Hearing Hope by Beth Anne Lewis (the mitten read aloud txt) 📖

She embraced her friend as they both cried together. She whispered over and over, “Thank you Father. Thank you God.” Then realizing the other’s needed to know the wonderful news, she shouted, “Doctor, Henry, come quick!”
The doctor and Mr. Mcallister came running into the room, no doubt expecting bad news. “What happened?”
Both women crying and laughing at the same time, Mrs. Mcallister said, “She can hear.”
A wide smile spread across Mr. Mcallister’s face, while the doctor’s wore unbelief. He sputtered and stuttered, then pulled out his device used to examine ears. After checking each ear twice, he took Hope’s temperature. Then, wide-eyed and head shaking, he said, “I’ve heard of cases like this before, but I honestly never thought it could happen. The fever burnt so high, it just burned away the deafness. Her body shutting down like it did was like it resetting itself, so I suppose that helped. But like I said, when they told me about this in medical school, I just believed it was impossible.”
“The impossible must always bow its knee to Jesus.” Mrs. Mcallister said with a smile.
Hope closed her eyes, overwhelmed with joy. Loosing Joshua and Caleb was the hardest thing she’d ever endured, but like Mrs. Mcallister had said, God had a plan for good and not for evil. He’d known that through all of this that her hearing would return, and she’d be all the more thankful to Him. And like she knew He wanted, she was ready to listen to Him.


Three weeks later found Hope still weak from her episode, but taking her first trip to town to pick up the mail.
“Now if you feel at all tired, you turn around and come straight back home, you hear?” Faithful Mrs. Mcallister was staying at the Ashford’s house until she was sure Hope was completely recovered.
“All right. Anything you need at the store?”
“No. We’re fine here.”
“Okay then, see you later.” Hope hupped the horse and drove the wagon out on to the road. Kansas was always so gorgeous in the midmorning. The dry heat hadn’t picked up, yet the sun was warm enough to wake one’s body. Not a cloud graced the blue sky, and a gentle breeze lifted the wisps of hair sneaking out of her braid. And thanks be to God, she could hear the rustling of the grass, and the birds. No one ever told her how beautiful birds sounded.
Hope thought back to the last few weeks. They’d been working on her speech so that she sounded almost normal. She’d also learned to recognize words. It was like she was learning to talk and read and write all over, but with sounds involved. Sooner than she expected, the houses became more frequent, and she rolled into their little town. It wasn’t much of anything really, just a general store, a post office, and a bank. Pulling up in front of the post office, she tied the horse to the post, ignoring the curious stares. One woman said, “Isn’t that young Ashford’s wife? The one who can’t hear?” She said can’t hear

like it had a bad taste. Clamping her teeth at what she wanted to say, Hope entered the tiny office. The clerk, Miss Hart, looked up. Eyebrows shooting up she began signing, “Mrs. Ashford. How good of you to come.”
Smiling, Hope signed back, “You needn’t sign . . . because I can hear now.” She spoke the last part.
“Oh Mrs. Ashford, that’s wonderful! H--how?”
Hope tried to summarize the story so it wouldn’t take up all of Miss Hart’s afternoon. When she finished, she said, “Mrs. Mcallister said that the impossible must always bow its knee to Jesus, and here I am; living proof to that.” Accepting the congratulations of the clerk, she walked back out with her mail and put it in the wagon. She didn’t feel tired at all, so decided to go browse the dress goods at the store, for she hadn’t had a well-fitting dress in a long time. She crossed the road to the store, and walking on their small boardwalk counted the dollar bills she had to spend. It should be enough.
“Hope.” A voice she didn’t recognize uttered her name. Well, she didn’t recognize many voices, since she hadn’t been able to hear them until just a few weeks ago.
She looked up at her name just in time to bump into a tall, dark haired man. “Oh, please forgive me, I am so sorry.” She found herself staring into blue eyes; pools of blue that she seemed to drown in.
“Hope, it’s you.” The man signed. This had to be a dream.
“J--Joshua?” Hope squeaked.
He trailed his hand on her cheek, then he smiled. At the smile, she knew. She fell into his arms, sobbing. If he was a dream, at least she could remember being with him right now.
He held her as she cried, knowing the reason for her tears. There would be time to explain later.
Finally, she stepped back, remembering they were in public and people were probably staring at them. Though she couldn’t help touching his cheeks, realizing he wasn’t an apparition. He really was real, not a figure of her imagination.
“Come.” He signed, then took her hand and they walked behind the buildings where they could have privacy. Hope tried to wipe away her tears, but they kept coming. Joshua was alive! Her dear Joshua was alive! On top of all other things, she couldn’t wait to tell him her news.
When they were alone, he signed, “First order of business . . .” and then kissed her. She melted into his arms, for she had thought she would never again feel his lips against hers. When she opened her eyes, he was looking at her with such love in his, it started the tears flowing again.
“You’re probably wondering what happened.”
Taking his flying fingers in hers, she said, “Yes, I am, but Joshua, you don’t have to sign.”
Confusion lined his face.
Smiling through her tears and trembling lower lip, she said, “I can hear.” She’d been saying the words to everybody in town, yet they were so much more wonderful to say to her husband.
His face relaxed, and remained expressionless. When his lower lip slightly dropped, she knew she had him.
“Oh Joshua, I can hear you!”
Tears filled his own eyes, and he clasped her into his arms, and they wept together. “How?” He said against her hair.
She closed her eyes in joy that she knew what he was saying without looking at him. Then she remembered she had to tell him about the baby. Little Caleb. So she did. She told the whole story, beginning to end. How she’d wanted to die when she’d thought he was dead, how Mrs. Mcallister told her about the Lord, how Caleb was born and she’d been sick for days, and how God used all her trials and wove them into something beautiful. Joshua cried with her when he heard about their son, but still he still clasped her hand and said, “I’m just glad I have you still.”
Hope leaned against his chest, not knowing how to express her gratefulness that she had her husband back. And at being able to hear him. His voice was so perfect, deep and soothing. To think she’d never heard it before this time.
After some time, Joshua said, “You want to know my side of the story?”
“Do I ever.” She replied.
Over the next few minutes, Joshua told her how he and another man had been at a nearby town getting mail and replenishing food supplies when the threshing machine blew up. When the news was telegrammed to Hope, the sender had just assumed everyone was dead, since some bodies were burned beyond recognition. Joshua and the other man had had to walk all 30 miles home, which was why he hadn’t returned sooner to her.
Hope pondered the words in her mind. God definitely wanted to get her attention, and He certainly had it now. She was eternally thankful that Joshua’s life was spared, but what about all the other men who died, leaving their wives feeling the same as she, but with no happy ending such as this one. Suddenly, a thought floated through her mind. “I must go visit the wives of the men who died.”
“I think that’s a good idea. You’ll be able to help and relate to their situation.” He kissed her again, then happened to look at the sky. “It’s late.”
“Oh my, Mrs. Mcallister will be so worried.”
“Shall we adjourn home, my love?”
She answered, “We shall.” It was so good to have him back.
They then walked to the still parked wagon and untied the horse. Hope leaned against Joshua’s strong arm as they drove home. She knew there was one Book they both needed to read, every day. And Someone who Joshua needed to get to know better.
Hope smiled, thinking that life really couldn’t get much better. Her husband was alive, her child was with Jesus, and she wasn’t “young Ashford’s deaf wife” anymore. She was Hearing Hope.

Author's Note

I love writing. Though to some people, my style of writing might seem a little unrealistic, or they may not like how I blow through everything without taking time to describe each situation in detail. Think of it like this: some authors write like one runs a marathon. You save your greatest strengths till the end, and drag the whole thing out. I write like one runs a sprint. You run as hard and as fast as you can, not bothering to save anything till the end. Sometimes sprints are far more impressive than marathons because they exhibit the raw speed and power the runner possesses. For me, ideas come so quickly I can’t get them on paper fast enough, and when I do, my whole novel ends up being only a few chapters. Perhaps this is one of my weaknesses, and I need to work on it, or perhaps it is one of my strengths. Either way, I wanted to write a new book, and this is what came of it.
Some parts of Hearing Hope, even I admit, are a bit unrealistic, and are not likely to happen in real life. Even so, they could happen, because the God we serve can do anything, big or small. For those of you who are suffering, I’m not saying you should loose a spouse, have a baby, get sick, and your hearing and happiness will return. My point is that God works in mysterious ways. And He knew your struggles even before you did. He sent them to you for a purpose, and one day you will look back and know what that purpose was. James 1:2-4 says, “Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be