Excerpted from The Seat Beside Me © 2002 by Nancy Moser. Used by permission of Multnomah Publishers, Inc. Excerpt may not be reproduced without the prior written consent of Multnomah Publishers, Inc.
The words came to him so clearly that for a moment, he wondered if they had been audible. Then he knew: They weren’t words for all to hear. They were words for him alone. Words from God.
Henry sucked in a breath, ignoring the pain that came with it. In this one moment everything was clear. This was his purpose. This was his destiny. This was the road God had been leading him toward. The road of a plane crash. The road of man against nature. The road of life against death. The road of sacrifice.
But he still had a choice. God wouldn’t force him to do it. God was big on free will. He gave opportunities; He gave chances for excellence. He gave encouragement for goodness. But God did not push. He offered.
This is the way…will you walk in it?
It was odd to hear the words formed as a question. A slice of pain shot up Henry’s arm, urging him to think of himself. Don’t do it, Henry. You have a right to live as much as any of these other people do. You don’t know them. You don’t owe them a thing.
The whap-whap of the helicopter cut through the air. The rotors made the wind and water blast Henry’s body as it hovered above them. A lifeline was thrown. And then a second one.
Henry caught the first one.
I don’t owe them … but I do owe Him.
And with a clutch to his throat, knowing full well what he was doing, once again Henry Smith handed the lifeline to the woman who should have gone the last time; the woman who had the line stolen from her.
With a look of shock she nodded her thanks and placed it around herself.
The second lifeline brushed past Henry, grabable, takeable, but he let it go, directing it toward the other young woman standing beside him. She took the line weakly.
The helicopter moved away with two people holding on to two lifelines.
Henry watched as it left him alone.
But not alone. He smiled. Never, ever alone.
In the far corners of his mind, Henry could hear voices, sirens, and even the helicopter. But they were of no use to him anymore. They were not of the world where he was going.
A small part of him held on to the hope that the helicopter would return in time. But as the minutes passed, Henry let even that hope slip away. A bit reluctantly at first, but then with the peaceful joy of full surrender. God loved him. God would take care of him — even in the end.
Henry tried to adjust his body against the fuselage, but his grip was slipping. His hands were like two bricks, incapable of movement. Plus, the tail of the plane was sinking, and his lungs had tightened around his heart, which beat ever so slowly like a wind-up toy winding down.
His heart…
My lovely Ellen…my boy, Joey. I love you.
With that final thought, the tail shifted, and Henry Smith was pulled beneath the black water.
Meanwhile, Floyd the pilot strained to see through the blizzard. Strained to see that familiar head and torso held erect against the fuselage.
Where is he?
Hugh called from the cockpit. “Do you see him?”
“No. Go around again!”
“It’s been so long, too long.”
“I know! I know! Go around again. He has to be here!”
The helicopter dove and circled, making figure eights above the sinking tail section of the plane. Floyd searched the water for a body. If only they could see him floating somewhere and go down and scoop him up as they had done with the girl.
“Come on, be there!” Lord, make him be there.
But he wasn’t there. The man with the black beard was gone.
The man who’d given everything had lost it all.
But death would not win. In the final moments of his life, as he descended into the blackness of the river, Henry Smith, an ordinary man, laughed at death. And as he died, he smiled ever so slightly.
For Henry knew a secret. A secret known to him and to God: “Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.”
And when the final breath left his body, when death tried to grab hold of his soul, the angels of the Lord shoved death away and said, “You may not have this man. Not this special man.” Then they lifted him out of the dark coldness and took him to a place where the warmth of the Father enfolded him. And then Henry heard the words he’d been longing to hear; the words that made everything perfect.
“Well done, good and faithful servant.”