Page 88 of The Dating Game

Epilogue: Brooke

“Onescooportwo?”I ask the child in front of me. She’s not one of the girls from my group, but she still looks familiar.

“One, please,” she says in a tired voice. My heart aches for her as I spoon the pasta onto her plate. She’s so young, and now she’s lost her home. Her and countless others. My gaze scans the school gymnasium where a distribution center has been set up to pass out essentials like toiletries, water, and food to earthquake victims.

After we left the zoo, we came here to help. After all, we may have lost some of our possessions, but there are people who lost their whole homes or businesses. We have to head back to Arizona in the morning–with so many worried parents and school starting back up Monday, we really can’t delay–but for now at least we can help.

Another person appears in front of me, and I repeat my spiel, this time doling out two scoops to the weary-looking stranger. Goodness, this is so depressing. I wish I could do something to spark some joy in this space. But I also don’t want to simply try to project false cheer. These people are going through something traumatizing. How can I say anything encouraging without seeming like I’m minimizing their suffering?

I hear Will’s voice from the other end of the long serving table where he’s passing out garlic bread. I look over and see him taking thehands of a middle-aged woman with tears in her eyes. He bows his head and it’s clear he’s praying for her.

Of course.Jesus. He’s the spark of joy these people need. Any other source of joy is fragile and transient. His joy is eternal, fueled by His love and the hope of eternity in His unbroken kingdom. These people need some of God’s hope right about now. How can I remind them that He sees them even in these hard times?

Silas pops up next to me. “I’m here to relieve you of your serving duties,” he tells me. “Paul was hoping you’d read a book to some of the younger kids on stage so their parents can get a break.” He jerks his head to the stage on the other side of the gym where Paul–the disaster relief expert running this show–is surrounded by a group of young kids. We’re in an elementary school, so the gym doubles as an auditorium. And a cafeteria too. I suppose that makes it more of a multipurpose room.

“You didn’t want to read to them?” I ask Silas with a teasing smile.

“Oh I already played Duck, Duck, Goose with them for like an hour,” he tells me, and I chuckle.

“Alright then.” I peel off my gloves and pass him the pasta spoon. “I’ll go read.”

I head toward the stage, my feet slowing as a bunch of thoughts come together in my head like a Venn Diagram that’s been squished into one giant circle. Hope. God. Earthquake. Paul. Silas. Bam!

Worship!There it is: the answer to how I can give these people some hope. We can worship God together. Just like Paul and Silas did when they were imprisoned, right before an earthquake took place. Just like Will and I did as we stood together in the rubble after the earthquake that brought all of these people here tonight.

My steps quicken as the idea possesses me. Now that I’ve thought of it, how can I keep from singing? I remember Will singing that verysong at the memory care center and know that’s the one I want to sing here too.

Paul has a toddler attached to his leg when I pull up next to him. “Oh good, you’re here to relieve Silas, right?” he asks, a note of desperation in his voice. I nod. “There’s a stack of books on the corner of the stage,” he tells me. “Let’s get these kids all up there and you can read to them.”

“Actually,” I say, “I have something I need to do first.” Paul’s eyes widen and he looks down at the boy clutching his leg. “But I promise I’ll read to them after,” I say quickly. “And here.” I bend down and tug the small boy off of him. “I can take this little guy up there with me. Hey,” I say to the child, who promptly sticks his thumb in his mouth. “Let’s go on stage,” I tell him. “Do you like to sing?”

He doesn’t answer, but that’s okay. I’ll get him out of his shell with some music–a beautiful melody always brings people together.

I take the stage, feeling like Zoey Deschanel inElfwhen she tries to spread Christmas cheer by singing “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” in Times Square. Only what I want to spread is far more valuable: the hope of Christ.

There’s no mic in here, so I’m going to have to project my voice as best as I can. If I can just get the people closest to me singing, hopefully it will have a ripple effect. I wish my sisters were here, but since they don’t have a bunch of teenagers to chaperone, they took to the streets to pass out supplies and help with cleanup efforts there. Oh well, no sense delaying any longer. I take a deep breath and begin.

“My life flows on in endless song,” I croon, but no one notices; so I sing a little louder. “Above earth’s lamentation, I hear the sweet though far off hymn that hails a new creation.”

The people standing nearest the stage all turn to look at me, but they don’t join in. I won't give up, though. I keep singing.At least the little boy in my arms seems to appreciate my efforts. He lays his head down on my shoulder and nestles in closer. Buoyed by this, I continue. “Through all the tumult and the strife, I hear the music ringing; it finds an echo in my soul–how can I keep from singing?”

I’m still not getting anything from the crowd, though I have finally caught their attention. A hush has fallen over the room. It’s just my voice singing out into the silence. Even though I perform karaoke regularly, I can feel my confidence wavering. It’s different singing in front of people when you’re supposed to be doing so…what I’m doing now is completely random.

Possibly a bit weird.

Yeah, definitely weird. I’m not sure I can stand how weird I suddenly feel up here all alone…having spontaneously burst into song.

But then something happens.

My karaoke knight in shining armor dashes to the stage to save me once again, joining his voice to mine for the second verse. “What though my joys and comforts die? The Lord my Savior liveth; What though the darkness gather round! Songs in the night He giveth.”

Will’s eyes find mine as we sing, and I’m filled with love for him all over again. Gratitude overwhelms me, and I lift my voice to the heavens, desperate for God to know the depths of it.

“No storm can shake my inmost calm, while to that refuge clinging; since Christ is Lord of heaven and earth–”

Then, like a dam bursting, dozens of voices join ours for the final line of the refrain: “How can I keep from singing?”

The room resounds with song. Withworship.Only the voices dwindle as we move onto the final verse, and I realize that perhaps this hymn isn’t as well known as I thought. The people here are much younger than the ones at the memory care center. Will and I finish outthe stanza alone until the final line when every voice joins ours once more to sing, “How can I keep from singing?”

The final note rings out, and before Will and I can do anything, someone in the crowd starts up a new song: “Amazing Grace.” This time all the voices join; this hymn well-known by all.

Will’s hand finds my free one on the stage, giving it a squeeze. The toddler in my arms, sighs, and I peer down to see his eyes have fluttered shut. We stand there, a peaceful little trio, joyfully singing to God. It feels as if we’ve come full circle from just a few weeks ago when we stood on stage at Twist and Shout. There, we were two people performing for a crowd with an undercurrent of attraction fizzling between us, despite my best efforts to squelch it. Here, we’re two people worshiping God together, both secure in the love developing between us.

I’m reminded of my conversation with Carmen about the book Song of Solomon. She dismissed the book as being “about boobs," but as Will and I sing I hear a sweet line from one of the verses in my mind:I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine.

That’s when I know for certain that Sydney was right all along: Iamgoing to marry WillBarrett some day.

The End!