I just love walking my dogs, Tessie and Shep, it serves several purposes, exercise for all and tin can collecting. Throwing on any old shirt and some baggy sweat pants, (that have gotten baggier over the months due to recent weight loss), triggers my pets into action. They get excited about sniffing out new frontiers and this morning was no different as they tugged me along on their retractable leashes.
It wasn't till I spied several tin cans that I realized I forgot to bring my customary bag for collections. Tin can be recycled and it motivates me to clean up the streets, if only there were resources for all the other recyclable trash dumped by the wayside! I can only carry so much and my city doesn't have a recycling program., (shame on them) but if they did I’d have to walk towing a red wagon with one hand while gripping two leashes in the other. I suppose then I’d have to spring for some new pants since one hand right now is necessary to keep hitching my baggy bottoms up.
Picking up the tin cans I drained them of the residual liquid, beer, crushed them with my foot and stuffed them in my sweat jacket‘s pocket. Don't gasp, it's really my husband's work coat, soiled and splattered with years of paint and oil. A little beer aroma will add to the coat's character.
I turned the corner and saw my pastor getting his morning paper off the yard. Before he noticed me my dogs caught the scent of something exciting ,pulled me off my feet and I landed on my....I just landed.Brother Mike rushed over to help me and scrunched his nose up. He obviously detected the sweet essence of the empty beer cans soaking my (husband's) pocket, and with great self control resisted mentioning it. One of the tin cans pushed its head up above the pocket border revealing a Budweiser logo. I gave it a little encouraging push back down. I could read his thoughts however,” Drinking on Sunday morning!" I impishly refused to divulge the truth. If he wanted to believe I was a Sunday morning drunk let him!! It adds to my character which is difficult to tarnish. I just realized I think I still had last night’s smeared eye make up on, he might suspect I hadn’t even been home yet. I thanked him with my best imitation of slurred speech and promising to see him in church in a few hours, I staggered off, hitching up my pants.
At the neighborhood car wash I stooped over the trash bins looking for a plastic bag and more tin cans. This is the perfect spot for mining tin. I was in luck, a plastic bag was on top so I didn't have to dig through the trash. I have some limits. A man washing his truck nearby walked over , petted my canine friends and handed me a five dollar bill for a descent meal, after I hitched my pants up. Now being a working girl I had a modest income, but dressed in my walking costume; baggy pants, dirty work jacket, shoes that Tessie has used for teething and smelling of beer I acted grateful for the man's charity. I could have been a poster child for Good Will stores. I didn't want to embarrass him with the truth, that I was just indulging in a recycling spree. Besides, it's more blessed to give than to receive so I was already on the loosing end of the stick!
I hit real gold on the next street, lots of coke cans emptied by a construction crew littered their work site. I filled my bag up with untold riches and proceeded to the corner Shopping Mart where I customarily reverse my steps homeward.
At the mart a man was loading his trunk with cartons of coke! Wow, more gold!
“What do you do with your empties?” I queried, my eyes glinting with lust.
“Throw them away,” he responded , surveying me with a unfriendly look, attempting to discourage more conversation.
“Hey, can I get your address so I can come collect them when you’re done?”
“What’s going on here?” a woman asked approaching the passenger door.
“This dame just asked me for my address,” the man explained nodding in my direction as I hitched my pants up while my dogs baptized his tires.
The woman sized me up, “Take a bath and get some decent clothes, then maybe you can get your own man, darling.” She suggested climbing into the car beside her companion as he backed up. “Those pants aren’t you, you really should dress your age!”
“Well, I never!” I muttered, not really caring but enjoying the imaginary conversation that was taking place in the disappearing vehicle.
Retracing my return trip with a slight detour down another street to by pass my minister’s house some more beer cans fell prey to me. These were still partially full. I drained two, deposited them in my sack and drained the third as I walked, swinging it from side to side to empty it quickly. Of course who else but my pastor drove by on his way to his church office? He slowed down and stared at me with the tell tale eer can in my hand that I saluted him with as he passed. His eyes wer very vocal! I could see him shake his head in disappointment.
At home I cleaned up, and I do clean up good, I’m pretty darn attractive when I shower , wear proper fitting clothes , and freshen up my old makeup. Yep, I'm pretty darn attractive, (it off sets my inherent modesty). You’d never know I just came off a Saturday night drinking binge.
At church the minister explained that he had been suddenly inspired to change his planned morning sermon and gave a rousing sermon on the dangers and wiles of fermented beverages, directing several obvious glances at me, kindling some whispering nearby. My husband, ever appropriate, and usually totally oblivious, cast his eyes curiously at me without turning his head, not wanting to draw more attention to us. I merely raised my eyebrows and shrugged. I could feel my halo tilting dangerously to the side. I was being lectured but I loved it! I sat there fully regal, meeting the reverend’s unswerving stares head on. He wouldn’t see me cringe in repentance. I had nothing to repent of except devilish delight in encouraging his misunderstanding.
When we were dismissed I walked by the vicar as he stood shaking hands at the exit. I squirted breath freshener in my mouth and with exaggerated breaths pumped his hand and exclaimed, “Wonderful message, Brother Mike!” I could tell he was trying to catch a whiff of beer through the scent of spearmint. He shook my hand unenthusiastically. I sensed he was praying for me as he gripped my hand longer than necessary, that’s alright, I prayed back!
On the way home from my public counseling session my husband and I stopped at the receptacle placed on the corner by Habitat for Humanity and deposited all the tin cans I had collected on this weeks doggy strolls. They recycle the cans into nails and wood for building projects, which helps to recycle lives into more productive helpers for the project! I love this recycling business! I almost want to have a celebratory drink! Heck, if I'm judged guilty I might as well.......
P.S The five dollars I got at the car wash? I mailed it in to Habitat for Humanity. I cleared my conscious of guilt.
Math 7:1-5
Rom 2:1-11
Rom 14:4
1 Cor 5:9-13
1 Cor. 11:27-32
Sunday, February 11, 2007
The visit
The phone rang without thought of the time. No, the person at the other end was to blame the phone can’t tell time. I didn't even know who to swear at, the caller I.D view box announced, unknown caller, unknown number. If it was a telemarker at this hour he'll/she'll rue the day she made this connection.
"Hello."
"Hi darling." A familiar voice.
"Who's this?" My senses were sharpening, I was preparing for a shock. That voice....
"Oh, come on, you've got to be kidding. Surely you know your own mother!"
"Yeah, but ...."
"I don't have much time for idle chit chat, How about I come for a visit?"
"What? How.."
"Is that a yes or a no?"
"Sure, sure..." I sputtered.
"I'm not coming alone. Be there soon. Love and kisses."
The sound of a disconnect. I stared at the hand piece in my hand. I followed the cords to the wall outlet. I tapped the reset button and got the dial tone, it seemed to be in working order.
Buzzzzzz. The doorbell. That didn't take long.
Answering the door I greeted my mom, "Did you call from a cell phone?" I asked.
"A cell what? Oh, never mind, this new technology is past me. Can we come in or are you just going to block the door?"I looked past her at five or six strangers. Well, not really strangers. They had a well-known characteristic appearance.
"Mom, you're dead!" I blurted.
"So, that's what they told you and you believed it?"
"I saw you get buried."
"That wasn't me. Did you see me? How could you not know it wasn't me?"
"What are you talking about?"
"It's a lie honey, I'm not dead. Everyone lied to you." Mom and her shadows walked past me to the sofa. She leaned close to my ear, "They're not dead either, don't tell them they are, they'll laugh you out of town."
"They lied. Who lied? Why did they lie?"
"I obviously didn't die, how else can you see me. Not one of us is dead. We just moved on. The world lied. I've told you never to believe the world, they are all against us."
I couldn't sit. This was too much. "Who are these people?"
"Get on the ball baby, you're embarrassing me? This is my mother, and her mother and some of their brothers."
I decided it was time to sit down... without a chair. Either the floor came up to me or I went down to it. It was hard to tell. "Where did you move to?"
"Home. We were just passing through here. I want you to come see me when you run out of time."
"Run out of time? That doesn't make sense."
"There you go again. I raised you proper; I did my best to raise you right. I raised you by the good book. You better come see me; it's only fitting to be with your love ones."
Her family (my family?) was walking around the house, touching things, like the television, oven, washer and dryer, radios, microwave and computer. They had everything operating. They were having a jolly time attempting to explain things to each other.
Great granny shook her head. "Wish I'd had some of these gadgets when I was raising my parcel of brats! Oh to hear music while doing the chores. Washing and drying clothes inside, what will they think of next?"
One of the uncles was investigating the bookshelf. "Lookie here, those newcomers were right, they have a whole bunch of new bibles. The King James is all I had to preach by. How do they know these are accurate?"
"How do you know King James was accurate?"
"If it was good enough for the apostle Paul, it's good enough for me!"
I started to speak but thought better of it. I was at a loss. To repeat a phrase from a popular movie, "I'm seeing dead people, and they don't know they're dead."
Something started ringing. But what? Every thing powered by electricity was on. I sure couldn't distinguish the more recent sound from anything. I reached up to the table beside where mom was sitting and attempted to locate the phone. My hand hit something and I pushed the off/on switch. Blinking, everyone was gone. The alarm clock read 4:30, past time to get up. I was on the floor.
"Don't hit the snooze button again, please." My husband groaned from his side of the bed, head under pillow. "Twice was enough."
That accounted for the phone call and doorbell. Mom's whole visit lasted eighteen minutes, the duration of two snoozes but it was a quality eighteen minutes to see family again. She is right; I know that wasn't her in the casket. Just her body, she really did go home, I'm glad she has company there until I meet her again. Thank you Jesus for letting her come for a visit, if only in my dreams.
"Hello."
"Hi darling." A familiar voice.
"Who's this?" My senses were sharpening, I was preparing for a shock. That voice....
"Oh, come on, you've got to be kidding. Surely you know your own mother!"
"Yeah, but ...."
"I don't have much time for idle chit chat, How about I come for a visit?"
"What? How.."
"Is that a yes or a no?"
"Sure, sure..." I sputtered.
"I'm not coming alone. Be there soon. Love and kisses."
The sound of a disconnect. I stared at the hand piece in my hand. I followed the cords to the wall outlet. I tapped the reset button and got the dial tone, it seemed to be in working order.
Buzzzzzz. The doorbell. That didn't take long.
Answering the door I greeted my mom, "Did you call from a cell phone?" I asked.
"A cell what? Oh, never mind, this new technology is past me. Can we come in or are you just going to block the door?"I looked past her at five or six strangers. Well, not really strangers. They had a well-known characteristic appearance.
"Mom, you're dead!" I blurted.
"So, that's what they told you and you believed it?"
"I saw you get buried."
"That wasn't me. Did you see me? How could you not know it wasn't me?"
"What are you talking about?"
"It's a lie honey, I'm not dead. Everyone lied to you." Mom and her shadows walked past me to the sofa. She leaned close to my ear, "They're not dead either, don't tell them they are, they'll laugh you out of town."
"They lied. Who lied? Why did they lie?"
"I obviously didn't die, how else can you see me. Not one of us is dead. We just moved on. The world lied. I've told you never to believe the world, they are all against us."
I couldn't sit. This was too much. "Who are these people?"
"Get on the ball baby, you're embarrassing me? This is my mother, and her mother and some of their brothers."
I decided it was time to sit down... without a chair. Either the floor came up to me or I went down to it. It was hard to tell. "Where did you move to?"
"Home. We were just passing through here. I want you to come see me when you run out of time."
"Run out of time? That doesn't make sense."
"There you go again. I raised you proper; I did my best to raise you right. I raised you by the good book. You better come see me; it's only fitting to be with your love ones."
Her family (my family?) was walking around the house, touching things, like the television, oven, washer and dryer, radios, microwave and computer. They had everything operating. They were having a jolly time attempting to explain things to each other.
Great granny shook her head. "Wish I'd had some of these gadgets when I was raising my parcel of brats! Oh to hear music while doing the chores. Washing and drying clothes inside, what will they think of next?"
One of the uncles was investigating the bookshelf. "Lookie here, those newcomers were right, they have a whole bunch of new bibles. The King James is all I had to preach by. How do they know these are accurate?"
"How do you know King James was accurate?"
"If it was good enough for the apostle Paul, it's good enough for me!"
I started to speak but thought better of it. I was at a loss. To repeat a phrase from a popular movie, "I'm seeing dead people, and they don't know they're dead."
Something started ringing. But what? Every thing powered by electricity was on. I sure couldn't distinguish the more recent sound from anything. I reached up to the table beside where mom was sitting and attempted to locate the phone. My hand hit something and I pushed the off/on switch. Blinking, everyone was gone. The alarm clock read 4:30, past time to get up. I was on the floor.
"Don't hit the snooze button again, please." My husband groaned from his side of the bed, head under pillow. "Twice was enough."
That accounted for the phone call and doorbell. Mom's whole visit lasted eighteen minutes, the duration of two snoozes but it was a quality eighteen minutes to see family again. She is right; I know that wasn't her in the casket. Just her body, she really did go home, I'm glad she has company there until I meet her again. Thank you Jesus for letting her come for a visit, if only in my dreams.
Counterfeit
In the past two months time has done two things. Sped up and slowed down, simultaneously. It started on mother’s day when I went to visit my mom. I brought her some lovely white roses for the occasion. It was on that day I met Harold. I’d been looking for a companion, some one to share my dreams and life with, someone to guide me and help me with decisions, and wall-la there he was. Just lots down from mom’s place, he was hanging around his yard, watching me. There was an immediate attraction. We kept our relationship hidden from mom by spending most of our time at my place. I felt like a teenager running around on the sly, though I wasn’t much older. (None of your business how much older!) I knew she wouldn’t approve of Harold, not because he, himself, was so much more mature than me but because he was strongly New Age and she raised me a staunch Baptist. No, that’s not quite right, she raised me as a Christian in the Baptist church, but I had started experimenting with different philosophies. New Age values and teachings were taught as erroneous and deviant in my old church home. Time sped up because there was someone to share it with, in eight weeks long we learned years of each other’s lives, in two short months we became inseparable. Harold was too good to be true. That is the scary part. We were so obsessed with each other, he had decided he wanted me to move in to his home with him, he practically lived at my apartment anyway. It now became apparent, to me at least, I should tell my mom about him. He however still wanted to keep our liaison clandestine.
No matter, I decided on mom’s birthday I’d go and confide in her about us. She and I had a longer history of sharing life events than Harold and I did. I was hoping for her approval, knowing I’d get a homily. Harold was still adamant we keep our bond hush-hush, it was too fresh, too new. We needed time to take root and grow, was his strong argument.
The rain was coming down in sheets making driving from my place hazardous yet Harold continued to plead the cause of secrecy. Why was he so afraid of mom’s reaction? He in fact was so distracting that he diverted my attention from my surroundings. He was good at that under any circumstances but it proved to be extremely dangerous in bad weather! I parked and stepped out in front of the only oncoming car. The look in the driver’s face was as incredulous as mine was when we realized simultaneously what was about to occur. The car couldn’t stop fast enough on the wet asphalt. Smack! Bang!
I hit the ground amid the sounds of screaming (mine), and squealing brakes. I felt the pavement smack my head. My vision blurred but it seemed I caught a gleeful smile on Harold’s face. Then my surroundings became hazy, hazier, and then wholly black.
I don’t know how long it took me to regain consciousness but enough time had elapsed that I was no longer on the concrete and it was no longer raining. I opened my eyes slowly and rotated my neck and shoulder blades. Then I wiggled my toes and fingers. I sat up cautiously then stood. I paced the floor testing out my balance. I was fine. No aches or pains. Some one had changed my clothes. I was in a dry, clean white robe so soft I could swear it was made of feathers. I pulled the neckline away and peeked down the front, nothing; I was absolutely a la natural under the gown. No signs of injuries or road rash.
“Well, I’m glad to have you here with us, back among the living” a male voice stated, startling me. It wasn’t Harold‘s. There was a figure standing in a shaft of light so bright I couldn’t make out his face.
Suddenly my mother burst into the room, flustered. She looked dressed for a party; her white dress glittered with gold sprinkles and stardust. She had several tiaras on her head making her look slightly comical.
“Mom, what are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here? What are you doing here?” Mom asked, frantic. “You’re early!” How could I be early, I didn’t tell her I was coming, so she shouldn’t have been expecting me.
“I don’t know where I am, or how I got here.” I answered looking around the room I found myself in; it was beautiful, filled with priceless ornaments. Pictures hung on the walls representing a long line of ancestors, culminating in a picture of a couple smiling winsomely, dressed in …nothing, but tastefully concealed by bushes. There was a picture of the present young man standing next to a what I assumed was his father, as the cameraman didn’t adjust the shutter speed properly and all that developed was a big bright spot.
“That picture doesn’t do Dad justice, but I’m told that seeing me is like seeing Dad, we’re practically duplicates. And to answer how you got here, my servant carried you in; we couldn’t let you lay in the street, now could we.” The voice explained moving closer, bringing the light with him. Was it a stage light? It seemed to stay centered on him. I noticed no light fixtures on the ceiling.
“Where’s Harold?” Surely he wouldn’t’ let some stranger take me into his house alone and change my clothes, he was pretty possessive of me.
“His kind isn’t welcome in my father’s house.” The young man informed me, not bothering to contain his distain.
The arrogance of this Man, insulting my friends before meeting them and I said as much.
“Darling! Don’t be so rude,” Mother cried. “This young man saved your life and brought you into his father’s house, ” Mom was wringing her hands, “This is all wrong.”
“There, there, it will be all right,” the young man comforted my mother, patting her shoulder. Who was this man that acted so familiar with my mom! Then he looked me squarely in the eye. “Your friend, Harold, is an imposter. He wants to bring you down with him. He is no good for you.” Well, excuse me, just get to the point, will you, I thought to myself. What nerve, how dare this man act like he owns me!
“Don’t talk to me about Harold, you know nothing about him!” My attitude was becoming quite charged. I wouldn’t discuss Harold with a stranger until I had a chance to talk to mother about him…..in private.
“Honey, he’s right, I know all about Harold, the real Harold is a marvelous man, we play in a band together, and the one you’re with is an imposter.”
“Imposter!” I was dumbfounded. “Why would he want to deceive me?”
“That’s the agenda of New Agers.” the man explained, “It is really an old religion, founded way before Abraham was called out of Ur to follow the true God. It is based on communicating with devils, not real people. ”
“Oh give me a break, that is what Harold warned me people would say!” I responded. I don’t know why I was defending him; he wasn’t here with me at my side where he should be after being hit by a car. If he had really wanted me as bad as he claimed he wouldn’t have allowed me to be carried away by a stranger’s servant. Speaking of servant’s who here needed a servant anyway?
There was knock on the door and a head popped in.
“Did I hear my name?”
“Harold, come join us!” Man invited. A elderly man walked in with a spring to his steps that belied his obvious age. He face was devoid of wrinkles or age spots, but his hair was a glossy white. He was dressed in turn of the century clothing. Which century I couldn’t ascertain.
“This isn’t my Harold.” I proclaimed. I mean Harold had more years on him than I did but at least we were in the same century.
“That cad has assumed my identity without my permission. “ Harold exclaimed slamming a cane down on the chair next to him for emphasis . The cane was obviously for appearances, to make him appear dapper. “That devil follows no code of ethics, I’m the victim of an identity theft scam that has spanned the ages. I won’t be a part of it. Don’t let him fool you!”
I had been bamboozled. The youthful man spent some time educating me on the ways of the New Agers, while mom stood by nodding in agreement. She had tried to teach me these things years ago but being only human I had refused to listen to her. Now it made sense. After all demons have been around since Adam and Eve so they could just exploit someone’s life script and incorporate it into their lives, the perfect deception. Don’t they know about HIPPA! Privacy rules!
My head was beginning to ache, my body started to hurt, the room lights were dimming and gradually I started to feel water dripping in my face. I opened my eyes to find myself lying on the pavement once again, the warm robe replaced with my soggy, torn and bloodied outfit,. How rude!
Umbrellas were being held over me and a thermal blanket covered my very sore carcass. I was being instructed to not move as someone applied a collar to my neck. Log rolled onto my side, I was placed on a cot that was lifted to the waiting ambulance where three knock dead paramedics climbed in with me (pardon the pun), was I back in heaven or what?. You think the young man could have waited until my body was already in the nice warm emergency transportation before he had his servant return my soul. I looked around for my mother; I saw her standing by her house in the distance, a few rows onto the green cemetery lawn, where she had moved years ago. Harold was gone. This is where he had wanted me to move! Had he been behind the car accident? It was after all he who had deflected my attention from the oncoming vehicle, whose owner was now at my side apologizing profusely. He kept repeating he hadn’t seen me until it was too late. How could that have been, this isn’t a high traffic area. I doubt I would see Harold again. Having learned a serious lesson, I wouldn’t be inviting him back to share my live. I had just met my true spirit guide and vowed to study harder to recognize reality versus myth. No myth was too mild and not and accurate description; I would study harder to recognize reality versus the counterfeit.
I recognized one of the paramedics from the singles group at my old church. I wasn’t to far gone to notice the absence of a wedding band. He leaned over and asked me how I felt, a heavy gold cross hanging form his neck.
“ I feel like I was just hit by a car!” I croaked. "At the least I think I need mouth to mouth!"
Duet. 18:9-14John 10:28,30John 14:16-20John 14:21 John 4:1Rev 20:12Rev 21:8Rev 21:23
No matter, I decided on mom’s birthday I’d go and confide in her about us. She and I had a longer history of sharing life events than Harold and I did. I was hoping for her approval, knowing I’d get a homily. Harold was still adamant we keep our bond hush-hush, it was too fresh, too new. We needed time to take root and grow, was his strong argument.
The rain was coming down in sheets making driving from my place hazardous yet Harold continued to plead the cause of secrecy. Why was he so afraid of mom’s reaction? He in fact was so distracting that he diverted my attention from my surroundings. He was good at that under any circumstances but it proved to be extremely dangerous in bad weather! I parked and stepped out in front of the only oncoming car. The look in the driver’s face was as incredulous as mine was when we realized simultaneously what was about to occur. The car couldn’t stop fast enough on the wet asphalt. Smack! Bang!
I hit the ground amid the sounds of screaming (mine), and squealing brakes. I felt the pavement smack my head. My vision blurred but it seemed I caught a gleeful smile on Harold’s face. Then my surroundings became hazy, hazier, and then wholly black.
I don’t know how long it took me to regain consciousness but enough time had elapsed that I was no longer on the concrete and it was no longer raining. I opened my eyes slowly and rotated my neck and shoulder blades. Then I wiggled my toes and fingers. I sat up cautiously then stood. I paced the floor testing out my balance. I was fine. No aches or pains. Some one had changed my clothes. I was in a dry, clean white robe so soft I could swear it was made of feathers. I pulled the neckline away and peeked down the front, nothing; I was absolutely a la natural under the gown. No signs of injuries or road rash.
“Well, I’m glad to have you here with us, back among the living” a male voice stated, startling me. It wasn’t Harold‘s. There was a figure standing in a shaft of light so bright I couldn’t make out his face.
Suddenly my mother burst into the room, flustered. She looked dressed for a party; her white dress glittered with gold sprinkles and stardust. She had several tiaras on her head making her look slightly comical.
“Mom, what are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here? What are you doing here?” Mom asked, frantic. “You’re early!” How could I be early, I didn’t tell her I was coming, so she shouldn’t have been expecting me.
“I don’t know where I am, or how I got here.” I answered looking around the room I found myself in; it was beautiful, filled with priceless ornaments. Pictures hung on the walls representing a long line of ancestors, culminating in a picture of a couple smiling winsomely, dressed in …nothing, but tastefully concealed by bushes. There was a picture of the present young man standing next to a what I assumed was his father, as the cameraman didn’t adjust the shutter speed properly and all that developed was a big bright spot.
“That picture doesn’t do Dad justice, but I’m told that seeing me is like seeing Dad, we’re practically duplicates. And to answer how you got here, my servant carried you in; we couldn’t let you lay in the street, now could we.” The voice explained moving closer, bringing the light with him. Was it a stage light? It seemed to stay centered on him. I noticed no light fixtures on the ceiling.
“Where’s Harold?” Surely he wouldn’t’ let some stranger take me into his house alone and change my clothes, he was pretty possessive of me.
“His kind isn’t welcome in my father’s house.” The young man informed me, not bothering to contain his distain.
The arrogance of this Man, insulting my friends before meeting them and I said as much.
“Darling! Don’t be so rude,” Mother cried. “This young man saved your life and brought you into his father’s house, ” Mom was wringing her hands, “This is all wrong.”
“There, there, it will be all right,” the young man comforted my mother, patting her shoulder. Who was this man that acted so familiar with my mom! Then he looked me squarely in the eye. “Your friend, Harold, is an imposter. He wants to bring you down with him. He is no good for you.” Well, excuse me, just get to the point, will you, I thought to myself. What nerve, how dare this man act like he owns me!
“Don’t talk to me about Harold, you know nothing about him!” My attitude was becoming quite charged. I wouldn’t discuss Harold with a stranger until I had a chance to talk to mother about him…..in private.
“Honey, he’s right, I know all about Harold, the real Harold is a marvelous man, we play in a band together, and the one you’re with is an imposter.”
“Imposter!” I was dumbfounded. “Why would he want to deceive me?”
“That’s the agenda of New Agers.” the man explained, “It is really an old religion, founded way before Abraham was called out of Ur to follow the true God. It is based on communicating with devils, not real people. ”
“Oh give me a break, that is what Harold warned me people would say!” I responded. I don’t know why I was defending him; he wasn’t here with me at my side where he should be after being hit by a car. If he had really wanted me as bad as he claimed he wouldn’t have allowed me to be carried away by a stranger’s servant. Speaking of servant’s who here needed a servant anyway?
There was knock on the door and a head popped in.
“Did I hear my name?”
“Harold, come join us!” Man invited. A elderly man walked in with a spring to his steps that belied his obvious age. He face was devoid of wrinkles or age spots, but his hair was a glossy white. He was dressed in turn of the century clothing. Which century I couldn’t ascertain.
“This isn’t my Harold.” I proclaimed. I mean Harold had more years on him than I did but at least we were in the same century.
“That cad has assumed my identity without my permission. “ Harold exclaimed slamming a cane down on the chair next to him for emphasis . The cane was obviously for appearances, to make him appear dapper. “That devil follows no code of ethics, I’m the victim of an identity theft scam that has spanned the ages. I won’t be a part of it. Don’t let him fool you!”
I had been bamboozled. The youthful man spent some time educating me on the ways of the New Agers, while mom stood by nodding in agreement. She had tried to teach me these things years ago but being only human I had refused to listen to her. Now it made sense. After all demons have been around since Adam and Eve so they could just exploit someone’s life script and incorporate it into their lives, the perfect deception. Don’t they know about HIPPA! Privacy rules!
My head was beginning to ache, my body started to hurt, the room lights were dimming and gradually I started to feel water dripping in my face. I opened my eyes to find myself lying on the pavement once again, the warm robe replaced with my soggy, torn and bloodied outfit,. How rude!
Umbrellas were being held over me and a thermal blanket covered my very sore carcass. I was being instructed to not move as someone applied a collar to my neck. Log rolled onto my side, I was placed on a cot that was lifted to the waiting ambulance where three knock dead paramedics climbed in with me (pardon the pun), was I back in heaven or what?. You think the young man could have waited until my body was already in the nice warm emergency transportation before he had his servant return my soul. I looked around for my mother; I saw her standing by her house in the distance, a few rows onto the green cemetery lawn, where she had moved years ago. Harold was gone. This is where he had wanted me to move! Had he been behind the car accident? It was after all he who had deflected my attention from the oncoming vehicle, whose owner was now at my side apologizing profusely. He kept repeating he hadn’t seen me until it was too late. How could that have been, this isn’t a high traffic area. I doubt I would see Harold again. Having learned a serious lesson, I wouldn’t be inviting him back to share my live. I had just met my true spirit guide and vowed to study harder to recognize reality versus myth. No myth was too mild and not and accurate description; I would study harder to recognize reality versus the counterfeit.
I recognized one of the paramedics from the singles group at my old church. I wasn’t to far gone to notice the absence of a wedding band. He leaned over and asked me how I felt, a heavy gold cross hanging form his neck.
“ I feel like I was just hit by a car!” I croaked. "At the least I think I need mouth to mouth!"
Duet. 18:9-14John 10:28,30John 14:16-20John 14:21 John 4:1Rev 20:12Rev 21:8Rev 21:23
My absolute last Halloween
The fog was so thick it was like driving through cotton. My headlights were reflecting back to me so brightly they were blinding me. Fog on a cold October night, with a light mist falling, was just what a person with night vision impairment needed. My daughter had talked me into going to a Halloween party, against my better judgment. I don't adhere to Halloween as a proper festival. So here we were, two lost zombies.
"Mom, I don't think we're on the road anymore." My daughter announced.
"Why do you say that?"
"Because I don't think they grow corn in the middle of the street."
With that announcement my car started to go flip flop, flip flop. I pulled over (not willing to admit to my offspring she might be right) and stopped the engine. Circling the car I found, not one, but two flats, and many stalks of corn. Great, one spare and two flats! We were going to have to hoof it. I opened the trunk and got out my emergency stash. I carried walking shoes, water bottles, flashlights, umbrellas and blankets for such and event, I lose my way frequently. I had read it was best to not stay near your car when it breaks down but to get a distance between you and it while waiting for help. The first people to stop could intend harm instead of help. A lone woman (or two) in a car, even if it's locked could be attacked by a window breaking malevolent.
"How could you get us lost? Where's your GPS devise?" my daughter, Cindy, complained as we trudged through the cornfield. Our flashlights were useless in the filmy air, but the umbrellas were handy.
"I can't find it. It won't tell me where it is."
Some thing was ordering me to go the other way, but I paid it no attention. Our dog, Scruffy, wasn't thrilled about my decision to hike forward, visually impaired by the impenetrable mist. He stopped frequently to sit and look up eagerly at something behind us. If I didn't know better it seemed like the hair on his head got ruffled by an unseen hand occasionally; there must be a breeze.
Up ahead I made out the beginning of an uneven fence. The closer we got I saw broken gaps in it. As we got even closer I realized it wasn't a fence but rows of rocks. Even closer, I discovered the rocks were tombstones. This is getting better, fog, mist, dark, zombie costumes, a complaining teenager, a peculiar acting dog and now a cemetery. Hopefully we'd come on a church or office building with a phone I could use, even if I had to break in. I saw breaking and entering as acceptable at this point.
Little orbs of light were rising from the graves and streaking about. They grouped together into larger orbs and zig zagged in the same direction we were headed, further into the burial ground. Something told me to go back and Scruffy barked in agreement. Once again, I ignored my gut.
The orbs were intriguing. They weren't fireflies as I first suspected. I'd heard of these things before. Supposedly they were the dead making themselves known. Cindy was trembling and holding on to my arm as I stupidly continued onward. Up ahead I saw a bright blaze. Yea, people, maybe they had cell phones. We proceeded on. Weird moaning assaulted our ears. Something in me insisted I retreat and Scruffy seconded the motion. I disregarded my gut instincts one more time, pushing back useful feelings of apprehension with womanly curiosity.
.
Tombstones to my left, tombstones to my right. Tombstones behind me, tombstones ahead of me. Large grotesque statues were placed arbitrarily throughout. No way would I want to spend eternity with one of those things hovering over me. We were deeply entrenched in the home of the dead. Lights flickered here and there amassing in size, and numbers. I swear they were luring us onward as they swirled around us.
In front of us a huge mausoleum blocked my complete view of a brilliant blaze entrapped in a circle with several uncanny looking characters dancing about. Cindy and I hugged the wall and peered around the stone structure, timidly. Several figures were nude, some, with pasty white complexions had on black Gothic costumes and ebony black hair that matched black painted lips and eyes. They were undulating and chanting to the enlarging blaze. The blaze was evoking the participation of ghouls and goblins who eagerly acquiesced.
I actually recognized a few of the women from work. Ordinary people during the day, followers of Satan in their spare time!
The orbs of light skipped about erratically, growing larger and coalescing into a menacing ball that spun around revealing a hideous, laughing face. Some of the orbs formed hazy figures that floated nearby talking to members of a séance who were asking for love, career and revenge advice. This was a witch's coven! They had summoned Satan, his minions, and the spirits of the dead. Actually, Satan was fooling even his followers. These dead souls were in reality more of his evil cohorts imitating those that had died, after all demon's are master liars and know about the lives of those that passed on to glory well enough to deceive susceptible individuals. Boy, I wished I'd listened to that inner voice that warned me to not advance further! Hindsight always gets me into trouble. This was the night the veil between two worlds’s opened and evil spirits met with evil flesh. It was Halloween, Samhain, the sacred holiday of all who tread behind the Wicked One. We were face to face with Mr. D. Evil himself. He was making cameo appearances world wide on this, his night. Like Santa Claus he had numerous proxies. There was a tremendous amount of blood splashed about, with body parts of dismembered animals protruding from a cauldron in the center of a hexagon (Witchcraft rituals aren't for the faint hearted) I felt dinner repeating itself on me. From here on out I'm becoming a vegetarian.
My daughter, shaking tremendously, asked, "They burn virgins at these things, don't they?"
"That's what I hear."
"Good, I'm safe," she sighed.
I cast her sharp glance.
"I mean, you'll protect me, won't you?" She added hastily, covering her mouth.
"I will but only till we get home." I threatened.
How old was she now? Where did she and James go after school? I'd better do some research on this! There was a convent down the street from us. I started making plans; I wonder if they accept Baptists? If not, we'll convert.
One of the transparent bodies looked in our direction, scanning, searching, and sniffing. How he missed us, I don't know, but he appeared to look me right in the eye, but more through me, I should say. Some shadow had appeared that screened us from his vision. I had the strangest sensation of being enveloped in feathers. Scruffy was straining to run but something pulled on his collar preventing him from revealing our presence. The face in the giant ball zoomed in on us. I uttered the name of Jesus in defense and the face shrank back, recoiling in fear. (Anyway, I hoped it was the name of Jesus that threatened the evil one and not my lovely countenance.) The great destroyer trembled. My gut told me to make a mad dash for it, and this time I hearkened to the promptings. Like Peter's stroll on water I doubted my strength would prevail.
Grabbing Cindy's wrist I whirled us both in the direction of the car. Unfortunately both our flashlight batteries died at once. Dying in a cemetery, coincidental? It was hard to follow our footsteps in the murkiness but we held our own. I could hear people in pursuit, hurling profane curses at us. They may not have seen us but they knew we were present; at least our flashlights weren't giving us away. I tripped over what felt like a foot and fell into a hole. Cindy landed on top of me, followed by Scruffy who seemed to be tossed in.
"Why'd you shove me?" she wailed, wiping mud out of her mouth.
"I didn't shove you, why did you trip me?" I questioned.
"I didn't trip you!" Cindy responded
"Who threw Scruffy in!" We added in unison.
Footsteps pounded past us overhead. What was this hole doing in the middle of nowhere. Eek, its a grave! There we lay, a dog and two zombies in a empty grave, a perfect prop for our attire. Am I the only one who finds this amusing.
When we deemed it safe, we crawled out rapidly and raced each other to the car, my old body keeping pace with Cindy's athletic one. Upon arrival I noticed the tires had been fixed! No one was around and I felt no need to question our luck. Yanking the door open we barreled in. Scruffy leaped eagerly into the back seat. Observing him through the rear view mirror he seemed to be licking the air on either side of him. What a odd little animal!
The two invisible beings Scruffy was sandwiched between looked at each other and smiled. One of them was scratching Scruffy's belly.
"The dog seems to be the only one that knows we helped." One being commented.
Before I started the ignition I grabbed Cindy's hand and bowed my head," Thank you most gracious God for saving us despite my stubbornness."
The other being nodded satisfied. "They know who really helped."
The two heavenly creations fanned their wings, the confines of the car not the least bit hindering their wide wingspan, and took flight.
"What's that?" I quizzed, as two shadows past over the hood in front of us.
"Two doves! Two large doves! Just drive!" Cindy ordered, looking out the back window for signs of our pursuers.
The fog opened up in front of us like the parting of the Red Sea . We drove between the opaque wall with the car lights illuminating the aisle that formed in the center. We stayed on the tail of the "seeing-eye" doves till we found the main highway and sped home with a story no one would ever believe. How could they? We didn't believe it. As the unholy crowd caught up with us the fog closed back up on them, causing them to grope about sightlessly. Two zombies, carrying Betty Boop umbrellas, chased by witches and demons! Halloween would never be celebrated in my home again.
At home I showered thoroughly and discarded my zombie outfit in trash bin, had a long conversation with God and went to sleep, at peace and forgiven.
The next morning Cindy came down to the kitchen, poured a bowl of raisin bran, sat down and starting eating. She had grown up overnight, I thought as I observed her budding curves and lankly form. I pulled out the chair next to her, nonchalantly, sat down with my coffee, opened the newspaper and casually asked, "Now, what's this about virgins?"
Cereal spewed forth across the table, a raisin hit me in the ear, and flakes landed in my java. As I patted her back we began one seriously overdue discussion.
Deut. 18:9-14
Psalm 34:7
Gal 5:10
James 2:19
James 4:7-10
Rev 21:8
"Mom, I don't think we're on the road anymore." My daughter announced.
"Why do you say that?"
"Because I don't think they grow corn in the middle of the street."
With that announcement my car started to go flip flop, flip flop. I pulled over (not willing to admit to my offspring she might be right) and stopped the engine. Circling the car I found, not one, but two flats, and many stalks of corn. Great, one spare and two flats! We were going to have to hoof it. I opened the trunk and got out my emergency stash. I carried walking shoes, water bottles, flashlights, umbrellas and blankets for such and event, I lose my way frequently. I had read it was best to not stay near your car when it breaks down but to get a distance between you and it while waiting for help. The first people to stop could intend harm instead of help. A lone woman (or two) in a car, even if it's locked could be attacked by a window breaking malevolent.
"How could you get us lost? Where's your GPS devise?" my daughter, Cindy, complained as we trudged through the cornfield. Our flashlights were useless in the filmy air, but the umbrellas were handy.
"I can't find it. It won't tell me where it is."
Some thing was ordering me to go the other way, but I paid it no attention. Our dog, Scruffy, wasn't thrilled about my decision to hike forward, visually impaired by the impenetrable mist. He stopped frequently to sit and look up eagerly at something behind us. If I didn't know better it seemed like the hair on his head got ruffled by an unseen hand occasionally; there must be a breeze.
Up ahead I made out the beginning of an uneven fence. The closer we got I saw broken gaps in it. As we got even closer I realized it wasn't a fence but rows of rocks. Even closer, I discovered the rocks were tombstones. This is getting better, fog, mist, dark, zombie costumes, a complaining teenager, a peculiar acting dog and now a cemetery. Hopefully we'd come on a church or office building with a phone I could use, even if I had to break in. I saw breaking and entering as acceptable at this point.
Little orbs of light were rising from the graves and streaking about. They grouped together into larger orbs and zig zagged in the same direction we were headed, further into the burial ground. Something told me to go back and Scruffy barked in agreement. Once again, I ignored my gut.
The orbs were intriguing. They weren't fireflies as I first suspected. I'd heard of these things before. Supposedly they were the dead making themselves known. Cindy was trembling and holding on to my arm as I stupidly continued onward. Up ahead I saw a bright blaze. Yea, people, maybe they had cell phones. We proceeded on. Weird moaning assaulted our ears. Something in me insisted I retreat and Scruffy seconded the motion. I disregarded my gut instincts one more time, pushing back useful feelings of apprehension with womanly curiosity.
.
Tombstones to my left, tombstones to my right. Tombstones behind me, tombstones ahead of me. Large grotesque statues were placed arbitrarily throughout. No way would I want to spend eternity with one of those things hovering over me. We were deeply entrenched in the home of the dead. Lights flickered here and there amassing in size, and numbers. I swear they were luring us onward as they swirled around us.
In front of us a huge mausoleum blocked my complete view of a brilliant blaze entrapped in a circle with several uncanny looking characters dancing about. Cindy and I hugged the wall and peered around the stone structure, timidly. Several figures were nude, some, with pasty white complexions had on black Gothic costumes and ebony black hair that matched black painted lips and eyes. They were undulating and chanting to the enlarging blaze. The blaze was evoking the participation of ghouls and goblins who eagerly acquiesced.
I actually recognized a few of the women from work. Ordinary people during the day, followers of Satan in their spare time!
The orbs of light skipped about erratically, growing larger and coalescing into a menacing ball that spun around revealing a hideous, laughing face. Some of the orbs formed hazy figures that floated nearby talking to members of a séance who were asking for love, career and revenge advice. This was a witch's coven! They had summoned Satan, his minions, and the spirits of the dead. Actually, Satan was fooling even his followers. These dead souls were in reality more of his evil cohorts imitating those that had died, after all demon's are master liars and know about the lives of those that passed on to glory well enough to deceive susceptible individuals. Boy, I wished I'd listened to that inner voice that warned me to not advance further! Hindsight always gets me into trouble. This was the night the veil between two worlds’s opened and evil spirits met with evil flesh. It was Halloween, Samhain, the sacred holiday of all who tread behind the Wicked One. We were face to face with Mr. D. Evil himself. He was making cameo appearances world wide on this, his night. Like Santa Claus he had numerous proxies. There was a tremendous amount of blood splashed about, with body parts of dismembered animals protruding from a cauldron in the center of a hexagon (Witchcraft rituals aren't for the faint hearted) I felt dinner repeating itself on me. From here on out I'm becoming a vegetarian.
My daughter, shaking tremendously, asked, "They burn virgins at these things, don't they?"
"That's what I hear."
"Good, I'm safe," she sighed.
I cast her sharp glance.
"I mean, you'll protect me, won't you?" She added hastily, covering her mouth.
"I will but only till we get home." I threatened.
How old was she now? Where did she and James go after school? I'd better do some research on this! There was a convent down the street from us. I started making plans; I wonder if they accept Baptists? If not, we'll convert.
One of the transparent bodies looked in our direction, scanning, searching, and sniffing. How he missed us, I don't know, but he appeared to look me right in the eye, but more through me, I should say. Some shadow had appeared that screened us from his vision. I had the strangest sensation of being enveloped in feathers. Scruffy was straining to run but something pulled on his collar preventing him from revealing our presence. The face in the giant ball zoomed in on us. I uttered the name of Jesus in defense and the face shrank back, recoiling in fear. (Anyway, I hoped it was the name of Jesus that threatened the evil one and not my lovely countenance.) The great destroyer trembled. My gut told me to make a mad dash for it, and this time I hearkened to the promptings. Like Peter's stroll on water I doubted my strength would prevail.
Grabbing Cindy's wrist I whirled us both in the direction of the car. Unfortunately both our flashlight batteries died at once. Dying in a cemetery, coincidental? It was hard to follow our footsteps in the murkiness but we held our own. I could hear people in pursuit, hurling profane curses at us. They may not have seen us but they knew we were present; at least our flashlights weren't giving us away. I tripped over what felt like a foot and fell into a hole. Cindy landed on top of me, followed by Scruffy who seemed to be tossed in.
"Why'd you shove me?" she wailed, wiping mud out of her mouth.
"I didn't shove you, why did you trip me?" I questioned.
"I didn't trip you!" Cindy responded
"Who threw Scruffy in!" We added in unison.
Footsteps pounded past us overhead. What was this hole doing in the middle of nowhere. Eek, its a grave! There we lay, a dog and two zombies in a empty grave, a perfect prop for our attire. Am I the only one who finds this amusing.
When we deemed it safe, we crawled out rapidly and raced each other to the car, my old body keeping pace with Cindy's athletic one. Upon arrival I noticed the tires had been fixed! No one was around and I felt no need to question our luck. Yanking the door open we barreled in. Scruffy leaped eagerly into the back seat. Observing him through the rear view mirror he seemed to be licking the air on either side of him. What a odd little animal!
The two invisible beings Scruffy was sandwiched between looked at each other and smiled. One of them was scratching Scruffy's belly.
"The dog seems to be the only one that knows we helped." One being commented.
Before I started the ignition I grabbed Cindy's hand and bowed my head," Thank you most gracious God for saving us despite my stubbornness."
The other being nodded satisfied. "They know who really helped."
The two heavenly creations fanned their wings, the confines of the car not the least bit hindering their wide wingspan, and took flight.
"What's that?" I quizzed, as two shadows past over the hood in front of us.
"Two doves! Two large doves! Just drive!" Cindy ordered, looking out the back window for signs of our pursuers.
The fog opened up in front of us like the parting of the Red Sea . We drove between the opaque wall with the car lights illuminating the aisle that formed in the center. We stayed on the tail of the "seeing-eye" doves till we found the main highway and sped home with a story no one would ever believe. How could they? We didn't believe it. As the unholy crowd caught up with us the fog closed back up on them, causing them to grope about sightlessly. Two zombies, carrying Betty Boop umbrellas, chased by witches and demons! Halloween would never be celebrated in my home again.
At home I showered thoroughly and discarded my zombie outfit in trash bin, had a long conversation with God and went to sleep, at peace and forgiven.
The next morning Cindy came down to the kitchen, poured a bowl of raisin bran, sat down and starting eating. She had grown up overnight, I thought as I observed her budding curves and lankly form. I pulled out the chair next to her, nonchalantly, sat down with my coffee, opened the newspaper and casually asked, "Now, what's this about virgins?"
Cereal spewed forth across the table, a raisin hit me in the ear, and flakes landed in my java. As I patted her back we began one seriously overdue discussion.
Deut. 18:9-14
Psalm 34:7
Gal 5:10
James 2:19
James 4:7-10
Rev 21:8
Regrets
Regrets
Everyone has finally left. The six men that escorted me
here, my family, all their friends and mine. They had stayed long enough to say
good bye and now it was over. They brought me here against my will and dumped
me. I had set events in motion, fired the starting bullet, so to speak. I
didn't really want to come here but it was necessary considering the
circumstances. I lost control of my sanityand needed to be placed somewhere.
This is it.
In retrospect I grasped the concept I was absolutely wrong.
I thought I would be able to solve my problems but I just complicated them. I
hurt my family and friends, and now I was alone, alone with all these
strangers. Rows and rows of beds with people I don't know, but would have
plenty of time to get to know.
A man was sitting up a few rows down, watching me with pity
in his eyes. Some bodies were sleeping peacefully between us intensifying the
enormous emptiness in my soul.
"It's really eerie here." I commented.
"It gets spookier." he replied. "It's not so
bad now, wait till it gets darker."
A girl spoke close by, startling me. "Why are you
here?"
"I don't feel like talking about it." I answered,
rubbing my head.
"Okay, Okay. You'll get lonely with that attitude,"
Girl said, holding up her hands. There were slice marks on her wrist. I guessed
why she was here.
I rolled over in bed and sobbed. I was stone cold, scared
and had a headache that wouldn't quit. What had I done? How long would I be
here? Loud wrenching noises escaped my throat but my tears were all dried up. I
kept to myself for a few days and nights, reliving my hurts and sorrows and
regrets. Wishing I hadn't acted rashly. Wanting desperately to go home.
Every night, after visiting hours, those with the same
"problem solving" methods as me would get up, visit, wander, wail,
scream blasphemies or beg God to help. Those that enjoyed a deep uninterrupted
sleep were just here waiting to go home. Their pain had ceased long ago and our
miseries didn't faze them. They were able to doze, dead to the world. Personal
agonies prevented solid slumber for the rest of us.
Days later I heard familiar voices calling out to each
other. Two women I knew from work were walking down the aisles, apparently
looking for me. "Oh, man. I don't feel like company!"
"Don't worry. Just sit there and keep your mouth shut.
They won't stay long. They never do." Man informed me.
"Here she is, Ellen," said Mary. Ellen strolled
over to the foot of my bed and both women just stared at me. "We brought
you some flowers." Ellen stated the obvious, while I kept silent. She
placed them on my headboard.” There, that looks nice."
"Let's go, this place is creepy." Mary begged
after twenty minutes of one sided conversation. I heard them whispering about
how sad it was to be here as they departed. Well, it's even sadder if you're
the one staying, I thought, and then I ran after them yelling their names, all
of a sudden I wanted to connect again, to explain my position. All my muscles
were stiff and my bones felt dehydrated from lack of use. They never heard me
and I was blocked at the gate. Only admissions, no dismissals.
"Don't worry, that's as complicated as it gets."
Man informed me. "The visits get farther and farther along till they stop
coming. I haven't had a visitor in years." Good thing, he hadn't looked
like he'd groomed himself in as long.
What he said really upset me. I wanted people to know what they
had caused me to do. I wanted their conscious to bother them. I wanted them to
change so they wouldn't damage other egos. The belittling I had endured, (or
failed to endure), the degrading comments thrown at me, continuously piercing
my soul till I resembled a porcupine, all of that will go on if no one takes
notice of my actions.
"Sorry. Most of us believed we were making personal
statements. Changing the course of human behavior." Man interjected, as
though he read my mind. "I personally just wanted to escape the pain. It's
still here." He thumped his chest exposing a round hole in the center.
"I'm here cos my wife cheated on me. I thought I'd teach her a lesson.
She's still on the outside, remarried with new kids. Yea, she's really suffering!"
"I'm here for getting pregnant. No way would I tell my
parents. This was easier,” said Girl pointing to her wrists. "I was only
sixteen when I arrived here.” She began to moan and rocked back and forth,
hugging her permanently bloated stomach. "They came for a while and
screamed at me in their misery. It turns out they would have loved a
grandchild."
They both looked at me, expectantly. "I'm here because
of a low self-esteem. I was put down so much I finally believed I was
useless." I hung my head, revealing an opening in the back. Man and Girl embraced
me. A crowd gathered around us and we
vented through the night.
Once again the sun
started to rise at Greenwood Cemetery and we went to our eternal beds to endure
another day of remorse. I sniffed the flowers Ellen placed on my tombstone
before I pulled up my shroud and re-commenced weeping, separated from the
living by six feet of dirt and a heartbeat.
Dinner Guest
I slammed the pots and pans about the kitchen. I was hot. Not from baking but hot under the collar from work. My eyes were puffy from crying and my soul was mopping the floor with my tears. I hoped I would be left alone tonight, the last thing I felt like having right now was company. I dimmed the lights to discourage visitors.I went to the task of preparing dinner and setting the table, stewing the whole time about my day at work. I had been humiliated and slammed in front of two departments during a staff meeting,creating a hostile work environment at it's best. I had cried unabashedly for the first hour of work. I eventually got control of myself through God's power, begging him for inner peace. But as you can see, after I got home I rehashed the episode over and over.
Once all was in readiness I went to the bathroom and washed off my tear streaked make-up. I didn't even have an appetite.The doorbell pealed out, clamoring to be answered, followed by a gentle knocking and someone calling my name. I considered pretending to not be home, but I recognized the voice. He knew I'd be hiding.
Opening the door I greeted my guest with false bravado,"Hey, What a surprise." After I hung his coat up I embraced him, "Oh, I'm sorry, did I hurt your chest?" He looked pale, as though all his blood had been drained.
"No,you're fine. The scar is well healed." He replied, stroking the area above his heart where he had been pierced by a sharp object a while back.
"I was just about to sit down to dinner, care to join me?" Please say no, I thought, not eager to expose my emotions to this man.
"You bet. It looks great." Boy, was he kind. I had practically slung the burnt fish on the plates.
He limped over to the table and got comfortable.Before we broke bread I gave him the honour of blessing the meal. He was a master at praying. My appetite slowly returned and by the time he said,"Thank you Dad, amen." I was famished.
As we ate I launched into the particulars of my day at his prodding. He automatically knew something was amiss and I needed venting. Sharing the horrendous details with him lightened my heart considerably. The gentle look of understanding and sympathy on his ordinary face , marred with scratches, raised my soul. He was far from handsome but highly desireable. I passed my hand across the table and laid it on his. He brought my hand close to his heart, then kissed it.
"I had a day as bad as that myself, years ago. I was preaching to some simple folk in a field when church officials approached and whipped me with a chain. They didn't feel I had a right to teach people contrary to their way of doing things. They even sought to have me excommunicated from my own church and threatened those that heard me with the same action."
"What did you do? How did you get even?" I hoped for some earth shattering action I could employ also. I had to agree, my day at work was nothing compared to what he had suffered trying to bring people to God.
"I prayed for them."
"That's it. You didn't call the police. You had every right." I was shocked. He had been physically assaulted and let it go!
His story made mine weak, yet I said, "I want vengence." I was holding on to my anger. "
" 'Vengence is mine, saith the Lord.', Let your anger go. God will do things in his own way, better than anything you can do. Feel sorry for the perpetrators of your misery. The road ahead for them may be bleak enough."
My guest was correct. He had a better handle on things than I did, more insight. I didn't feel shamed by his admonition, instead I was grateful to him for his advice. I was truly delighted I had let him in the door.
"Do you know how precious you are?" I felt abased. He was perfectly right in his approach. Pray for those that hate you and spitefully abuse and persecute you. It was a lesson I would always have trouble learning.
He modestly held up his hands, scarred by an on the job injury, and exclaimed, "It's you that's precious. Don't give up being yourself, just give up being angry."
Dinner was finished and, saddly, it was time for him to go. He had other members of his flock to visit that were badly in need of counsel. How did he keep himself so trim eating at all these houses? I couldn't selfishly keep him here when so many were hurting.
"Will I see you again soon?" I asked, as I assisted him with his outer garment. Before he wiggled into his coat I noticed inflamed red scars that streaked across his back showing through his white shirt. Souvenirs from the chain lashing recieved from officials he had prayed for. My eyes stung with tears. I wanted to run my fingers down the scars but didn't. I couldn't claim to have problems greater than his."Just open up when I knock. Don't ever pretend to not be home," Winking at me, Jesus closed the door behind him but didn't lock it.
I bent my head in prayer. "Father, forgive them for they know not what they do."
Rev. 3:20Heb. 4:13
Once all was in readiness I went to the bathroom and washed off my tear streaked make-up. I didn't even have an appetite.The doorbell pealed out, clamoring to be answered, followed by a gentle knocking and someone calling my name. I considered pretending to not be home, but I recognized the voice. He knew I'd be hiding.
Opening the door I greeted my guest with false bravado,"Hey, What a surprise." After I hung his coat up I embraced him, "Oh, I'm sorry, did I hurt your chest?" He looked pale, as though all his blood had been drained.
"No,you're fine. The scar is well healed." He replied, stroking the area above his heart where he had been pierced by a sharp object a while back.
"I was just about to sit down to dinner, care to join me?" Please say no, I thought, not eager to expose my emotions to this man.
"You bet. It looks great." Boy, was he kind. I had practically slung the burnt fish on the plates.
He limped over to the table and got comfortable.Before we broke bread I gave him the honour of blessing the meal. He was a master at praying. My appetite slowly returned and by the time he said,"Thank you Dad, amen." I was famished.
As we ate I launched into the particulars of my day at his prodding. He automatically knew something was amiss and I needed venting. Sharing the horrendous details with him lightened my heart considerably. The gentle look of understanding and sympathy on his ordinary face , marred with scratches, raised my soul. He was far from handsome but highly desireable. I passed my hand across the table and laid it on his. He brought my hand close to his heart, then kissed it.
"I had a day as bad as that myself, years ago. I was preaching to some simple folk in a field when church officials approached and whipped me with a chain. They didn't feel I had a right to teach people contrary to their way of doing things. They even sought to have me excommunicated from my own church and threatened those that heard me with the same action."
"What did you do? How did you get even?" I hoped for some earth shattering action I could employ also. I had to agree, my day at work was nothing compared to what he had suffered trying to bring people to God.
"I prayed for them."
"That's it. You didn't call the police. You had every right." I was shocked. He had been physically assaulted and let it go!
His story made mine weak, yet I said, "I want vengence." I was holding on to my anger. "
" 'Vengence is mine, saith the Lord.', Let your anger go. God will do things in his own way, better than anything you can do. Feel sorry for the perpetrators of your misery. The road ahead for them may be bleak enough."
My guest was correct. He had a better handle on things than I did, more insight. I didn't feel shamed by his admonition, instead I was grateful to him for his advice. I was truly delighted I had let him in the door.
"Do you know how precious you are?" I felt abased. He was perfectly right in his approach. Pray for those that hate you and spitefully abuse and persecute you. It was a lesson I would always have trouble learning.
He modestly held up his hands, scarred by an on the job injury, and exclaimed, "It's you that's precious. Don't give up being yourself, just give up being angry."
Dinner was finished and, saddly, it was time for him to go. He had other members of his flock to visit that were badly in need of counsel. How did he keep himself so trim eating at all these houses? I couldn't selfishly keep him here when so many were hurting.
"Will I see you again soon?" I asked, as I assisted him with his outer garment. Before he wiggled into his coat I noticed inflamed red scars that streaked across his back showing through his white shirt. Souvenirs from the chain lashing recieved from officials he had prayed for. My eyes stung with tears. I wanted to run my fingers down the scars but didn't. I couldn't claim to have problems greater than his."Just open up when I knock. Don't ever pretend to not be home," Winking at me, Jesus closed the door behind him but didn't lock it.
I bent my head in prayer. "Father, forgive them for they know not what they do."
Rev. 3:20Heb. 4:13
The Encounter
He came in and took a booth in the back. I had my eyes on Him waiting to see if anyone would join Him. He wasn't a regular. I don't think I'd ever seen Him around town. After my third drink I sauntered over, my legs somewhat unsteady. He would do till some better prospects
arrived."This seat taken?"
"No, please." Standing he pulled out a chair for me. Unusual.
"Alone?" I asked"My friends and I are passing through. They're out grocery shopping." He answered. "Would you mind buying me a drink?"
Oh, brother. A dead beat. "Men are supposed to buy mine." But I motioned for the waitress.” What will you have?"
"Just a coke, please."
At least I won't be out much, I thought, as I ordered his drink and a refill for me. He passed his hand over my glass, "Sorry, I thought I saw something on it." He explained.
He had the saddest expression as he observed the customers around us."So many hurting people." He said, more to himself than me.
"This is where they come all right. Alcohol is a great pain killer." I drained the last drop of my drink and ran my tongue around the rim, seductively. He didn't pick up on it. I ran my fingers down my cleavage."So big boy, what do you do for a living?"
"I work with my dad. We have a restoration business."His eyes looked into mine so deeply I felt my soul being stripped. I didn't mind exposing nude flesh, but my heart? Then it started, words just spilled over themselves to fall on the table. It didn't take long to fill him in on my whole life. My marriage, divorce, marriage, divorce, ad infinitum. Things I'd never told a living soul, and things I hadn't even admitted to myself. I didn't have a clue as to what caused the hinges on my jaw to flap wildly; I'm not the talkative type. It just seemed as if nothing about me was a secret to this man. I buttoned up my blouse, inconspicuously, one button at a time, and pulled my skirt down lower to cover my knees.
People started coming in for happy hour. As they passed our table their ears would bend and before long they became part and parcel of the conversation. So many recitals of hurt and agony slopped out of broken vessels. So many "let me tell you about this" stories. He just sat and listened, and let tears slide down his cheek. Then He shared truths that caused us to see things differently. Somehow all the mistakes that led me down this road seemed reversible.
Chairs scrapped across the floor as our group expanded. Then tables were pushed together to add more entries to our cluster. Adulterers, drunks, gamblers, liars, thieves, and druggies, and dozens of them were patrons of mine. We all met on common ground and nothing offended this clean-cut young man. No topic was off bounds, no language was corrected, but over time foul words evaporated and were replaced with acceptable substitutes. Alcohol flowed freely, yet no one seemed to get intoxicated. (He kept waving his hands over the glasses, what was his deal?) It was as though we were drinking water. In fact the more I drank the more sober I became.
Someone told the manager to turn off the jukebox. None of us wanted to be distracted from this man's wisdom. It wasn't long before God became the central topic. Odd none of us took to our feet and ran, we weren't after all the church going types, more like church burners. It seemed so natural to discuss God in this bar. Never once was religion brought up, however. He made God sound like a personal friend of ours, one who'd known us from before the cradle.
"God is a spirit. He is wherever we are. He doesn't want to hear from us for just an hour on Sundays". He explained. "He loves it when he's talked about, or to, anywhere, bars included." He sounded like he and God were on first name basis.
Eventually some more strangers showed up. His friends, I guessed. One came up to him and whispered in his ear, "Sir, you don't need to be seen with these riff raff. That's a whore you're next too!"
"Look again. I think you're mistaken." He replied, firmly, laying His hand on mine. He wouldn't argue in my presence. That was obvious. So gallant. I felt esteemed. My reputation hadn't been defended in years, if ever.
"We're done shopping. Let's go eat." another friend of His suggested, meekly.
"I've already eaten." He responded.
His friends glanced at each other. Only pretzels and peanuts were on display. Surely this wasn't enough to satisfy Him after the long day of work.
We all got to our feet to beg Him to stay when He was finally ready to continue his journey. He promised this wouldn't be His last contact with us, and he was sending a friend to guide us. We all escorted him to the door like a parade. It was hard to believe we'd only known Him for hours. Some of us slipped money into His hand. Only the proprietor seemed relieved He was on his way.
I went to my car, keys ready, and I looked at the gaudy neon sign in the parking lot. Jacob's Well: Drinks and Strippers. I would never be seen here again. No part of me. Ever. I wasn't even going home to my latest shack up. He wouldn't miss me me until the rent was due. I was going home to my family, to beg their forgiveness. He never did reveal his name. I did notice initials on His shirt, though. J.C. Wonder what they stood for. For me they stood for, "Just Cured!" One thing I know for sure. He was definitely in the restoration business. Restoring souls and lives. And hope.
John 4:1-26Math 9:112 Cor. 5:17John 16:7
arrived."This seat taken?"
"No, please." Standing he pulled out a chair for me. Unusual.
"Alone?" I asked"My friends and I are passing through. They're out grocery shopping." He answered. "Would you mind buying me a drink?"
Oh, brother. A dead beat. "Men are supposed to buy mine." But I motioned for the waitress.” What will you have?"
"Just a coke, please."
At least I won't be out much, I thought, as I ordered his drink and a refill for me. He passed his hand over my glass, "Sorry, I thought I saw something on it." He explained.
He had the saddest expression as he observed the customers around us."So many hurting people." He said, more to himself than me.
"This is where they come all right. Alcohol is a great pain killer." I drained the last drop of my drink and ran my tongue around the rim, seductively. He didn't pick up on it. I ran my fingers down my cleavage."So big boy, what do you do for a living?"
"I work with my dad. We have a restoration business."His eyes looked into mine so deeply I felt my soul being stripped. I didn't mind exposing nude flesh, but my heart? Then it started, words just spilled over themselves to fall on the table. It didn't take long to fill him in on my whole life. My marriage, divorce, marriage, divorce, ad infinitum. Things I'd never told a living soul, and things I hadn't even admitted to myself. I didn't have a clue as to what caused the hinges on my jaw to flap wildly; I'm not the talkative type. It just seemed as if nothing about me was a secret to this man. I buttoned up my blouse, inconspicuously, one button at a time, and pulled my skirt down lower to cover my knees.
People started coming in for happy hour. As they passed our table their ears would bend and before long they became part and parcel of the conversation. So many recitals of hurt and agony slopped out of broken vessels. So many "let me tell you about this" stories. He just sat and listened, and let tears slide down his cheek. Then He shared truths that caused us to see things differently. Somehow all the mistakes that led me down this road seemed reversible.
Chairs scrapped across the floor as our group expanded. Then tables were pushed together to add more entries to our cluster. Adulterers, drunks, gamblers, liars, thieves, and druggies, and dozens of them were patrons of mine. We all met on common ground and nothing offended this clean-cut young man. No topic was off bounds, no language was corrected, but over time foul words evaporated and were replaced with acceptable substitutes. Alcohol flowed freely, yet no one seemed to get intoxicated. (He kept waving his hands over the glasses, what was his deal?) It was as though we were drinking water. In fact the more I drank the more sober I became.
Someone told the manager to turn off the jukebox. None of us wanted to be distracted from this man's wisdom. It wasn't long before God became the central topic. Odd none of us took to our feet and ran, we weren't after all the church going types, more like church burners. It seemed so natural to discuss God in this bar. Never once was religion brought up, however. He made God sound like a personal friend of ours, one who'd known us from before the cradle.
"God is a spirit. He is wherever we are. He doesn't want to hear from us for just an hour on Sundays". He explained. "He loves it when he's talked about, or to, anywhere, bars included." He sounded like he and God were on first name basis.
Eventually some more strangers showed up. His friends, I guessed. One came up to him and whispered in his ear, "Sir, you don't need to be seen with these riff raff. That's a whore you're next too!"
"Look again. I think you're mistaken." He replied, firmly, laying His hand on mine. He wouldn't argue in my presence. That was obvious. So gallant. I felt esteemed. My reputation hadn't been defended in years, if ever.
"We're done shopping. Let's go eat." another friend of His suggested, meekly.
"I've already eaten." He responded.
His friends glanced at each other. Only pretzels and peanuts were on display. Surely this wasn't enough to satisfy Him after the long day of work.
We all got to our feet to beg Him to stay when He was finally ready to continue his journey. He promised this wouldn't be His last contact with us, and he was sending a friend to guide us. We all escorted him to the door like a parade. It was hard to believe we'd only known Him for hours. Some of us slipped money into His hand. Only the proprietor seemed relieved He was on his way.
I went to my car, keys ready, and I looked at the gaudy neon sign in the parking lot. Jacob's Well: Drinks and Strippers. I would never be seen here again. No part of me. Ever. I wasn't even going home to my latest shack up. He wouldn't miss me me until the rent was due. I was going home to my family, to beg their forgiveness. He never did reveal his name. I did notice initials on His shirt, though. J.C. Wonder what they stood for. For me they stood for, "Just Cured!" One thing I know for sure. He was definitely in the restoration business. Restoring souls and lives. And hope.
John 4:1-26Math 9:112 Cor. 5:17John 16:7
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