What are you running from, Miss Campbell? Gordon knew he had no business posing such a question. Not when he was on the run himself.
Then stop running. Gordon looked down at the toes of his boots. Could he do so? Stop fleeing from his past and simply face it? Confess who he was and what he’d done?
Be strong and of a good courage. A gentler voice this time, stirring deep inside him.
Gordon could ignore his conscience, but he could not disregard the Almighty. He lifted his head. You’ll help me, Lord? Show me what to do, tell me what to say? Gordon was not afraid of words; they were his livelihood. But an apology for so great an error would not be easily spoken.
It’s hard to say, “I was wrong” or “I’m sorry.” Yet those words are more treasured than any present under the tree. Who might you offer that gift to this holy season?
Excerpted from A Wreath of Snow by Liz Curtis Higgs