Someday: 3 (Sunrise)

  What Readers Are Saying about Karen Kingsbury’s Books

  “My friend Shelley and I call your books ‘peanut butter books’ because when we start reading we just can’t stop, and our families know it’s peanut butter and jelly for dinner that night!”

  —Cathy S.

  “Everyone should have the opportunity to read or listen to a book by Karen Kingsbury. It should be in the Bill of Rights.”

  —Rachel S.

  “Karen Kingsbury’s books are filled with the unshakable, remarkable, miraculous fact that God’s grace is greater than our suffering. There are no words for Ms. Kingsbury’s writing.”

  —Wendie K.

  “Because I loaned these books to my mother, she BECAME a Christian! Thank you for a richer life here and in heaven!”

  —Jennifer E.

  “When I read my first book, I couldn’t stop. . . . I read thirteen more in one summer!”

  —Jamie B.

  “I have never read anything so uplifting and entertaining. I’m shocked as I read each new release because it’s always better than the last one.”

  —Bonnie S.

  “Let Me Hold You Longer is breathtaking! My friend read this story to me—the first night we both left our new babies overnight. And by the end, the two of us were bawling. She bought me my own copy for Mother’s Day, and I read it to everyone . . . and each person cries as I read the words. I now buy it for every baby shower I go to. I think every parent should own or read this book. I read it as often as I can.”

  —Shannon

  “My husband is equally hooked on your books. It is a family affair for us now! Can’t wait for the next one.”

  —Angie

  “The words God gives you in your stories have such power to reach my emotions. No other author has been able to do that!”

  —Diane

  “Every time our school buys your next new book, everybody goes crazy trying to read it first!”

  —Roxanne

  “Recently I made an effort to find GOOD Christian writers, and I’ve hit the jackpot with Karen Kingsbury!”

  —Linda

  “When Karen Kingsbury calls her books Life-Changing Fiction, she’s merely telling the unvarnished truth. I’m still sorting through the changes in my life that have come from reading just a few of her books!”

  —Robert M.

  “I must admit that I wish I was a much slower reader . . . or you were a much faster writer. Either way, I can’t seem to get enough of Karen Kingsbury’s books!”

  —Jillian B.

  “I was offered $50 one time in the airport for the fourth book in the Redemption series. The lady’s husband just couldn’t understand why I wasn’t interested in selling it. Through the sharing of Karen’s books with many of my friends, many have decided that contemporary Christian fiction is the next best thing to the Bible. Thank you so much, Karen. It is truly a God thing that you write the way you do.”

  —Sue Ellen H.

  “Karen Kingsbury’s books have made me see things in ways that I had never thought about before. I have to force myself to put them down and come up for air!”

  —Tabitha H.

  “Karen, how did you get inside my head and heart to portray your characters so accurately? I identify with so many of the Baxter family in every one of the Redemption series! Due to all the tears I have shed in reading your books, I have enhanced the sales of tissues big time. So in a word, between us we are helping the economy.”

  —Maxine B.

  Visit Tyndale’s exciting Web site at www.tyndale.com

  Visit Karen Kingsbury’s Web site and learn more about her Life-Changing Fiction at

  www.KarenKingsbury.com

  TYNDALE and Tyndale’s quill logo are registered trademarks of Tyndale House

  Publishers, Inc.

  Someday

  Copyright © 2008 by Karen Kingsbury. All rights reserved.

  Logo illustration copyright © 2003 by David Henderson. All rights reserved.

  Cover photo of man copyright © 2005 by Brian MacDonald. All rights reserved.

  Cover photo of lake copyright © by Botanica/Jupiter Images. All rights reserved.

  Author photo copyright © 2004 by Shippert Photography. All rights reserved.

  Designed by Jennifer Ghionzoli

  Edited by Lorie Popp

  Published in association with the literary agency of Alive Communications, Inc.,

  7680 Goddard Street, Suite 200, Colorado Springs, CO 80920.

  Scripture taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.

  Scripture quotations are taken from The Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Kingsbury, Karen.

  Someday / Karen Kingsbury.

  p. cm.

  ISBN-13: 978-0-8423-8749-1 (pbk. : alk. paper)

  ISBN-10: 0-8423-8749-8 (pbk. : alk. paper)

  1. Family—Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3561.I4873S57 2008

  813′.54—dc22 2007047796

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  A Word from Karen Kingsbury

  Discussion Questions

  Chapter One

  To Donald, my prince charming

  In this sad season of losing my dad, you have been a rock for me, precious love. Working quietly behind the scenes to fill in when I’m on deadline or when the kids need a little extra help with schoolwork and checking in on me more often than before. You understand the great loss we’re all experiencing, the void among us now that my dad’s smile is forever gone from the here and now. But the thing that showed me again why I love you so much is something you did just this morning. My mom’s birthday is tomorrow, and you knew it. With my dad gone less than a month now, and with me on deadline to finish this book, you stopped by the florist, picked up a bouquet of flowers, and wrote my mom a two-page letter, telling her all the reasons why you loved my dad and all the ways that you would be there for my mom now that Dad is gone. The amazing thing about being married to you is that your love has a way of multiplying. It’s no longer about the many ways you find to love and cherish me, but how you love our family . . . and our extended family. Here’s the thing . . . you really are my prince charming, Donald. I mean it. I love you more with
every passing day, understanding as we settle into these middle years that time is not a guarantee. Today is a gift, and tomorrow is uncertain. And so I treasure these beautiful, loving days, looking forward to our intimate moments in a quiet walk or laughing over something only we would understand. The ride is breathtakingly beautiful, my love. I pray it lasts far into our twilight years. Until then, I’ll enjoy not always knowing where I end and you begin. I love you always and forever.

  To Kelsey, my precious daughter

  You are eighteen now, a young woman, and my heart soars with joy when I see all that you are, all you’ve become. We prayed that through the teenage years you would stay true to who you are, to that promise of purity you made when you were thirteen, once upon a yesterday on a bench overlooking a sunlit river. But I never dreamed you’d so fully hold true to that promise. You look forward to that far-off day when you can share with your future husband the gift you’ve saved for him alone. But in the meantime, you trust God that with Him, laughter and friendship and dancing and singing and spending time with your family are enough. More than enough. Honey, you grow more beautiful—inside and out—every day. And always I treasure the way you talk to me, telling me your hopes and dreams and everything in between. I can almost sense the plans God has for you, the very good plans. I pray you keep holding His hand as He walks you toward them. And when you sing out across that stage a few months from now, Papa will have a front row seat in heaven—proud as ever. Just remember that. I love you, sweetheart.

  To Tyler, my lasting song

  I know this has been a tough season for you, dear son. You and Papa were kindred spirits in so many ways. Just tonight, you came in and sat beside me. “I miss him,” you told me. “I miss listening to classical music with him and talking about old movies and dreaming aloud about the next big play.” You leaned your head on my shoulder. “I miss him a lot.” My precious Tyler, I miss him too. But among the ways God has comforted me, there is this—you are so much like him. In you I see his zest for life and love of family, his appreciation of a strong singer, and his passion for theater. You even look like him, the way he looked as a high school boy. Hold on to all you remember about your sweet papa, Ty. Love like him and laugh like him and cherish life the way he cherished it.

  I’m proud of you, Ty, of the young man you’re becoming. I’m proud of your talent and your compassion for people and your place in our family. But two things will stand out when I look back on this time. The way my heart melts when you sing “Proud of Your Boy” and the earnest look in your eyes when you told me last week that maybe—just maybe—you’d want to be a teacher like your dad. A drama teacher, of course. Giving kids the skills to be successful onstage. You’re fourteen and six foot two, Ty, no longer my little boy. But even as I see the future in your eyes, I’ll treasure my memories of all the stages of your life. Especially the season where we were all so blessed to have Papa. However your dreams unfold, I’ll be in the front row to watch it happen. Hold on to Jesus, Ty. I love you.

  To Sean, my happy sunshine

  Today you came home from school, eyes sparkling, and you told me you’d tied the school record for the high jump at track practice. The fact that your mark didn’t count because it wasn’t in a meet didn’t dim your enthusiasm even a little. As you recounted your jump, I was struck by how much the story symbolized everything about you, Sean. You’re so happy, so optimistic. You won’t have Papa cheering for you from the sidelines anymore, dear son. But you’ll have me and Dad and Grandma and a family who couldn’t be more proud of you. Sean, you have a way of bringing smiles into our family, even in the most mundane moment. I pray that God will use your positive spirit to always make a difference in the lives around you. You’re a precious gift, Son. Keep smiling and keep seeking God’s best for your life. Make sure the bar’s set high—not only at track practice. I love you, honey.

  To Josh, my tenderhearted perfectionist

  Watching you work on your book report the other day, I saw again what always amazes me about you. Your work is so careful, so detailed, I wonder sometimes if I should remind you to be a little easier on yourself. But I’ve discovered something this semester about you, Josh. You’re a wonderful writer! How it thrills my heart to see the creativity you work into every story—even a silly old book report. Whether in football or soccer, track or room inspections, you take the time to seek perfection. Along with that, there are bound to be struggles. Times when you need to understand again that the gifts and talents you bear are God’s, not yours. And times when you must learn that perfection isn’t possible for us, only for God. Even so, my heart almost bursts with pride over the young man you’re becoming. You bear your papa’s name as your middle name, and I believe with all my heart you will do it proud in the years to come. You have an unlimited future ahead of you, Josh. I’ll be cheering on the sidelines always. Keep God first in your life, and who knows . . . one day maybe you and Alex Smith will be teammates. I love you always.

  To EJ, my chosen one

  We had a family meeting the other night, one of those talk sessions you kids sometimes tease us about. The subject was a reminder that sitting around the dinner table each night are the very best friends you’ll ever have—your sister and brothers. And also that everyone needs to pitch in more. We talked about giving 100 percent, because someday far too soon, when all you kids are grown and in families of your own, you’ll need to give 100 percent always. That’s what love looks like. In the days that followed our family talk, Dad and I were thrilled to see that you truly stepped up your efforts at helping out. We’d see you standing at the sink, washing dishes and singing a happy song, and you’d grin at us. “A hundred percent!” you’d say. EJ, I pray that you hold on to that very small lesson always. It’s a lesson Papa believed in too. You’re a wonderful boy, Son, a child with such potential. Every day, every season, just give 100 percent, okay? Because God has great plans for you, and we want to be the first to congratulate you as you work to discover them. Thanks for your giving heart, EJ. I love you so.

  To Austin, my miracle boy

  It’s been a month since Papa went home to heaven, and still every night when I tuck you in, you cling to me and whisper the same thing. “I feel empty without Papa. He should be here, Mom.” And always I tell you the same thing. “You’re right, honey. He should be here. We have to remember everything special about him so we don’t ever forget.” Papa loved you, the way he loved all of us—with his whole being. He loved sitting in his van next to Grandma, watching you play baseball for the Reds, and no one grinned bigger when you ripped off another huge hit. But he loved more than your performances. He loved the quiet times when you sat next to him and talked about your day. I know that’s what you’re missing most right now, and I understand. I’m not sure the missing part ever goes away. I can only tell you that our quiet times together are what I love most too. You’re my youngest, my last, Austin. I’m holding on to every moment, for sure. Thanks for giving me so many wonderful reasons to treasure today. I thank God for you, Austin, for the miracle of your life. I love you, Aus.

  And to God Almighty, the Author of Life,

  who has—for now—blessed me with these.

  Acknowledgments

  During the writing of this book, my father, Theodore C. Kingsbury, suffered a massive heart attack. He lived eight more weeks before going home to heaven on September 14. I was at a Tyndale dinner the night I learned about my dad’s heart attack. Far away from home, in Atlanta with my two oldest children, I stepped out of the banquet room and into a kitchen hallway. There, I dropped to the floor and began to weep.

  After a few minutes, I had no choice but to return to my table. Despite the beautiful entertainment happening that night compliments of Mandisa, those around me knew I was suffering. By the time the evening ended, I was surrounded by many, many great Tyndale friends. Ron Beers and Karen Watson were there, as were so many members of the Beers Group. Also Randy Alcorn and Vonette Bright and others.

&
nbsp; That night, my friends at Tyndale became a family. They prayed with me and hugged me, and as I returned to my hotel room to prepare for an early flight home, I had the overwhelming sense that God had heard our collective cry for help. In the days that followed, we held a bedside vigil over my dad, and his initial prognosis—that he would never come out of his coma—fell to the wayside after the first two weeks.

  My dad woke up and was alert and cognizant. Though he had a tracheostomy so he could breathe, we were able to communicate and share hours of precious, unforgettable moments. I told him how grateful I was that he was my dad, and I thanked him for believing in me as a writer from as far back as I could remember. I told him if it hadn’t been for him, I never would’ve stayed with writing.

  I also had hours when we talked about the Lord and about heaven. My dad loved Jesus very much—he still does. He was sad about saying good-bye, but he wasn’t afraid to die. He told me that. I even asked that if he reached heaven before me, could he give my only brother, Dave, a hug for me? In those amazing eight weeks, absolutely nothing was left unsaid.

  For that, I have my friends at Tyndale to thank.

  This book was due in their offices at the end of July, two weeks after my dad’s heart attack. But with my father in the ICU through the end of August, I couldn’t focus on my book long enough to write a single chapter. I needed my dad, needed to be with him and talk to him and play hymns for him. I needed to be there with my mom and sisters, filling his room with the sweet presence of God so he wouldn’t have a single moment of fear or loneliness.

  My dad used to tell me he had just one fear. The fear of dying alone. That didn’t happen, and here I want to thank my friends at Tyndale for giving me a chance to be there with my dad until the end.