5
EZRA
Sunday morning, the congregation at Simply Grace Church welcomed me with open arms, some tears, and hundreds of condolences. While I appreciated people’s words, I quickly grew tired of murmuring my thanks.
I didn’t want to think about Sofiy and the loss of her life. I had no desire to be reminded I’d unexpectedly become a widow at the age of forty-nine or that my future lay in shadows of gray.
Even Pastor Welker sidelined me after the service, asking if I would be interested in a position at the church while on furlough in order to keep my brain occupied, my grief at bay. Knowing I had no plans to return to the Ukraine and the small church I’d built from the ground up didn’t give me any clear answers.
I politely declined—for now, I told him.
Hindsight made me overanalyze and q
