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  A TEST OF FAITH

  “Anyone who has ever struggled in a mother-daughter relationship will identify with Karen Ball’s A Test of Faith. The story is as real as the evening newspaper. It was as if I was reading about my own mother, my own daughter, and perhaps more profoundly, reading about myself.”

  —DEBBIE MACOMBER, New York Times bestselling author

  “As a mother of daughters, I was quickly drawn into the world of Anne and Faith. I laughed and I cried throughout A Test of Faith. And at the end, I thanked God for my own mother and daughters. Thank you, Karen Ball, for this beautiful and memorable story.”

  —ROBIN LEE HATCHER, bestselling author of Beyond the Shadows

  “With fierce reverence, Karen Ball takes hold of truth with both hands and lovingly molds it into a life-changing story that readers will treasure.”

  —ROBIN JONES GUNN, bestselling author of the Sisterchicks™ novels

  “A story this honest could only come from the deepest, most tender places in a writer’s heart. Karen Ball is a highly skilled author who has gifted us with a gripping, heartfelt tale of the times.”

  —KAREN KINGSBURY, bestselling author of One Tuesday Morning, Oceans Apart, and the Redemption series

  THE BREAKING POINT

  “The Breaking Point is compelling and strikingly honest. This story touches the heart and gives hope for struggling marriages. Karen Ball writes with clarity, depth, and power. It’s a pleasure to recommend this engaging and memorable book.”

  —RANDY ALCORN, bestselling author of Safely Home

  “The Breaking Point is must-reading for any couple seeking God’s ideal in this wonderful covenant we know as marriage.”

  —ANGELA ELWELL HUNT, author of The Debt

  “Gut-wrenching in its honesty and passion, The Breaking Point packs a powerful message of obedience and God’s healing.”

  —BRANDILYN COLLINS, bestselling author of Color the Sidewalk for Me and Eyes of Elisha

  “An honest, heartfelt novel about the craggy recesses of marriage—where God does some of His best work. Karen Ball’s writing is emotionally gripping and full of insight.”

  —JAMES SCOTT BELL, bestselling author of Breach of Promise

  “In The Breaking Point, Karen Ball exposes the painful, honest truth of marriage: It’s hard work. This story of lives out of control, love misplaced, and the wounds we often give each other in the name of righteous direction is carefully balanced with God’s love, hope, and ministry of reconciliation. I highly recommend this book.”

  —TRACIE PETERSON, bestselling author of the Desert Rose series and Eyes of the Heart

  Novels by Karen Ball

  A Test of Faith

  The Breaking Point

  “Bride on the Run”

  in the 3 Weddings and a Giggle anthology

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  A TEST OF FAITH

  Published by Multnomah Books

  © 2004 by Karen Ball

  eISBN: 978-0-307-76943-5

  Unless otherwise indicated, Scripture quotations are from:

  Holy Bible, New Living Translation

  © 1996. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.

  All rights reserved.

  Other Scripture quotations are from:

  The Living Bible (TLB)

  © 1971. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.

  All rights reserved.

  New American Standard Bible® (NASB) © 1960, 1977, 1995

  by the Lockman Foundation. Used by permission.

  The Holy Bible, New International Version (NIV)

  © 1973, 1984 by International Bible Society,

  used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House

  “Shepherd of Love” © copyright 1966, renewed 1994 by John W. Peterson Music

  Company. All rights reserved. Used by permission.

  “Jesus Is Lord of All” words by William J. and Gloria Gaither. Music by William J.

  Gaither. Copyright © 1973 William J. Gaither, Inc. All rights controlled by Gaither

  Copyright Management. Used by permission.

  Published in the United States by WaterBrook Multnomah, an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group, a division of Random House Inc., New York.

  MULTNOMAH and its mountain colophon are registered trademarks of Random House Inc.

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission.

  For information:

  Multnomah Books

  12265 Oracle Boulevard, Suite 200

  Colorado Springs, CO 80921

  v3.1

  For my mom, Paula Sapp.

  Mom, yours was a life of true faith and love.

  You lived out your devotion to God every day,

  sharing His love and kindness with everyone around you,

  rejoicing in His blessings of family and friends.

  You showed me that all the eloquent talk in the world doesn’t

  measure up to one simple act of love. And though you’re gone,

  people still talk about the way you made others feel special,

  about your gentle spirit and your wonderful, sweet smile.

  You were the best mother any daughter could ask for.

  I miss you every day, and I’m so grateful

  God shared you with me.

  We’ll be together again one day, in eternity.

  What a grand reunion that will be!

  You loved to hear me sing “Shepherd of Love,” and I enjoyed

  singing it, because it made you smile. And it made you cry.

  No wonder, then, when I needed a special song for the mother

  and daughter in this book to share, I knew right away which

  song it would be. And every time I write about that song,

  I’ll sing it for you.

  And for Julee, Heather, Caitlin, and Alyssa.

  The sister and daughters I never had. I love you.

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Part One Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Part Two Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Many thanks to my physician, Susan Derry, and her wonderful nurse, Joanne, who always answered my med
ical questions—some of which I’m sure seemed quite odd—with patience and humor.

  Thanks, also, to Heather, Caitlin, and Alyssa, who brain-stormed ways to make young Faith real and shared them with great enthusiasm. You girls are wonderful!

  My eternal gratitude to my church family. You upheld us, prayed with us, supplied us with meals for months, and cried with us as we walked the path with Mom in her last days. We couldn’t have made it without you. And my true devotion to the wonderful women who’ve been part of my life for as long as I can remember—Anita, Marge, Pat, Therese, Verva, Betty, and Maxine—who reminded me on that first Mother’s Day, the day after Mom’s memorial service, that I still have spiritual moms. I love each one of you.

  Finally, special hugs to The Coffee Crew—Linda, Sarah, Jennifer, Lori, Sandy, Deb, Andi, Connie, Max, and Patti—the original Yada Yada Sisters. (Though we gave ourselves that name years ago, it still fits us perfectly!) Your humor, faith, and wisdom have been an anchor for me through the toughest of times; your care has upheld me when I couldn’t stand on my own. Thank you, dear friends, for all of that—and for letting me use you in this book! Shows you’re not only good friends, but really, really good sports!

  PART ONE

  “A mother is the truest friend we have, when trials, heavy and sudden, fall upon us; when adversity takes the place of prosperity; when friends who rejoice with us in our sunshine, desert us; when troubles thicken around us, still will she cling to us, and endeavor by her kind precepts and counsels to dissipate the clouds of darkness, and cause peace to return to our hearts.”

  WASHINGTON IRVING

  “Listen! A farmer went out to plant some seed. As he scattered it across his field, some fell on a footpath, and the birds came and ate it. Other seed fell on shallow soil with underlying rock. The plant sprang up quickly, but it soon wilted beneath the hot sun and died because the roots had no nourishment in the shallow soil. Other seed fell among thorns that shot up and choked out the tender blades so that it produced no grain. Still other seed fell on fertile soil and produced a crop that was thirty, sixty, and even a hundred times as much as had been planted.”

  Then [Jesus] said, “Anyone who is willing to hear should listen and understand.”

  MARK 4:3–9, NIV

  “Therefore this is what the Lord Almighty says:

  ‘See, I will refine and test them.’ ”

  JEREMIAH 9:7, NIV

  The

  Farmer

  “Listen! A farmer went out to

  plant some seed …”

  MARK 4:3

  one

  “If it was going to be easy to raise kids,

  it never would have started with something called labor.”

  BARBARA JOHNSON

  IT WAS TIME.

  Anne savored the moment. Pain didn’t matter. Fear was nonexistent. All she felt was joy. Deep, overwhelming joy. She couldn’t stop the grin that spread across her features.

  But then, she didn’t want to.

  She’d waited so long. Despite the doctor’s dire warnings, she’d known this was right. Known it was God’s call to her. And so she prayed, begged, threw herself at God’s feet. And now…

  “Jared.” She meant to whisper his name, but it came out in a sharp groan.

  His eyes opened, and he sat up in the bed. “What? Where?”

  Anne’s grin broadened at the rapid, caught-in-the-headlights blink of his eyes as he fought his way through the fog of deep sleep. With his hair askew and the imprint of the wrinkled pillow on his cheek, he looked like a little boy waking from a nap. His fists clutched the bedsheets, crumpling them into tight balls.

  He was adorable.

  Jared reached out to flick on the bedroom light, rubbing the remnants of sleep from his eyes with one solid fist.

  A flush of utter happiness washed over Anne. It wouldn’t be long before she’d see a little boy with those same eyes … or a little girl with that same tousled, sandy hair.

  Their child.

  All the years of waiting, the visits to doctors, the requests for prayer. All the hopes and dreams they’d shared, given up, then reclaimed every time Anne thought she might be pregnant. All the disappointments, the sense of failure and empty longing as other women had baby after baby, as though it were the easiest thing in the world. It was all over.

  She was having a baby.

  Another stab of pain gripped her, and she sucked in a breath. She was having a baby, all right. And she was having it now!

  “Honey—” Anne grasped Jared’s arm—“it’s happening.”

  That brought his eyes wide open, and he was up and out of the bed in a heartbeat. In Jared’s typical prepare-for-every-contingency manner, he’d slept in his trousers. His shirt, socks, and shoes lay waiting near the bed, perfectly positioned for getting dressed should the baby decide to make its appearance during the night.

  Last night Anne hadn’t been able to resist teasing him. “Your child wouldn’t dream of doing anything unexpected, dear.”

  “Your child—” came his laughing response—“wouldn’t dream of doing anything else!”

  Apparently Jared had been right.

  As Anne pushed herself to the edge of the bed, Jared perched on the mattress to pull on his socks and shoes. He glanced at her over his shoulder. “Are you okay? Is the baby okay?”

  Anne’s laughter was only slightly strained as she patted his muscled arm. “We’re both fine. It’s—” Words lodged in her throat as a contraction cut through her. When it finally eased, she drew in a deep breath and managed a smile. “I think your son is in a hurry to meet you.”

  A tender smile lifted his lips, and he held a hand out to pull her up. “More likely your daughter figures it’s time to be the center of attention.”

  Anne let him enfold her, leaning against his solid frame as his arms came around her, holding her, sheltering her. She spread her palm over his heart, feeling the even beat. How could one man be so strong and yet so gentle? And how had she ever been so blessed that he should love her?

  Anne didn’t know, but she’d spend her whole life being grateful.

  Another contraction hit, this one more extended. She buried her face in Jared’s chest until it passed, then looked up and started at the grimace on his features. Glancing down she saw the handful of chest hair she’d been clutching.

  It took all of her willpower to not laugh out loud. “Umm … sorry.”

  He eased her fingers free and rubbed his chest, the lopsided grin she loved so dearly peeking out at her.

  “Not near as sorry as I am.” His fingers entwined with hers as he lifted her hand to kiss her fingers. “But I forgive you. Now, what say we get you to the hospital and get this baby born?”

  “I say—” this time she was the one who grimaced as her midsection convulsed—“yes.”

  He helped her waddle toward the door. “I thought you might.”

  “Aaahhhh!”

  The scream escaped Anne despite her best intentions. She hadn’t thought it possible, but the contraction seemed to double, and her hands dug into the sheets. Jared’s strong arm slipped behind her. “Cleansing breath, hon. Remember?”

  She nodded, teeth clenched, and sucked in a breath.

  “Pant, Annie. Hee hee hoo…”

  She tried to focus on her husband’s coaching. He fed her another ice chip, then dabbed a cool cloth to her face.

  I’m so tired, Lord. Please … please … make the pain stop.

  Wetness trickled down her face, and Anne shook her head. What was she doing crying? This baby wasn’t supposed to happen, wasn’t supposed to be possible. Diagnosed with diabetes five years ago in her late twenties, the doctor had told her over and over that her disease would make becoming pregnant difficult, even dangerous.

  “Your sugars are all over the map, Anne,” he’d intoned on more occasions than she could number. “We’re doing our best to regulate them, but your body isn’t cooperating.” This was always followed by him flipping her
chart shut, the click a sound as final as a door closing in her face. “Add your age to that—”

  “But Jared’s doctor says he’s a perfect age for having children, and he’s only two years older than I am!”

  The doctor shrugged. “What can I say? He’s a man. But for you, I’m afraid pregnancy just isn’t a safe option.”

  Anne had shed many tears over those words. Needless tears, because though the doctor dealt in medicine, God dealt in miracles. He not only planted in her the strong desire to have children, He touched her body, bringing her rebel sugars under control. He helped her manage her eating habits and get her body in shape. She and Jared took up jogging. She wasn’t an athlete like he was, but she was determined. She would be healthy.

  Then, when against all odds she finally became pregnant at the ripe old age of thirty-three, God helped her come through the difficult pregnancy so well that her doctor could only shake his head.

  On her last visit, he set the chart down beside her on the examining table and patted her arm. “You’re doing great, Anne. Somebody must be watching out for you.”

  Indeed, He was.

  So how could she complain now about a few hours of labor? So what if she had to endure pain? God had given her a child.

  “Hon?”

  Anne turned to see Jared studying her. “Are you okay? You got so—quiet.”

  She mustered up a smile. “I was thinking how lucky I am.”

  Before he could respond, she was seized by searing pain. She squeezed her eyes closed, concentrating on what she’d learned in their childbirth classes. Pant, pant, blow. Pant, pant, blow… “Hee, hee—hooohhhh!”

  “Can’t you do something?”

  Jared’s firm question snapped her eyes open. “I’m trying!”

  “We’re doing everything we can, Mr. Bennett.”

  At the nurse’s low words, Anne realized Jared hadn’t been talking to her but to the nurse at her side.

  As the contraction finally eased, Anne licked her dry lips and laid her head back against the pillow. If only she could sleep. Over the last twenty-four hours, she’d snatched a moment here and there, but the contractions never let up long enough for her to really rest.