the present. Joseph kissed her and tickled her and caressed her into the night.

5

Milena did not waste any time sharing the joyous news of her engagement. Pastor Scott and his wife Elisabeth were the first to be informed. They had gotten to know Joseph well from Sunday mornings and his visits to the orphanage during the weeks, and they loved him. Next was Anh, who couldn’t have been more thrilled for her friend. 

        “I will prepare all the flower arrangements! What a blessed day! Yes, all the flowers! Such a joyous day calls for joyous flowers. And you are my beautiful friend…you deserve beautiful flowers!” Anh exclaimed with joy upon hearing the news. They were sitting at a small table outside their favorite coffee shop. The streets were wet from a recent rain, but the sun was out now and gave everything a bright shine. “I am so happy for you, friend,” Anh continued.

        “Thank you,” Milena couldn’t stop smiling herself. “I never imagined I would marry at nineteen years old. He has more years than I, of course. But he doesn’t look down on me or think me naïve. He understands me. And I think I understand him.”

        “You’re the luckiest girl, Mila,” Anh said with delight. “Most women wait a lifetime to find a man like Joseph. And us here in Vietnam, we don’t hold our breath. Josephs don’t exist here.”

        “Not true! What about that fellow Dan who has been visiting on Sunday mornings? He seems to have a good head on his shoulders. And I saw him looking at you…”

        “Dan and Anh? Are you kidding me?” Anh laughed. 

        “Oh come on, you can’t turn away splendid opportunities in life over such trifles. He could be the man of your dreams for all you know. Besides, I think it sounds charming, Dan and Anh,” Milena said.

        “I won’t brush him off,” Anh replied, laughing. “If he is a true gentleman, maybe I will give him a chance. We have to see how seriously he takes the church first. I want a God-fearing man, like Joseph.”

        Milena continued smiling. “I have been blessed,” she stated.

        “Flowers!” Anh proclaimed. “We must go pick out flowers! Where is the ceremony to be held? How many are attending?”

        “Oh, it’s going to be real small,” Milena said. “Joseph leaves in less than two weeks, and we want to marry before then. Next Saturday, in fact. We were going to do it privately with only the pastor and Elisabeth, but how could I not have you there?! Then the little ones at the orphanage heard the news and three of them insist on coming, bless their hearts. And today I spoke with Scott and he told me he contacted my friend Sara from back home and he is flying her out here tomorrow!”

        “It will be a grand celebration!” Anh delighted.

        “That’s only nine,” Milena laughed. “Three of which are children.” 

        “Nine or nine-hundred, it will be a splendid day!” Anh continued to rejoice. “Now, flowers!”

        They left the coffee shop and walked down the wet, busy streets of Ho Chi Minh City. Milena was glad for a true friend like Anh. She loved her with a pure love. She was sad to know she would be leaving her soon to go back to California.

        “What do you think of these?” She stopped at a store window and gazed inside. Her eyes transferred from the display to the glass in front of her. The glass was shiny and scraped and dirty. She traced a crack with her finger along the center of the window. Feeling the rough edge run along her fingertip gave her pleasure. She loved to touch and smell and hear and taste and feel all possible senses to the fullest. Everything gave her new ideas, new thoughts. Her mind wandered as she stood there tracing the jagged crack.

        “I think they are lovely…for a funeral.” Anh replied. 

        Milena laughed as her eyes fixed back onto the arrangement of soft delicate white flowers trimmed with velvety red. “I was thinking more honeymoon-suite.”

        “Ah…well I’m thinking variety…flowers of all kinds and colors. This is the most special day of your life! Think vibrance!”

        “I do love yellow. Bright orange and yellow. And peach. And teal. And berry. Do those go together?” Milena laughed.

        “That will be charming!” Anh said. “Vibrant and joyous and charming.”

        “I love your happiness,” Milena said as she looked at her friend with warmth.

        “Happiness is contagious,” said Anh. “Sorrow is everywhere if you look around. Sometimes you don’t even have to look…it just finds you. But why sulk? Who knows when the good Lord might see a day fit to take us home. He has given us a new day to live and laugh and learn and love until then. And I tell you, I learned this from you, Mila. If a beautiful girl from breezy California can sing and dance and love in the sweat and heat of poor Saigon, then there must be something greater in her heart. 

        “I used to be ungrateful. I didn’t see the gifts of the Lord all around me. And when Nhi died, my world of gray turned entirely black. But then I met you, and through you I have found hope in Christ and joy in life, and all of this leans me toward vibrant wild flowers over crimson stained roses.”

        They both laughed.

        “Life truly is an adventure,” said Milena. “The sorrows are real, I can’t deny that. Tragedies strike and worlds are turned upside down. But there is that hope you speak of, and that changes everything. We have a song to sing even when the rain pours. Yet still I can’t help but mourn with those who mourn, and try to change things if I can.”

        “And you should! We should. There is a time for everything…a time to mourn, a time to cry, a time to dance, a time to die…”

        “…a time to celebrate with wild flowers,” Milena smiled.

        “Yes!” said Anh. She grabbed her friend and kissed her on the cheek. She pressed her cheek against hers and hugged her and took her arm to lead her away on their search. “A time to celebrate precious friends.”

        Milena looked back at the stained cracked glass as they walked off.

6

Sara arrived the morning of the next day. Pastor Scott met her at Tan Son Nhat International Airport and drove her back to his home. Joseph had been staying back at Jonny’s getting his paperwork completed and documents organized for his new job. It was early and Milena was in her room writing when Sara arrived.

Most Beautiful God,

        A new day You give us—us who live on this earth. Many live, yet many are    dying…have died. Some have died with hope, with faith, with new life awaiting them. Yet others have died without hope, only to face the sting of death, never to live again. Many Christians are dying for their faith all over the world. In some places they are being led like sheep to the slaughter. Keep them strong, Lord—the ones who remain. The ones who live in fear for their lives. The ones who have watched their loved ones be murdered. Oh keep them strong in the faith, and comfort them, and deliver them. Deliver them from the hands of their enemies. Send them help, oh Lord. May it all somehow…somehow…turn more people to put their faith in You, though it be a paradox.

            I thank You for this new day of life You’ve given me. This new day to laugh and love and live for you. To dance and sing. Maybe even to cry. If I cry, may I cry with all my heart. If I sing, may I sing with all my soul. If I speak, may I speak with all wisdom and grace and truth. If I love, oh may I love with all my being. I thank You for giving me so much to love. I thank You for forgiveness…that which, oh God…without which we would perish.

             I thank You for Anh and her incredible heart. I thank You for my Joseph. What did I ever do to deserve him? Nothing, to be sure. And I never want to lose him, Lord. Keep us, I pray. May we not sin against You this day, nor any day. If only to honor You in all the good gifts You give.

             I thank You for the children… the sweet, sweet children. Bless them and keep them and make Your face to shine upon them this day and always…

        “Mila!” Sara exclaimed as she ran through Milena’s bedroom door and gave her a big hug. “How I’ve missed you! Two whole years! How did we manage so long?!” She squeezed Milena tight for several moments then pulled back and examined her face. “You’re so pale! Don’t they have makeup here?” Sara’s remark, intended as a hidden insult, was a response of jealousy as it was obvious to everyone that Milena didn’t need makeup. 

        Milena picked up the journal she was writing in that Sara had knocked to the floor and placed it on her nightstand. “Oh, well…it’s just so humid here. Any makeup would run right off before I even left the house,” she replied, thinking the observation strange. She looked at her friend who hadn’t changed a bit. Sara had straight blonde hair and was wearing bright red lipstick, just like the last day she saw her two years ago. “I’m so happy you’re here,” she told her. “I’ve missed you so. And we have so much to catch up on!”

        “Indeed we do!” Sara agreed. “I’ve been dying to tell you about a man I’ve been seeing!”

        “You’re seeing someone? This is great! I’m so happy for you, Sara! I want to hear everything. Where did you meet? Wait, would you like water?”

        They were sitting on Milena’s short bed and Sara was making out the smallness of the room. “No, thank you. But it is awfully stuffy in here,” she said.

        “Yes, homes here aren’t built quite like they are in the States,” Milena replied. “But I’ve gotten used to it. It’s quaint and cozy. And it feels so homely when the children come to visit from the orphanage. We snuggle up close together in the bed and gladness fills this small room…”

        “I bet gladness fills the room when…what’s his name, Jacob?…snuggles up in your bed too,” Sara winked at her.

        “No, actually, we haven’t done that…what you’re thinking. We’re waiting until we are married.”

        “You’re kidding me!” Sara blurted. “For what purpose? How will you know if you like him…you know…if he suits you?”

        “I have no doubt I will…that he will,” Milena replied. “It’s been hard not to be with him already.”

        “Oh believe me, if you’re holding back, it’s been very hard on him,” Sara gestured.

        “Stop,” Milena said. “I’m not holding back. He’s a gentleman. We are in mutual agreement about this.”

        Sara laughed. “Oh trust me, girl. Men never willingly agree to such a thing. They accept it if they think they have no other choice. But in your case it’s not so bad. I mean, no wonder Jacob insists on marrying you so quickly.”

        “Joseph,” Milena corrected her. “His name is Joseph, and it’s not like that. He’s a true gentleman. An honorable, God-fearing man. He loves and respects me. And what’s more, he loves and respects the Lord. From what I gather, I cannot say the same about this guy you are seeing, if he is anything like the assumptions of men you’ve collected.”

        “For your information, I met Ricky at church,” Sara defended herself.

        “I’m happy to know you are still going,” Milena replied.

        “Well, not the same church we were going to before you left,” Sara said. “I met some friends who introduced me to a different church in the city—much bigger and livelier than the one we were going to—and I found I felt more confident about myself at this one. I was losing focus of who I was, and I realized I needed to love myself more. This church encourages me to do that. I mean, Christ wants us to love ourselves, right? How can we love others if we aren’t loving ourselves first?”

        “We naturally love ourselves, Sara. It is not something we need to learn or work on. It is especially not something we should be taught at church,” Milena said with a sadness in her heart at this disappointing reunion with her friend.

        “There’s nothing wrong with building confidence, Mila. The Lord wants us to be self-assured, not wayward and cowardly. I now have a boldness and confidence about myself that I never had. When I wake up in the mornings, I feel amazing because I know I have God on my side—supporting me and giving me the strength to conquer my ambitions and not care what others think of me.”

        Milena shook her head. She was saddened by her friend’s ignorance and the reality that her mentality reflected the rising culture back home. “Your words are slippery,” she said. “How did the gospel of Christ become fused with a culture of self-love? When I go to church, the Lord could care less whether I feel confident in myself that day. He rather cares whether His Son is glorified in the service and whether His people are humbling themselves and loving Him above all things—not loving themselves above all things. It would be refreshing if Christ-followers stopped focusing on loving themselves and ‘feeling confident,’ and started humbling themselves, even lacking confidence—shifting their focus off of themselves entirely and became more others-oriented rather than self-involved.”

        Sara was listening to her friend with polite indifference.

        “Whether we wear makeup, don’t wear makeup, dress casual or dress up, beautify our hair or wear it down, the Lord is not concerned about these things—unless perhaps any of them become an idol to us. He is rather concerned with our hearts and whether our hearts are seeking His glory or our own.”

        “I don’t see how any of this means it is wrong to want to be a self-confident, self-assured, self-loving person, and to be encouraged in the church to find that confidence in Christ. I mean if not Him, who else is going to give us the self-esteem we deserve?” Sara responded.

        “That’s just it, you’re missing the whole point,” replied Milena. “Everything you’re saying is focused on yourself. And if that’s the focus of the church, then the church is missing the whole point. The focus is on the wrong subject. Think about what it means to have self-confidence, Sara. Does it not mean to think highly of one-self, thinking yourself suitable and that you have it all together? I think it would be better to go to church lacking confidence and acknowledging that we don’t have it all together and being okay with that. When we are talking with others at church, who cares if we are lacking confidence? That is not the Lord’s concern for us. Rather, are we loving others with a servant’s heart? Are we loving God with all our heart, mind, and strength? Are we humbling ourselves before God and acknowledging our sin and repenting and praising Him for His work on the cross and the restored relationship we have with Him because of that work?” 

        Milena paused and picked up a book from her nightstand and shuffled to find a certain page. “I’m currently reading essays by an English writer and journalist named G.K. Chesterton and I want to read you one that I read last week. I won’t read all of it, but listen…

        “If I only had one sermon to preach, it would be a sermon against pride. The phrase would probably be misunderstood; but I should begin my sermon by telling people not to enjoy themselves. I should tell them to enjoy dance and theatres and joy-rides and champagne and oysters; to enjoy jazz and cocktails and nightclubs if they can enjoy nothing better; to enjoy bigamy and burglary and any crime in the calendar in preference to this other alternative; but never to learn to enjoy themselves. Human beings are happy so long as they retain the receptive power and the power of reaction in surprise and gratitude to something outside. So long as they have this they have as the greatest minds have always declared, a something that is present in childhood and which can still preserve and invigorate manhood. The moment the self within is consciously felt as something superior to any of the gifts that can be brought to it, or any of the adventures that it may enjoy, there has appeared a sort of self-devouring fastidiousness and a disenchantment in advance, which fulfills all the Tartarean emblems of thirst and of despair.

        “When we speak of something being ‘proud of’ something, as of a man being proud of his wife or a people proud of its heroes, we really mean something that is the very opposite of pride. For it implies that the man thinks that something outside himself is needed to give him great glory; and such a glory is really acknowledged as a gift.”^[4]

        Milena closed the book. “This was written decades ago. Nothing new under the sun. Yet in this present society that increasingly emphasizes self-love and self-adoration, this essay warns us that self-love is neither satisfying nor virtuous, and a good majority of man’s discontentment comes from when his eyes are on himself—worrying about himself, his appearance, his status, etc. But when he focuses outwardly on all that is around him—on his family, on others’ achievements and beauties, on all the gifts given him in the world—that is when he is truly content. Pride and vanity will make one miserable. Looking rather at the outward blessings given to us by God bring true joy.

        “It is entirely dangerous to blend what society teaches is good and true with what Scripture teaches is good and true. To believe that Christ died for us to enhance our self-esteem is beyond dangerous. Christ did not die to boost our confidence. He died for us because we are sinners in need of a Savior lest we perish in hell.

       “The last person I want to be talking with on Sunday mornings is someone who all the while on the inside is focusing on possessing self-confidence throughout our entire conversation. I’d much rather spend my short time at church conversing with someone whose heart is turned outward toward others and upward toward Christ.

        “I am not saying we need to be self-loathing creatures. The truth of the gospel fills me with joy and gladness every single day. I rejoice because I am somehow by the grace of God a child of His and with this I receive all the blessed benefits of belonging to Him—daily receiving His provisions, protection, presence, grace, mercy, forgiveness, eternal salvation, and countless more—and my heart overflows with joy because of it. We are, in fact, created to worship. But the object of our worship is critical. We have been created to worship God and in doing so is our source of joy. We cannot possess true joy in worshipping anything else, because we have not been created in such a way. We have been created to find fulfillment in Christ alone. 

        “So I am not concerned whether I have confidence when I go to church, or any other time of the week for that matter. Who cares?! The topic is actually making me sick! If we stopped focusing on it so much, not only would we be much better off, but our Lord would be more glorified simply because we are taking our eyes off of ourselves and placing them on Him and His beauty and the needs of His people.”

        Sara was sitting on the edge of the bed playing with strands of her hair. “Thanks for the sermon,” she replied. “Both the Englishman’s and yours. It’s obvious you’ve been sheltered, Mila. You have been living in this third-world cave for two years and it has messed with your head. Listen, we you get out of here, you are coming to my church. You will see for yourself how incredible it makes you feel. You think I’m uneducated on church organizations, but I’ll educate you yet.” Sara winked at her and left the room to explore the house.

         Milena sat on her bed discouraged with her friend and with society. She felt like she had been talking to a wall. Joseph appeared in the doorway with flowers.

        “Joseph!” Milena exclaimed. “Oh how I needed to see you right now!” 

        He walked over to her and handed her the flowers and kissed her. “I ran into Anh down the street on my way over here and she placed these in my hands and insisted I come to you with flowers,” Joseph said. “Is it me, or does that girl have an obsession with flowers?”

        Milena laughed. “I suspect she does.” 

        “Well she has incredible taste. These are probably the most beautiful flowers I’ve ever seen.”

        She looked down at her bouquet and caressed soft white petals of velvety roses between her fingertips. They were trimmed in crimson red. She smiled.

        “What have you been doing?” Joseph hugged her tight. “I needed a break from all those documents. They’re giving me a headache. Where is your friend from California? Sara…wasn’t she suppose to arrive today?”

        “Oh she arrived,” Milena said. “I think she’s in the kitchen.”

        “You don’t sound thrilled,” Joseph observed.

        “It just…wasn’t the reunion I anticipated.” Milena said. “I don’t know if she changed or I changed or I just grew up and she didn’t, but she was just so…vain, to be honest.”

        “Really? That doesn’t sound like the friend you described to me?”

        “No, I actually don’t remember her this way. She said she started going to a new church in the city, and her philosophies have changed dramatically…I’m guessing from this change. It sounds like her church fixates on self-love and infuses it into the gospel. I know this idea has been increasingly widespread, but it’s worrisome, you know? Nowhere in Scripture are we encouraged to focus on loving ourselves more. Christ teaches us to be others-oriented, as that is something we are not naturally prone to. And I reminded her of all this, but it was as if she wasn’t even listening.”

        Joseph was listening. “Modernity has made orphans out of us, Lena. We have no guidance, no true ethics, no real beauty, no institutions. Nothing. So people have to fend for themselves and cling to pop-culture icons and pop-philosophy and one-liners. Next thing you know you have a holiday dedicated to the virtue of being a self-centered narcissist, because they have nothing. It’s sad.”

        “It is sad, and scary. Those in the church are blindly believing what pop culture says is good and true and beautiful when it is all nothing of the sort and contradicts the entirety of Scripture.”

        “People are easily blinded, Lena. They are quick to forget what is good and true, and quick to buy into perilous lies, believing that those lies are good for themselves and for society.”

        “Where did you come from?” Milena said as she leaned on Joseph and smiled. “Really…where have you been all my life? I’m the most blessed to have you,” 

        “I thank the Lord for you every day, mi Lena,” Joseph replied. “It sounds like Scott has some serious news to discuss with us tomorrow after service.” 

        Sara came into the room eating a sandwich with a sour look on her face. “What is that awful God-forsaken fruit in the kitchen?!” she exclaimed.

        Milena laughed. “I imagine you’re talking about the durian. It does smell awful, but many people like it here.”

        Sara gestured as though she were going to vomit.

        “I agree with you, Sara,” Joseph joined in. “I can’t stand the fruit.”

        “Sara, this is Joseph. Joseph, Sara,” Milena introduced them.

        “It is a pleasure, Sara,” Joseph said. “Milena was just telling me that you are going to a new church back home. We would be delighted to have you join us at ours tomorrow.”

        “I think I’ll stay back, being jet-lagged and all,” Sara replied. “I’ll need to catch up on sleep.”

        “I understand,” said Joseph. “Well, I see you’ve eaten already. Do you mind if I steal Milena for a few hours to go get lunch? I’ll have her back to you by evening.”

        “Of course, go eat, go have fun. I’ll be fine here. I’m just going to freshen up and rest.”

        “Make yourself at home, Sara,” Milena told her. “If my bed is too small for us tonight I can sleep with Anh; it’s no problem.”

        “I’ll let you know,” Sara replied.

~

Milena was getting tired. It was cold out now and she was too exhausted to keep up her steady breathing patterns. Twigs were pricking her legs and back from the ground. Oh what I wouldn’t give to lay in that cramped bed, she thought. She remembered the lunch she had with Joseph that afternoon and the warmth he gave her and how happy she was with him. Gladness and excitement filled her heart each day as she couldn’t wait to marry him. He was like an illusory dream that was too good to be true. But there he was existing in her life, eating lunch with her on the crowded, rundown streets of Saigon, understanding her every thought before she expressed it and comforting her with his empathizing love and strength…and they were going to be married.

7

[Voices singing at Sunday service]

        Jesus, the very thought of Thee

        With sweetness fills my breast;

        But sweeter far Thy face to see,

        And in Thy presence rest.

        Nor voice can sing, nor heart can frame, 

        Nor can the memory find

        A sweeter sound than Thy blest Name,

        O Savior of mankind!

        O Hope of every contrite heart,

        O Joy of all the meek,

        To those who fall, how kind Thou art!

        How good to those who seek!

        But what to those who find? Ah, this—

        Nor tongue nor pen can show;

        The love of Jesus, what it is

        None but His loved ones know.

        O Jesus, Light of all below!

        Thou Fount of life and fire!

        Surpassing all the joys we know,

        And all we can desire.

        No other source have we but Thee,

        Soul-thirst to satisfy.

        Exhausting spring! The waters free!

        All other streams are dry.

        Jesus, our only joy be Thou,

        As Thou our Prize wilt be;

        Jesus, be Thou our Glory now,

        And through eternity.

        “What blessed hope the Lord has lavished upon us. My brothers, as we journey as pilgrims and sojourners on this earth, let us fix our eyes on Jesus—the Author and Perfecter of our faith—and look to our Father in heaven to bring us safely into His kingdom, where we will see our Savior alas in all His glory, not as we see now. But we shall see Him and behold Him, and we will lay our crowns down before Him and worship in eternal joy and gladness. Praise be to our God forever. Amen.” Pastor Scott closed his bible and initiated the singing of the doxology, of which all joined in—

        Praise God from whom all blessings flow,

        Praise Him all creatures here below,

        Praise Him above ye heavenly hosts,

        Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen.

        The voices of the congregation filled the small church building and drifted out the cracked windows. They were obligated to sing quietly as their faith was illegal and their Sunday morning gatherings could lead them to prison. But too often their hearts were so lifted to heaven that they could not help but sing loudly of their Hope.

        The service ended with the reciting of the Apostle’s Creed, in which the people then gathered for refreshments.

        “What a blessed day!” Anh announced as she, Milena, and Joseph stood to get iced green tea. “Sundays are my favorite.”

        “Mine too,” Milena smiled and agreed. Pastor Scott made an announcement for everyone to sit back down after they poured their refreshments. “I wonder what’s going on,” Milena said. They all poured their tea or coffee or lemonade and sat back down.

        “I have sorrowful news,” Pastor Scott began. “As most of you know, I have close friends back in the U.S. who run adoption agencies, both local and international. They work hard to reach and counsel doubting mothers who do not wish to keep their unborn babies, offering them the option to put their babies up for adoption rather than abort them. Their agencies have also been an incredible support to the orphans here in Vietnam in need of homes. We know of several infants and children here who have been adopted from U.S. citizens. Well, my news is threefold. It has been mandated as of yesterday that those agencies are no longer permitted to speak with expectant mothers offering them their options. Further, there is talk among U.S. legislators to legalize abortion up to full term pregnancies. Forty weeks. That means babies who have reached forty weeks of growth in the womb will be succumbed to the possibility of murder if the mother so chooses. Now, this hasn’t passed yet; but there is talk of it. And I tell you, brothers, so that you join with me in pleading our Heavenly Father to stop such an abomination from becoming legal. The mandate to stop our agencies from counseling confused women is already in effect; but perhaps there is yet hope to prevent further bills from being passed.”

        The small congregation was quiet and distraught. They mourned the news they were hearing.

        “Now that is not all,” the pastor continued. “There is also talk among the U.S. congress to ban the legality of adopting children from our very country, Vietnam. Needless to say, this affects us deeply, as the U.S. has been our primary support through both sponsorship and adoption. Our children have had potential foster and/or adoptive parents in communication with them, awaiting the legalities of government approval. Let us pray that these little ones obtain the opportunity to be placed in good homes before this unfortunate bill comes into effect.”

        The congregation was shattered. They looked at one another with sorrow in their hearts. Milena and Joseph walked off together while Anh stayed back to mourn the news with the others and pray.

        “It’s all terrible,” Milena said as she walked beside Joseph, his arm around her as they went. “It’s too much…it’s sickening! What if that bill gets passed? The poor babies in the womb! Oh I can’t stand the thought! Oh Lord, keep as many women as possible from doing such a thing. It’s a nightmare, Joseph. Little babies being formed and waiting to enter the world and be cared for and loved…and instead they are murdered before seeing the light of day. It’s too much!”

        “That’s not all of it,” Joseph said. “I spoke with Scott this morning before service and he told me more. The bills that the legislators are pushing for are actually to permit the termination of the child even after its birth. Alive and breathing out of the womb,” Joseph sorrowfully disclosed.

        “The horror!” Milena gasped. “It can’t be real.”

        “Well it hasn’t passed yet,” Joseph said. “These things take time. But the U.S. is well on its way to such a time.”

        “It’s the holocaust all over again,” said Milena. They walked a ways in silence. “You know today is my father’s birthday? He was born in 1945—the year the holocaust ended. Isn’t that insane? It was not that long ago. My father is only sixty. His parents were alive in Russia during that time. Imagine being alive when that was taking place. How could one live a normal life? Yet here we are entering a time just as horrific…”

        “Lena, that is how it’s always been,” Joseph responded. “Imagine living in Afghanistan when Genghis Khan came through. You were going to die. And if you didn’t die, your husband and children were going to be slaughtered and you were going to be a Mongol sex slave. That was back in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. The Afghan war at present has been going on since 1979. Twenty-six years and counting. There is a proverb there that says, ‘In Afghanistan, there are no good men among the living’…because they all die.

        “Or think of the Armenian and Greek genocides, WWI where millions of men were slaughtered in trenches by bombs, gas, and machine guns… Or living through the Civil War where brother fought brother… It’s the way of the world, Lena. It’s how it’s been since Cain killed his brother.”

        “It’s tragic,” Milena said quietly. “How long, oh Lord? It makes me ever thankful that this world will one day come to an end, Joseph.”

        “That is our hope, Lena. He will make all things new. That is what we have to focus on. If we think too long on the abominations of this miserable world, we would die,” Joseph said.

        “But we cannot ignore them,” said Milena. “We are so fortunate here—even in Saigon. Not to mention the peace back in the States. Fortunate isn’t even the word. Privileged, protected, spoiled… It makes me so impatient when people are fettered over trifles—Sara complaining about the lack of romance her boyfriend shows her, or the lack of cushion in her bed, or the way her hair parts in the middle. Humans need to be slapped!”

        “Lena I love it when you speak like an old-world Russian,” Joseph smiled. “Drink some concrete and harden up! My Lena don’t wanna hear your belly-aching!”

        Milena laughed.

        “It will all be over soon, sweet girl,” Joseph said with seriousness and comfort. “Time is a funny thing. A thousand years is as one day to the Lord. If you think about it, only two days have passed since creation. And I’m not entirely joking. The Lord will put an end to this tragic world and all its wars and sorrows. But not till every last one of His sheep is gathered. He is being merciful in waiting. Though we yearn for the New Heaven and Earth now, we must be patient, as He is being patient with us.”

        “Come quickly, Lord Jesus,” Milena said softly. “Oh if it is possible for me to take hold of a vulnerable child, allow me to do so!” She was praying—whether aloud or silent, she did not notice. “I am far from a saint. A wretched sinner myself! Yet allow this wretch to love and protect and care for an otherwise unwanted child.”

        “My sweet girl with the golden heart,” Joseph said to her. He stopped her as they were walking down the street and pulled her close into him. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. “If only everyone had a heart like yours. خالص او سرو زرو.”^[5]

8

“Wake up! You’re getting married tomorrow! There’s much to do today! You still don’t have a dress!” Anh gently but excitedly shook Milena as they woke in Anh’s bed together. “And we still don’t have enough flowers! Pastor said the owner of Nhà Hoa^[6] down the street has offered to donate arrangements to us… They have the most gorgeous flowers! We have to go receive them!”

        Milena was waking slowly, smiling at the excitement of her friend. Anh’s heart contained pure love for others. She harbored not an ounce of judgment or ridicule, but loved everyone and only wanted goodness and joy to fill the lives of those around her. Milena admired her, and wished to reflect such a pure heart as Anh’s. “Donations, huh? I suppose there is no such thing as too many flowers,” Milena said smiling as she rolled over on her stomach with her eyes still closed.

        “Get up! The day is short! đồng hồ nhanh!.^[7] Aren’t you excited, Mila?” Anh said.

        “Yes, I’m excited…of course,” Milena said. “I’m marrying my Joseph tomorrow.” She rolled back over and looked up at the ceiling. “But he is leaving the next day, and for that, I don’t want tomorrow to come. It will only bring the next day closer.” She pulled a pillow over her face.

        “That is true,” Anh said with sympathy. “But it also brings you closer to the day when Joseph will be home with you for good. đồng hồ nhanh.^[8] Three years will go by in no time.” 

        Milena took the pillow off of her face and looked at her friend. “What am I going to do without you in California?” she smiled.

        “We are together now,” Anh smiled back. “The Lord has blessed us with this day. Let us not waste a moment.”

        “You’re right,” Milena said.

        They dressed and woke Sara who was still sleeping in Milena’s room. Sara agreed to accompany them to the flower shop and to look for a dress.

        “Pastor Scott had a curious grin on his face when he told me about the donations this morning,” Anh said as the three friends walked down the humid, busy streets. “Almost like he was holding back a secret.”

        “He always has a curious look on his face,” said Sara. “I don’t know what to make of that man.”

        “I don’t know what to make of any man!” Anh joked.

        They were nearing Nhà Hoa when Milena stopped and smiled. “I think I see the secret Scott was holding back.” They all looked forward and saw Dan in front of the flower shop arranging the frontal street displays. He looked up and saw them and quickly straightened his clothes and posture and slicked back his hair.

        “Who is that?” Sara asked.

        “Oh, just a kind, handsome, charming gentleman who can’t take his eyes off of Anh on Sunday mornings,” Milena said.

        “Oh I can’t go over there!” Anh said nervously. “I’m a mess! I barely brushed my hair this morning!”

        “Looks like you won’t have to… He’s coming over here,” Milena observed.

Dan walked over and greeted each girl with a kind handshake, holding onto Anh’s hand particularly longer than the others.

        “Hello,” Dan said. “I’ve seen you ladies at church and I heard Miss Milena is getting married. I couldn’t help but offer some arrangements from my shop as a gift. Flowers are essential.”

        “You two are made for each other,” Milena whispered to Anh under her breath. Anh elbowed her.

        “I believe you are Milena?” Dan gestured to her.

        “Yes,” Milena answered. “And this is so very kind of you. This is Sara, and this here is Anh.”

        “It is a pleasure to meet all three of you,” Dan smiled. “I remember your face, Anh. But Sara forgive me, I don’t believe I’ve seen you on Sundays.”

        “Oh no, I’m only visiting for a week. I flew in last Saturday and caught up on sleep Sunday. But it is a pleasure to meet you. I have to tell you guys, I’m really taken back by the English fluency here. I haven’t had to use my English-to-Vietnamese translation book once,” Sara said.

        “Ah yes,” Dan laughed. “We take languages very seriously here. We start teaching children at least two languages apart from Vietnamese early on in the schools. By college, students should be fluent in at least three to four languages, English being one of them.”

        “And I envy that,” said Milena. “I was hoping to learn Vietnamese when I came here, but everyone speaks to me in English!”

        “Well maybe Anh and I could give you lessons,” Dan suggested.

        “Sadly, Milena is leaving next week,” Anh said. “She has developed COPD, and the air quality here is further damaging her lungs. Some days she can barely breathe.”

        “Oh I am sorry to hear that,” Dan said.

        “No apologies,” said Milena. “I have been fortunate to be here for the two years I have. I wouldn’t have traded this time for the world. The children alone have made it all worth it.”

        “Oh yes, I have been hearing of an orphanage acquainted with the church. Are these the children you speak of?” Dan inquired.

        “Correct,” Milena replied. “They are delightful children. The most warm and joyous humans you will meet. Their joy is truly contagious. I don’t know how I will manage without them.” 

        “You might not have to,” Anh said. “Milena has been hoping to adopt one of them,” she informed Dan.

        “Is that so?” said Dan.

        “But the cost is so high, it is the barrier we have been trying to figure out,” Anh explained.

        “I would love to meet these children,” said Dan.

        “Oh you must!” replied Milena. “Elisabeth is at the orphanage today. We can go now!”

        “But the wedding…” Anh said. “You are getting married tomorrow and there is still so much to do!”

        “Oh we’ll have time,” said Milena. “Are you able to come now?” she asked Dan.

        “It is in fact time for my lunch,” Dan said. “We can all come back to pick out your arrangements after the visit.”

        Dan closed up his shop and hung a sign on his door. It was noon, which is the time all of Vietnam takes a break from their businesses and labors and they rest inside for a couple hours away from the midday heat, which made perfect timing for Dan to visit the orphanage. They all walked the several blocks it took to get to Trái Tim Nhỏ^[9] Orphanage in the hot sun, and they were greeted with the warmest welcome from the children.

        “Mila! Anh! Chúng tôi nhớ bạn!”^[10] they all shouted.

        “Hello!” Elisabeth greeted them. “Ah, I see you girls met Dan.”

        “Yes! He has offered to donate flower arrangements to Joseph and Mila’s wedding tomorrow, and he wanted to meet these little darlings he’s been hearing about,” said Anh.

        “Hi!” said one little girl. “My name is Vi, and this is my brother Vo.”

        “It is a pleasure to meet you, Vi and Vo,” said Dan.

        “My name is Minh!” shouted another in excitement.

        “I am Hanh!” exclaimed another.

        They all were climbing on Dan and inspecting his clothes and face and hair—the usual protocol for visitors. Dan was laughing and his heart was warm with joy. “You are right,” he said to Milena while laughing. “Their joy is contagious!”

        A smaller, quiet girl stuck close to Milena, holding onto her long skirt. After playing several moments with the children, Dan walked over and knelt down next to the small girl. “To whom do I owe the pleasure?” he said to her.

        “This is Huyen,” Milena said. “Our youngest.” Huyen held up two fingers. “She likes to tell people her age,” Milena giggled. “But she’s over two and a half now. Not long and she’ll be holding up three fingers.”

        “I don’t have enough fingers to tell you my age, Huyen, so I will have to keep it a secret,” Dan joked. Huyen smiled shyly and hid a little behind Milena’s legs. “She’s very comfortable with you,” Dan said to her.

        “Milena is her favorite,” Elisabeth said. “Who does your heart love most, Huyen?” she asked her.

        Huyen clung tightly to Milena’s legs, practically pulling her skirt down. “Come here,” Milena said as she knelt down and took her in her arms. Huyen wrapped her small arms around Milena and they hugged each other tightly.

        “I don’t know what it is about Mila, but Huyen has clung to her like a baby koala ever since she arrived,” Elisabeth said.

        “She knows I’m leaving soon, but I don’t think she fully understands it,” Milena said. “It breaks my heart.”

        Pastor Scott entered the room with a young lady their age. “Hello ladies,” he greeted them. “Hi Dan. I’m glad you’ve come to meet the children. This is Trang, everyone. She is going to be helping us here at the orphanage.”

        “Hello,” Trang said. “I met Scott and Elisabeth a few weeks ago at the park. They have been telling me about these children, and not a day goes by that I don’t think of them.”

        “Well this is perfect timing,” Anh said. “Milena is leaving next week, and we will need more help.”

        “I’m glad I can offer help,” Trang said. “I am sorry to know you are leaving, Milena. I hear the air here is not being kind to your lungs.”

        “Breathing has become pretty difficult for me here,” said Milena. “I have developed a nasty thorn otherwise known as COPD.”

        “It’s getting really bad,” said Anh. “Some days she can hardly breathe.”

        “A thorn?” Trang questioned.

        “She thinks it’s a burden meant to humble her,” explained Anh. “She wants to help everyone and do everything and save the world, but her breathing condition holds her back, reminding her she can only do so much.”

        “So little,” said Milena. “Some days all I can do is lay in bed and try to breathe.”

        “Then it is good you are going back home!” said Trang. “And I congratulate you on your engagement! I am happy to have arrived now, so I can be here with the children while you all celebrate tomorrow.”

        “Oh that is so kind of you, Trang,” said Milena.

        “Here you all are!” Joseph said as he entered the large room. Huyen’s face lit up when she saw him. “I’ve been looking for my future wife.” He walked over to Milena and wrapped his arms around her. Huyen wrapped one arm around his leg while still holding Milena’s with the other.

        “Looks like her heart loves Joseph as well,” Anh said.

        “I think she feels the bond Joseph and Milena have,” said Elisabeth. “She senses the love they have for each other and it brings her comfort.”

Joseph and Milena smiled at each other.

        “I’m glad you are here, Joseph,” said Scott. “I have received more information regarding the U.S. losing their right to adopt our children here. Unfortunately there is suspicion among the U.S. State Department that fraud and baby-selling are being found among Vietnam’s adoption system. Needless to say, Trái Tim Nhớ is not among one of suspicion. But regretfully it appears that such events are taking place elsewhere.”

        “Baby-selling? What do you mean?” Milena asked.

        “It appears that foreign adoption service providers are found to be paying many of Vietnam’s orphanages several thousands of dollars for a referral. In turn, these orphanages are forcing Vietnamese parents to put their children up for adoption,” Scott explained.

        “That’s terrible!” said Milena.

        “Yes,” said Scott, “which is why the U.S. is considering the prohibition of adopting from Vietnam.”

        Milena picked up Huyen and held her tight, looking at Joseph with the child-like eyes he knew so well.

        “The good thing for you guys is that investigations such as these take several years to come to a head. There is still time for you to submit your request to the States to become legal parents of a particular small girl if that is what you still wish,” said Scott.

        Sara had been sitting on a bench by the door, trying to keep cool from the stuffy indoor humidity. “You two are talking about being parents before you’ve even gotten married?” she said. “Don’t you want time to yourselves first before you bring children into the picture?”

        “Where is your heart?” said Milena roughly. “Why are you always focused on the self? Is that really how you think the world would run best, if everyone was as caught up in this ‘self-love’ abomination as you?”

        “You’re right,” said Sara. “Go save the day and rescue your little Vietnamese girl. I’ll be waiting back at the house wondering how I’ll ever measure up to your pedestal of virtue.” Sara stormed off.

        Milena buried her face in Huyen’s small neck.

        “Let’s go,” Joseph said to her. “Forgive me everyone, but I only have two days left with Milena and I’d like to spend both of them with her.”

        “Go on,” said Anh. “I will go back with Dan and gather the flowers. We will take care of everything.”

        Milena kissed Huyen and handed her off to Trang. Huyen nuzzled her face into Trang’s shoulder and began to fall asleep.

        “Come with me,” Joseph said to Milena. “I want to take you somewhere.”

9

The sun set as Joseph drove Milena the two hours it took to drive north toward Jonny’s place where Joseph was still staying. Instead of stopping at Jonny’s he drove a little further and parked outside the old military camp that they would look at from Jonny’s roof. It was cold out, but the coolness felt refreshing to them after the hot and humid day.

        “Is this where Marines were stationed during the War?” Milena asked.

        “It is,” Joseph said. “Bien Hoa Air Base. Not only Marines, but many U.S. Army, Air Force, and Navy units resided here as their major base from 1961to ’73.” 

        They stepped out of the truck and walked up to the tall metal gate surrounding the old base. There was a wide space between two of the gate bars making entrance available to them. They quietly crouched through and explored around. The base was dark and quiet, ominous patches of fog moving about, almost like an abandoned graveyard. The two found an old Cessna A-37 laying atop a mound of broken cement and cobble. They climbed the dusty pile and crawled into the drained attack aircraft—the two model seats so battered they practically fused into one.

        “I’ve always wanted to come here,” said Joseph. “Nearly two months in Vietnam and I never got around to it until tonight.”

        “I’m glad you waited to take me with you,” Milena said. She was sitting beside Joseph on what was now a long bench seat, looking out into the dark blue evening. Moonlight shone through the jet’s window onto her face. She was breathtaking. Joseph stared at her and was just as taken by her beauty as the first time he saw her. The light on her face showed she was troubled.

        “Don’t worry about Sara,” he said to her. “That girl has a lot to learn about life.”

        “I shouldn’t have snapped at her,” said Milena. “Why can’t I be like Anh? She worries not whether everyone else has a correct perspective of the world. She simply rejoices with others when they rejoice, mourns with others when they mourn, and loves everyone with all her pure heart.”

        “Anh is beautiful, and has many admirable qualities,” said Joseph. “But you are beautiful too. Your heart runs deep, and your mind runs deeper. Your thoughts are rich and vibrant and wise and they show you when things aren’t right. And because your heart is gold and cares, you are led to speak up about matters that are of importance to you. Admire the goodness you see in Anh, but don’t aspire to be like her. There is goodness and truthfulness in you that the world needs.”

        Milena leaned her body against Joseph’s. “I just hate being at enmity with anyone. I hate dissension, you know? I want to mend things with Sara before we go back home. Ugh, home. It’s honestly never felt like home to me.”

        “Well I know for a fact your father can’t wait to have you back home,” said Joseph.

        “Yes, this I know. It’s not him. I’ve just always felt as though no one understands me…no one thinks the way I do. There’s no logic, no reason among people. No one fears the Lord. It makes me want to be alone all the time, for I have no one to relate to. And it’s too unsettling to be in the midst of conversations that have no appeal to me. Or they have such an appeal of importance yet with a twisted focus that I must debate them, and it drives everyone away.

        “But then I remember my own deficiencies, my own sin, and I realize: how arrogant am I to think myself above my fellow citizens? Am I that proud to think I don’t need others? Am I that ignorant myself to think I know everything and they don’t? Oh but I do know I do not know everything. Yes, I know that well. And that is why I want to be careful what wisdom—or lack thereof—I obtain from others. So I find myself staying among the conversations I despise, hoping to have discernment, hoping not to act or speak with conceit, feeling very much alone with my thoughts. These thoughts alone are proud. I could never actually say them to anyone… Oh how arrogant one would take me! But I share them with you…because it’s you. You understand.”

        “The war within and the war without,” Joseph replied. “Which weighs heavier on the soul?” he said speculatively.

        “The war within,” Milena replied.

        “There are many a warrior who would defend the opposite,” Joseph said.

        “What would you say?” Milena asked.

        “Such questions cannot be generalized,” said Joseph. “Each man fights his own war, and there are types of wars going—internal and external—all over the world that we have never seen nor can imagine. It’s how one responds to war that is the more pivotal element. That is what makes or breaks a man. I have seen people live a life of comfort and luxury, not a care in the world all their days, only to be nasty, malicious human beings. You listen to them for ten minutes and you would think the world has done them dirtier than anyone else on the planet. Then look at your father on the other hand—the hardest working Russian I know…well, heard of…slaving away all his life to make ends meet—can’t even afford to take a day off to come to his only daughter’s wedding, not to mention the painful process of bringing his family from Saratov, Russia to the United States, the insults and shame he faced from the citizens of his new country, only to lose his wife shortly after due to expensive medical costs out of his range leaving him unable to care for her… And he’s a beautiful soul from what you tell me. The heart of it is, some people refuse to be victims, while others accept being victims even when they really aren’t. Your father refuses to be a victim. You would never know the suffering and hardships he has experienced by talking to him.”

        “My father has lived a hard life,” Milena said. “But I don’t know if I would call it one of suffering. Of course it was painful when my mother died. But as far as his work, any Jew in the holocaust would have gladly taken my father’s years of provisional labor over their true suffering. The same could go for countless other targets in history, just as you were telling me the other day.”

        “You’re right,” Joseph said.

        “People don’t know what suffering is. As you said, they just want to play the victim. They experience one hard day and they call it suffering. Imagine if a true weight hit them? They would crumble. They have no understanding of what it means to lose your entire world right before your eyes and sing ‘It is well with my soul.’ They have no solid ground. No anchor. Not my father. He is rare, like you. But you have seen suffering, Joseph. You have seen war. You out of all people have reason to be nasty and vindictive at the world. But you’re not. You are the most kind and admirable of all. And I am marrying you tomorrow,” Milena smiled.

        “Best day of my life,” Joseph held her. “You truly are one of a kind, Milena. I’ve never known a girl to be so consumed with life and death and war and pain. You mean it when you say you want to know the truth.”

        “More than anything,” Milena replied. “What matters without the truth?” They sat quiet for a while, looking around at the remnants of their war-torn surroundings. “How many people have you killed?” Milena asked plainly after several moments.

        Joseph drew no offense. Milena could ask or say anything to him, and he was fine with it. “Six that I know by profile,” he answered. “Perhaps dozens more that I never saw the faces of. To this day I pray none of them were children. But I reckon I’m dreaming to maintain my sanity.” Milena smiled with sympathy. “And you?” he asked in jest. “How many have you killed?”

        She bowed her head and looked down, as if painfully mourning a great loss, or shamefully grieving a deep sin. Or both. Joseph’s face changed as he realized the surprising weight his question held. He took one of her hands with both of his, holding it tight with one and caressing it with the other.

        “I’m sorry,” he said.

        “Don’t be.”

        “It can’t be more than six plus dozens,” he tried to relieve the tension.

        “Numbers don’t matter,” she said. “You’re a warrior, not a murderer.”

        He looked at her perplexed, not believing this tender girl sitting there next to him who he loved so much had the potential to murder.

        “I’m a murderer,” she said plainly. “Of the very kind you pray you’ve never killed.”

        “A child?”

        “My own,” Milena’s eyes began to fill, and Joseph understood.

        “What happened, Lena?”

        “I was raped,” she said while trying to hold back her tears.

Joseph was taken back. He wasn’t anticipating this. His face cringed. The thought of someone assaulting and shaming his fiancé was too much to take in. “How old?”

        “I was fifteen,” she said. “Short story—to avoid reliving as much as possible—I was waiting in my father’s truck behind his shop. I would always walk there after school and wait for him to finish work. He would leave his truck open for me and I would climb inside and do my homework while he closed up. There was a radiant field behind his shop, and I loved to breathe in the scents of the flowers that the wind carried to me. My father would always bring me out a pastry with my initials in it, and I would smile and kiss him and we would ride home.

        “One day two men opened the truck doors and pulled me out into the field. They covered my mouth to prevent me from screaming. I couldn’t breathe the entire time. Only one had me. I believe that was God’s grace. They must’ve known my father would be out soon. There wasn’t time for both.”

        A tear ran down Joseph’s face.

        “I had it coming,” she said.

        “What are you talking about?”

        “I had it coming. I am aware that I am beautiful, Joseph. But I knew it too well then. My looks were getting to me. It was changing me, and something needed to happen before vanity got the best of me. And isn’t it funny? What drew these men after all? Was it not my beauty? Well I have despised my beauty ever since.”

        “Lena, this did not happen to you because of any sin you say was in your heart…”

        “It did!” she exclaimed. “It happened that I might turn my heart around. And that it did. I despise my beauty now. But you know the real tragedy in all of it? I turned around and became worse than the rogues themselves. I became a murderer.”

        “Milena, you’re not a murderer. You were raped. That changes everything.”

        “That changes nothing! I ended a life! My child’s life! I killed my own baby!”   S        She could no longer hold back her tears. Joseph knew she was right and regretted what he said. He always hated when he would say something that he didn’t believe to be true himself. But he only wanted to comfort her.

        “My only justification is to say I was out of my senses and was not in a position to make such a decision. But no one else was there to make it for me. Have you ever done something when you were not in your right mind, and you even knew you were not in your right mind when you did it, but you went and did it anyway? And now it haunts you for the rest of your life. Regret of a lifetime.”

        “Everyone has regrets, my Lena. I cannot say that I have unjustly murdered. But I have murdered in my heart, and that can kill a person in an awful way,” Joseph said.  Milena laid down and placed her head on his lap. He brushed her hair with his fingers. She was so beautiful. He wished she didn’t despise her beauty. “You are not a murderer, Milena. You are a sinner. Is that not who He died for?”

        She knew he was right, but some things are too good to believe they are true. Two tears fell from her eyes as she thought of what he just said, and of who he was, and how he was treating her after what she just told him. 

        “Your sins have been forgiven, Milena. Go, and sin no more. You are free,” he said to her. “As the east is from the west, so far has He removed your transgressions from you.”

        She leaned up and looked him in the eyes for several moments, then smiled and kissed him. He embraced her and held her tightly and kissed her back. He still loved her. She had only told two people of what she had done—one of whom brushed it off as if it were nothing; the other so appalled that she shunned Milena from her life. Milena figured the rest of the world would react in one of those two ways and so never told another soul. Until now. Now Joseph knew, and he understood it as it was. And he still loved her. She felt as though she could breathe again for the first time in too long.

~

Milena took calming breaths under the tree, remembering that night with Joseph. Remembering the afternoon of the event she spoke of with him. But I even knew You then, Lord. I even knew You then. Not yet too long, but I knew You. I don’t even have the excuse of saying I was still in the world, in the City of Man. I was in the City of God. I knew You, and I knew better. Tears ran down her cheeks as she placed her hands on her round, moving belly. She gasped as the thick air suddenly made it difficult for her to breathe. Fear overtook her and she wondered if there was any truth to karma. She wondered if justice was taking its toll. I deserve it, she thought. The words of Christ that Joseph spoke to her suddenly entered afresh into her mind: Your sins are forgiven. Go, and sin no more. As the east is from the west, so far has He removed your transgressions from you.^[11] She caught her breath back and released one last tear and rested. Justice has taken place. She lay and softly sung a hymn as she looked out into the deep, quiet forest.

        Alas, and did my Savior bleed

        And did my Sovereign die!

        Would He devote that sacred head

        For such a worm as I?

        Was it for crimes that I had done

        He groaned upon the tree?

        Amazing pity! Grace unknown!

        And love beyond degree!

        Well might the sun in darkness hide

        And shut His glories in,

        When Christ, the Mighty Maker died,

        For man the creatures’ sin.

        Thus might I hide my blushing face

        While His dear cross appears;

        Dissolve my head in thankfulness

        And melt mine eyes to tears.^[12]

        Milena felt a forceful drop in her stomach.

10

“You stayed out late last night,” Anh said to Milena with a smile as she woke in Anh’s bed the morning of her wedding.

        “I did,” Milena agreed happily. “It was a lovely night. We lost track of time.”

        “I’d say,” Anh said. “So lost I think you forgot something…”

        “What did I forget?” Milena asked, then remembered… “A dress! I never picked out a dress! Oh, what am I going to wear?”

        Anh brought over a box to Milena and placed it in front of her on the bed.        “        “What is this?” Milena asked.

        “We had a late night visitor delivering this package. Someone was taking care of you.”

        “A late night visitor? Who…”

        “Let’s just say I don’t think Joseph got much sleep last night,” said Anh.

        Milena looked at the box. There was a note on it:

My Lena, as I laid in bed thinking of you, I realized I kept you so long to myself that I failed to give you time to look for a dress for tomorrow.   Forgive me. I hope this one will do.

        Milena looked up at Anh and smiled, then opened the box to find a silky soft, white laced summer dress—delicately small and pretty. “How did he…” she said under her breath. “Oh my, it’s so lovely. Where did he get this?”

        “He called Dan in the middle of the night asking for a favor,” Anh said. “Dan knows a few boutique owners and he found one willing to take Joseph to his shop at 3 a.m.”

        “You’re kidding,” Milena said. She held up the small white dress and admired it. Another note fell down from the dress:

The poet is right in this, that if two people will not love each other  forever, their love is not worth talking about, much less worthy of artistic celebration.^[13]

I look forward to loving you forever, my Lena.

        “He’s a poet too?” Anh said.

        “Hardly,” Milena laughed. “He just knows the good ones.”

        Elisabeth entered their room. “I heard you received a delivery last night?” she smiled at Milena.

        “Can you believe him?” Milena said.

        “Ugh, I’m so jealous of you in the best way possible,” Anh said.

        “Dan was just as involved,” replied Milena. “He was out just as late. I think you found a real good one, Anh.”

        “I think you might be right,” said Anh. “And I think we might have two men asleep at your wedding today,” she laughed.

        “Let’s see the dress!” Elisabeth said. Milena undressed and slipped into the little white dress. She made the dress even prettier. “Joseph has good taste! Oh, we are going to miss you, Milena. You have been an absolute delight to have in our home.”

        “These have been the best two years of my life,” Milena said.

        Sara walked into the room. “You look beautiful, Mila,” she said.

        Milena looked up and say her friend. She took a breath of relief and ran over to her and hugged her. “I am so sorry for snapping at you, Sara. My words were inexcusable. Please forgive me.”

        “Your words were justified,” Sara said. Milena stepped back and felt Sara’s forehead. “You’re burning up!” she said.

        “Yes, I came to tell you, I think I have to stay back today. I don’t feel well at all.”

        Elisabeth walked over and felt Sara’s head. “Oh my…we’ll get you a doctor right away,” she said. “Mila, I should stay here with Sara today.”

        “I’m so sorry, Mila. I came all this way just to fall ill on your wedding day,” Sara said.

        “Don’t apologize! I just want you to get better,” said Mila. She walked Sara back to her room and tucked her in bed. “I’ll come back and tell you all about it. Silly, really. It will be the smallest wedding in history,” she laughed. “I’m so glad we’re okay.”

~

Two o’clock arrived and everyone was gathered in a small, hidden garden. The day was cooler than usual. A slight breeze lightened the humidity. Flower arrangements decorated the surrounding trees and the few small benches—orchids, lilacs, chrysanthemums, and charming da lat roses. Scott read from the Scriptures and spoke of the holy covenant of marriage. Joseph and Milena looked into each other’s eyes and exchanged vows. Milena looked like an angel. Vi, Vo, and Huyen giggled when they kissed. It was a short ceremony, but it was everything they wanted.

        Afterward they all went to a local patio restaurant and ate Pho—Joseph and Milena’s favorite. Milena held Huyen in her lap for most of the meal, her eyes lit with gladness as she couldn’t take them off of her husband. Her heart had never felt such strong opposing emotions at one time—exhilarated for her marriage yet sorrowful for having to separate from both her husband and Huyen all too soon. Huyen snuggled in her lap and was warm and content. She felt safe with Milena.

        After eating they took the children back to Trái Tim Nhớ and Joseph and Milena went back to the house to check on Sara.

        “She’s pretty ill,” Elisabeth told them when they arrived. “But she’s going to be fine. She’s simply not accustomed to the water here. She’s sleeping now.”

        “Are you sure she’ll be okay?” asked Milena concerned.

        “Yes. The doctor was here this morning and said it will pass. She just needs to rest and drink plenty of fluids. Only bottled water from here on out,” said Elisabeth. “He also suggested she stay a few more days until the illness passes. We were able to change her plane ticket, but you will still be flying home tomorrow shortly after Joseph’s flight.”

        “Oh I can’t leave her! I must stay with her!” said Milena.

        “We will take care of her, Mila,” said Elisabeth. “You need to get back to fresh air. The doctor said you should’ve left months ago. Your poor lungs need to get out of this carbon-filled city.”

        “Please let her know I will be back tomorrow to say goodbye. And that I’m praying for her,” said Milena.

        “Of course,” said Elisabeth. “Now go enjoy your husband. Congratulations, by the way. I am so very happy for you both.”

        “Thank you,” said Joseph. “I would say I’ll have her back here by midnight, but I think I’ll keep her tonight.”

        “You better,” laughed Elisabeth.

        The two said goodbye and headed back to Jonny’s place. The drive there was a sad one for Milena, as she knew it would be the last time they drove that two-hour road together to the cabana. She had come to love that road and that drive with Joseph. She loved to wrap her arms around him while he was driving and press her cheek against his and look out into the horizon with him. He would often pull over onto random roads to show her something unique or interesting and usually beautiful. She was so in love with him. Every conversation they had on those roads was intimate and raw and disarming. And they rarely made it one drive without fighting the desire to have each other as they wanted, though Joseph always made the struggle to resist pretty fun. But now they were married, and Joseph didn’t want to waste their first time in a borrowed truck. He thought too highly of her for that. There would be plenty of opportunities for them to be playful in risky places later. But tonight he wanted her under the stars, in a safe place, where they didn’t have to worry about time or intrusion. He just wanted her, all of her, all to himself, for all the night.

        “Don’t be sad,” he said to her as they pulled up to Jonny’s place. “I will always come back to you. We were married today. You’re my wife, and I will always come back to you,” he smiled at her. He was remarkably handsome.

        She smiled back but stayed quiet. He stepped out of the truck and took her hand and helped her down. It was late evening but the night was young. They walked up to the house and Joseph unlocked the door and they went inside. He led her up the spiral staircase and onto the flat roof under the stars that were appearing one by one, and stood her next to the bed. He took her face and kissed her slowly then looked into her eyes. “I will always come back to you, Milena,” he told her. “But right now I’m going to come into you.” He undressed her and caressed her body with his hands and mouth as she stood there under the stars. Her small waist and curved hips and soft skin drove him wild. He undressed himself then laid her down and gave her the most glorious night of her life.

11

Milena woke in the morning with sunshine on her face, warming her cheeks. It was the first time she had ever woken up in the arms of a man. This man was her husband, and she had never been so happy. She kissed his face and woke him. “Good morning,” she whispered.

        “Good morning,” he said, half opening his eyes. “How did you sleep?”

        “Better than any night in all my life,” she said. “How are you going to leave me after that? What a tease,” she smiled.

        He leaned up and over her. “Are you saying you want more?” he grinned and rolled her under him.

        Afterward they made coffee and she prepared him breakfast with the minimal food that was there. “I am going to miss this coffee,” she said as she sat on the counter while Joseph ate the breakfast she made him at the table.

        “No coffee like it in the world,” he agreed. “Vietnam’s best kept secret.” He got up and walked over to the counter where she was sitting and opened a cabinet behind her. “Here, take these with you.” He pulled out three bags of cà phê đen^[14] and handed them to her. “I should’ve mailed these for you to arrive to back home, but I didn’t think of it till now. Men never plan ahead.”

        “Not true. You thought of my dress,” Milena smiled and drew him close to her and wrapped her arms and legs around him as she sat on the counter. “Don’t go,” she said.

        “I have to,” he replied. “How am I going to buy my wife a house if I don’t go?”

        “Take me with you,” she said with her big, hopeful brown eyes.

        “My Lena,” he said. “How am I going to leave this face?” He stroked her face and her arms as he spoke to her. “Three years. That’s it. It will go by in no time. You can write me letters, and I will get to come home to you each year. Only for a short time, then I will have to go back.”

        “Why three years?” she asked. “Why not one?”

        “Three years is the minimum it will take to get us a house. And we want to adopt Huyen, right? I personally think it will take more than three years to save enough for the adoption fees, but time is limited for us to get her out of here, so we’ll have to manage in three years.”

        “Oh what am I going to do back home? There’s nothing for me there. Let me come with you,” Milena said with all hope and seriousness.

        “You don’t want to come to Kabul,” Joseph laughed. “Kabul is not for sweet, tender girls like you. Listen, Milena. Three years, and I will be home for good. As soon as I’m done we will fly back here and pick up our daughter, Lord willing, and bring her back with us to a nice cabin home in the mountains. The Sierras… maybe Mammoth or Lone Pine. But such things do not happen without sacrifice. I know this is hard, but I also know you will be strong and wait for me because I know the woman I married.”

        “Of course I’m going to wait for you,” Milena said. “You are my husband, my joy, my love, my life.”

        “Tell me something,” Joseph said to her. “The two men who…the ones who found you in your father’s truck that day…did you report them?”

        “Yes,” she said. “But without my father knowing. I never told him what happened. Never bring it up to him, Joseph.”

        “Why don’t you want him to know?”

        “I am his only daughter. Imagine if your only daughter came to you one day with such news. You would be crushed. You would have images in your mind that no father should ever have of his daughter. I don’t want to put him through that. He doesn’t need that anguish.”

        “I suppose you might be right,” said Joseph. “But tell me, Lena. Were the men found?”

        “Yes,” she said. “They were found and arrested and have been locked up to this day.”

        “Good. That’s reassuring. I can leave with slight more ease knowing that,” he said.

        “Oh Joseph, they are not the only dangerous men in the world,” said Milena.

        “I know that better than anyone,” said Joseph. “But nevertheless a man will sleep heavier at night knowing his wife’s attackers are behind bars.” He paused. “Milena, last night with me…and this morning…was that hard for you?”

        “Are you kidding me?” she said. “Being with you is the most natural and enjoyable thing I’ve ever experienced. I don’t know how I’m going to live without it.”

        “Good,” he said, and pulled her off the counter onto him, “because we still have an hour before we have to leave…”

        Joseph gave her a memorable last hour with him, then they loaded their bags into Jonny’s truck and headed back to Ho Chi Minh. Their first stop was Trái Tim Nhớ. When they arrived the children ran up to them as usual and shared with them all the new stories they learned that week and all the new facts they discovered about the world. The wonder and fascination in the eyes of the children was something Milena looked forward to seeing every week. It reminded her of how she still saw the world, even with all she’s been through, and it made her feel like a child herself.

        “Joseph!” Vo exclaimed as he pulled on Joseph’s leg. “Did you know the average four-year-old asks over four hundred questions a day?!”

        “Is that a question?” Joseph laughed.

        “Is it?” Vo asked. Milena and Joseph laughed together.

        “Joseph!” Vo continued. “Did you know the total weight of all the ants on the earth is greater than the total weight of all the humans on the earth?!”

        “Is that right?” Joseph said.

        “Is that a question?” Vo replied.

        Joseph looked at Milena. “How am I going to live without these guys?”

        “I’ve been asking myself the same thing,” she said.

        They played with the children for a short while, then explained that they had to go separate ways. The children were crushed, but handled the news surprisingly well. Vi reminded them that the Lord is sovereign and good and would take care of them. Her six-year-old wisdom almost made Milena cry. She and Joseph saved their last goodbye for Huyen. They brought her outside and pointed out into the horizon and explained that they had to go far away for a while. Joseph told her that whenever she missed them and was sad, to ask someone to take her outside and to look up at the sky and know that it’s the same sky he would be looking at. But Milena would be looking at a different sky. That’s why, he told her, she must be patient and keep waiting for him, because he would come back for her and take her home to Milena where they would all be under the same sky together. He figured Huyen didn’t fully understand what he was saying. But for the next three years, whenever Huyen was lonely and sad, she would look up at the sky and remember Joseph and Milena and trust that they were coming back for her.

        After saying goodbye and leaving the children in the good hands of Trang, Joseph and Milena went to Scott’s house to say goodbye to Anh and Sara. Sara was still ill, but feeling better than the day before. Milena told her she would be waiting for her at the Los Angeles airport in a few days. She was so relieved that they had reconciled. 

        Anh latched onto Milena with tears down her cheeks. “You have changed my world,” she told her. “You have become my family, my sister. I thank our God for bringing you here. I love you, Mila. I have a joyous life because of you.”

        “Oh Anh, you are the sweetest friend I’ve ever had,” Milena told her as she hugged her tight. “I have not changed your life. That was our Lord. He has been so good to us. And He will continue to be with us all our days till we see each other again—whether on this earth or the One to come—and then forevermore. I love you, my dear, dear friend.”

        “Take care of our Huyen for us,” Joseph said to Anh as he hugged her goodbye. “Take her outside whenever she asks.”

        “I will see to it,” Anh promised.

        Scott and Elisabeth drove the two to Tan Son Nhat International Airport. Little time was left before Joseph had to board. He bid farewell to Scott and Elisabeth, and Milena walked him to his boarding gate. They held each other for several minutes, hating the fact that this would be the last time they would be together for what would be too long. Joseph took her face and wiped her tears.

        “I will call you as soon as I can,” he said to her. “Joseph says they don’t allow many calls, but as soon as I can, I will call you.” Milena nodded her head. “Don’t forget what I told you. I will come back to you, Lena. You are the love of my life. The rose of my heart. мое все.^[15] I love you. And I will come back to you.”

        “I love you too,” she whispered and kissed him forcefully. His flight was boarding and he turned around and left. She stood there watching as he disappeared behind the door, then watched till every last passenger was gone and the door was shut. Her heart ached. “Three years,” she said to herself. After several moments she went back down to where Scott and Elisabeth were waiting for her.

        “I’m so sorry,” Elisabeth said to her as she took her in her arms to console her. “He will be back in less than a year for his leave.”

        “What if…he…” Milena stuttered as she tried to get the words out. “What if…something happens to him?” More tears rolled from her eyes.

        “He is in good hands,” Scott said. “We cannot be certain that nothing will happen to him. But we know that not a leaf falls to the ground without the Lord ordaining it. And nothing will happen to Joseph outside the good and loving will of our Lord.”

        “I do know this,” Milena said. “But the Lord’s will has proved to be painful at times.”

        “Don’t anticipate the worst,” said Elisabeth. “Cast your worries on the Lord, for he cares for you. And entrust Joseph to Him, for he cares for Joseph and will watch over him.”

        “Oh how baffled I am by the ways of the Lord,” said Milena. “He promises to be with us, yet He allows evil to come to us. He is sovereign and orchestrates all things according to His will, yet how can pain and evil coincide with the will of a holy and loving God?”

        “Ah, the timeless conundrum of good and evil,” said Scott. “I will not pretend I can fully satisfy your inquiries, Mila. But I can tell you this: When we speak of the Lord’s will, we are usually speaking of His perceptive will; that is, His will as it is revealed in Scripture. We refer to it as His perceptive will because it contains the precepts by which we are to structure our lives. This revealed will informs us of those things that the Lord considers inherently good. Now, the Lord also has a hidden will—that which encompasses His sovereign decrees by which all things come to pass. Unlike His hidden will, human beings regularly violate His revealed will. Every time you or I sin, we act contrary to the Lord’s revealed will. But even though evil transgresses His revealed will, wickedness is permitted according to His hidden will, which always comes to pass. This does not mean, of course, that that Lord loves sin or deems it good, for His precepts reveal that He hates it. Yet mysteriously the Lord in His hidden decrees often ordains something that He hates according to His perceptive will—not because the evil act is desirable in itself, but because He uses sin to bring about the higher benefit of our ultimate good and His final glory. To be sure, the Lord is not liable for evil. He uses the evil that occurs in this fallen world for an ultimate good.”^[16]

        Milena listened to Scott’s words and thought hard about them.

        “It is difficult to fully conceive,” said Scott. “And I don’t think we are meant to. The secret things belong to the Lord. He has not included us in everything He knows. There are secrets and concepts that belong to Him alone. But everything that He intended for us to know and understand He made clear to us in His Word, and these things are for us and for our children forever. It is not wrong to ponder and speculate, as long as you always return to the truths you know are certain from Scripture. And these are certain: that the Lord is good, holy, just, sovereign, merciful, kind, and gracious. He is loving and longsuffering. He is working all things out according to the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose. And He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.”^[17]

        Milena smiled and felt oddly satisfied with Scott’s words, contrary to his precinctual warning that she would not be. Somehow these thoughts of this great, mysterious, holy God brought her a warm peace and comfort.

        “Oh I almost forgot…here Milena,” Elisabeth handed her a journal. “You left this in your room.”

        Milena took it and looked at it. “Oh thank you! I can’t believe I almost left this behind!” she said as she flipped through the pages. She stopped at a page that had a note pasted on it.

If nothing in providence appears to prevent, I must spend my days in a heathen land. I am a creature of God, and He has an undoubted right to do with me as seems good in His sight. He has my heart in His hands… I care not where I perform his work, nor how hard it be. Behold, the handmaiden of the Lord; be it unto me according to Thy Word.

        “Adoniram Judson,” Elisabeth said.

        “Yes,” said Milena. “I was reading her biography and wrote these words of hers down the day before I flew out here. Oh, what am I going to do back in California?”

        “You are going to love the Lord with all your heart, and love your neighbor,” said Scott. “You do not have to be a missionary in a foreign land to follow Christ, Milena. There are ordained ministers who are called to that. The Lord simply wants His people to live quiet and peaceable lives, walking faithfully and humbly with Him, obeying His precepts, loving one another, and gathering for worship on Sundays. Indeed, always be ready to give an answer to anyone who asks about your faith. But you do not need to live in Vietnam to do that. I have no doubt your honest and faithful life will spark notice to those around you back home, and you will be given plentiful opportunity to share the hope that lives within you.”

        “Pastor Scott, what am I going to do without you?” said Milena.

        “I have heard great admirations of your pastor back home,” Scott said. “Never hold back from seeking counsel from him.”

        “I won’t,” she said. “Elisabeth? Please don’t take offense at this, but I want to ask you honestly. You don’t mind staying at home all day, depending on Scott for income?”

        Elisabeth laughed. “Hardly! Don’t you know how fortunate a woman is who is blessed to stay home with all the time and creativity in the world to do what she pleases? It is a twisted conception these days, that men who work are in the better and freer position than the woman who stays at home. When a man goes to work, I’m afraid he does not have the liberty to do as he pleases, when he pleases. He cannot use his creative abilities to create art. He cannot rest when he wants, nor eat when he wants, nor go for a walk or read a book when he wants. He must follow protocol, maintain his best behavior and performance to suit the requirements of another, and be released to go home only when is permitted.

        “A woman, however, if she has been granted the sweet privilege of staying at home, can do anything in the world with her time. There are no limits to any hour of her day; besides, perhaps, financial resources—which her husband would be providing. But to live happily requires little. The woman can eat when she wants—and be creative with the meals she prepares. She can go outside and run or walk or dance. She can garden and create a beautiful display of imaginative art to adorn her home, both inside and out. She can read all the books in the world, and write her own if she so pleases. No one is managing her time or telling her to move onto the next task. No one is requiring her to look or dress a certain way. She is absolutely free, and bound to no one but her husband and God.

        “Now, because I love my husband I naturally have him in mind all day and desire to make our home one that will bring him gladness when he comes home. But I am free to use limitless creativity in how I do so. Thankfully Scott does not begrudge his work. He is one of the few men who have been given the opportunity to do what he loves. He loves spending his days studying the Scriptures, preparing sermons, visiting the families in the church, and going out into the city to invite people to come on Sundays to hear the good news of Christ and worship with us. But nevertheless this is his job. He is getting paid to be responsible for these things here in Saigon—to nourish the growth of the church that has been established here. He cannot take a day off and go explore the country if he so desires during the week. I can. Still, he is fortunate with the work he has. Now Joseph—I’d imagine he will not be as fortunate with his daily affairs. He will be bound to stay on the compound in a limited space, unable to leave or explore or do as he wants with his time. His time will be managed for him. And all the while he will be doing it for you, Mila, so that you can have the freedom to live and love and create as your heart desires. Few women realize this. They think they are being chained up in a prison home suppressed from their creative abilities, when all the while they are the most liberated creatures on the planet.”^[18]

        “Wow,” said Milena. “I would like to go home and be a housewife right away,” she laughed.

        “It is the most underrated role in history,” said Elisabeth.

        “I want to thank you, both of you, so much, for all you’ve done for me these past two years—allowing me to stay in your home, feeding me, nurturing me, imparting your wisdom and grace. I have learned so much from the two of you and I am forever grateful.”

        “It has been our greatest pleasure having you with us, Milena,” said Scott. “You are an astounding young lady with the grandest heart. We are so happy for you and Joseph. You both will be in our prayers daily, as well as little Huyen.”

        “You must write to us,” said Elisabeth. “We love you dearly, forever.”

        The time came for Milena to board. She said one last goodbye to Scott and Elisabeth and turned around and left. The flight seemed short. Her father, Nikolay, and brother, Ivan, were waiting for her at the airport in California. Nikolay couldn’t have been more relieved to have his daughter home, though he was deeply proud of her endeavors. Ivan, not agreeing with her faith, did not approve her leaving from the start. Nevertheless he was happy to see her again.

        Time passed slowly from there on out for Milena, though she found Elisabeth to be right in the wonderful freedom of staying at home. She spent her days reading and writing, dancing and singing, painting and creating endless art for the home Joseph promised her. She attended her church every Sunday and went on outings and lunch dates with her friends every week. Her pastor told her of a local orphanage in need of help, and she volunteered every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for the next three years—caring for, teaching, and playing with the children. She prayed for Huyen daily, not being able to look into a sweet child’s eyes without thinking of her. She prayed also for Joseph. She was a faithful wife, and she lived each day anticipating two things: the return of her husband and the return of her Lord, when all things He would finally make new. 

12

“Chow is in Building A, bottom floor. Food here is pretty decent. The gym is not. But if you want to work out, which you will, gym is in Building B, second floor. Small coffee lounge bottom floor of Building B, along with a little convenient store. Shampoo, soap, hygiene products…everything you need is there. No smoking. No alcohol. No phone calls. T.V. in the living area downstairs. Internet is worthless. Your room is down that hall at the end, next to Frankie’s. Tommy is leaving and should have all his bags packed so you can move in. Mission tomorrow evening. Ask Jonny for details. You’ll plan the route in the morning. Any questions?”

        “I’m good,” Joseph said,

        “I’m sure you’ll feel right at home,” Rick said as he left the hallway.

        Joseph felt at home right away. As at home as he ever did in Afghanistan. Too much and not at all. The air was just as bad as Ho Chi Minh, if not worse. Smoke filled the streets of the city as the Afghans burned trash every night to keep warm. Some of the smoke was from trash, at least. Some, of course, was from the latest suicide bombing. Joseph walked down the hall and entered the doorway of his room. There was an exit door right across from his room that led to a long balcony outside. Tommy was still packing and looked up at Joseph.

        “Welcome to the club, my brother,” Tommy greeted him. “Tom Bennett. They call me Tommy.”

        “Joseph Schaefer,” he shook Tommy’s hand. “Leaving too soon or not soon enough?”

        “Not soon enough. Seven years has done it for me. One more and I don’t reckon I’ll have a wife anymore.”

        “Seven years, huh?” said Joseph.

        “Goes by quicker than you’d think. The years, that is. The days drag out like a mother.  I only intended one year. But seven years later here I am,” said Tommy. “Probably would’ve been more if not for the last letter I received from my wife. Sent me pictures of my children and I hardly recognized them. Said she met someone else and is considering leaving me if I don’t come home. I’ll tell ya, they don’t make ‘em like they used to. Faithful, you know? But aw who’s to blame her. Nearly a decade she’s waited and I’ve only been home three times.”

        “Three times? Don’t we get leave at least once a year?” said Joseph.

        “If all is going smooth in this country, sure,” said Tommy. “When do you think’s the last time all was going smooth here?”

        “Damn,” said Joseph. “And no phone calls? Rick said something about no phone calls.”

        “That’s new policy as of last spring,” said Tommy. “Mikey, the head coordinator, gets paranoid. Too many deaths occurring these past couple years among contractors. Six total I believe. But that’s six too many. Two Americans got blown just last week.”

        “Contractors?”

        “Yep. Right outside Kandahar province. Roadside bomber,” said Tommy. “Anyhow, Mikey thinks the hajjis are breaking in on our calls. Obtaining information. We all think he’s nuts, but he carries the authority unfortunately. So no calls unless it’s an emergency or until the city finds peace. I’d place your bet on an emergency.”

        “This is incredible,” said Joseph. “Can we receive mail?”

        “Yeah, he hasn’t gone that far yet. But who knows. Stay here long enough and eventually he might have you all in solitary confinement. No point in even being here other than to collect paychecks to send home to your family…not a bad deal I suppose. You got a family?”

        “I do,” said Joseph. “A wife.”

        “Well I hope she’s a patient wife. And loyal. Here,” said Tommy as he stood up to leave. He threw a stack of mags on the bed. “No internet here. I’ll leave these for you.”

        “Naw, I’m good, brother,” said Joseph.

        “What are you a saint?” said Tommy. “You’ll want them, trust me. Especially when you see Golshifteh strolling around here. Your pulse will race you right back to your room.”

        “Well then I’ll have my imagination I suppose. I’m good brother. Thanks for your thoughtfulness though.”

        “Suit yourself,” said Tommy. “They’ve gotten me through seven years. Just wanted to pass on the manna.” He picked up the stack and put them on a table in the hall outside the bedroom. “I’m sure someone will snatch them. If you change your mind, I hear Frankie has some real good ones. And Billy. They all share around here.”

        Jonny appeared down the hall and saw Joseph. “Hey buddy!” he said as he came over to greet him. “So great to see you! Man, look at us! Who would’ve thought we’d be here together again in this God-forsaken country?”

        “Tell me about it,” said Joseph. “It’s great to see you too.”

        “I see you met Tommy. Come down to the lounge, I’ll introduce you to the others.”

        “Good to meet you,” Tommy said to Joseph. 

        “Likewise.”

        Jonny and Joseph walked down to the lounge—the living area with couches, vending, coffee, refrigerator, T.V., and a few books and magazines—none of which interested Joseph.

        “Frankie, Billy, Andy…this is Joseph. He’s replacing Tommy. We fought in Kandahar a few years back. He’s legit,” said Jonny.

        The men greeted him.

        “These are your teammates on Ghost.”

        Joseph couldn’t help himself. “Do we get assigned names here or do all your names naturally sound like a five year old boy?” he laughed. “I feel like I’m joining a pedophilic cult.”

        “It’s a cult alright,” said Frankie. “Non-pedophilic. But these are our names. Don’t worry, you’ll be Joey in no time.”

        “The hell I will,” said Joseph.

        “We’re not all in the cult. I’m Bryce. Pleasure to meet you,” said another contractor on the Ghost team as he walked into the room.

        “Joseph,” he said as they shook hands.

        “So that’s all of us,” said Jonny. “Only six…the smallest team on the contract. You’ll run into QRF and Anvil here and there, but you’ll mostly hang around us each day.

        Joseph surveyed the room and took in what would be his home for the next three years. He was scanning book titles on a shelf when his sight caught notice of a beautiful woman entering the doorway. She was tall, thin, with dark smooth skin and long, silky black hair. Her clothes were loose, yet pulled slightly tight around her waist and chest. A thin, flowing garment covered her head, though not as fittingly as is custom. Joseph looked at her and her eyes met his. She smiled. He caught himself taken by her and looked quickly back at the books. She laughed quietly and walked into the room toward the refrigerator. The men were silent as she grazed past them, as if hypnotized. She was carrying a basket of fruit and placed each piece one by one on the shelves in the refrigerator. She smiled at the men as she turned around to leave, making eye contact with Joseph once more as she disappeared out of the room.

        “Be careful with that one,” said Frankie. “Legend has it she can seduce anyone she sets her eyes on. And she targets those who play hard-to-get, leaving most of us without a chance.”

        “Legend? What is she some ancient Persian princess?”

        “Oh she’s far from ancient,” said Frankie. “I’d say not a day over twenty. Old enough to know all the tricks but young enough to not have had opportunity to perform them.”

        “Nah those are all rumors,” said Bryce. “She’s an intelligent girl, believe it or not. Respectable. These idiots have ideas in their heads and like to create stories to satisfy their lust. I bet she’s never touched one guy here.”

        “You’re wrong, Bryce. And you better watch out. If you’re not careful she’ll get you next, though I wouldn’t feel too sorry for you,” laughed Frankie.

        “Come on,” Jonny motioned to Joseph. “I’ll show you the mission room and fill you in on what we’re doing tomorrow.”

“So who was that girl?” Joseph asked as they walked down the hall.

        “Her name is Golshifteh. She’s the rug-seller’s daughter. Her father, Ahmad, has his shop down in Building B. She helps him out, but gets bored and likes to bring us fruit and coffee now and then,” said Jonny.

        “For the mere thrill of attention?” said Joseph.

        “I don’t reckon so honestly,” said Jonny. “I think Bryce is right. She seems sweet enough. And quiet. She just desires interaction as we all do.”

        “Last I was here a sweet, beautiful girl seeking interaction with men was, I don’t know…frowned upon?” said Joseph.

        “Yeah, haha, well…it all depends on the family. Ironically her father is an astounding man who you’d think would keep her tied down. He’s highly respected. Carries honor and tradition like the hajjis carry M67s. But oddly enough he gives her generous liberty and allows her to come our way when she pleases. He is very fond of us. He thinks it more a kind gesture toward us in bringing us fruit and whatnot. You’ll meet him. He is very likable, Ahmad.”

        “I think I’d like to keep my distance from both,” said Joseph.

        “Ha. Yeah. That might be wise too. Who knows, there may be truth to Frankie’s version as well. I never care to find out.”

        “I gotta hand it to you, Jonny. You’re one faithful bastard. Two years now and Neila is still your only woman. Dead or alive,” Joseph said.

        “Dead or alive,” said Jonny. “Though more alive now than ever.”

        “Come now?” said Joseph. “Did I hear you right?”

        Jonny laughed. “Don’t make too much of it now. I may have been reading some of those books you speak so highly of.”

        “Is that right? Matthew, John…are those the ones?” said Joseph.

        “Mark, Luke, Paul…those are them.”

        “The Gospel according to Paul, huh?”

        “Paul’s the man,” said Jonny.

        “He is,” laughed Joseph. “I’m glad to hear it, brother. Truly. No point in damn near anything without the truth.”

        “Tell me something,” said Jonny. “You think Neila…well, when you would talk to her, did you get the impression she was…that she believed…”

        “Yes,” said Joseph. “Neila believed the Scriptures. She knew the truth and clung to it. She told you that, Jonny.”

        “Yes, I sorta remember. It just didn’t mean much to me then so I brushed it off, you know? You know how women get these wild ideas and you listen, kinda, to not come off as a prick, but you don’t really take what they’re saying seriously…”

        Joseph laughed.

        “It’s terrible,” said Jonny. “I was such a dick. You, with your wife…don’t be a dick, Joseph. Use it, by all means. But don’t be one. I know I don’t have to tell you that. You’re a good man. The best, in fact. But don’t be a dick. Man, I sure have some regrets with Neila. She was so good to me. I wasn’t always good to her. You got a good thing with your wife, Joseph. Don’t screw it up. Don’t be a dick.”

        “I don’t plan to,” laughed Joseph. “Don’t beat yourself up so much, brother. Neila loved you. Sure you were a dick sometimes. But you were faithful, and you made her happy. She died a happy woman. And I’ll tell you what, if she knew you were believing the words of good ol’ saint Paul just like she used to tell you, she’d be dancing in heaven now if she weren’t already.”

        “So she’s there. You truly believe that?”

        “I do,” said Joseph. “You said it yourself—more alive now than ever. The hope of those who believe. And one thing I knew about Neila—she believed.”

        “Man it’s good to have you here,” said Jonny. “A man can get lost in the world. Blinded. All the guys here are blind. There’s no light of truth in their eyes. No hope. No life.”

        “It’s a dark place to live,” said Joseph. “I can only hope the darkness doesn’t swallow me up as well.”

        “I’m not worried about you,” said Jonny. “You’ve never been one to get sucked in by your surroundings. I’ve always admired that.” They sat down in the mission room. “Now, let’s get you filled in on tomorrow. There’s a storm coming, and we need to navigate a route to the Palace. The roads are tricky. Quite frankly, they are deadly, if you don’t remember. There’s a reason our paychecks are what they are. You need to have a clear mind and a watchful eye on you 24/7. It’s life or death around here. One slip and your world could crumble—yours and that of those you hoped to protect. Just remember, all great and beautiful work has come of first gazing without shrinking into the darkness.^[19] Are you ready, brother?”

        “Ready or not,” said Joseph. “I’ll tell you one thing. I’ve been on my own all my life. Been grace that’s brought me safe thus far.”

        Jonny smiled. “‘Tis grace will bring us home.”

13

November 2, 2007

My Dearest Joseph,

        I can hardly believe we’ve been married two years now. Even more incredible, I can hardly believe I haven’t seen you since you left me at the airport the day after we were married. I never imagined this job would separate us as it has—so completely. I have so much that I would love to sit down with you and tell you in person, drinking rich coffee and studying your face, seeing what has changed about you or stayed the same. I drank my last cup of cá phê đen just last week. Can you believe it has lasted me this long? I sort of made it so, drinking only a small cup everyday so that it wouldn’t run out. But alas, all good things come to an end eventually. In most cases, I should say. Not only those things that are good. The very horrible things end too, gratefully. Such as waiting for you.

        Oh how I miss you, Joseph. I feel as though when we see each other we will be getting to know each other all over again, as if meeting anew. I do not think I have changed much. I imagine you might have, though not so terribly as to stain your fundamental character. I imagine you are spreading a fragrant aroma in the dark city where you reside. I pray for you, my love. I know it must not be easy. But I am a woman, and such circumstances undoubtedly strike me more obscure than they would you. The Lord has made you a man, and I thank Him that you utilize your manhood in such ways as are intended for men—and that with honor and virtue. 

        It’s funny, this marriage covenant. Two years and we haven’t seen nor spoken to one another but one day of our marriage. Yet I feel more bonded to you than the bond I see between eighty percent of the marriages and relationships around me. You remember my friend Sara? Well, my once friend. We have gone our separate ways, I am sorry to confess. We see eye to eye on absolutely nothing. She moved in with her boyfriend a few months back and refers to them as a family, though with no intention of marriage. All the while telling me I am crazy for staying with a man whom I never see, though that man be my husband whom I have made vows of loyalty to. I think it funny and indeed unfair for her to use the term ‘family’ to describe their relationship. To be a family is a privilege—one that involves loyalty, commitment, selflessness, and sacrifice. To live together and play house and enjoy all the benefits of marriage without the responsibility or risk of hurt or sacrifice or commitment…that does not deserve the title of family. 

        Well, believe it or not I did not say these words to her. I have learned my lesson in the past and I knew they would only push her away and damage our relationship, so I refrained. But somehow, I believe through conviction of her own, she decided to no longer befriend me and we haven’t spoken in several weeks. It saddens my heart, for I love her. I continue to pray for her, and hope that the Lord shows her what is good and true and beautiful. 

        Lacking good and honest relationships and quality conversations is what makes me miss you the most. You were always to me a breath of fresh air. I was myself and you understood me. What’s more, you challenged me to think beyond what I thought to be good and true. You stretched me in the most wonderful ways, and my heart is grateful each day for it. What saddens me is to think how much I’ve missed these past two years of what could’ve been… how much more I could’ve learned from you each day. But the future is bright, and you are coming home soon!

        Oh I can’t believe it! You are coming home! You say it will only be for a month. But I will treasure that month like the soul of little Huyen. Our Huyen ও. I revise—her soul I treasure more. I hear from Elisabeth and Anh quite often concerning our Huyen, and other matters. But Huyen holds priority in our conversations. They say she is doing well and hasn’t forgotten us. I am so happy she hasn’t forgotten us. Can you believe she is four, Joseph? They tell me she is wise beyond her years. I always knew that about her. They say they are taken back by how well she appears to grasp our love for her, as well as our plan to bring her into our family. She anticipates it with joy and confident hope that it will happen. Oh Joseph, I would die if we could not adopt her. I pray to the Lord daily that He will allow it. I pray it is good in His sight. How mysterious are the ways of the Lord. How mysterious His will. It is beyond my grasp to comprehend. Yet the mystery is so beautiful because He is beautiful… beautiful and majestic and profound… so I continue to ponder what I cannot know. I cannot be any other way I suppose.

        How are you, Joseph? I fear the mail is slowing down. I no longer receive letters as frequently from you. I am receiving yours too late or you are receiving mine too late. Months pass before I hear from you. My father worries about you… about us. He does ask that I give you his best regards and love. He has been content to have me in his home. But I must tell you, Joseph, it brought him great joy to hear in your last letter that you will soon be buying us a home of our own. In the mountains at that! Just as you said. I suspect he might live vicariously through us, as that has always been his dream.

        Ah, our own home! We can finally start the adoption process once we have a home and a room just for Huyen and proof to show your stable  income will provide us with sufficient funds to pay for the adoption fees in a year. It will be just in time before Vietnam adoption closes to the U.S. What a time this is! Oh I get so happy thinking about it! About her. About you.

        It is a beautiful life, Joseph. I have learned along with Paul in whatever state I am to be content. It is not ideal to be without you. But we have food and shelter and clothing—Paul did not have even these at times. And we have love, abundant love, and the grace and forgiveness of our Lord. We have hope of the blessed life to come, and that our Savior will bring us to that end. ‘Twas grace that brought us safe thus far, and grace will bring us home. Oh I could sing of it all the day long! And I confess I do, to the gladness or despair of those around me, ha!

        I am so happy you take me as I am. I fear no one else in the world will ever truly know me. And if they know me, they will never truly understand and love me as you do. No, I do not fear this in fact. I am content as it all stands now. I love you, Joseph. And I giggle every time I read Paul now, as I am reminded of your friend Jonny. Or Jonathan, as you say he now prefers to be called. How wonderful to hear he has the hope that we do! It is a beautiful day when one turns to Christ. The most blessed. Oh that all would know His joyous truth. How marvelous that He has shown it to us, you and I. We could very well still be in darkness…blind without hope. But alas! He has taken our heart of stone and given us a heart of flesh. He has taken us out of darkness and into His marvelous light. What joy it brings me daily, Joseph. I pray this joy fills your heart every moment as well, and that love and truth flow from you onto those around you, giving a hope that endures and surpasses the tragedies of this world.

        For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared to the glory that will be revealed to us. That’s saint Paul.

        I wait eagerly for this. And for you, my love. 

        Come quickly to me.

        Always yours,

                       Milena

14

Joseph finished the letter and folded it and placed it in a drawer under his nightstand. He closed the drawer and picked up a book he had been reading. Frankie entered his room to inform him of the cancellation of the entire week’s missions due to the weather. Joseph nodded without looking up from his book.

        “That’s an awful hefty book you got there,” Frankie observed.

        “It is,” said Joseph. 

        “I don’t believe I’ve read a book that lengthy since…hell I don’t believe I’ve read a book since grade school!” Frankie boasted.

        “I’m not surprised,” said Joseph. “Some people read War and Peace, some people play video games and get off on magazines.”

        “Screw you, man,” Frankie laughed. “When you want to borrow them just let me know. Saint Joseph can’t stay a saint forever.” He left Joseph with his book and disappeared down the hall, leaving the door open. Joseph continued reading. His books were about the only thing keeping him sane on the compound. And Milena’s letters. The men joked with him about his abstinence to the magazines they absorbed, and about his head always buried in lengthy books; but they actually loved and appreciated him.

        He had read a few more chapters when he noticed motion in his doorway. Golshifteh had been playing with his mind the past two years, whether she knew it or not. Though he was certain she knew it. She walked around the compound like an exotic animal, dark and sultry, untouchable but so beautiful that one needed to touch her. Joseph had few weaknesses. Admittedly none that he knew of. Until the day he saw Golshifteh. How one woman could tantalize a man so powerfully, he didn’t know. But he did everything he could to stay away from her because of it. He looked up and saw her there in his doorway. Her face was covered with silky linen. It usually was not. Perhaps she was trying to appear modest. They both knew she wasn’t. He smiled softly while holding his book.

        “Hello,” she smiled.

        He laid still in his bed, not releasing his book. She lowered her covering, exposing her strikingly beautiful dark face. He had seen it before, too many times. But right now, there in his doorway, her beauty captivated him in a new way.

        “I’ve always hated these,” she said in her thick, endearing Persian accent. “I feel suffocated by them, like I can’t breathe. I hate feeling like I can’t breathe. Do you ever feel that way?”

        Joseph’s heart was racing. I do right now, he thought, though his throat wouldn’t let him admit it. “Not often,” he was able to mutter.

        “That’s good,” she smiled. “That makes me happy. I want you to feel good.” She looked down at the book he was holding. She noticed his tight grasp on it. She looked behind her then walked over to his bed. “You like to read I’ve noticed. What is this you are reading now?” She placed her hands over his to tilt the book up. His hands were sweating and she felt it. She laughed. “You always hold your book so tight?”

        “Not always,” Joseph said, looking up at her as she stood so closely next to him. “But right now if my hands are holding this book, they cannot hold anything else.”

        “Ah,” said Golshifteh. “There is something else here your hands would like to hold?” She slowly slid the book out of his hands when a voice sounded down the hall. She dropped the book clumsily and apologized and ran out of the room. Joseph laid there paralyzed. I have got to go home, he thought.

        Jonathan appeared in the doorway. “Hey brother! Free week ahead, did you hear?”

        Joseph sat up and brushed his hair back with his fingers.

        “Are you okay man? You look shaken.”

        “Did you see anyone?” said Joseph.

        “What? When?”

        “Right now. In the hall. Did you see anyone?”

        “No, man. No one is in the hall. Are you okay?”

        “Yeah, sorry. I’m just…ready to go home.”

        “I feel you, man. This place gets to all of us at times. Three more weeks, right?”

        “I think I’m gonna ask Rick if I can go early. The weather is messing with everything anyway. Hell, it’s messing with my head! No point in staying here to hang out in my room when I can take an early leave.”

        “I wouldn’t doubt he’d go for it, brother. You leave now while the work is slow, and come back in a month when things heat up. Sounds reasonable to me.”

        “Yeah.” Joseph stood up and tripped over the book on the floor.

        “Hey, are you sure you’re alright? You’ve got something on your mind?” asked Jonathan.

        “Yeah, I’ve got my wife on my mind, who I haven’t seen in two years.”

        “Hey I’ll go with you to talk to Rick. I’ll assure him we’ll be fine with you leaving early.”

        “Thanks, brother,” said Joseph. 

~

Rick permitted the leave as accordingly it worked out to the benefit of his own agenda. Joseph flew home that week—not to a home of his own, but to Milena, which was home to him. He met her father and brother for the first time, and her friends and church family in California. He bonded quickly with Ivan. They had absolutely nothing in common except, perhaps, love for Milena. But Joseph somehow felt he could relate to Ivan and he quickly loved him as a brother.

       Joseph fulfilled his promise to Milena and bought her a charming cabin home in the mountains. They lived for the first time together as a married couple. A solid four weeks—getting to know one another all over again as if meeting anew, just as Milena anticipated. She hadn’t fallen out of love with him, but somehow she felt as though she were falling in love with him all over, as for the first time. They had no obligations but to live and laugh and love. Joseph was the same, but different. Milena looked at him and saw a man…a somewhat unfamiliar man. Older. But it didn’t bother her. She was rather attracted to it. There was mystery to him, and she enjoyed the element of suspense. 

        Milena was different too. At least to Joseph. He looked at her and saw something fragile; something that he could hurt. He didn’t want to hurt her. But the realization that he had the power to do so hit him forcefully. She was not weak, but she was in love. And that exposes a tenderness that can be terribly damaged if not protected.

        The month passed all too quickly. They blinked and they were right back at the airport saying goodbye once more. Milena was surprised at how well she handled the goodbye. Less than a year and he would be home for good…and with little Huyen! She had much to look forward to. And her grateful heart carried her through the ordinary days with joy and gladness. 

        Joseph was reluctant to go back. There was a type of war he embraced, and a type he would avoid at all costs if it were up to him. He had only anticipated the first type—the obvious engagement of war where men are either cowards or courageous. But this other type—this internal war against his flesh—he had not prepared for. Yet this too exposes cowardice or courage, self-control or self-defeat. It was a mental challenge as much as it was a physical temptation, and that excited Joseph more than he wished.

        Milena took notice of Joseph’s uneasiness at the airport. She figured he was unhappy about leaving again.

        “You always come back to me,” she reminded him as she looked him in his eyes and kissed him one last time. He held her tighter than ever, taking in every good quality about her, and then the bad, and loving all of it. All of her. He had to remember her. He had to remember his love for her.

        He let go and turned around and walked away. He remembered something Ivan had told him in a conversation they had: “We are all monsters. The God you describe is too holy to have anything to do with us. He either doesn’t exist, or he is doing his own thing far removed from us. No way he took on such torture for man. We’re evil.  I don’t care how good anyone appears on the outside. We are all monsters…every one of us.”     

        God help me, he thought.

15

April 7^th, 2008

My Dearest Joseph,

        I had the most wonderful month with you. How has it already been three months since you were here? It was like a dream, so long and so real when you were here—then over in an instant and fading like a mist, leaving one wondering if it really happened. I still see your face like a mirage next to me in the mornings when I wake. It was a beautiful glimpse of what our life will be like together. You are my dream come true, Joseph. A dream I never knew I had, but you showed me what love and goodness look like, and I am humbled that I get to receive both from you as long as the Lord gives us breath.

        Forgive me for not writing sooner. There has been much going on that I am anxious to now write to you of. Oh where do I begin? I suppose I shall start with the darker story, which happily has light at the end. Oh Joseph, it concerns my darkest story of all—that which I hadn’t anticipated telling you so soon, but somehow your question that night led me to do so. I later told you my attackers were in prison, and as far as I knew would remain there for quite some time. Well, it turns out they have been released. I know this because one of them contacted me. Oh I am shaking just writing of it. Do not be alarmed, I am fine. Indeed I am better than I have ever been. My attackers, truly the one most despised, wrote to me, Joseph. My father visited me last month with a letter he said was tucked in the door of his truck when he left work. My name was on the outside, and respectfully my father did not read it without my consent. It stopped me in my tracks, Joseph. The man who…I can’t even write it. You know what he did to me. That same man asked me for forgiveness. He apologized and asked me to forgive him, Joseph. I still shake as I write of it. He said he was changed in prison. He said there was an old holy bible in his cell, and he picked it up every day. He read it every day, Joseph, and felt as though the Lord gave him a new heart and mind. He said he has fallen to his knees in remorse and repentance before the Lord, and he believes the Lord has forgiven him. He felt the need to inform me of his new state and to seek my forgiveness as well. Oh Joseph, I am weeping all over again. I was furious at first. How dare he contact me. I felt sick at the thought of holding a piece of paper that his hands were on. I wanted to vomit and almost did. But as I ran to the bathroom and got on my knees, I felt a burden lift from my soul as I realized I forgave him. He doesn’t deserve it. What he did was the epitome of wickedness. But the Lord changed his heart, Joseph. He opened his eyes to his sin, to his hopelessness, and He showed him Christ, and He saved that blackened dying soul. The thought sent chills down my back right there on the bathroom floor. And as I knelt there I felt weightless. I forgave him, just as the Lord has forgiven me. I even felt joy, Joseph. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect such an event. But there I was, praising God for the repentance and forgiveness of the man I hated most in the world. Hated. I no longer hate him. He will be there in the Lord’s heavenly kingdom, and I cannot hate someone the Lord has called His own. 

        Oh but he won’t know it. I have no way of telling him. But that is fine. He said he knows he cannot receive a response, and his peace lies in knowing I received his letter.

        What do you make of this, Joseph? It is incredible. I feel more free than I ever have. I almost believe all of this is better—more beautiful—than if the event had never happened. I don’t expect anyone would understand that. They might think I am mad with such an allegation. But I do not care. The ways of the Lord are mysterious. But every now and then I think I catch a small glimpse of the greater picture in the tragedies of life, and it takes my breath away.

        But there is more! Oh the joy of what comes next. I have told you that I never told my father or Ivan of the incident. Neither incident. Well I was able to deter my father from the letter. He inquired at first, but gave up when I insisted it was private. But Ivan would not back down. You know his stubborn spirit. He taunted me night and day for a week on end about it, until finally I decided to tell him. You know Ivan—loves me like his only sister, such as I am—but laughs at the faith I swear my life by. Well it was for this reason I finally decided to tell him. Everything is always black and white to him, not the least the justice system. But grace changes everything to the surprise of one’s soul. So I told him. I told him about the men that day, sparing him details. I told him the horrid thing I did after. I told him all that was in the letter that he insisted on knowing about. And Joseph, he wept. I haven’t seen my brother weep since God knows when. He wept with pain. He wept with sorrow. But then, oh my heart, he wept with joy over the realization of the forgiveness of Christ. Can you believe it, my love? Ivan, my dear brother, professed belief in Christ! He saw the dreadful sins of others, and that unwittingly led him to look at his own sin…which he knew, he knew all along, but couldn’t fathom how he or anyone could ever be pardoned. But he saw the cross, Joseph. He saw the bloody truth of the cross and he wept with remorse and repentance and relief that the blood of Christ has washed him clean, whiter than snow! 

        Does it not seem real? My soul has been rejoicing day in and day out. My dear Ivan, he believes! That is all my family, Joseph. I am the most blessed! Most are not so fortunate. They pray for their family all their lives, only to die without seeing a seed of fruit of their prayers. I am unworthy of such blessedness. But how I thank our Father in heaven for this grace!

        Are you smiling, Joseph? I imagine you are praising our God along with me—your heart full of gladness. I know how dearly you love Ivan. How quickly you grew to love him! I am so happy to share this news with you, for I know it means as much to you as it does to me. 

        Oh how beautiful is marriage. You are far, yet I know you will receive this and feel my love. I write with immense love flowing from my heart. How could I not?—with all the goodness and mercy the Lord pours out on us. And would you believe, there is more! I received news from Elisabeth—Dan and Anh are engaged! They have taken their relationship quite slower than we have, ha! But it was good in their sight to do so, and they are very happy. My heart rejoices with them! Oh how I wish I could be there to show my love. But we will, Joseph. We will be there soon. The Viet adoption agency has processed our documents and has approved our application. We only need signatures from the California agency and we are clear to bring Huyen home! The sound of it is music to my ears. 

        The home inspection was meticulous, but I wouldn’t expect anything less. And the agents mentioned multiple times how pleased they were with your interview when you were home. They were very fond of you, indeed. This does not surprise me; I am quite fond of you myself. Six more months and you will be home, my love, my husband. As well as little Huyen. Shall we go together to get her? Perhaps in December? Oh but that will be after the wedding. Now that I think of it, I might not be capable of going to the wedding. I will explain later.

        But first, my love, I have been wanting to tell you… My child—I did not wish to know the gender. They say with the drugs you will not feel or hear a thing. Ha. I felt and heard everything. And I overheard the doctors say she was a girl. I did not tell you before because it crushes me. Knowing she was a girl—my daughter—makes it more personal, more painful. Not the fact that she was a girl, but simply knowing any detail about her…I think it may forever crush me, Joseph. How I wish day in and day out to be able to go back to that day and wake up in the morning and decide to stay home and love my child and give her life. But I did not. 

        Forgive me for speaking once more of it. But indeed you have comforted me in your assurance that I can always talk to you about it when I need to, and I am ever grateful for that. I am grateful for you, Joseph. My comforter, my love. I named her Anastasia. Truly, I have no right to name her. This I know. But she is with the Lord, and it is the most fitting, most beautiful name I know. Would she forgive me, Joseph? I will see her one day, and that day cannot come soon enough for me. I long to see her and hold her and tell her…tell her I love her. But oh how hypocritical she must take me! How horrific, how demented… Oh do you see how it still haunts me?! I only wish to love her now, but I can’t. It is the most despicable, horrid act a human can commit. And the most regretted. It can never be made right.

        But then. Somehow. It is made right. The Lord makes it right. Not acceptable. Not okay. But redeemed. Restored. Healed. Forgiven. I know He has forgiven me. But then I think…but what about her? Will she hate me for all eternity? No. He has redeemed that too. Somehow, we will live together in joy and love and gladness. It is unfathomable. Incomprehensible. It is entirely unfair. But it is the most beautiful hope I have ever known.

        Joseph, I am unworthy of ever bearing a child. I had an opportunity and I gave it up. I truly believed the Lord would never entrust a child to grow in my womb again. But alas, I have saved the most wonderful news for last. I am pregnant, Joseph. Three months. And it is a boy. We are going to have a son! How I wished I could tell you in person! You are going to be a father, Joseph! To two children! Oh I was so happy to be adopting Huyen, but we are going to have a son as well! You are going to be the most wonderful father. I am the most blessed to know my son will have a loyal, faithful, respectable, God-fearing, and honorable man as his father, to guide him and lead him in virtue, goodness, and truth.

        I wish I could see your face. I wish I could kiss you and tell you how very happy I am to build this family with you. I am happier than I have ever been, Joseph. I only need you home with me, and my joy will be full. Six months! The twenty-second of October is his due date. You must come home by then, Joseph. обещай мне?^[20] I can’t do it without you. He must not be born without you there. Come home to welcome your son into the world. Come home, for your wife needs the warmth of her husband.

        I love you, now and forever.

                      Your Lena

        P.S. David Joseph. I think it is perfect for our son.

16

It didn’t take long for Joseph to settle back into the compound. He was the best they had, and although he cared not for his job, it felt good to be valued for his work. Nevertheless, time passed slowly. Four months since he returned, yet it felt like four years. His month with Milena was divine. He missed her. Four months and he hadn’t heard a word from her. 

        He stayed busy reading or going to the gym when he wasn’t out on a mission. This was his third year. Four more American contractors had been killed since he arrived. Six since he started. He wondered why it was them. He had always wondered why it was others and not him. Maybe he was next. He told Milena his job was safe. That he was safe. Is anyone ever safe? He trusted in the Lord. He was as safe or unsafe as he would ever be, there or anywhere else, he supposed. His mind took him over. He lived in his thoughts day to day. Reality was grand, but his reality was home with Milena. Kabul was not home. It was a reality, but one he no longer wanted. The world in his mind soothed him. He had vivid thoughts and fantasies that excited him, as though seeing clear pictures moving in a book. Most were not dishonorable. But then there was Golshifteh. She lived in his mind as much as she did on the compound. He spent months trying to suppress any fantasy of her, but she was always there, bringing fruit, bringing comfort. After some time, they started having conversations. She was a sweet girl, just as Jonathan described. But she was lonely. Her mother passed just as Milena’s did. Her father was a good man, but cared more for the contractors than he did her. Joseph began sympathizing for her. She saw how she drew comfort from him and desired him. He desired her. Perhaps she reminded him of Milena. Both were sweet and soft and beautiful. Golshifteh was darker, and Joseph was drawn to it more each day. But Milena was his wife. He soon told Golshifteh that they could no longer have their conversations. He told her he was married and he loved his wife, and that he would be going home to her at the end of the year. Golshifteh cried, but honored his words. They would still see each other and Joseph would see pain and loneliness in her eyes. He had to ignore her, but his mind would take him where he wouldn’t allow himself to go.

        It was late July and the sun warmed the center garden of the compound. Joseph and Jonathan ate lunch outside and reminisced of their tours in combat together. Joseph loved Jonathan. He trusted him. He knew he was loved in return. Jonathan loved Joseph. And he knew he had to talk to him concerning the darkness he saw in his eyes.

        “I don’t want you to be pained by regret,” Jonathan said to him as they finished their lunch. “I know you’ve been troubled… tempted. I see it when you look at her. When she looks at you. Don’t do it, brother. Regret stabs deeper than anything else. And if I know anything about you, you will regret it. You’re a good man, Joseph. Your character precedes you. You are so noble and true that men can’t hate you if they wanted to. And I believe every man here has wanted to out of mere spite of your virtue. But instead, each one can’t help but love you because you are that damn pure and lovable. Don’t let that go. Don’t let it escape you. Keep fighting the good fight, brother. This will be over soon.”

        Joseph listened to him and felt his love grow ever deeper for his friend. He took his words to heart, and thanked him.

        Jonathan left to prepare for a meeting and Joseph sat in the garden enjoying the sun. After absorbing sufficient warmth, he got up and went into an empty sun room to cool off. There was a metal bar that ran across the room and he sat and balanced himself on it and looked out into the garden through the large window, the sun gleaming through. He thought about what Jonathan had just said. He thought about how long he has been contracting and how much longer he had in Kabul. He thought about Milena and how he missed her. How she must be missing him.  A few more months, he thought. He had been away too long. His mind wandered to his tours of battle in the very country he was now working in. He thought of the six plus dozens. He thought of the caves. He pondered war and life and death and love and hate. He wasn’t relaxed. He was alone. Too alone. With all that Jonathan had just spoken, he still thought of Golshifteh. Her sadness. Her smile. Her beauty. Her eyes. She had glowing eyes. Milena had glowing eyes too, but Milena’s eyes were gentle. Golshifteh’s eyes were glowing and sultry and passionate. Some time passed and a knock on the door drew him from his thoughts.

        “Come in,” he said.

        The door opened slowly and Joseph’s heart pounded as Golshifteh walked in and shut the door behind her. 

        “Hello,” he said to her.

        “Hi,” she replied.

        “Are you looking for someone?”

        Her eyes were big and dark and expressive. Hopeful and dreamy. “I found him,” she said.

        “How…can I help you?” Joseph’s heart continued to race. They have been looking at each other for months now. He knew exactly how he could help her. He thought of Lena, but only for a second.

        Golshifteh locked the door and walked over to him where he was sitting balanced on the bar. The bar was low, which made him even to her height. She closed the curtain of the large window he was looking out of, then spread his legs open to allow her to come between them up to his body. Joseph’s heart was pounding. What are you doing?, he thought. Say something. Don’t let this happen.  He was insanely attracted to her. Her tan skin and loose black hair and dark brown eyes nearly hypnotized him. Blood was rushing all throughout his body. He hadn’t been with a woman in months. He had been desiring her for longer. Golshifteh put her hands on his thighs and felt him tremble, nearly losing his balance on the bar. She knew she owned him, if not for this moment. She clenched his thighs and leaned her chest into him. Joseph held tight onto the bar, not touching her, but embracing her touching him. His mouth was slightly open as he took deep breaths. She leaned into him and brushed her lips across his bottom lip, slowly, from one corner of his mouth to the other, back and forth several times. Then his top lip. His palms were so sweaty it made him slip and almost fall off the bar. He grabbed her to catch his balance. She giggled. He enjoyed her lips kissing his and didn’t want her to stop.

        “You like?” she whispered.

        He nodded.

        “You want more?”

        He stayed still. The answer was obvious. He was still holding tightly onto her arms and she was still standing in between his legs, tightly pressed against his body, and he hadn’t done anything about it. She took his hands and placed them low around her waist. She wrapped her arms around his neck and continued to do what he liked…

17

Milena was tired. Too tired. Her eyes were swollen from crying. Her lungs were weak. Her body was exhausted. Blood was beneath her, mixing with the rain water on the wet leaves. Her mind was trying to stay focused. She knew it was time to push—the child was practically pushing itself. She had known this wouldn’t be easy, but something didn’t feel right. The pain was too strong. Something wasn’t right. Joseph where are you? Her vision was becoming blurred. She was holding on. She had to hold on. She had to push this child out and be well for him… well enough to hold him and warm him. She closed her eyes. Joseph…

~

Joseph woke up in his bed with a piercing headache. His body was sore and tired. His head was pounding and he felt miserable. He didn’t know what time it was. His room had no window to know whether it was night or day. He was thirsty. He attempted to sit up but his head wouldn’t allow him. He lay there, not knowing quite where he was or what he was doing. His mind started seeing images of a woman. A dark, sultry woman. She was moving, and no clothes were on her. Why am I thinking this? The images were becoming clearer, as if he were watching a movie. He saw the woman vividly and knew it was Golshifteh. Her body was to die for. Why am I seeing this? How do I know what her body looks like? Then he remembered. A dream. I was dreaming. I’ve been fantasizing so much that my fantasies have become dreams. His head was throbbing. The pictures were now detailed. He was seeing his dream all over again, as if reliving it. Golshifteh was not passive. Neither was he, toward the end. He could smell her and taste her. No, he thought. No, no, no. Oh God, no. It wasn’t a dream. Oh fuck, it wasn’t a dream! His eyes started to swell and the rush of blood to his head made it pound harder. Oh God, what did I do? Oh God, what have I done?!

        A knock sounded at the door. Confounded door! Why can’t anyone leave me alone?! The door opened and Jonathan peered his head in. 

        “Hey brother. Are you okay? I haven’t seen you since lunch yesterday. In fact, no one has.”

        “Yesterday… What time is it?” Joseph said.

        “It’s passed noon. You’ve been MIA for nearly a day. Are you alright? Where were you last night?”

        “Wasn’t I here?”

        “In your room? No, man. I came to give you this around 2200, but you were gone. Don’t you know where you were?” Jonathan laughed.

        “I was in the garden. I must’ve fallen asleep in the garden,” said Joseph.

        “All day?” said Jonathan. “What’s going on, man? You weren’t in the garden.”

        “I have a raging headache,” said Joseph. “I just need to rest. What’s that you were going to give me?”

        “Mail came. You got a letter from Milena.” Jonathan tossed the letter to Joseph and it landed by his head. Joseph turned his head to look at the letter and felt a heaviness overtake him. “Hey,” Jonathan said. “How long have we known each other?”

        “Nearly a decade,” said Joseph.

        “Nearly a decade. And what a decade. I know you, Joseph. I’ve seen you at your best and at your worst. I’ve seen you face death and overcome it. I’ve seen you breathe more life and truth than anyone in the world. I’d go so far as to say I know you better than your wife does. And right now, I think I gained one more piece of knowledge about you that she doesn’t know.” He was looking at Joseph with knowing, saddened eyes.

        Joseph sat up and looked at him back. His eyes started to flood and he shook his head and buried his face in his hands. All day and night? He thought. What kind of monster am I? I’m the devil himself. Milena… Oh Milena. I’m sorry. I’m a fool. My Lena…my sweet Lena.

        Jonathan walked over to him and sat with him on the bed. He put his arms around him and felt a deep pain for his friend.

        “I’m the devil,” said Joseph. How could I… what have I done?” he sobbed in Jonathan’s arms. Jonathan had seen many sides to Joseph. He thought he’d seen them all. But he had never seen him like this. Not weeping like this.

        “You’re not the devil,” he said to him. “You’re a sinner. You’ve always been a sinner and you always will be until the good Lord takes you out of this God-forsaken earth. You know what’s funny? You and I…we’re not any better than the fucking Hajjis who are tearing up this country. There is only one difference between us, and that is the Lord has been gracious to us. He has shown us His truth and given us faith. Them—they think they are living for the truth, and doing so wholeheartedly. I wouldn’t doubt they are more obedient to their god than we are to ours. But hell, even they screw up at times. We’re human, Joseph. You’re human. And you fucked up big time. But you’re not the devil. I wouldn’t doubt he’s near, but you’re not him.

        “God, what am I going to do?”

        “That’s wisdom I don’t have for you,” said Jonathan. “Virtue would say you need to tell Milena. But virtue is damn near shot in this case. You might lose her. You know that, Joseph.”

        Joseph looked at his friend, his forehead still laying in his hands, tears still running down his cheeks. He looked at Jonathan and continued to shake his head. 

        “You gotta tell her, brother. Don’t dig yourself deeper.”

        “And Ahmad… Oh God, he’s going to kill me!” said Joseph. “I’m as good as dead!”

        “Lucky for you Ahmad is gone,” said Jonathan. “He moved his shop to a compound in Kandahar. More demand for rugs I guess. He left yesterday morning.”

       “What? And he left his…why didn’t she go with him?”

        “She’s going to. She had asked permission to stay a few more days and a friend is coming for her tomorrow. That’s the rumor anyway. You’re clear it looks like. You got lucky on this one.”

        “This one? What, you think I’m doing this again?”

        “No, that’s not what I… Look, get some rest. Read the letter your wife wrote to you. And if you love her at all, I’d recommend you write her back. You know what you need to write.” Jonathan got up and walked toward the door.

        “Hey,” said Joseph. Jonathan turned around. “You’re a damned good friend.”

        Jonathan smiled and bowed his head and walked away. Joseph picked up a water bottle from his nightstand and downed it. He threw the empty bottle on the floor and picked up the letter and stared at it. My Lena. After fighting off reappearing images of Golshifteh and the day and night they spent together, he opened the letter and read it.

        My Dearest Joseph,

                I had the most wonderful month with you…

        His eyes re-flooded. By the end, the letter was drenched. He read the post script over again…

               David Joseph. I think it is perfect for our son.

        Our son. Joseph was speechless. We’re having a child…a son. How could this be happening now…the most beautiful news during the worst nightmare. That’s what this is…a nightmare. No, not my son. Oh God, I’m having a son. What kind of father am I?! What if she doesn’t let me see him? You can’t, Milena! He’s my son! Oh God, what have I done…what have I done?

        He held up the wet pages and read them again from start to finish. He read of the letter of apology. He read of Ivan. He read of Dan and Anh and little Huyen. He read again of the news of his son. He read Milena’s deep, deep love for him. Milena… He opened his bedside drawer and grabbed a paper and pen. He looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes. Oh God, let her forgive me…

18

Milena was losing blood quickly. Her strength was fading, and so was the pain. Her eyes were heavy and she couldn’t keep them open for too long. She was losing consciousness and she was aware of it. It scared her. She had no strength to cry or speak. She knew she had to push one last time, and any strength left in her she had to save for that. She was dizzy and trembling. Joseph…I love you. Why aren’t you here? I forgive you. My love, I forgive you. Come to me. Please… he needs you. Our son needs you. Come to me…

        She took a deep breath and gathered all the strength she didn’t have and pushed. She pushed until her body gave out and after several moments a cry… the most beautiful cry she ever heard… her son was born and crying and a tear fell from her eye. He was crying…then it faded. She tried to sit up but couldn’t move. She laid her head back and her eyelids closed slowly. She saw, right before they closed, a shadow in the distance, running, coming toward her, holding the hand of a small child. That was the last image she remembered.

~

Milena looked up into the clear blue sky as she lay on a sea-green hill, enjoying the light and warmth on her face. Several days have passed in the eyes of the Lord since the day Milena gave birth under the tree on her bed of leaves—thousands of years in the eyes of man, if time were still in existence. But time was only created for earth and it dissolved when the earth did. The New Earth knew not time. It knew only joy and gladness, truth and beauty, goodness and glory and worship. 

        Milena was there, and Joseph. Jonathan and Neila were there, and Nikolay and Ivan. Dan and Anh were there, and Scott and Elisabeth and Trang, Vi and Vo and Huyen. Anastasia was there, and David. Not one deserved to be there, but their guilt had been washed by the Lamb. They all knew each other and loved each other, though they remembered not their relationships from earth. Yet even without this remembrance they had a clearer knowledge and understanding of the old earth than they had while living on it. Everything was good and just and right.

        Milena lay on the soft hill breathing effortless and eternal joy. It no longer mattered what all took place on the old earth… whether she died that day or lived on. For the sake of the reader’s curiosity, she did not live on past that day. She fainted from exhaustion and died  in Joseph’s arms, their son wrapped in a soft sweater on her lap when she took her last breath. Joseph was holding her, tears running down his face, and holding a book over her head that he brought to shield her from the rain. Huyen lay curled up next to them singing to the newborn.

         Joseph never remarried, but raised his two children alone, sharing with them daily of the loveliness of their mother and the great mercy of their God..   

        Now Joseph and David and Huyen join Milena on the sea-green hill, singing the very song Huyen sang that day…

There is a fountain filled with blood

Drawn from Immanuel’s veins,

And sinners plunged beneath that flood 

Lose all their guilty stains.

The dying thief rejoiced to see

That fountain in his day,

And there have I, as vile as he,

Washed all my sins away.

E’er since by faith I saw the stream

Your flowing wounds supply,

Redeeming love has been my theme

And shall be till I die.

Then in a nobler sweeter song

I’ll sing Your pow’r to save,

When this poor lisping stamm’ring tongue

Lies silent in the grave.

Dear dying Lamb, Your precious blood

Shall never lose its power,

Till all the ransomed church of God

Be saved to sin no more,

Be saved to sin no more,

Be saved to sin no more,

Till all the ransomed church of God

Be saved to sin no more.^[21]

“Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, New Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be His people, and God Himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.’ And He who was seated on the throne said, ‘Behold, I am making all things new.’”

Revelation 21:1-5

“And it will be said in that day: ‘Behold, this is our God; we have waited for Him, and He will save us. This is the Lord, we have waited for Him; let us rejoice and be glad in His salvation.’”

-Isaiah 25:9

Till then I would Thy love proclaim with every fleeting breath; and may the music of Thy name refresh my soul in death.

“For who has known the mind of the Lord, or who has become His counselor? Or who has first given to Him that He might be repaid? For from Him and through Him and to Him are all things. To Him be glory forever. Amen.”

Roman 11:34-36

имена имеют значение^[22]

Milena- loving; pleasant; dear

Joseph- may the Lord add increase

David- beloved

Anastasia- resurrection

Huyen- calm

Jonathan- God has given; friend

Anh- peace, light ray

Sara- princess

Golshifteh- amorous flower

Nikolay- victory of the people

Ivan- gracious gift of God

Scott- speaker

Elisabeth- consecrated to God

Frankie- free one

Tommy- twin

Bryce- a noble’s son

Nhi- little one

Schaefer- shepherd 

---

^[1] Pashto: angel

^[2] John 12:24, ASV.

^[3] Pashto: I have needs

^[4] G.K. Chesterton. “If I Only Had One Sermon To Preach,” In Defense of Sanity.

^[5] Pashto: Pure and gold

^[6] Vietnamese: flower shop

^[7] Vietnamese: Time passes quickly

^[8] Vietnamese: Time passes quickly

^[9] Vietnamese: Little Hearts

^[10] Vietnamese: We missed you!

^[11] Luke 7:48-50; John 8:11; Psalm 103:12

^[12] Isaac Watts. Alas, And Did My Savior Bleed, 1707.

^[13] Søren Kierkegaard. Works of Love, pg. 285.

^[14] Vietnamese brand: dark coffee

^[15] Russian: My everything.

^[16] Guy Richard. God’s Will, Hidden and Revealed.

^[17] Philippians 1:6, ESV.

^[18] G. K. Chesterton. “Woman,” In Defense of Sanity.

^[19] John Ruskin

^[20] Russian: Promise me?

^[21] William Cowper. There Is a Fountain Filled With Blood, 1772.

^[22] Russian: Names Matter