Free What Matters Most by Melody Carlson

than mine.”
    “So…” Caitlin sighed. “It’s as if Jesus has already drawn a dividing line between you and your mother. I don’t think you need to feel guilty about it, Maya. I could be wrong, but I don’t think you have any responsibility to your mother, well, other than the responsibility we have for everyone that God brings into our lives.To pray and love and forgive. Outside of that, I don’t think you should feel guilty.”
    I was taking furious notes as she said all this because I knew what I was hearing was important.
    “Does that make sense?” she finally asked.
    I looked up. “It does…for the most part.”
    “The thing with any counseling or teaching or direction, Maya—whether it’s from me or the pastor or even a radio show—is that you need to weigh it for yourself. You need to use discernment.”
    I nodded. “I know. You’ve told me that before.”
    She smiled. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be redundant.”
    I laughed. “That’s okay. I’m sure I need to be reminded.”
    “So, tell me then, how do you weigh these things for yourself? Where do you get discernment?”
    I tried not to feel like I was in first grade as I recited what she’d told me before. And the truth is, I’m glad she asks me questions like this. I appreciate her taking the time to mentor me. These things are important. “I compare what I’ve heard to what the Bible says. I pray about it. I talk to other Christians that I respect, and I listen to their advice. And then I try to hear that still small voice inside of me. Is there something I missed?”
    “No, I’d give you an A+ in discernment.”
    “Thanks.”
    “But the proof of the pudding is in the eating.”
    I laughed. “I remember my grandmother saying that exact same thing when I was little, but what does it mean?”
    “It means you can say that pudding looks yummy, but you don’t really know that it is until you taste it.”
    “So I can say I know what discernment is, but until I actually use it, it’s meaningless.”
    She nodded. “I wish all the high school girls I meet with were so smart.” Now she frowned. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
    “It’s okay.”
    “Speaking of high school, did you make a decision about graduation yet?”
    “I told Mrs. King that I want this to be my senior year.”
    “I think that’s a good choice.”
    We talked awhile longer, and then I remembered that I wanted to get over to see Marissa. She was moved to the nursing home yesterday, and I have a feeling it’s not going to be easy for her.
    My feeling turned out to be right. When I got to the nursing home, Marissa was sitting in a wheelchair facing a streaky window with a view of a cement wall and some trash cans. Not pretty.
    “Hey, Marissa,” I said as I turned her chair around. She’s still recovering from some broken bones that make walking difficult, although she’s not supposed to spend too much time in the wheelchair if she wants to recover more fully. “Want to go for a walk?”
    “No.” Her face looked dark and angry, almost like the old Marissa when she was in a foul mood, but different.
    So I pulled a chair next to her and sat down. “How’s it going?”
    “Bad.”
    “Why?”
    “Hate this.”
    “What do you hate?”
    “Hate this…place.”
    I nodded. “Oh.”
    “Bad place. Hate this place.”
    At least her sentences were getting longer. “It’s different than the hospital, isn’t it?” I said. “Maybe it’ll take getting used to it.”
    “Old people place.”
    I looked around the room. “Yeah. There are a lot of old people here, Marissa. Kind of like having a lot of grandparents.” Then I told her about my own grandmother and how important she’d been in my life. Marissa actually seemed to be listening. Finally I asked her again if she’d like to walk.
    “No.”
    And so I told her that the only way to get out of the old people place would be to keep working at getting well. I told her that her bones would heal