When You Have Hope

It's a test of faith she never expected.

As the Christmas season wraps Tybee Island in festive cheer, Morgan Hall finds joy in her work at the local soup kitchen. Her commitment to service is a testament to her strength, helping her to navigate her own complex emotions. But this holiday, a chance encounter with an enigmatic stranger threatens to unearth the past she's carefully kept at bay.

Ryan Seaver walks with a burden of his own, his history a constant companion that he can't seem to escape. Yet, in Morgan's unwavering kindness, he finds a glimmer of the absolution he's been seeking. Their burgeoning friendship offers a tender promise of something more, a flicker of hope in the quiet corners of their hearts.

As they learn to let down their guards and embrace the vulnerability that comes with new love, Morgan and Ryan will realize that true contentment often lies beyond the trials that challenge our deepest convictions.

When You Have Hope is the touching finale of the Tybee Island Faith series, a narrative rich with the themes of forgiveness, rebirth, and the unwavering power of hope. This final chapter by Angela Scarborough is a celebration of the miracles that faith can foster and the transformative power of love, resonating with the works of Liz Isaacson and Karen Kingsbury.

Morgan Hall drew in a sharp, icy breath as she stared at the sanctuary doors. In the distance, she heard the joyful voices of carolers singing a collection of traditional Christmas songs. This time of year for Morgan, it was a struggle to find joy. She loved Christmas, there was no question about it, but her heart felt heaviness during this season, more than any other holiday.

She didn’t talk much about her past with her friends. It wasn’t as though she wanted to keep it a secret, but for some reason, Morgan found it difficult to tell the story. Although it was a story that led her to Jesus, it still ended with an unhappy note in this regard.

The painful memories tugged at her heart as if it happened yesterday. Even after all these years, there were days when she’d cry herself to sleep.
And no one knew.
Morgan supposed it was one of the perks of living alone, but sometimes on those sad nights, she wished she could talk with someone. The only person she ever told was Heather, but they hadn’t discussed it much since. It was too hard.

She didn’t think her tears were a sign of weakness. Actually, the opposite. But Morgan felt her sadness was personal. She cared deeply for Jenny, and her growing friendship with her had made her turn into a better woman than days prior.
Jenny was the one who’d taught Morgan about Christianity. Without her, she often wondered how her life would have played out. Would she have taken the same path, the one that would only result in further suffering? Or would she have still found her way to Jesus?

When Morgan spoke about her faith, she’d tell them everything leading up to the devastating end to her friendship with Jenny.

She closed her eyes, letting the chilly Augusta wind brush past her, feathering her short, black hair.

“God, give me strength.” She sighed. Every year, she came, expecting it’d get easier. That she’d march into the church and light the candles in honor of Jenny. But no. Every year, Jenny’s face forced its way into the forefront of her mind, a remembrance of her beautiful smile, her bright blue eyes that seemed to mesmerize.

Sometimes, Morgan could even hear her laughter as if Jenny was standing next to her. And she liked to think that she was. If only the pain didn’t tug at her with such force.

As she prayed now, even though Morgan wished she was back on Tybee Island—or anywhere else—a warmth passed through her. She couldn’t help but smile.

“Thank you, God.”

Morgan pulled the door open and stepped inside the cool sanctuary, the odor of cedar slapping her in the face.

She missed Jenny, missed her friendship.

Had she lived, would they still be friends?

She didn’t know.

Morgan walked down the aisle, the heels of her pumps thumping softly against the burgundy carpet. Halfway down, she took a second to kneel, crossed herself, then she walked the rest of the way to the front where an older woman was already praying.

Morgan lowered herself onto the velvet cushions, then took the lighter and lit a candle.

“For you, Jenny, may your eternal light shine for always,” Morgan whispered.

A silence fell over the sanctuary.

“I can’t believe it’s been fifteen years to this day since we’ve lost her.”

Morgan looked sideways at the woman next to her and forced a smile.

“I know,” Morgan said. “Time goes so fast, and yet at the same time, it stands still. Strange how that happens.”

“Yes, I know what you mean.” The woman, a spitting image of Jenny, looked sidelong at her with a smile, though her eyes told the truth of her lifelong pain. “How are you doing, Morgan, dear?”

Morgan nodded softly. “All things considered, I’m doing well. I have my good days and bad days.”

The other woman reached out to pat Morgan’s hand. “We all do, dear.”

“The holidays are the hardest.”

“Yes, especially Christmas. My Jenny loved Christmas the best.”

Morgan smiled. “I remember.”

“Thank you for coming every year to light a candle with me in Jenny’s memory. It means a lot to me, dear.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for anything, Mrs. Clark,” Morgan told her. “Your daughter was special to me. She set me on a good path. Everything I’ve become … I owe it all to Jenny.”