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wanted nothing to do with Him.
    The only being who could control her life was Melody. She had been the one who tried to fight off the man who attacked her. She had been the one who helped her mom in every way possible while growing up. She was the one who got herself through diesel mechanic school and then worked hard to be one of the best at it. She was the one in control, and she didn’t need to attend some feel-good church service to make her think all the things she couldn’t explain would be all right in the end.
    “Hi, Melody.”
    Melody turned at the sound of her name. She smiled at one of the older ladies in the church. Sweet, tiny Bonnie suffered from rheumatoid arthritis. Over the years, her hands had gnarled until she had almost no use of her individual fingers. Melody knew the woman had to be in pain most of, if not all, the time. Yet Bonnie always wore a smile on her face. She even painted wooden ornaments her husband cut for her. The woman was a true encouragement in never giving up, and her sweet spirit drew Melody.
    “Hi, Bonnie.” Melody reached toward the woman and wrapped her arms around her. Bonnie felt more like a grandmother to her than a church acquaintance, and she made sitting through church every week worth it.
    “I made these for all the ladies. I got them done a little early, but”—Bonnie held up a small flag pin—“they’re to wear on the Fourth of July.”
    Melody took the wooden pin painted in red, white, and blue. “Thank you so much.”
    Bonnie waved. “Church is getting ready to start. You have a good day.”
    Melody stared at the pin as Bonnie walked to the other side of the sanctuary.
Why would God allow that kind woman to live in constant pain?
    Why is that woman so kind?
    Melody blinked at the second thought. She had no idea where it had come from. She wasn’t sure what to think about it either. Her brows furrowed as she lowered herself into her seat. She felt her aunt and uncle beside her, and she nodded to Gracie and Wyatt from across the aisle, but she felt perplexed by the thought. What did make Bonnie different?
    She looked at her aunt and uncle. The music leader instructed the congregation to stand as the first song of the morning began. She never actually sang the words but mouthed along with everyone instead. She studied her aunt’s and uncle’s faces. She knew there was something different about them. Even when she was a girl, she could tell they had a peace, a joy that she didn’t understand.
    Oh, she’d seen them fuss before. She remembered one time when she was a little girl and Uncle Roy hadn’t started the grill when Aunt Renee thought he had. She and her mom had all the food ready, and not only was the grill not hot, but it was out of propane as well. Aunt Renee was not happy, and she made sure her husband knew it. But even then, the way they handled their fight, they were different.
    The music finally ended, and Melody sat and prepared herself to listen to their preacher for forty-five minutes or so. Today one of the women walked to the podium and picked up the microphone. Music started, and she began to sing. She had the most beautiful, soothing voice, and Melody was instantly drawn into the song. Something about being able to call down angels to destroy everything, but instead Jesus had died for all of us.
    The song ended, and Aunt Renee leaned over and swiped moisture from her eye. “I love that song, and no one sings it like Tammie.”
    Melody nodded but continued to stare at the front of the church. This time the preacher did walk to the podium. Most of the time, she tried to envision the engine of whatever vehicle she needed to work on. Today, he talked about storms of life and how we wouldn’t know the answers to all our questions this side of heaven. “Some things we just won’t understand,” the pastor’s voice boomed through the sanctuary.
    Why not, God? Why won’t You tell us?
    She inwardly chided herself for talking to a being that she