"River ride
It had to be nine at night. I checked the time on my cell phone. Nope, one thirty in the afternoon. I knew that, but the dark sky hoodwinked me. I kept thinking that with every group of teenagers that exited the building I’d spot the one that belonged to me, Cindy, my daughter. She was probably somewhere practicing her major, socializing. She would be a great public relations worker some day.
A crack of lightening followed by a clap of thunder sent Scruffy, my occasionally timid terrier, into a tailspin, something that is literal with dogs. He hated this weather. I loved it. "I
Love A Rainy Night" kept going through my head. I wish I could carry a tune and remember stanzas to songs I adore, but alas, musical talent isn’t in my DNA, it wasn’t passed down to me or anyone else in my immediate family, I realized as Scruffy sent out another yowl.
The next flash of God’s light revealed what I’d been waiting for, Cindy. She was walking a guy to the bike rack, talking nonstop. He worked at our favorite pizza hangout, Dan; I think his name tag had said. He was listening (I assumed) nonstop. I never saw his lips move, but he did have the opportunity to shake his head, once or twice.
Cindy finally shrugged and looked around for me. I wasn’t hard to find as I was the last vehicle left. Dan swung his legs over a bike and took off over the terrain. Smart, he doesn’t have to deal with the traffic, just people angry about his damaging their yards, that is if they could catch him! I’d like to see those leg muscles, wow, look at him go.
“You should have offered that young man a ride,” I stated.
“Oh, why didn’t I think of that?” Oh, oh. Some boy didn’t succumb to her charms; this was going to be a rocky ride.
Cindy climbed into the back seat with Scruffy so she could brood over a lost conquest.
Lightening, thunder, barking, whining. The cycle repeated, this time Scruffy leapt over the back seat, jumped down to the floorboard at my feet, and tapped the gas pedal with his paw. His eyes said, ”take a hint lady.” I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, “Scary little dog.” Scared little dog was more like it. He had more sense than me sitting out here in a rain storm not moving towards safety.
The downpour started off by splattering the windshield. Even with my high beams on if it wasn’t for the perpetual lightening I wouldn’t have been able to see the road. Was it really only two o’clock P.M? The roads were disappearing under a layer of liquid, mixed with leaves and other signs of an inconsiderate civilization.
When the weather is intense I usually prefer to drive in quiet, hands tight on the steering device, my back ramrod stiff, hiding, unsuccessfully, nerves on the verge of panic, so I reached to turn off the radio that was announcing a recent burglary at a local fast food place. Not my problem.
A car sped by throwing buckets of water over my car momentarily obscuring my view. I missed the curve ahead and slid into a river of churning disaster. This was a good time to panic. Scruffy, who’d been barking wildly until now decided it was time to shut up and kiss his….back end…goodbye.
The car bobbed up and down, pushed by the current, bouncing off of tree trunks and river bed rubbish until it got trapped by a damn of junk. Thank god for inconsiderate civilization. Cindy and I tried desperately to free ourselves from our new submarine.
Hands reached into my window and tugged on my arm, assisting me through the opening. Four paws jumped on my back and; using my shoulder as a spring board Scruffy leapt into the air, missing the bank by inches, and splashed into the muddy torrential death trap. I got a view of a hairy head dipping up and down as it was hurtled further out of reach then out of sight.
“Scruffy! Oh, God, Scruffy!” I wailed as rain sloshed over my face and flooded my mouth, chocking me. I no longer loved a rainy night! Cindy was pulled out after me with a horrified expression on her face.
“Where’s scruffy?” She cried looking down river. “We’ve got to find him!”
“He’ll be okay, baby, that dog’s a survivor.” I tried to lie to myself as much as to Cindy. I didn’t believe me, I hoped she did. There wasn’t a blessed thing we could do for Scruffy right now except to pray and hope. As we searched the distant river bank for signs of our little buddy the head board from someone’s discarded bed slammed against our car, shifted its precarious position and sent it sailing out of sight.
I turned to our hero, Dan! The boy from school and our waiter at Pizza Paradise!
“Thank god you happened by when you did!”
“Happened by, I heard your screams for help! I couldn’t believe anything could be heard over the caterwauling of this storm!”
Cindy and I exchanged looks. We hadn’t screamed for help. We hadn’t even had time to realize our dilemma as fast as everything happened, but now it was obvious we had been in deep….manure.
“You guys are in shock, come with me!” Dan ordered, taking charge with his testosterone and steering us uphill. Up a muddy rain soaked hill. Through soggy trees that offered no protection from the downpour. My shoes stuck deep into the earth and made a sucking noise with every step I managed. I could hear Cindy sobbing behind me. Oh how we had loved that little fellow, despite his eccentricities. Not had, do, we do love that little fellow. And we will always love him. We’ll find him, I persuaded myself.
We made it to a rickety cabin someone had built centuries ago and had long abandoned through death. It appeared someone had been squatting in it I realized as we entered and shook droplets the size of grapes off us. There was a kerosene heater present that had my name all over it and Cindy and I fought for dominance in front of the warm blaze. She’s fifteen, I don’t have to baby her anymore, it’s a fight for self survival now, I thought as I sneezed once, twice three times.
“Let me in, Mom!” Cindy wailed giving me the hip move.
“Here, take those clothes off and wrap up in these blankets.” Dan ordered.
We exchanged more looks; Cindy was not about to get undressed in a room with a teenage Lancelot, not her choice, mine! I certainly wasn’t going to ask her what her wishes were!
“Oh give me a break!”Dan moaned stepping into another room, a room whose wooden walls had several gaps. Yea, I was about to believe an adolescent boy! I watch TV. I know a thing or two about teenagers and what I don’t know, well I can just imagine!
After Cindy and I shed our wet attire (except for our undergarments), spread them out in front of the kerosene burner, and wrapped up in fleece blankets I peeked through one of the many breaches in the wall only to see Dan stuffing some money from his bulging pockets into a tin can that held more of the same green leafy currency. I pulled back swiftly before he caught me spying on him. Why would he have money here of all places. I contemplatively ruminated on the situation (those were two of my Reader Digest words for the month, good huh?) An abandoned cabin? Or his hideout? No, his home, I realized. Bedding in the form of a sleeping bag, food stuff on shelves, food wrappers on the floor, school books on a small desk, rather on a wooden slat held up by a piles of bricks, all indicated this was home. Also, clothes were spread out hither and thither in the style of male decorating.
Dan came back to the room and started fixing some hot cocoa over a grill. He caught me observing him and averted his eyes.
“This is just a hidey-hole I spend time in to give my parent’s a break.” He offered. No eye contact. Yea, right. Poor kid. What about the money? The burglary at a fast food place! Wasn’t that a pizza place they named. Wasn’t it the one Dan worked in? Oh, my gosh! Cindy and I are practically naked with a thief. Is this the same as being in bed with bad company? Oh, hurry up and dry out, I mentally shouted to our clothes.
Cindy was ready to go on a man hunt (er, dog hunt) for Scruffy the minute the rain let up and there was no holding her back. I couldn’t blame her; I was just as concerned for his well fare as she was, but more concerned for ours.
We followed the trail back to the river which was slowly shallowing out (not a Reader’s Digest word, but it fits for me). Cindy in search of Scruffy. Me in search of my car and cell phone. I needed the police and only I knew what trouble we were in. I hadn’t had a moment alone to confide in Cindy.
Well there was our car, window deep in sewage that polluted the once pristine river (well it was pristine centuries ago before man got here!)
“Nice going mom, at least we had this car for six months!”
“Hey, no fair, it wasn’t my fault this time!” Boy was I touchy about my driving skills, or lack of.
No way was I going to swim out to the wreckage and ferret out my purse.
“Scruffy!” Cindy bellowed, startling me and reminding me of our primary mission. No answering shout, er, bark.
“Whose there!” Someone yelled in the distance.
“Scruffy?!” Cindy answered back.
“Cindy, that’s not scruffy,” I explained patiently to my delusional off spring, though I wouldn’t be surprised if that mutt could communicate using the English language. I called out, “Over here.”
Two well dressed men came into view, carrying a duffle bag. Clean cut young men, nice. Maybe they had a cell phone, if I could just ask them nonchalantly to call 911 because we had a thug here, ready to be sent to juvie hall. Hope the reward would cover the cost of a new car. The newcomers had flooded out their engine in a swamped road dip and were trying to find their way back to civilization. Their phones had been incapacitated in the deluge also. Great.
As Dan and Cindy travelled further down the embankment seeking out doggy prints I confided in the two newcomers, “I believe this guy robbed the Pizza Paradise this afternoon.”
“What makes you think that?” The tallest guy asked.
I divulged all my suspicions in as much of a whisper as I could muster, pleased to have the protection of these strong looking young men. Their eyes widened when my scoop culminated with the bundle I saw Dan stuff into a tin can filled with more of the same.
Dan and Cindy back tracked to my little group.
The shortest guy reached into his jacket and pulled out a ….is that really a gun? Wonderfu;l that was better than a phone. I felt much safer now. I grabbed Cindy to my side.
“Mom, what’s going on?”
“It’s alright honey; these guys are going to take care of everything.” I confided while Dan’s eyes popped out of his head.
“All of you, back to the cabin!” Tall Man ordered.”
“Let’s just go to the police.” I suggested, "They have a station down that way.” I waved off to the west, east, north. Oh, heck, I waved to the left. The police station was that way.
“No, you all come with us,” Short Man said, casually waving his weapon about.
“Mom, what’s going on?”Cindy repeated, clinging to Dan who was slowing maneuvering her behind him, presumably to safety. Yea, after the first shot and he falls, who gets to protect the damsel in distress then? Such a last effort show of bravado.
“Your mom just told us how we can diversify our portfolio. Stock from pizzas and now from this guy here. Now move it!” Short Man shoved me with his free hand. Oh, I hate being pushed around.
Suddenly an enormous wet bat dropped out of the sky and latched on to Short Man’s wrist with razor sharp teeth, causing him to release his revolver to the ground with the most painful howl I’ve ever heard. Dan and Tall Man lurched for the pistol. Somehow my foot got in Tall Man’s way sending him face down into muddy leaves. Dan stood up a winner with the trophy. Yea! Or Yikes! Would he use that on the foolish woman who nearly got us killed by jumping to conclusions?
A police helicopter came into view and hovered over us, “Drop the gun and raise your hands!” Bellowed down to us. Tall Man swung the duffel bag into the nearby foliage.
Our hands shot up. Shot up. Good play on words. Instantly police swarmed the vicinity handcuffing suspects and questioning the others. They had received a tip about the thief’s getaway car being located nearby.
The wet bat was now prancing about my feet as I shrieked for help, “Get this thing away from me!”
“Mom! That’s scruffy!” Cindy exclaimed, scooping up the filth plastered love of our lives. After a time of frenzied face lapping, he leapt from her arms and dragged Tall Man’s duffel bag to the police who found lots of dough inside, and not pizza dough.
As it turned out it wasn’t the Pizza Paradise that had been robbed, but Pizza Palace, and the money that Dan had was hard earned working cash he was saving for a better life. The life he had now, he explained, held a father that was a drunken…donkey (or something like that) and a mother that was a cheap…loose woman (or something like that).
I couldn’t apologize enough to Dan, though he claimed he understood and forgave me. He was guided by the police to an organization that helped kids in his situation and could provide running water, electricity, and a dormitory like room for him till he graduated from high school. And he was always going to be welcomed at our home.
After we were deposited at our house Cindy asked, “How do you suppose Scruffy fell from the sky like that?”
“He must have…., well, he could have…maybe…Shoot don’t ask me! That dog has always been strange!”
Scruffy serenely eyed me as he was being petted by his two friends who had pulled him to safety and thrown him like a football at Short Man. The same two friends who had called for Dan to come to our aid and used my (dead) cell phone to tip off the police. The very two who had guarded Cindy and me from our births yet we never aware of. Thank God for invisible friends, er... gaudian angels!.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
the circus is coming to town
The circus is coming to town! Who cares? I haven’t been to the circus since my kids were little. Let’s see, that was twenty five years ago. Twenty five! I ran to the mirror and inspected my face…with a magnifying glass. That was a bad decision, this magnifier would show wrinkles in a baby’s butt! I put the glass down and examined my face a la natural. Not bad. My kids may be older but I survived the nasty tricks of time. I still looked sixteen…minus youth’s nasty tricks of zits.
Now wait a minute; the circus. That did sound fun. This was going to be an impulse thing but …I grabbed my purse and headed to the ticket office. I wanted to get preferred seating. After all why sit in the back when you could buy choice seats up front in advance of the last minute buyers who bought their passes at the door and got turned away.
What a wonderful surprise this will be for my family, I thought as I pocketed the tickets I purchased for my kids and their spouses. I staggered to my car with a lighter wallet after having been mugged by the cashier. I wonder why she wasn’t wearing a mask. She should be afraid someone will follow her to her auto to get retribution. Keep in mind, it has been twenty five years since I bought tickets and inflation hit the circus hard. But after all this was the Shriners’ circus, the proceeds helped underprivileged children so I shouldn’t complain…. much.
When I got home I called my son and daughter to inform them they needed to clear their Saturday calendars for a family outing. I had bought tickets for the circus! I exclaimed, hardly waiting to hear their speechless gratitude. (Hear speechless gratitude?) One call after another left me flabbergasted. My gift landed like a water balloon, splashing all over the ground. None of them could make it. I should have consulted them first, they explained. After all they were married now and couldn’t just make spontaneous plans like that! I was bowled over. (I’m a bad bowler but a good target!) No one was excited. No one could come. No one would come. They could come if they were reasonable. They could change their plans! What appreciation? I was their mother after all, I knew them longer than their husband and wife, I deserved more respect!
What to do now? I called all my friends to offer them free tickets, and a chance to be with me on Saturday morning. No one could come. This was beginning to be outlandish. I never knew so many people could refuse a free ticket, no strings attached, plus the chance of spending time with me in a crowded coliseum with screaming kids waving lighted sticks and eating hot dogs and cotton candy.
After a few hundred phone calls, (I had started calling strangers at random from the phone book; just kidding) I managed to find takers for all but one ticket. That was somewhat of a relief. At least I wouldn’t be alone. (Not counting the countless strangers that would be present.) And I’d had a wonderful time catching up with erstwhile acquaintances.
The night before the extravaganza came to town I went out to eat with an old school buddy. I mean old. She was in her seventies. I did say it was college buddy, not a high school buddy, so don’t assume we’re the same age!
After I recounted my week with her she said the most uplifting thing, “I’ll take the last ticket.”
“Really?” I had never even considered her as a possible candidate. After all at seventy plus she had to have seen more circuses than she’d care too. This was great, I thought I’d have to stand in the courtyard of the coliseum and try to sell the remaining ticket. I had already purchased a trench coat, baseball cap and sunglasses to fit the image of a scalper.
“Yea, I think it would be fun,” my much older friend declared. This must be how she stayed so young at heart despite the ravages of time. (Boy, I hope she never reads this!)
Saturday morning. Gifts for sale. Stuffed elephants and tigers. Laser guns. Coloring books. Junk food. Nachos, funnel cakes (my personal favorite, with powdered sugar,hmmmm!) Children running to bathrooms and sales counters. Parents yelling for junior or missy to come back. Clowns available for picture taking. Shriners strolling about selling catalogs for three dollars. Three dollars! The money benefited the Shriners hospitals. How could I refuse, I bought two and got an appreciative thank you.
We had front row seats and this is where my disappointment came. There were lots of vacant seats. Lots! I could have waited and acquired my tickets today and not gone through the aggravation of finding substitutes for my kids. Well actually I probably wouldn’t have been here today because I would have known my kids weren’t coming. Apparently the Saturday matinee wasn’t a sold out feature anymore. In my day (I’ll just let you guess when that was) the circus was filled to capacity; and of course the outside would have been crammed full with horse and buggies waiting to take us back home!
My friends and I had first-class time (mis)behaving like kids again. Hooting and hollering, oohing and ahhing. I even paid good money for a laser stick to swing around in the dark while eating cotton candy,(after my funnel cakes and nachos!) Good thing my brood wasn’t here to be embarrassed by their old mom. Or maybe they would have embarrassed me with their stick in the mud attitudes. I could hear them whispering behind my back now, debating whether a nursing home was in my near future.
Then came the grand finale. Every act paraded out and circumnavigated the arena. The elephants with slender, barely clad women. Horses prancing and preening, heads held high, their riders standing on them, arms outstretched welcoming the applause. Everything was bathed in lights; lights that blinked, lights that dazzled, lights that glittered. Breathtaking. The performers were dressed in gaudy costumes that barely concealed trim figures.
Suddenly I was blinded. Was there an explosion! I couldn’t see a thing except an intense radiance. An overpowering deafening roar filled my ears. It had to have been a bomb discharging. I gasped, waving my arms about, trying to find my friends in the overwhelming light. Nothing. I hadn’t felt an impact. I felt no pain. I seemed to be whole. I just couldn’t hear or see. I thought, with profound insight, this wasn’t good.
I was deaf but I heard my name being called. That’s all I heard. No one around me was screaming. No one was bumping into me. I felt no mass panic going on in my vicinity. Just mass panic within myself which was enough for me to handle right now. I was sure the world had ended. The circus had for sure!
“Here I am,” I yelled to the invisible voice. Please be someone useful, like a firefighter, I prayed.
Out of the light came, “Marcy, Marcy.” Well, whoever it was knew my name.
“Here I am,” I repeated.
“Marcy, Marcy.” Came the reply again. All right, this could go on indefinitely. I kept my mouth shut this time.
“Marcy, its me.”
“Me who?” I queried, straining to get my vision back. Why do people think squinting does anything but narrow the visual field?
A horse trotted up to me, my vision was returning! A magnificent white horse with a exceptional looking white bearded rider, wearing a white robe. The rider had extraordinary eyes. Piercing eyes. Gentle eyes. Sad eyes.
“Marcy, it’s me.” Okay, by now I was pretty sure he knew my name, but did his vocabulary go any further?
“Yes, it’s you alright.” I declared, concluding the best course of action was to just be agreeable.
“Oh, Marcy. How sad you could spend so much time inviting people to the circus but you find it arduous to invite them to my house,” the bearded rider moaned.
His house? Who is this guy? I tried to pick my brain for recognition. I’ve never seen this man before………..wait a minute. A white horse. A white bearded man. Piercing eyes. Adding two plus two I came up with.. Jesus! I’m not taking anyone’s name in vain, I really mean; Jesus! I was being addressed by my savior!
“Oh my gosh!” Well that was an intelligent response. I’m just grateful I didn’t ask him for his autograph.
“Marcy, your friends don’t have much time left. Invite them to my house, please, for me.” The rider asked. Then with a toss of its magnificent large head, the stallion turned on its heels and sped away (flew, actually), carrying its rider with it.
My vision and hearing were completely restored. The grand finale was still in progress. I hadn’t missed a beat. I turned to scrutinize my companions. They were still enthralled with the presentation; nothing seemed odd to them. They sure didn’t look like they had just witnessed an explosion and heard me talking to a man on a horse. Everything seemed surreal now. Had I just had a hallucination brought on by the nachos, cotton candy and funnel cakes? Why would a grown woman eat like that? I nominated myself the new head of the twelve step program for “Junk Food Anonymous.”
“Marcy, are you alright?” Brenda asked.
I’m getting a little annoyed hearing my name today!
“I’m fine, why do you ask?” I croaked.
“Well, for one thing, you look three shades of green!” Brenda answered.
“She sure does!” My other friends chimed.
“Really, I’m fine!” I asserted, a little to enthusiastically to be truly convincing. Then before I lost my nerve, “I’ve had so much fun with you guys today, why don’t you come to church with me tomorrow?”
All four of them looked at each other for feedback; then, “Sure, we’d love too.” They replied in unison. That was so unexpectedly easy I pondered why I hadn’t invited them years ago.
Sunday morning after services I walked down the aisle to congratulate my friends for making commitments to Jesus. I had four new sisters in Christ. All signed on to God’s kingdom.
Vowing to fill up the empty pews in the church auditorium, I went home that afternoon and got out my address book. Everyone in it was going to hear from me again; then I really was going to start on the phone book! Jesus was right. If I could get excited about the circus, I should get more excited about inviting my friends to join me in heaven so they could witness the ultimate Grand Finale, the New Kingdom in all its glory. After all, these tickets were a free gift, paid for in blood.
My only prayer for eternity: Please don’t serve any funnel cakes, cotton candy or nachos at the celebration feast, in Jesus’s name, amen.
Now wait a minute; the circus. That did sound fun. This was going to be an impulse thing but …I grabbed my purse and headed to the ticket office. I wanted to get preferred seating. After all why sit in the back when you could buy choice seats up front in advance of the last minute buyers who bought their passes at the door and got turned away.
What a wonderful surprise this will be for my family, I thought as I pocketed the tickets I purchased for my kids and their spouses. I staggered to my car with a lighter wallet after having been mugged by the cashier. I wonder why she wasn’t wearing a mask. She should be afraid someone will follow her to her auto to get retribution. Keep in mind, it has been twenty five years since I bought tickets and inflation hit the circus hard. But after all this was the Shriners’ circus, the proceeds helped underprivileged children so I shouldn’t complain…. much.
When I got home I called my son and daughter to inform them they needed to clear their Saturday calendars for a family outing. I had bought tickets for the circus! I exclaimed, hardly waiting to hear their speechless gratitude. (Hear speechless gratitude?) One call after another left me flabbergasted. My gift landed like a water balloon, splashing all over the ground. None of them could make it. I should have consulted them first, they explained. After all they were married now and couldn’t just make spontaneous plans like that! I was bowled over. (I’m a bad bowler but a good target!) No one was excited. No one could come. No one would come. They could come if they were reasonable. They could change their plans! What appreciation? I was their mother after all, I knew them longer than their husband and wife, I deserved more respect!
What to do now? I called all my friends to offer them free tickets, and a chance to be with me on Saturday morning. No one could come. This was beginning to be outlandish. I never knew so many people could refuse a free ticket, no strings attached, plus the chance of spending time with me in a crowded coliseum with screaming kids waving lighted sticks and eating hot dogs and cotton candy.
After a few hundred phone calls, (I had started calling strangers at random from the phone book; just kidding) I managed to find takers for all but one ticket. That was somewhat of a relief. At least I wouldn’t be alone. (Not counting the countless strangers that would be present.) And I’d had a wonderful time catching up with erstwhile acquaintances.
The night before the extravaganza came to town I went out to eat with an old school buddy. I mean old. She was in her seventies. I did say it was college buddy, not a high school buddy, so don’t assume we’re the same age!
After I recounted my week with her she said the most uplifting thing, “I’ll take the last ticket.”
“Really?” I had never even considered her as a possible candidate. After all at seventy plus she had to have seen more circuses than she’d care too. This was great, I thought I’d have to stand in the courtyard of the coliseum and try to sell the remaining ticket. I had already purchased a trench coat, baseball cap and sunglasses to fit the image of a scalper.
“Yea, I think it would be fun,” my much older friend declared. This must be how she stayed so young at heart despite the ravages of time. (Boy, I hope she never reads this!)
Saturday morning. Gifts for sale. Stuffed elephants and tigers. Laser guns. Coloring books. Junk food. Nachos, funnel cakes (my personal favorite, with powdered sugar,hmmmm!) Children running to bathrooms and sales counters. Parents yelling for junior or missy to come back. Clowns available for picture taking. Shriners strolling about selling catalogs for three dollars. Three dollars! The money benefited the Shriners hospitals. How could I refuse, I bought two and got an appreciative thank you.
We had front row seats and this is where my disappointment came. There were lots of vacant seats. Lots! I could have waited and acquired my tickets today and not gone through the aggravation of finding substitutes for my kids. Well actually I probably wouldn’t have been here today because I would have known my kids weren’t coming. Apparently the Saturday matinee wasn’t a sold out feature anymore. In my day (I’ll just let you guess when that was) the circus was filled to capacity; and of course the outside would have been crammed full with horse and buggies waiting to take us back home!
My friends and I had first-class time (mis)behaving like kids again. Hooting and hollering, oohing and ahhing. I even paid good money for a laser stick to swing around in the dark while eating cotton candy,(after my funnel cakes and nachos!) Good thing my brood wasn’t here to be embarrassed by their old mom. Or maybe they would have embarrassed me with their stick in the mud attitudes. I could hear them whispering behind my back now, debating whether a nursing home was in my near future.
Then came the grand finale. Every act paraded out and circumnavigated the arena. The elephants with slender, barely clad women. Horses prancing and preening, heads held high, their riders standing on them, arms outstretched welcoming the applause. Everything was bathed in lights; lights that blinked, lights that dazzled, lights that glittered. Breathtaking. The performers were dressed in gaudy costumes that barely concealed trim figures.
Suddenly I was blinded. Was there an explosion! I couldn’t see a thing except an intense radiance. An overpowering deafening roar filled my ears. It had to have been a bomb discharging. I gasped, waving my arms about, trying to find my friends in the overwhelming light. Nothing. I hadn’t felt an impact. I felt no pain. I seemed to be whole. I just couldn’t hear or see. I thought, with profound insight, this wasn’t good.
I was deaf but I heard my name being called. That’s all I heard. No one around me was screaming. No one was bumping into me. I felt no mass panic going on in my vicinity. Just mass panic within myself which was enough for me to handle right now. I was sure the world had ended. The circus had for sure!
“Here I am,” I yelled to the invisible voice. Please be someone useful, like a firefighter, I prayed.
Out of the light came, “Marcy, Marcy.” Well, whoever it was knew my name.
“Here I am,” I repeated.
“Marcy, Marcy.” Came the reply again. All right, this could go on indefinitely. I kept my mouth shut this time.
“Marcy, its me.”
“Me who?” I queried, straining to get my vision back. Why do people think squinting does anything but narrow the visual field?
A horse trotted up to me, my vision was returning! A magnificent white horse with a exceptional looking white bearded rider, wearing a white robe. The rider had extraordinary eyes. Piercing eyes. Gentle eyes. Sad eyes.
“Marcy, it’s me.” Okay, by now I was pretty sure he knew my name, but did his vocabulary go any further?
“Yes, it’s you alright.” I declared, concluding the best course of action was to just be agreeable.
“Oh, Marcy. How sad you could spend so much time inviting people to the circus but you find it arduous to invite them to my house,” the bearded rider moaned.
His house? Who is this guy? I tried to pick my brain for recognition. I’ve never seen this man before………..wait a minute. A white horse. A white bearded man. Piercing eyes. Adding two plus two I came up with.. Jesus! I’m not taking anyone’s name in vain, I really mean; Jesus! I was being addressed by my savior!
“Oh my gosh!” Well that was an intelligent response. I’m just grateful I didn’t ask him for his autograph.
“Marcy, your friends don’t have much time left. Invite them to my house, please, for me.” The rider asked. Then with a toss of its magnificent large head, the stallion turned on its heels and sped away (flew, actually), carrying its rider with it.
My vision and hearing were completely restored. The grand finale was still in progress. I hadn’t missed a beat. I turned to scrutinize my companions. They were still enthralled with the presentation; nothing seemed odd to them. They sure didn’t look like they had just witnessed an explosion and heard me talking to a man on a horse. Everything seemed surreal now. Had I just had a hallucination brought on by the nachos, cotton candy and funnel cakes? Why would a grown woman eat like that? I nominated myself the new head of the twelve step program for “Junk Food Anonymous.”
“Marcy, are you alright?” Brenda asked.
I’m getting a little annoyed hearing my name today!
“I’m fine, why do you ask?” I croaked.
“Well, for one thing, you look three shades of green!” Brenda answered.
“She sure does!” My other friends chimed.
“Really, I’m fine!” I asserted, a little to enthusiastically to be truly convincing. Then before I lost my nerve, “I’ve had so much fun with you guys today, why don’t you come to church with me tomorrow?”
All four of them looked at each other for feedback; then, “Sure, we’d love too.” They replied in unison. That was so unexpectedly easy I pondered why I hadn’t invited them years ago.
Sunday morning after services I walked down the aisle to congratulate my friends for making commitments to Jesus. I had four new sisters in Christ. All signed on to God’s kingdom.
Vowing to fill up the empty pews in the church auditorium, I went home that afternoon and got out my address book. Everyone in it was going to hear from me again; then I really was going to start on the phone book! Jesus was right. If I could get excited about the circus, I should get more excited about inviting my friends to join me in heaven so they could witness the ultimate Grand Finale, the New Kingdom in all its glory. After all, these tickets were a free gift, paid for in blood.
My only prayer for eternity: Please don’t serve any funnel cakes, cotton candy or nachos at the celebration feast, in Jesus’s name, amen.
the conference
It’s finally gotten here! I’ve been waiting for this weekend for weeks. I started packing seven days ago, for a one night trip. I didn’t want to forget anything! I had so many clothes I wanted to wear, and so few hours to wear them in. I brought changes for the trip down, the evening presentation, dinner, breakfast, the next day’s seminar, intermission, lunch and going home. (Some of these women may never see me again and I wanted them to know the size of my wardrobe!) In addition to my clothes I had to pack the correct makeup colors, and a variety of jewelry and hats to enhance the various looks. We had to rent a U-haul just for my luggage.
At last, take off. Wait! Someone needed to go the restroom first,someone at the back of the van. We had been sitting here for forty five minutes loading up and she just now realized, after finishing off a bottle of water, we’d be on the road for hours. I wanted to ask her her age, she looked old enough to make smart decisions, this is where looks are deceiving!
When we ran out of legitimate delays, we took off. A van full of women on their way to the Women of Faith conference. Praise the lord and pass the blessings. Yahoo. I tried to psyche myself up. I’ve been losing my faith fast lately due to my husband, Fred’s verbal assaults. Every interaction he’d had with me lately led me to believe I was unworthy of his love and attention.
My gosh, if I can’t be accepted by someone that sees me daily, how can a holy God love me? If I couldn’t do anything earthly right how could I do anything heavenly right, like getting saved?
Along the way, we played road games. The best one was the scavenger hunt, looking for items on a list the trip coordinator prepared. We crossed off bridges, farms, silos, men in boots, ponds, road kill, the letter Q on a license plate. We had a hard time finding a police car (we kept our
eyes open for donut shops, isn’t that where they meet for breaks?) Come on, don’t they always single out women drivers! And this was a van loaded with women drivers(one disignated driver and nine back seat drivers)! Surely one would turn on its lights and come speeding after us eventually, with donut crumbs on his chin. Some women crossed “deer” off when they passed John Deer tractors. I went for it. My friend, Giggles, (I hope you can guess how she got her nickname!) was holding out for the real thing. It wouldn’t happen unless a truck passed us with one on the hood.
During the road games when I felt everyone’s attention was diverted I pulled out my reading material. I had been wrong about being discreet because someone yelled, “Woman reading a book!” And everyone read the list to see if they could check off another item. Woman reading a book was not on the list.
I had been hit hard these past few months (two hundred and forty months to be exact) by Satan’s attacks as he used Fred’s body, specifically his mouth, and I needed the encouragement this book advertised. Books offer great sources of economical counseling, providing you get a good one. I had stumbled on this particular book when I was asking God for help (again). I guess I had gone to him so much he had gotten tired of my repeated pleas, pulled me by the leash to the bookstand at the grocery store and, with his hands on my temples, aimed my head and eyes to the cover of this book. Talk about guidance! It was a book about destructive relationships. Oh boy, I knew about destructive relationships, I looked to see if it had been written by me in a previous life. My significant other, had berated me, discredited all my emotions, discounted my existence for years. I hadn’t wanted to upset the boat. During moments of calm sailing I made excuses for his behavior, enabling him to squash my spirit over twenty years. I finally stood up for myself and subtly asked him to leave the house (I had hung his underwear on the bushes in the front yard) When he tried to get in the house, with jockey shorts covered in leaves crammed in his pockets, his key wouldn't work for some reason. I know this because he called me on his cell phone to open the door. I slipped the bill for the locksmith through the window hoping he’d finally get tipped off that he no longer was welcome here.
Despite what I had called a long over do spring cleaning project, Fred had made me feel unchristian, because I wasn't forgiving or long suffering. (He was wrong about that, suffering for twenty years qualified as long suffering and stupid) He made sure he knew I wouldn't make it without him. I wouldn't be able to handle everything on my own. I'd be late to work every day trying to do my chores and his. Well, he was absolutely .....wrong. God had given me the strength to do all things through him, things like getting the trash out, rounding up the dogs, making the bed , washing the breakfast dishes and getting to work on time. I slept and digested my food better. The bags under my eyes vanished. But God hadn’t convinced me he still loved me, that I was worthy to be called a Christian.
When I'd read all I could absorb for the moment I slipped the book, surreptitiously, (yes, that's a word) back into my carry on.
"Can I see that?" my seat partner asked. I was aware of her present circumstances; she had just broken loose from a dominating boyfriend.
"Sure."
Then from the back seat, "When she's done can I see it also." asked a young college student being manipulated by a "jerk". Obviously the thirst for higher learning doesn't always cover wise partner choosing skills. Apparently three of us with issues had all been placed in the same van. Our ages ran from twenty to thirty eight to...to...Okay, I'm fifty two darn it! But I look well preserved; I ought to with all the salt I use. Wrinkles don't show when you retain gallons of water! These two women had been lusting after my book from the moment I pulled it into my lap. They had hurts to heal also. Kindred spirits. I had no idea how wide spread misery was. Abuse is something people endure behind closed doors and fake smiles, in shame.
We arrived at our destination just in time to unload the car and get to the convention center.
The conference’s theme was “Infinite Grace” and it was incomparable to anything secular. Women. Women. Women as far as the eye could see. Down in front of the stage and as far as the nose bleed third tier level balcony. Thousands. And all were quiet. All were listening to the eloquent speakers. Speakers who knew the mind of God. Speakers who had prepared this seminar just for me and two other broken women. I couldn’t count how many times they spoke of verbal abuse and self esteem. How God didn’t wish anyone to be hurt. That he never would abandon his children. Hey, I’m his child. So were my two partners in misery. We were HIS! And he wanted us to be happy! He would never abandon his kids. Man, God had even engineered this conference to be just for us, three wounded prodigal daughters. Healing was starting in my soul as I ordered Satan and his lies behind me. The thousands of other women present had to be green eyed with resentment. I feared retaliation as I tried to hide the glowing crown of “daughtership” forming above my head. No one noticed! They were all too busy paying attention to the speakers, I don’t know why, as obviously the whole message was only for me and my friends!
During intermission we got up to stretch our legs. (And no, I hadn’t changed clothes; you know people always bring to many clothes and not enough money when they travel!)The building was loaded on every level and in every nook and cranny with souvenirs, books and tapes to help me remember God’s love. To lift my spirit even higher,(which is scary since I’m afraid of heights!) I had to have everything. I bought the DVD of the program to play for my dad, daughter, son, anyone who I could hog tie and forcefully expose to God’s wisdom. I bought music CDs. I bought t-shirts. I bought books. The symposium had been affordable but I had to hawk my diamond ring to buy all the goodies.
I lingered over the World Vision display long enough to adopt a little girl from Africa. After all, I had been blessed and it was time to pass it on, not hoard it so it would rust and decay. I was a new mother... at fifty two, and it hadn’t hurt my figure one bit giving birth to a nine year old, (my figure had been hurt way before this I couldn’t blame it on her!). God hadn’t forgotten Mildred, a nine year old in a small remote village at the tip of a small insignificant continent on a small globe hanging in a vast universe. He had put her name and history on a table where I would find it. I even got a free tote for sponsoring her. Just what I needed; another tote. It might be my first gift to Mildred…besides the gift of food, medicine, water and an education. Wouldn’t it be something if she rang my doorbell in nine years after high school? Better yet, wouldn’t it be fantastic to hold her hands as we answered the trumpet’s call to board the train to heaven?
The five hour trip home was more joyous than the trip down. We sang hymns the whole way, except during our dinner stop. Religious women love to eat! I did more eating in two days than I do in a week at home. Next week I start my diet again. (I promise! Really! Don’t look at me like that!)
The waiter at our restaurant could tell we had been somewhere celestial; after all we were levitating above our chairs. That gave us a chance to introduce him to our Father. (Maybe that would eliminate the need to tip! Oh darn, it was calculated into our tickets!)
Back in the van as we sang our way home, Giggles yelled out, “There’s someone walking a dog!” No, that’s not a euphemism for anything, that was on our scavenger list, see, it’s right here in black and white, seventh item down in the right hand column, “someone walking a dog.”
No. As we got closer the dog got bigger. It wasn’t a dog. It was a ….deer! Someone at a rest stop was slowing approaching a deer who was standing at full alert, tail straight in the air, head turned at that angle they do to get things in good view. At seventy miles an hour (ten miles over the speed limit and still no police car) we would never know how long the moment between deer and human would last but we realized Giggles had waited for the real thing and there it was! Not a John Deer tractor, but a real deer. We high fived her. She taught us a lesson. Never settle f or anything less than the real thing. I would no longer settle for Satan’s lies. I had waited weeks for this conference to receive the real thing, God’s truths. And his grace. I could never earn Fred’s grace, but guess what; God’s grace is free, nothing to be earned, to all who believe in him. Infinite grace. Infinite; without end. Grace; unmerited favor. Grace without end. Infinite unmerited favor. How many ways can it be stated?
Please join me in a prayer of salvation………………
Isaiah 49:15
John 10:25-29
Eph. 2:8-9
Eph. 5:25-33
1 pet. 5:8-11
1 John 4:17-19
At last, take off. Wait! Someone needed to go the restroom first,someone at the back of the van. We had been sitting here for forty five minutes loading up and she just now realized, after finishing off a bottle of water, we’d be on the road for hours. I wanted to ask her her age, she looked old enough to make smart decisions, this is where looks are deceiving!
When we ran out of legitimate delays, we took off. A van full of women on their way to the Women of Faith conference. Praise the lord and pass the blessings. Yahoo. I tried to psyche myself up. I’ve been losing my faith fast lately due to my husband, Fred’s verbal assaults. Every interaction he’d had with me lately led me to believe I was unworthy of his love and attention.
My gosh, if I can’t be accepted by someone that sees me daily, how can a holy God love me? If I couldn’t do anything earthly right how could I do anything heavenly right, like getting saved?
Along the way, we played road games. The best one was the scavenger hunt, looking for items on a list the trip coordinator prepared. We crossed off bridges, farms, silos, men in boots, ponds, road kill, the letter Q on a license plate. We had a hard time finding a police car (we kept our
eyes open for donut shops, isn’t that where they meet for breaks?) Come on, don’t they always single out women drivers! And this was a van loaded with women drivers(one disignated driver and nine back seat drivers)! Surely one would turn on its lights and come speeding after us eventually, with donut crumbs on his chin. Some women crossed “deer” off when they passed John Deer tractors. I went for it. My friend, Giggles, (I hope you can guess how she got her nickname!) was holding out for the real thing. It wouldn’t happen unless a truck passed us with one on the hood.
During the road games when I felt everyone’s attention was diverted I pulled out my reading material. I had been wrong about being discreet because someone yelled, “Woman reading a book!” And everyone read the list to see if they could check off another item. Woman reading a book was not on the list.
I had been hit hard these past few months (two hundred and forty months to be exact) by Satan’s attacks as he used Fred’s body, specifically his mouth, and I needed the encouragement this book advertised. Books offer great sources of economical counseling, providing you get a good one. I had stumbled on this particular book when I was asking God for help (again). I guess I had gone to him so much he had gotten tired of my repeated pleas, pulled me by the leash to the bookstand at the grocery store and, with his hands on my temples, aimed my head and eyes to the cover of this book. Talk about guidance! It was a book about destructive relationships. Oh boy, I knew about destructive relationships, I looked to see if it had been written by me in a previous life. My significant other, had berated me, discredited all my emotions, discounted my existence for years. I hadn’t wanted to upset the boat. During moments of calm sailing I made excuses for his behavior, enabling him to squash my spirit over twenty years. I finally stood up for myself and subtly asked him to leave the house (I had hung his underwear on the bushes in the front yard) When he tried to get in the house, with jockey shorts covered in leaves crammed in his pockets, his key wouldn't work for some reason. I know this because he called me on his cell phone to open the door. I slipped the bill for the locksmith through the window hoping he’d finally get tipped off that he no longer was welcome here.
Despite what I had called a long over do spring cleaning project, Fred had made me feel unchristian, because I wasn't forgiving or long suffering. (He was wrong about that, suffering for twenty years qualified as long suffering and stupid) He made sure he knew I wouldn't make it without him. I wouldn't be able to handle everything on my own. I'd be late to work every day trying to do my chores and his. Well, he was absolutely .....wrong. God had given me the strength to do all things through him, things like getting the trash out, rounding up the dogs, making the bed , washing the breakfast dishes and getting to work on time. I slept and digested my food better. The bags under my eyes vanished. But God hadn’t convinced me he still loved me, that I was worthy to be called a Christian.
When I'd read all I could absorb for the moment I slipped the book, surreptitiously, (yes, that's a word) back into my carry on.
"Can I see that?" my seat partner asked. I was aware of her present circumstances; she had just broken loose from a dominating boyfriend.
"Sure."
Then from the back seat, "When she's done can I see it also." asked a young college student being manipulated by a "jerk". Obviously the thirst for higher learning doesn't always cover wise partner choosing skills. Apparently three of us with issues had all been placed in the same van. Our ages ran from twenty to thirty eight to...to...Okay, I'm fifty two darn it! But I look well preserved; I ought to with all the salt I use. Wrinkles don't show when you retain gallons of water! These two women had been lusting after my book from the moment I pulled it into my lap. They had hurts to heal also. Kindred spirits. I had no idea how wide spread misery was. Abuse is something people endure behind closed doors and fake smiles, in shame.
We arrived at our destination just in time to unload the car and get to the convention center.
The conference’s theme was “Infinite Grace” and it was incomparable to anything secular. Women. Women. Women as far as the eye could see. Down in front of the stage and as far as the nose bleed third tier level balcony. Thousands. And all were quiet. All were listening to the eloquent speakers. Speakers who knew the mind of God. Speakers who had prepared this seminar just for me and two other broken women. I couldn’t count how many times they spoke of verbal abuse and self esteem. How God didn’t wish anyone to be hurt. That he never would abandon his children. Hey, I’m his child. So were my two partners in misery. We were HIS! And he wanted us to be happy! He would never abandon his kids. Man, God had even engineered this conference to be just for us, three wounded prodigal daughters. Healing was starting in my soul as I ordered Satan and his lies behind me. The thousands of other women present had to be green eyed with resentment. I feared retaliation as I tried to hide the glowing crown of “daughtership” forming above my head. No one noticed! They were all too busy paying attention to the speakers, I don’t know why, as obviously the whole message was only for me and my friends!
During intermission we got up to stretch our legs. (And no, I hadn’t changed clothes; you know people always bring to many clothes and not enough money when they travel!)The building was loaded on every level and in every nook and cranny with souvenirs, books and tapes to help me remember God’s love. To lift my spirit even higher,(which is scary since I’m afraid of heights!) I had to have everything. I bought the DVD of the program to play for my dad, daughter, son, anyone who I could hog tie and forcefully expose to God’s wisdom. I bought music CDs. I bought t-shirts. I bought books. The symposium had been affordable but I had to hawk my diamond ring to buy all the goodies.
I lingered over the World Vision display long enough to adopt a little girl from Africa. After all, I had been blessed and it was time to pass it on, not hoard it so it would rust and decay. I was a new mother... at fifty two, and it hadn’t hurt my figure one bit giving birth to a nine year old, (my figure had been hurt way before this I couldn’t blame it on her!). God hadn’t forgotten Mildred, a nine year old in a small remote village at the tip of a small insignificant continent on a small globe hanging in a vast universe. He had put her name and history on a table where I would find it. I even got a free tote for sponsoring her. Just what I needed; another tote. It might be my first gift to Mildred…besides the gift of food, medicine, water and an education. Wouldn’t it be something if she rang my doorbell in nine years after high school? Better yet, wouldn’t it be fantastic to hold her hands as we answered the trumpet’s call to board the train to heaven?
The five hour trip home was more joyous than the trip down. We sang hymns the whole way, except during our dinner stop. Religious women love to eat! I did more eating in two days than I do in a week at home. Next week I start my diet again. (I promise! Really! Don’t look at me like that!)
The waiter at our restaurant could tell we had been somewhere celestial; after all we were levitating above our chairs. That gave us a chance to introduce him to our Father. (Maybe that would eliminate the need to tip! Oh darn, it was calculated into our tickets!)
Back in the van as we sang our way home, Giggles yelled out, “There’s someone walking a dog!” No, that’s not a euphemism for anything, that was on our scavenger list, see, it’s right here in black and white, seventh item down in the right hand column, “someone walking a dog.”
No. As we got closer the dog got bigger. It wasn’t a dog. It was a ….deer! Someone at a rest stop was slowing approaching a deer who was standing at full alert, tail straight in the air, head turned at that angle they do to get things in good view. At seventy miles an hour (ten miles over the speed limit and still no police car) we would never know how long the moment between deer and human would last but we realized Giggles had waited for the real thing and there it was! Not a John Deer tractor, but a real deer. We high fived her. She taught us a lesson. Never settle f or anything less than the real thing. I would no longer settle for Satan’s lies. I had waited weeks for this conference to receive the real thing, God’s truths. And his grace. I could never earn Fred’s grace, but guess what; God’s grace is free, nothing to be earned, to all who believe in him. Infinite grace. Infinite; without end. Grace; unmerited favor. Grace without end. Infinite unmerited favor. How many ways can it be stated?
Please join me in a prayer of salvation………………
Isaiah 49:15
John 10:25-29
Eph. 2:8-9
Eph. 5:25-33
1 pet. 5:8-11
1 John 4:17-19
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