Free Bridge to a Distant Star by Carolyn Williford Page A

become almost a painted picture in her mind’s eye—the stars framed by the casing around her window. She recalled the brightest stars and the dim ones, those she could only catch glimpses of in her peripheral vision.
    “Above all, you must understand that no prophecy of Scripture came about by the prophet’s own interpretation. For prophecy never had its origin in the will of man, but men spoke from God as they were carried along by the Holy Spirit.”
    She skimmed through the offered commentary. The notes about the inspiration of Scripture, how both God and man were actively involved in the process. Knowing the phrase morning star was not the central thrust of the passage, Maureen still kept coming back to it, couldn’t let go of the nagging feeling that there was something more here. Something waiting to be uncovered. Until finally, she gave in to her curiosity and headed for their home office.
    Sitting before the computer, she mused, “Okay … Google … what shall I type in? Think I’ll try ‘information about stars.’ That’s a start.”
    She skimmed through the list, chose “Basic Facts about Star Gazing,” and clicked.
    She read about an anomaly called averted vision. According to the website, the term explained why some particularly distant stars vanished in your direct gaze. That’s it. She read out loud: “‘The star seems to disappear when you look straight at it, but if you avert your vision—when you look to one side or the other—then you’re able to see the star again. The anomaly happens because the faint light of the star reaches a more sensitive part of the retina, allowing you to detect it.’”
    Maureen sat back, absentmindedly chewing on a cuticle, pondering the significance of her discovery. Then Bobo brought her attention back to the mundane, stretching himself up to scratch her bare foot. “Need to go outside? As always, great timing, little one.” She unlocked and opened the back door, depositing Bobo outside. And caught a flash of blue.
    Maureen turned toward the birdhouse and discovered a male bluebird perched on top. Mesmerized, she took in the entire scene. Noted bits of lint in his beak, remnants from a dryer vent. And then, to Maureen’s ultimate delight, he fluttered into the birdhouse. Was out of sight for only a few seconds before he flew out of the small round hole—and was off again. Obviously in search of more materials for building a nest.
    The female soon followed, carrying a twig that Maureen doubted would fit through the hole. But as she watched, enchanted by every move the bird made and smiling in her delight, the female skillfully maneuvered the twig into her home.
    “Bobo,” she cried out, sweeping the startled dog up into the air. “The bluebirds are moving in! They’re making our little house a home.”
    Maybe now … maybe this is the turn I’ve been hoping for, she excitedly thought to herself, the ringing of the phone intruding into her raised hopes. Running inside to catch it in time, panting in her excitement, Maureen grabbed the receiver from its cradle. And then—she couldn’t help herself—she moved to the window so she could continue watching the busy papa and mama.
    “Hello?”
    “Maureen? It’s me. Emilie. Surprised I got you. Thought I’d have to leave a message, that you’d still be at work.”
    “No, um, long story.” Maureen felt instantly uncomfortable, as if Emilie could see into her memories of the morning, read her thoughts. She felt herself blush in shame all over again. “What’s up?”
    “You won’t believe it. God’s answered our prayers. Mo—he’s come home. Ed came home for good last night, can you believe it? I just can’t wait to tell everyone about it tomorrow. Won’t it be fun?—I can hardly wait.” Emilie was nearly babbling, giddy in her excitement.
    “Em, that’s … wow, that’s wonderful news.”
    “He says he realized what a horrible mistake it all was. Missed the kids. Hated the motel room