Shane rolled onto her back and opened her eyes. There was no moment of stepping through the gentle delirium that usually followed the mind out of sleep. She woke in a heartbeat and didn't know why. She pulled the blankets to her chin, snuggling deeper into their comforting nest. When the porch swing by the front door squeaked, her eyes popped open again and she knew why she was awake.

Another heartbeat and she was belting the plush terrycloth robe around herself, the nesting blankets still mounded in the shape of her body, but empty. "What?" she whispered to herself, not understanding. The porch swing squeaked again as she slipped into the Birche Slippers that felt like kid-gloves holding her feet. Another heartbeat and she was standing in the hallway, looking into the living room at Oliver in the rocking chair, eyes closed and a contented smile on his face. Home from the hospital only a month and the twins were doing what they did best, sleeping. Rebecca Crystal was the angel of the two, well-mannered and ladylike even at such a young age. Joseph Norman was the antagonist, moody and fitful, and at the moment the object of Oliver's ministering attentions. Her husband had the fitful one in his arms and was applying a cure so old it had never been recorded in history; a combination of rocking, cuddling, and the whispering words of love. Shane's heart swelled at the sight, her husband was very good with the cure and for a moment she was tempted to pause and wait until little fitful was asleep again so her husband could minister to her among the nest of blankets. The porch swing interrupted her mental dalliance and she continued along the hall to the front door.

Pushing the screen door open, she paused when she saw the figure sitting in the swing. She recognized Him instantly, she knew His name, but like an elusive memory she could not call it to her tongue. Her heart started pounding in her chest and she shrank back. "Fear not," the man said, reaching to take her hand. The words touched her, easing fear. "I long for the days when I won't have to start every conversation with those words. Only one time has someone recognized Me and not wanted to run away, but then Abraham was a different sort from the start. Please sit with Me," He added gently. She reached and took His hand and He guided her to sit beside Him.

"Is there a reason you would visit tonight?" The shred of remaining fear touched her voice and, giving it an odd tremolo.

The man pushed with His legs, setting the swing in motion. "Do you realize that your porch swing is the 'terebinth moment' for you and Oliver?"

Shane shook her head. "I don't know what that means."

The man chuckled softly and squeezed her hand. "To your question, I am not here for any reason tonight except to be near you, Oliver, and the twins. It's called fellowship and I enjoy it a great deal. When the twins are ready to learn to walk, you will hold them by the hands, lifting them up so that unsteady steps may become sure. In the same way, I am doing that with you right now."

"Can I get you something? Are you hungry?" Shane shook her head at the presumptuous question.

"Thank you, but no. Just be here with Me, talk if you like." The man kept pushing with his legs and the swing completed each arc with a small squeak. "You can even ask that question looming at the back of your mind. Your choice."

"How – h – ?"

"Look Kid. When you start studying that Bible Oliver gave you, you will learn that there is not a word on your tongue that I don't know before you speak, and not a thought that I cannot see. But like I said, the choice is yours."

Shane let the swing move her and stared out into the night. The man was right, the memory was still fresh in her mind and the question loomed above it like a banner on a battlefield. The tears started then and she let her head fall forward so they could roll off her cheeks.

"Shane," the man said, squeezing her hand. "Talk to Me. Go ahead, ask."

"Why – why did my daddy leave me?"

The man sat silent, letting the swing speak for a moment as Shane wept, washing a wound that had never healed. "That is a tough question," the man said. "Not tough to answer, but so very tough to understand. The truth of it is that it was his choice to make. It's called freewill. Yes, it messed you up, it hurt and still does. Your choice is what to do with the hurt. But the point of your terebinth moment is the man rocking your baby at this moment, the man you love. He has spent a lifetime surviving other people's choices and he did it with faith and more. So have you. Read the scripture that says, "A woman's heart plans her way, but the Lord directs her steps"? Or do you still believe in coincidence?"

Shane shook her head. "No. I have seen too many divine deliveries to accept coincidence."

"Ah, wisdom grows like the terebinth tree. Your first day of work at the DLO, you stopped at a coffee cart and found yourself standing behind Oliver O'Toole. Have you ever asked yourself how exactly that happened?"

Shane blinked. "Are you saying that was a set up?"

The man laughed. "Of course it was a set up. Not a sparrow falls to the ground without My knowing it."

Another heartbeat and she felt odd suddenly, as if she were tipping over. Alone on the swing, she turned and the support chains squeaked at her movement. She pulled the robe tighter as the front door creaked open and Oliver came out. He sat and gathered her under his arm. "The children are both asleep," he said softly.

She stared at his face and lifted one hand, touching the lines of his brow, the bridge of his nose, his lips. Many times since there first kiss, she had been overwhelmed by how much she could love one person, but never more than at that moment. "Oh," she said softly. "Terebinth is a face to face moment. I see it now," she said and kissed him softly.