don't count on tomorrow

Well, I gambled and lost. That teaches me a lesson about gambling, unfortunately I’m a slow learner, I thought as I hung up the phone, the phone I shouldn’t have answered. Now my day is shot, caput, gone to the dogs. I had such wonderful plans for the day, too, what a shame I answered the phone, if I was flexible enough I would kick myself in the behind.

I looked at my Papasan chair, near the end table loaded with reading material, a hot carafe of coffee brewed fresh at the local trendy coffee shop (sorry, no free advertising) and the remote control in case I got tired of reading, which I very well would, especially if the books and magazines had too many multi-syllabled words. Well, it all would still be here later when I got back, except maybe for the hot coffee which would have cooled, allowing the cream to rise to the surface producing a lovely sheen, similar to oil on a lake’s surface. I poured some coffee into a carry along cup, no sense in wasting good coffee, and I would need something to give me an artificial high, because this afternoon was going to be boring.

Sighing, I headed to my friend’s house to pick her up on the way to the hospital; Charity had called to inform me a mutual friend, Faith, was on her death bed and requested we come by to visit….one last time. How melancholy can you get? They say misery loves company, well, apparently that’s true but they don’t say that company loves misery! What’s the point in seeing someone right before they take their final bow? Why bother your healthy friends and put the burden on them of seeing you one last time before you die? Do you really think you’ll wake up in eternity grateful for that last visit? Give me a break!

I had hoped Charity had just called to inform me she had done some weekend cooking, which usually led to refrigerator overload at her end in which case she insisted I come by and stock my refrigerator with some casseroles, meatloaves, stuffing, etc. And being cheap and a lousy cook to boot, I was more than willing to help alleviate her burden! Generosity was one of her imperfections. I had always admonished her to spend less money on food and put more in the bank since she seemed to overdo it. Money I had hoped she would leave me in her will as I was her closest friend, actually I was her only friend, and her relatives were greedy money grabbing inconsiderate users.(No, I don’t see any similarities between me and them, don’t you even try to suggest it!)

I got Charity to the hospital as quickly as I could so I could return home early and pick up where I left off; chillaxing in my den. Did I say hospital; this structure could have applied for a place on the map as a township; gift stores, coffee stands, water fountains filled with coins {with wishes attached to them}, tree and bush filled malls where people sat on leather chairs with wireless computers, several eateries (with well known names,) and a fitness center (though that was a hard one to explain, oh wait, it must be for the employees), and a rehabilitation center with a pool! People had to be praying to get laid up in here! They wouldn’t have to leave for anything, except in Faith's case, death.

We stopped at the information desk where we were supplied with a map to Faith's room. A map! It turns out we actually needed it (even though we still got lost using it.)

If we were in the correct tower, on the correct floor, we were now standing in front of Faith’s closed hospital door which I gently tapped on since Charity’s hands were filled with an enormous gift basket crammed with her (Faith’s) favorite chocolates, candies, lotions, gowns, novelty socks, cross word puzzles, sudoko books, gossipy periodicals, and DVD’s; if Faith really wasn’t long for this world her family would be finishing off the contents which were paid for out of my inheritance! I hoped Faith would open the basket while we were here and offer us some refreshments, at least I could benefit from my losses.

A diminutive voice invited us in; at least I assumed that was what I heard. Shrugging to Charity I pushed the door open and almost retreated apologetically, fearing we had intruded into the wrong room when I spotted the small white face which appeared even whiter due to the toxically purple lips and grossly sunken eyes. My gosh, Faith had once been a well nourished (read pleasingly plump) healthy woman just months ago, now her congenital heart problems have made her so frail I could barely see her chest rise and fall with inspirations and expirations. Okay, this visit better not last too long, no way had I wanted this pitiful picture to be permanently whittled in my memory. I was astounded at how well Charity reacted, she didn't seem to notice Faith's exterior shell as they chatted about old times, (and chatted and chatted) while I kept a discreet eye on my watch, occasionally being drawn into the conversation. I tried not to talk too much fearing I’d reveal my personal opinions about Faith’s grotesque appearance.

Come on, Charity, I thought, Faith needs her rest, you'll wear her out, I have a feeling her batteries are winding down and I don't want to be here when they do because I don't plan on recharging them! I'm not going to put my lips on those purple lips to force life back into anyone. I fidgeted nervously. Thank heavens I have years to go before i start decomposing and I certainly plan on making the most of my time; believe me, I won't call old friends to come witness my final agonizing breaths! God, if I can't glamorize myself for company stay away from me! It's all about presentation.

The conversation took the turn I dreaded. Death. Death and God. Faith and Charity comforted each other with scriptures I've heard before when I was forced to Sunday school. Fairy tales of happy ever after. Geez. No way we can know what'll happen when we die, since no one has come back to tell us anything. Okay, no one in the past two thousand years. Things can change in two thousand years! Things can change between sunrise and sunset. If there is life after death I want proof!

Finally, the meeting for the Adoration of God Club ended and I dropped Charity back off at her house and pointed myself home. The heavens opened and rain poured down in layers just as I crossed a busy intersection where some jerk ran his red light and nearly t-boned my car. I pulled myself out of the inevitable tail spin barely clipping five other vehicles and cursed at the retreating truck in my rear view mirror. That was close i thought just before I unexpectedly sailed off the overpass....So much for luck!

My car went airborne down to the freeway below in a perfect nose dive then flipped over to rest on its hood; my seat belt kept me anchored crumbled upside down in my seat, my head grazing the ceiling, and my knees buckling into my face and chest. Not the most comfortable position imaginable. Blood was splashing onto the roof top, pooling in alarming large puddles; my blood. I felt nothing; no pain. This must be shock; or a severed spinal cord. I was slipping away, fading. It's true, your life parades past you rapidly, yet coherently. I recalled every detail in measly seconds. Fifty years of selfishness, greed, and hypocrisy. It was all so clear, so ugly. So wasted compared to Charity’s and Faith’s.

Cars were braking to sudden stops, people were screaming, sirens were approaching, my breath was slowing, my thoughts were withering. Then the hallucination came, probably from blood loss and oxygen deprivation. A view of hell fire burst into my mind so real that my flesh sizzled. I could see eternal torment, eternal punishment, and eternal separation. I could see what I deserved. I shuddered knowing my last words on earth were used to blaspheme God to a careless driver. If I wanted proof about life after death, it had just been hand delivered.

Someone reached into the broken window and clasped my hand, I only know this because I could barely see her through my blood crusted eyelashes, I definitely couldn’t feel her hand. Feelings of comfort flooded my soul. I wouldn’t die alone; I also wouldn’t die glamorously.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be alright,” the stranger said. I’m no fool, after all most of my life was spent lying, only not to make people feel better, but to get away with unlawful or unethical things. I know I’ve bought it.

My eyes closed and my heart beat decelerated even more. No pain, my spinal cord really was probably severed at the neck. I tried to summon up the salvation prayer I had heard so many times from the lips of Faith and Charity as they evangelized around the office and neighborhood and attempted an awkward version of it followed with; “Please God, if you’ll let me live just a little longer…………..” I truly had every intention of doing nothing but good from here on out.

Paramedics arrived, slipped a tube down my throat, started an I.V., hoisted me onto a gurney and sped off with me, sirens wailing. Then….nothing.

Bright lights! I’m in an operating room! They must be able to save me or they wouldn’t have me here, hope is springing up in my soul. Darkness. Sleep.

I stretched and yawned. Wait. I stretched. I could move! With my eyes still closed I tested my right hand and placed it over my chest to assess a heartbeat and respirations. My hand went right through to my back, a neat trick if I had a problematic itch. I lay there, eyes closed, unsure of what was going on, another hallucination maybe.

I hesitated to open my eyes, and then did so one at a time. I could see the clouds and sky, but…even though the sky was above me, the clouds were below me. I seemed to be cradled in someone’s arms, twisting around I met the eyes of ……oh, my gosh, is this who I think it is! It’s definitely not Jim Jones or Jim Baker, not even David Karesh! It’s the real enchilada. No fake, no impersonator, no wan-na be.

I leapt to my feet and praised my lucky stars all the while kissing his hands and feet, thanking him over and over again. Laughing and crying….(fooled you, there is no crying up here anymore!)

Then I apologized profusely for having wasted my life but he cut me off, pointing in the direction of ……What a pearl! It was enormous! So enormous thousands of people, er, souls were pouring through an opening in the center coming to the welcoming arms of …(you know who), as he welcomed each and everyone individually to his kingdom; their new home.

Then, oddly, several dozen of the newcomers promenaded over to me, expressing gratitude for my gifts to them, while others rambled on about some lady named Faith telling them to look me up if they got here first. Faith! She was on her death bed when I left earth? (Yes, that does sound weird!) She of all people, er, souls, should be here, after all, she and Charity had spent hours doing good works for ….Him, I thought glancing shyly towards the welcoming wagon, actually it was a brilliant white throne, surrounded by odd looking celestial beings.

There she was, coming in the pearly gate. How did I beat her here? I know that time is meaningless now so what had seemed like seconds to me were decades down on earth. Boy, that doesn’t sound any more normal the more I say it. She looked fantastic and older but without the geriatric look, you know, sagging face, sagging shoulders, thinning hair. She looked radiant. She must have lived another twenty, twenty five years after me! What luck, but I didn’t end up so bad. She and Grace had been right, death isn’t anything to fear if you know the right people, I mean person.

“Faith, it’s great to see you, and I can honestly say you look better dead than you did alive! But why have you been telling these people to look me up?”

“Well honey, these people were saved by your selfless donations; some got your lungs, kidneys, eyes, bones, pancreas and skin and were able to live long productive lives with their families. And as you can see, if I hadn’t gotten your heart I wouldn’t have survived long enough to be a missionary, the seeds I planted and God watered grew a thousand fold. It was a team effort, thanks, Hope.” Well now I see why she lived twenty five years longer, if she'd gotten my heart she got a good deal, it had barely been used while I was alive, I mean before I died. I wonder how far into eternity I have to get before that just doesn’t sound weird!

As I spotted Charity strolling through the reception line to meet her maker, carrying her trademark basket filled with the crowns she had earned to return to the feet of …Him, I reflected, there is life after death, for those that get the gift of temporal life through organ transplants and those that accept Jesus and get eternal life, no matter how late in the game. God had honored my request to let me live longer, I lived on in Faith and all the others that received parts of me bringing a whole new meaning to the phrase; “Do you want a piece of me, then come and get it.”

Hey, there’s the lady that held my hands before I died (yep, sounds weird still)…..wait; as she escorted someone to their new home I discovered she was no lady after all. She must have sensed I was watching her because she twisted to look over her star dusted wings and winked at me. She hadn’t been lying when she’d said I’d be alright!

cut backs

Its amazing how you don’t miss something till it’s no longer available, I reflected as I drove slowly through the empty park. Just last year this place was alive with activity. Temporary buildings and tents had been erected along the route from entrance to exit and cars had moved so slowly making frequent stops that the road looked more like a parking lot than a thorough fare; and no one honked rudely in attempts to speed things up, that was a miracle in itself.
People dressed in theme costumes had performed skits at designated locations, starting at the admission gate where you received the free program and CD to play that described each scene. It was a pretty well organized event, hosted by dozens of churches, of all denominations, that was another miracle; Catholics, Presbyterians, Baptists, Pentecostals, all joined together to reach the community, without recruiting for their specific theology.

The first skit had been a humble structure with live cattle, donkeys and sheep hovering around a couple cradling an infant, a real infant not a doll. Obviously you now are getting an inkling of what the project was about. The following structures went up chronologically from Jesus’ birth to various activities in his life, all replayed over and over for each passing set of automobiles by church members, as the cars glided slowly past listening to the stories on the CD’s that had been provided.

Now all I could hear were the faint echoes of years gone by; echoes of ooh’s and aahs that descended into a reverent hush when appropriate. The event called “Celebrate Christmas” had been an annual activity for years before I had actually attended one. It hadn’t been the free admission that had prevented me from attending, just indifference. I knew all about the bible and had claimed Jesus as my savior so I had no need to accompany my husband here every year, he was one of the volunteer actors and construction crew, so he had to come but I didn’t. Why leave a nice toasty home with a cozy bed to traipse out here in the cold winter night for three weekends in a row, from Friday night to Sunday, just to watch something I was already convicted of. Let the lost come. Let the hurt come. Let the desperate come. Let the dispossessed come that had used the the temporary makeshift shelters during the night for protection from the winter cold and sleet. Let me stay nice and warm and comfortable in my bed.

Then one year I had come with some friends from work. It was then I saw the life of Jesus through eyes of spiritually hungry babies. They asked questions so simple a five year old could have answered them. I l listened to my friends’ excitement with amazement, coupled with embarrassment as we passed each stage depicting one more scene from the Lord’s life. Now nothing. I had to come to see the results of our latest major recession; a recession so devastating people were struggling to avoid foreclosures and keep food in their mouths, donating for a project of this magnitude was out of the question. To the organizations that had contributed this had been the first choice on cut backs.

As I neared the location where the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus took place as recently as last year, (in proxy only mind you), I felt compelled to turn off the ignition and sit quietly to meditate. This had been my favorite reenactment. Angels had rolled back the stone exposing a Jesus impersonator glowing from the stage lights before he walked around the tomb showing his cut back to reenter again and repeat his performance three more times for me. (In reality he had only been interred once and rose for all time! Alleluia and pass the wine, er.. non alcoholic wine!)

Hey, what’s going on over there? People were assembling in the area of the of last year’s ascension scene. (Sorry, my mind is still in the past.) The destitute that utilized this park for their sleeping quarters after hours were all milling around some central attraction that was obscured from my sight. Well, I’m nothing if not curious. I know, curiosity killed the cat; but satisfaction brought him back!

Pulling the keys from the ignition I (a lone woman, a lone stupid woman) stepped out of the safety of my car and sauntered over slowly to the gathering crowd hoping to fit in. I wasn’t dressed for the opera after all, just in casual attire, which in my case would aide in helping me to fit in! The nearer I got I heard the voice of an angel; some man narrating a story with absolute eloquence, perfect diction, heavenly inflections! Spell binding. He was narrating the bible stories that had been presented here for the last decade before all the tragic cut backs! This was a pocket-sized one man reenactment of Celebrate Christmas!

The faces of the indigent glowed, their usual expressions of indifference brought on by years of self esteem fed by the social structure they were part of were gone, replaced by….the gospel of hope, the gospel of the good news. Three men were working the throng, I caught shreds of conversation, they were encouraging the downhearted, offering hope, not temporal hope, but hope for things that aren’t seen, and the hope was being received gratefully, accepted, and implanted into fertile soil.

My eyes met the raconteur’s eyes, eyes that pierced my soul! I got hit with an inspiration! A communiqué from God! Racing back to my car (and believe me, racing at my age does look comical!) I sped home, made some phone calls with detailed instructions, and some heavy imploring, opened (and eventually closed) the trunk of my car, enlisted the help of my grumbling family, and sped back to the park. The crowd was still there, and growing larger with a gathering of several more penniless men and women, of all ages from seventeen to ….they had to be younger than they looked because some looked already dead and decomposing!

I pulled my PC from the trunk along with a portable table and set up the show. I had filmed the last trip to Celebrate Christmas and now I could share it, though the quality was lacking something…like quality, but what’s that old adage; it’s better than nothing! But the story teller could enhance it immeasurably.

More cars started to arrive, park and open trunks. My church had raised supplies for the night shelter down town, well this unofficial night shelter needed things more, these were the out casts that didn’t even go to the shelters! I had successfully convinced my church to bring the items here to distribute, like sleeping bags, blankets, pup tents, coats, socks, personal toiletries, ect, the list goes on. One member, a restaurateur, had been persuaded to bequeath refreshments, hot cocoa, donuts, bagels and cheese, fresh cut up fruit (yummy); complete with waitresses, who had been promised overtime but had ….declined! They had volunteered for a cut back actually.

What had started off as a dismal evening for me had sprung up into a spontaneous old fashion praise jamboree. I prepared a plate of munchies and some hot cocoa and headed toward the God -sent speaker to offer him refreshments and commend him for his talent. He was sitting off by himself, observing the mingling and interactions of the assemblage.

“You were great!” I exclaimed, “You have talent and a fantastic knowledge of the bible. Have you ever taught?”

“Yes, ma’am, every day of my life.” He answered accepting the plate of food and taking cautious sips of the hot cocoa. The silence took over. It was a comfortable silence between us {and anyone that knows me knows I’m not usually comfortable with silence!} as we watched the two groups of strangers, church goers and the impoverished, blend and dine on a feast, a feast of comfort food. I observed some net working taking place also; there would be few less unemployed tonight. Just because big corporations had to suffer cut backs obviously didn’t mean that small groups of churches couldn’t make a difference. We can still cover ground one step at a time. Nothing is gained by cutting back but bread thrown out over the waters brings increased returns. One hot dog at a time. One cup of cocoa at a time. This man by himself had ignited a chain reaction that spread through a miniscule section of the community.

“Will you be here again tomorrow night?” I queried, not wanting this twenty first century great awakening to end.

“I’ll be here until the end of the world,” he responded getting up to join his three approaching colleagues. As he walked away I noticed one more cut back; his. His torn shirt exposed the markings of a heavy whipping. A whipping that had to have been near deadly; was it gang related? No, I realized as the four men walked back towards the vicinity of last year’s ascension scene, (and straight up into the air without benefit of last year’s props), the marks were sin related. I spilled my hot cocoa on the ground. Spilled; l dropped the cup as I watched the entourage fade into the sky.

“Hey, where are those guys that started this?” a friend came up and asked looking around. She was positive she’d seen them head this way.

My hand weakly fluttered in the general direction as I toyed with the idea of revealing the truth. No, I’m not ready to be locked away…..by my standards… yet.

“They went that away,” I answered pointing horizontally to the earth, not vertically. No, I’m sure no one would believe this until….. Until the end of the world.

Eccl. 11:1-2 Isaiah 58:7-12
math 27:26 Math. 28:20
James 2:14-17 Rev. 22:20-21

coincidences

Mmmm! I grunted as I felt around for the snooze button while moaning about morning coming so early in the day; seven thirty wouldn’t be so bad if it came at noon! Scruffy, my usually lovable but presently annoying terrier was shoving his nose into my neck, ear, and face, letting me know he could count; I’d already snoozed twice now and he had needs to meet, well, needs I needed to help him meet by opening the back door. I swatted the pillow next to me, empty. Drat it, what’s the point of having a husband if he can’t let the dog out! Burying my head under my wonderfully thick memory foam pillow I fumbled for my phone.

Hitting the speed dial number closest to my heart I struggled to stay awake long enough to converse with the callee.

A voice as similar to mine as genetics would allow answered on the third ring with a equally groggy, “Hello.

“Come let Scruffy out,” I pleaded.

“Where are you?”

“In bed.”

“So am I.” My daughter Cindy informed me.

“You should be up now, you have a game to get ready for,” I mumbled as Scruffy leaped off the bed and disappeared on the floor somewhere out of sight.

“Not till you make my breakfast,” Cindy declared.

Scruffy leaped back up next to me and rubbed his belly over my arm; his wet belly, his wet lower belly. I hope you’re getting the disgusting picture!

“Ooooh. I think Scruffy has wet the floor somewhere and used my arm for toilet paper!” I announced, springing from bed with the agility of a young person. Scruffy dived off the other side and flew from the room. He had scored and made his point, now it was time to retreat. I found the spot almost instantly with my bare feet. Yuck, yuck; and triple yuck!

“That’s okay, you don’t need to make my breakfast now,” Cindy giggled as we met in the hallway, each with our cell phones glued to our ears. Cell phones, what a convenience. You don’t have to yell from room to room anymore like we did in the antediluvian times when I was growing up.

Scruffy had made it to t he kitchen when I caught up with him, his back to the door, his ears pinned to his skull, trapped. Scruffy’s unconquerable self defense tactic was his eyes. He looked up at me with pools of brown ammunition under thick black lashes which stopped me in my tracts long enough for the door to suddenly open so he could bound into the safety of the back yard, his sanctuary. Now how did that door open by itself? Hubby must not have shut it securely when he left for his golf game this morning. Still, what made it open? Oh, this old house probably shifted slightly. No other explanation.

After the usual delays Cindy and I finally got our stuff together and made it in time to her teams meeting place. On time for us, not on time for those with a sense of personal accountability! We got the customary comments about our consistency which I was able to dodge by just dropping Cindy off and throwing her under the bus. Hey, I’m not that devoted a mother, my priorities were getting Cindy an education, sports were a luxury she pursued.

Cindy rolled her eyes at me at the same time she rolled her sleeves up to go into battle with her disgruntled friends. She would blame me for our tardiness I’m sure, but hey, once again, I don’t care, this is after all Saturday morning, they’re lucky we even showed up!

Back on the road home I ran into an unexpected detour sign that wasn’t there before. Things can sure change in the blink of an eye around here, I thought as I followed the signs. Well, things are looking up, there is a garage sale going on up ahead. Is it possible they’re responsible for the detour sign? What a suspicious nature I possess!

After surveying the trash,,er,,, offerings on the various make shift tables I sighed with relief that there was no excuse to pull out my wallet. I really didn’t need any more artifacts in my house, after all I just finished spring cleaning and made hefty donations to the local Good Will outlet and was pretty proud of myself for the effort.

It was a miracle that I headed back to my car without any purchases since I have zero control over pointless spending. I dug around in my bottomless purse looking for my car keys as a lady passed me carrying an empty pet carrier.

Darn, no telling which table I deposited my keys on, I muttered to myself retracing my footsteps. As I rummaged about in search of my errant key ring I overheard the seller and newcomer discussing the purpose of the carrier. Apparently the woman, mom, had just retired and planned on doing extensive traveling, but without her three year old pet that would now become a bigger inconvenience than it had been up to now. Therefore, younger woman, daughter, had come to collect “Charley” and take him to the …….pound! I couldn’t believe my ears. How could someone just send a pet to certain death, a pet that had loved her unconditionally for three years?

I watched as Charley was coaxed out from under a car parked in the garage. Out came a matted, burr studded, quivering body that seemed to sense its destiny and was willing to go peacefully, and limply.

I decided it was time to intrude, er to offer money, butt in, on this conversation and politely (faked of course) ask if the dog was for sale. The two women suddenly perked up, they had not suspected that someone would be foolish enough for this beast. Unexpectedly they saw Charley as a profit to be made, a piece of property like everything else laid out on the tables to haggle over and suggested a price, a price I wasn’t going to bicker about and jeopardize Charlie’s chance for survival. I did however request the carrier be thrown into the arrangement. I’m sure the women now regretted not having asked for a heftier sum.

Reaching into my purse for my checkbook I was surprised to locate my keys on the surface of all my contents. In plain view! Amazing! I quickly filled out the purchase price, tore the page out and snatched Charlie into my arms only to be overpowered with a smell I wouldn’t compare to anything pleasant. Poor, Charley, he had most likely never been exposed to shampoo. Well, that would change soon.

The detour signs I had been following were gone now. Uncanny. I never saw any truck picking them up. I used my cell phone to call my groomer, I mean Scruffy’s groomer, about Charley, hoping to get him in on an emergency basis but found out I needed proof of his current shots, especially his rabies shot so I got a hold of my vet who miraculously had an opening right now due to a cancellation! This morning was going to cost considerably.

Poor Charley, he had apparently never seen the inside of a Vet's office, or received any of the usual shots and vaccinations. How could anyone treat a helpless animal like this. On top of it all he had some intestinal difficulties and was severely malnourished. Oh, this was going to be a job, not a rescue. After mortgaging my house for payment of services rendered I brought Charley home as is, the grooming would have to wait till Monday.

Scruffy came charging up to the front door all eager for his loving and skidded to a dramatic halt in front of .....he didn't know what he was looking at! Sniffing only hinted at, strongly, of car fumes, gas and other garage aromas. Scruffy tentatively paced around the practically motionless mass of quivering ...what? This certainly wasn't human, or animal.

I gently scooted Charley outside, into the yard where Scruffy tried to introduce him to all the fun things in his sand box. Charley started showing signs of interest, doing his own sniffing and exploring. He had never been outside on grass before, had never seen flowers, birds, or a turtle like the one that was crawling along the fence’s perimeter. Charley was coming to some form of live as the sun showered him with energy and Scruffy supplemented whatever else was missing from Charley's life: companionship of a similar species.

When Cindy returned home latter, all sweaty and exuberant from a winning day of softball, she informed me, "Hey, Scruffy has got someone’s old stuffed animal in the backyard!”

“That’s not a stuffed animal, that’s a sleep over.” I informed her, detailing my day; my long, sad, expensive day, ending with plans for grooming on Monday that would add more charges to my credit card bill.

“Well, bye,” Cindy said, gathering sleeping gear together, “I’m going to Alison’s, I don’t want to be anywhere near the scene of the crime when dad gets home and hears about this. I have no intentions of testifying against you, or defending dad in a court of law.”

Smart girl. She remembered well the last time we rescued a dog, a dog two state lines away, in the middle of the night. It took weeks before we found a replacement home and hubby wasn’t the least bit supportive, he barely tolerates Scruffy.

This is Saturday evening and with any luck and if I’m real careful, hubby won’t even notice our new foster pet till after I get him groomed on Monday and then maybe he’ll be so cute and adorable that hubby’s heart will melt into pools of unrequited love. (Please don’t take my fantasies away from me; they’re the only things that keep me delusionally sane!)

Monday afternoon came finally; after a weekend of subterfuge, I set Charley down on the living room floor with pride. He was a brand spanking new creation. Scruffy came flying into the room and did his skidding to a stop routine again. Was this a different playmate? The dog in front of him didn’t smell the same, look the same or even….Scruffy turned head on heels and disappeared into the kitchen to return with a doggy biscuit that he sheepishly placed in front of Charley. Scooching the treat forward with his nose Scruffy sat back on his haunches to wait for the gift to be accepted. What brought that tender gesture?

As I was puzzling over Scruffy’s bizarre behavior Cindy came in with Alison and her mother. Cindy, ever the cautious type, (yea, since when?) wanted to see if the situation was safe to come home before she sent Alison’s mother off with the get a way car.

“Oh, what a precious darling!” Mrs. Gatlin exclaimed falling on her knees to cuddle Charley and ruffle his furry head and neck. Charley returned the affection whole heartedly.

Bong! The trap was set! “It sure is a shame I have to find another home for him, I just think he’s the best little dog ever besides Scruffy,” I stated, as casually as I could, hoping my fast beating heart wouldn’t give away my strategy.

“What? If you’re not keeping her, Can I have her?” Mrs. Gatlin begged.

“Well…..Are you sure you will take good care of him?”

“Him? If I remember my anatomy classes this is a girl dog.” Mrs Gatlin said, picking up Charlie’s tail. Sure enough, some body parts were missing. Well I’ll be. No wonder Scruffy was enticing Charley with goodies, he didn’t know either till she had received the once over at the groomers. Talk about a well kept secret? Heard of Victoria's Secret, this was Charley's Secret!

Of course there was no question I’d let Mrs. Gatlin have Charley, a good home was all I wanted for him/her, not to mention dodging the bullet from my hubby’s uncontrollable rage, (Whatever!) Hubby had actually just come home from work and passed Mrs. Gatlin and Alison leaving with their dog. He never, ever knew we’d had a house guest and this is one of those secrets that is good for a healthy marriage!

“I’m glad you found a home for that creature,” Hubby said.

“Huh!”

“The vet called to ask about him yesterday after church, I didn’t want to spoil your fun.”

He explained, “As long as you kept it out of my way I was happy.” Talk about air hissing out of a balloon, there went mine.

Scruffy sat staring forlornly out the window at his retreating love being abducted by Alison, doggy biscuit still clinched firmly in her teeth, while three mists gathered around, enveloped, and consoled him; what's more he understood them as they spoke.

“Now Scruffy," one of the bigger mists started, "Just like it was no coincidence that Cindy and her mom were running late on Saturday, that there were detour signs mysteriously put up and removed that changed her course, that Cindy's mom misplaced her keys in time to meet the garage sale lady's daughter, that the vet had an unexpected cancellation, it's no coincidence that Alison and her mom adopted Charley. I know for a fact that Alison will be bringing Charley over a lot when she visits Cindy and you two will become close friends. Maybe even....parents!"

Now Scruffy perked up, yep, he definitely perked up as the two larger mists formed into Cindy's and her mom's guardian angels, and the littlier mist became a ...a smaller guardian angel; a smaller dog shaped guardian angel. A smaller dog shaped guardian angel that had been assigned to Charley and now considered his mission complete! A sign God cares for all his creation!

A Man Like The One That Married Mom

Laughter, pleading, barking; that is what I woke up to this bright and sunny morning causing me to bury my head under my pillow in a useless attempt to buy some more time to wake up. How rude, someone's trying to sleep late and there's a tickle party on the other side of the mattress! I punched blindly out at my husband who had my daughter in a contortion a pretzel would be proud of, begging for mercy while Scruffy, our loyal terrier, used the opportunity to lick Cindy's face, or any exposed body part, as often as he could! I raised the corner of my foam comfort pillow only to have a furry, wirery tail dust the sleep out of my eyes so that I could get an unobscured look at his back side, a sight now ruthlessly etched into my memory forever.

"Okay, that's enough!" I hollered jumping up, grapping my water bottle and pouring water on anything that moved onto my side of the bed.

"Hey," Cindy yelled, "Not fair!"

"What's not fair is waking up early on my day off to this!" I complained, good naturedly.

"Mom, dad is so mean! He won't let me go over to Missy's until he meets her parents. Missy's parents never care if she comes over here without meeting you! They treat her like a grown up that can make her own decisions." Cindy wailed, tears still rolling down her cheeks from the physical assault Dad had executed on her to remind her she was still his little baby girl.(The physical assault that resulted in uncontrollable, hard, rib splitting laughter.)

"Then invite her over here, I know we're good people," Dad said slipping out of bed to ready himself for Saturday honey-dos. It was obvious the female population couldn't survive without the male race to install light bulbs, fix drains, and mow the yard, etcetera, and etcetera. Little did he know the female race, being superior, had manipulated man into matrimonial slavery.

Fortunately the bell rang, temporarily ending the fight as Cindy answered her cell. I swear that girl would bring that phone with her at the rapture to text message her friends in the clouds on where to meet when they got to heaven!

"Oh never mind," Cindy groused, "Missy is coming over here and I wanted to play with her WII," she said, tugging her clothes back into shape and making an effort to regain her composure and anger. Laughter somehow seems to dampen a bad mood.

“What’s a wee?” Dad queried from the bathroom door, razor in hand.

“Man dad, don’t you know anything?” Cindy exclaimed storming from the room.

Dad looked at me and I shrugged as I asked, “Aren’t you glad we only have one?”

Scruffy and I burrowed back under the comforters for more snoozing after I heard the doorbell ring; I assumed it was Missy, Cindy’s new friend from school. Her dad was right. We wouldn’t let Cindy visit anyone whose parent’s we hadn’t met, I’m surprised in this day and age parents would ever let their kids go into stranger’s houses. I’ve even answered the door to girl scouts out selling cookies unsupervised, and then I hear the radio or television announcing an Amber Alert. Don’t people learn anything from other’s mistakes?

First it was the laughter and horse playing that had aroused me, this time it was Scruffy’s snoring, right in my ear. I didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in ….(think of someplace hot) …at ever getting any more sleep this morning so I decided I needed to get up and do something domestic, like making a batch of hot fruity pancakes to smother in lots of gooey syrup. Can’t sleep, why waste the time not eating! Works for me.

I passed Missy and Cindy in the living room hooking up Missy’s WII to our very large, very expensive, very unpaid for high definition television. All right you go girl, thanks for bringing it with you, now my husband’s off the hook with Cindy.

Greg came into the kitchen with one hand behind his back. “Honey, is there something you’ve neglected to tell me?”

“Not that I can think of, but I’m sure whatever you’re holding will jog my memory.”

His hand came forward. The tail light came forward. My memory data base came forward.

“Oops, I guess I forgot to mention I backed into our mail box yesterday.” I confessed. I wasn’t deliberately concealing anything from him; I just have selective memory loss, usually in my favor, that’s the best kind to have. I have a hard time remembering routine mistakes and car mishaps are fairly routine for me!

Missy whispered to Cindy, “Do you think we better go someplace else, someplace safe?”

“Huh, why?” Cindy’s attention was only slightly split between her virtual bowling game and Missy’s question.

“So your mom and dad can fight in private.”

“What? Fight over a tail light. Heck, dad has better survival instincts than that!” Cindy responded sending more pins into virtual oblivion.

The doorbell peeled through the house in beautiful harmony while Greg informed me he placed the tail light on the honey do priority list.

I opened the door to an exceptionally handsome young man who claimed to be looking for Missy, who I called front and center then went back to the kitchen to beat my pancake batter. There had better be no more interruptions into my cooking frenzy as I was mass producing saliva in anticipation of a exceptional dining experience that couldn’t be rivaled in any public diner.

I stopped my spatula in mid air as I caught drift of the conversation going on at my front door.

“I got off work so we can spend the day together,” male voice said.

“I planned on spending the day with Cindy,” Missy explained.“Of course that was before you knew I wasn’t going to be off today, get your things and let’s go,” male voice suggested.

Missy; “I really want to stay here, let’s get together latter.”

“Listen I don’t have any money and I don’t want to waste the day at home with my old man, so at least spare me some of your change” male voice.

Missy; “I spent it all on our dinner last night.”

This conversation was beginning to …….disturb me a little…no; it was disturbing me a lot! I was holding the spatula with a death grip, I needed something more threatening, if I walked out into the living room with a spatula bathed in pancake batter all I could do was..was….slap his cheeks with it and challenge him to a duel!

My reverie cost me the last few word exchanges before the door shut. Drat it, at least Missy was still here, thank heavens she held her guns.

I peeked out into the living room where Missy was back at the WII with the controls in trembling hands. Scruffy sensed someone needed some loving and jumped up her legs; there is no better boost for morale’s than dog kisses accompanied by a wagging tail, which on Scruffy extended all the way from rear to tongue.

“Ow!” Missy moaned, pushing Scruffy away.

Cindy looked as startled as I did, Scruffy, weighing all of 10 pounds after a shampoo, couldn’t bruise a flea, which is why we kept him flea free (try saying that ten times in a row!)

“What’s the matter, Missy?” I asked coming into the living room.

“Oh it’s nothing. I just have a sore spot from gym yesterday.”

“Well, let me have a look see,” I volunteered my nursing services often.

“No, that’s okay.” Was said way to slow for me as I already had Missy’s pant legs up to knee level. Gasp. Gasp. Double gasp.“This happened in gym! What were you doing rock climbing” I asked examining a very bruised, very angry looking shin. I suddenly had a perturbing thought; Missy was completely concealed with clothes, long sleeves, long pant legs topped off with a turtle neck t-shirt. This was July for God’s sake.

“Missy, I want to see your arms.” I said, gently. There was going to be resistance, but I was going to be a tough wall to beat against.

Missy surprised me, she rolled her sleeves up. Gasp. Gasp. Why was I shocked, I knew what I was going to see. Cuts, scrapes, bruises; not all from the same gym class either. Some were almost healed, some were newly acquired.

“I think I’ll give your gym teacher a call,” I said knowing what the response would be.

“That’s not necessary, mom took care of that.” A lie if ever I heard one. I’m a mother of a teenager, I can spot lies from the first word out.

“Missy,” I pulled out my most understanding voice and expression, “is someone hurting you?”

Missy’s eyes started to glitter, snot started to drip from her nose, her shoulders began shaking, “Mark and I horse around a lot, and I’m just not good at horse play yet.”

“This isn’t horse play, Missy, this is abuse, I want to take you home and talk to your parents about this so we can stop this.”

Missy’s eyes opened wide. That was the wrong thing to say.

“Missy, your parents need to know. Let’s go.” Cindy was awestruck, she had never seen this side of life up close and personal.

I got Missy to her house, but not like feeling as though I was taking her to death row or feeling like I was the criminal here. Missy and Cindy stayed behind in the car as I marched up the driveway past a car with a crumbled passenger door, to the back door where Missy’s father answered my knocking, if you call opening the door to the limit of the chain lock, answering the door. I tried to convince the half of a face I could see that I needed to speak with him and his wife but he insisted she was busy elsewhere in the house and he could manage whatever concerned me without his wife, however I could hear someone in the kitchen behind the door…..sobbing I think. Something was wrong on the other side of this door.

“Mrs. Melville, is that you!” I hollered through the partial opening before the door was slammed in my face. I can take a hint. I can take a hint and ignore it just as well. I started pounding on the wooden structure; I mean pounding; curtains separated on neighboring windows, cars slowed in passing, kids stopped riding their bikes. In other words I was being noticed and bringing attention to this house.

An elderly neighbor stepped out on her porch next door and explained that she had seen the couple fighting in the drive way earlier over the dented vehicle. Mr. Melville had been livid and relentless in his verbal abuse to his wife. “Just horrible. Just horrible.” She proclaimed. “That poor thing was crying and shaking, and then he dragged her inside. Lord knows what happened in there! She’s come out of that house bruised so often I don’t know what her natural skin color is. Just horrible.” The lady clicked her loose dentures in disgust.

After that revelation I returned to door pounding,“Mr. Melville, open this door right now or I’ll call the police!”

“Just send Missy in, we’ll take care of whatever her problem is from here.” Came the only response from behind the door.

I don’t think so. No, I don’t think so at all. I wasn’t stupid, contrary to popular opinion, even though kidnapping is still a federal offence, being an accomplice to injustice is off my personal agenda. I didn’t move, feeling some inner strength.

“I’m not leaving till I see your wife. Mrs. Melville! Answer me, are you alright?”

I heard some scuffling, some groaning, and some sobbing in the space beyond my reach.

“Cindy, call 911!” I yelled from the porch. Cindy already had her phone in hand, (of course, probably texting friends about me making a public scene.)

“If you call the police, I’ll give my wife more what for when I get out like I do every time and it’ll be on your conscience!”

That did it, I was really enraged now. I had adrenalin pumping out of every pore as I reared back and side kicked the door. Nothing. How foolish of me to think I was karate momma! I heard chuckling from Mr. Melville. Oh boy, I wonder how many neighbors saw that! Well why not go for the gusto! I cranked my leg in and sent it flying one more………….crack! The door mechanism snapped (a little too easy, I thought) and I went flying off balance into a very messy kitchen landing on my belly. That’s not the way it happens in the movies.

There was Mrs. Melville, cowering in the corner, battered and beaten, the fire gone from her eyes and Mr. Melville, with fire in his eyes, was coming at me with serious intentions.

“Listen, you can hit me if you want, but let me tell you, I’m not your wife and I will press charges, and they will stick!” I threatened, rising to thwart the oncoming blows, one of which landed on my shoulder; I was so infuriated I wouldn’t feel any pain till tomorrow. I side stepped another flying fist and grabbed a kitchen chair, swinging it up and down. Bingo; dead center of his back. He collapsed onto the floor as sirens wailed into the driveway.

Two officers ran in and cuffed Mr. Macho female beater and read him his Miranda rights while I held Mrs. Melville in my arms, just letting her cry. Missy ran in and joined the huddle followed by Cindy who I almost didn’t recognize without her cell phone. Missy and her mom received counseling from a female officer who had arrived about a woman’s haven in the area that would help them, mother and daughter, get on their feet. I told them once they were steady and ready to face the world again; my home was open to them. We had lots of room; they wouldn’t be the first strays I brought home. Back at home Cindy flung herself into her dad’s sweaty arms, he had just finished mowing the yard and reapplying the tail light and stunk to high heaven with body aromas that should never be bottled and sold for anything except biochemical warfare.

“Gee, dad, I’m so glad you’re my dad! I for one don’t think I’ll go wrong marrying a guy like the one dear old mom married!” Greg looked over Cindy’s head to me. I signaled I’d explain it to him latter, I didn’t want him yelling at me about how unwise I’d been going to Missy’s house by myself. He may get angry with me, but he’d never ever dream of hurting Cindy or me, for one thing I knew karate, and other helpful words. Inwardly I sent a prayer of gratitude heavenward to the God that helped some wounded people today.

Meanwhile, two angels, wings folded across their chests, legs crossed, who were sitting on the divan in Cindy’s living room discussed the day.

“They just don’t make door locks like they used to” Angel number one said, pulling splinters
from his feet.
“No, thank heavens; these modern ones are easier to break!” angel number two laughed.

“Hey, Why did you let Cindy’s mom fall on her stomach and take that blow to the shoulder”

“You don’t think I wanted her getting all super hero on me did you. My job is hard enough just keeping her alive when she drives!”

With that the two guardian angels took flight and went home for the night content that they had led Missy and her mother to the right family for guidance and comfort, proving that once again, all things work together for good to those who love God.

easter madness

we glided smoothly down onto the runway. Real smooth, not a bump, tremor or vibration, no wind shear. It was dark, real dark but our night vision goggles were high quality, the first set off the factory floor. Our boss was a genius at creating inventions to bring light into the darkness, shame he hadn't gotten copy rights for any of his contraptions, he'd be rich..er...richer.

 

"I told you we would be too early," my companion groused, looking at the star filled sky. Daybreak was hours away. “We might be early but things don’t look quite kosher,” he added as he analyzed the vicinity.

 

"Hey, let’s prowl around for a few hours. We're two bachelors, foot loose and fancy free. Let's do some sightseeing!" I implored.  

"No way, we're here on a mission and I don't want you to lose focus. You know how you can be." Mike said, sitting down on a brick wall. He had our target in sight and being the serious all work no play dude he was, he wasn't about to get back up, or back down. “Plus, I’m still not sure things are adding up right,” he added as he looked about our surroundings. 

Oh man, what a drag. We don't get to town very often and I wasn't about to let this free time go to waste.  

"Well, you can sit there and grow more feathers if you want, I'm out of here." I said.  

About that time something skipped by.  Something really odd, so odd it even snagged Mike's attention.

"Tell me you saw that. No, don't; I'm not sure I want to know I saw that!" Mike explained as he squinted off into the darkness.  

But yes, I did see it. And yes, I was going to follow it. I picked up my feet and made them work; I was a little out of practice using my legs as I normally flew mostly everywhere I went.  

"I told you I wanted to do some sightseeing, and man, that was some sight to see." Mike was close on my heels, abandoning his station. Who's losing focus now? 

As we followed our quarry through a residential area we noticed houses decorated with big plastic eggs, rabbits, and ribbons all in pretty pastels. Quarry cut through a business zone where we lost him in a crowd of parents and kids standing in line in front of a Confectioners’ store that had some joker dressed up in a bunny suit with a crowd of kids yammering to sit on his lap. A big pink bunny suit on a—was that a grown, mature man? He ought to be ashamed of himself. I'd have to have been hypnotized to dress like that; or in full blown Alzheimer’s (at least in public, I do own the cutest, fuzziest bunny slippers that I wear for leisure, but I digress.) The Bunny was sitting on a candy throne surrounded by candy decorations, candy dishes, candy bags, and mobs of sugar junkies, having his picture taken for posterity with the kids, one by one as the parents stood by watching and laughing. What a way to make a living. The extraordinary sized bunny had a bow tie, a straw hat complete with brilliant spring flowers, long floppy ears and two of the biggest front teeth I’ve ever seen. Those weapons would have kept me from wanting to sit in his lap let alone be on the same planet as him.  

Oh, there he went; our target. We jump started ourselves onto the trail again: running as fast as we could Quarry still stayed way ahead. This fellow should try out for the Olympics; the Special Olympics, because he certainly was special.  The oddity we followed went from house to house peeking in windows till he popped into one causing us to brake to a halt. Actually I braked, Mike crashed into me, that’s what he gets for being so close.  This guy had broken in. As we peered in the window we watched him place something big and colorful on a night stand before he jumped out another opening.  He was sure a fast little character; we were out of breath chasing him. I know I wanted to see the town, but now I hope we'll be able to find our original destination on time.       

Mike continued the pursuit while I flitted into the bedroom to see what was left behind making myself equally guilty of entering a domicile illegally. I discovered I was in a little child’s nursery; an occupied nursery.  In the bed was a cute little peacefully slumbering brunette cherub, with rosy pink cheeks and naturally red lips, pursed into a cute little O. She couldn't have been older than six. Oh, she appeared so precious and innocent. A distinctive blessing from God.

I picked up the basket that had been left on her nightstand and examined the contents. Loads of chocolate candy shaped like bunnies, marshmallow eggs, M&M's. Sugar overload, coupled with stuffed animals, coloring books and a bubble gun.  Oh, I love these, I thought as I picked up a small bottle.  You use soap and a little round wand and blow bubbles that catch the sunlight all over the room and make miniature rainbows. I was essentially toying with the idea of blowing a few suds before leaving but I got that feeling; you know the feeling where someone is watching you. I carefully looked over to the bed and, yep, Cherub had her big brown eyes trained on me. I was terrified that she would scream for mommy seeing big ole me standing in her room, holding her little basket.  

Those eyes pierced me through. She sat slowly up in her little training bed, wearing her flannel Little Mermaid nightie and swung her legs over the side. She was going to run screaming for mommy. This was awful, No one was to know we were in town yet.  

Those big brown waiflike peepers stayed fixed on me as her adorable little mouth moved. Out came the words, “Put the basket down and back off before I call for the police.” She held up a pink cell phone for emphasis.   

Huh. Not a problem; let me tell you the shock factor works. I knew beyond a doubt I could take her but her unexpected bravado, not the least bit faked by the way, scared me. I flew out the way I came in without a second’s hesitation but a little surprised at the technology; I hadn’t expected cell phones to be on the scene quite so early. I really should have paid more attention in history class.

 Outside on the street Mike was coming back towards me, looking concerned; a current newspaper in his hand. “Now I’m positive we’re late not early. We over shot our mark by I’d say—two millennia, give or take a decade or two, not to mention a few thousand miles off course.” Mike stated as he pointed to the date and current American city in the upper right hand corner.  

“We need to get back and make some adjustments before we blow everything.” Mike said as he nodded to the sky. Over in the east golden rays were punching into the darkness. Dawn of the first day of the week; apparently of the wrong week, the wrong century, the wrong millennia,the wrong continent, was breaking. 

With a hearty flourish of our wings we accelerated our speed to race backwards in time as we retraced our way back to the stone cave that was our proper rendezvous.

Upon on arrival we walked up to the two sentries who stood guard to introduce ourselves but they took one look at us and went catatonic; mentally AWOL. I waved my hands in their faces. Nothing. What was wrong with them? The night will someday be filled with bunnies hopping around breaking into homes delivering saran wrapped baskets crammed with eggs and candy and the sight of us put trained military men into a trance. What is this world coming too? Or should I say, what’s coming to the world? 

 Oh, I just couldn’t resist, the imp in me battled with the angel in me, (guess which one won.) I filled my cheeks with air and—phffff. …One big breath and they fell backwards like tin soldiers; they ought to be grateful I hadn’t eaten onions tonight. A giggle caught in my throat and brought tears to my eyes before Mike nudged my shoulder, not the least bit impressed with my shenanigans, he reminded me of our mission. Can’t a guy have fun at his job?   

An explosive light flashed inside the brick building. No sound, just a blinding bright light; oh yeah, and a small earthquake. It was the power surge that was our cue to roll the enormous stone away that blocked the entrance, or exit. 

Together we pushed rolled the stone away singing in unison, "Rise and shine, Room service."  

There He stood, in the middle of the mausoleum He had been placed in by a local rich politician. Wow, we whistled.  The rich really know how to die, I thought, as I examined the elaborate confines of the crypt. Like I said earlier, He stood in the center in all his radiance and glory. He had survived three days, pulse less, without decay or any other of the terrible side effects of decomposition. He had conquered death.

Mike and I slapped Him on his back and embraced him joyfully. He had been gone from his heavenly kingdom for thirty three earth years, a total of thirty three seconds in our dimension; still we exuberantly celebrated our reunion.  

He looked around the deserted graveyard, mystified, and asked the question we dreaded to hear. "Where is everyone?" By everyone he had referred to His disciples, the very ones he had detailed His death and resurrection to for three long years. He had also referred to His followers and all those He had died for (which is the population of the whole earth). He had hoped that someone would be on hand to greet Him in His return from death, after all, that was something even the great Houdini would fail to accomplish. (Don’t know who that was? look him up.)

 In a futile attempt to skirt the issue, I leaned over to fold His death robe; a robe emblazoned with His very image, a perfect match to His likeness. I wouldn't be surprised if some entrepreneur would mass produce the image on coffee cups and t-shirts someday.  

 I left it to Mike to explain, eager to see if he would add in his explanation that the Lamb of God would someday be replaced by a cute fuzzy bunny that snuck into houses delivering chocolate eggs and candy and about his crony, a bigger pink bunny on steroids with radically bad teeth.  

Mike sighed; relieved, when he heard the voices of two women as they approached with jars of burial spices. We were going to be temporarily spared the inevitable explanation that the world was going to someday celebrate Easter instead of His resurrection.

 

 

 

 

 

Humbled

I sat there quietly listening. Quietly criticizing and scoffing. What’s wrong with these people? Can’t they do anything by themselves? The lord knows I did it all by myself, never bothering him for help, begging for handouts. Yes, begging, for that’s exactly what these hokum’s are doing under the guise of prayer requests; asking for jobs, for food, for rent money, for money to take the children’s ministry to a pizza party. Give me a break; let their parent’s fork over some dough, that’s the least they could do for free babysitting so they could sit home and drink beer and squabble. I wanted a job when I was young so I went to college, got a degree, went to undergraduate school, got another degree, applied for a job competing with several other well qualified applicants, got hired based on my qualifications, climbed the corporate ladder and now I’m the big cheese, the CEO of my own law firm.

After the final amen was proclaimed, I got up and headed to the exit, shaking hands as I went. Not that I offered my hand first, but hands were shoved under my nose. The path on the way out was lined with plaques honoring me for donating the auditorium, the stained glass windows, the piano and many other tax deductions. I’d been a member of this church since I was dedicated as an infant by my mother and father. They had been really devout in their faith, praising God for all my successes. I couldn’t convince them that it was due to my own efforts that I reached the top of the world. When I bought them a new house, car and maid service they gave God the credit before they thanked me! I never got over that! Pity.

Both my parents are gone now, turned to dust, recycled into the environment, compost, worm nourishment and I’ve honored their memory long enough by attending these religious rituals. I made my decision in the prayer meeting just now, I don’t need to be here anymore, wasting my time coming here once or so a month. As much as God needs me to contribute to this church, I don’t need him and I’m tired of being used like a year round Santa Claus. With each handshake forced upon me, I silently said, “Adios, chump”, while they vocally promised to see me at the next service. Nope, not unless they plan their next service in my conference room at work where I’ll be building my empire and fortunes to higher levels.

I backed the Lexus out of my parking space for what I trusted was the last time., and I do mean my space as the name painted in luminescent white testified, I hope someone else with the same last name joins the church or this space will be growing grass. Heck this whole church practically belonged to me so it would all probably fall apart without my presence. The minister even seemed to alter his messages to avoid stepping on my toes when he spotted me in the audience; spotted me in the front row in the specially designed lounge chair custom made for me.

I only thought I had made a clean break as someone tapped on my window. I tripped the electronic window opener to open the space up between me and little Miss Isle Winsome. (Yes I know correct grammar indicates that I should mention Miss. Isle Winsome before myself, but hey, who’s more important here?) Hoping to deliver an unspoken message of urgency I only cracked the window enough for our voices to pass between us. Miss. Isle Winsome had the reputation of hearing from God audibly so I didn’t intend to spend much time with her; after all talking to God is prayer, hearing from God is psychotic, and Miss. Isle Winsome was as delusional as they came. Especially since there is no such being, as these people will discover when I disappear from their pathetically underprivileged little lives taking their so called miracles with me.

“Mr. Granger, I just wanted to give you this little token of God’s presence.” She said slipping a cross through the tiny little space I provided for her. “God informed me last night you would need this someday to get back home.”

“Oh, he did, did he? Well, I better not lose it,” I said with veiled sarcasm that a fool like Miss. Isle Winsome wouldn’t be smart enough to recognize. I accepted her gift and laid it on the seat next to me. “Thank you, now if you’ll excuse me, I’m in kind of a hurry.” I explained closing the window and pulling out into the driveway and off the property before my retreat was thwarted by anyone else with messages from their peculiar neural synapses.

Once on the freeway I hit the gas pedal. No officer in town would stop me. It seems that the police charities I contribute to might suffer a pinch if I was angered, or embarrassed by a pull over. Oh, the sweet taste of success, of world ownership! Who said the feudal system was dead? It just changed face.

It being such a pleasant day I decided to take the scenic detour home. It took me miles out of the way but even a busy man like me needs some change of scenery. And change of scenery it was. The sky ahead switched from a brilliant blue to grey, to a sort of blue-black. I could still see the brilliant summer sky behind me in the rear view mirror, but up ahead a storm was brewing that showed all the possibilities of being a doosy.

It wasn’t long before my predictions became reality when lightning bolts bounced off the earth. It was spectacular, or would have been if I’d been home watching from shatter proof windows in a residence , so big that if half of it were destroyed by a tornado there would still be room for a hundred guests, er, servants. The lightning preceded the thunder which preceded the deluge which preceded the formation of a river on the tar top, er, freeway. Unfortunately despite all my toys and inventions my car was still just a car, imagine that! I hadn’t advanced to James Bond’s all terrain vehicles that could be transformed into submergibles or boats; therefore my Lexus went with the current against its will, and mine! My insurance covers this, I hope, since I didn’t have it insured as a boat!

Further, further down the road, er, river, er whatever, I went, banging against rocks, trees, mountains, shrubs and anything that got in the way leaving hubcaps, fenders and paint chips. I must confess my eyes were closed for most of the excursion, I had long ago lost interest in the scenic detour.

Suddenly my craft came to a halt and sank downwards below water level and the interior’s air bubbled upwards leaving nothing for me to inhale except fluid which human lungs had long since lost the ability to utilize as efficiently as amphibians.

I lost consciousness and …died? That was my only reasonable explanation when I came to on the soggy, soupy ground seconds, er minutes , er , hours, later, lying beside and enormous furry creature. I sat up rubbing my head trying to recollect…how did I …where am…what did…? I had no idea; really, I mean I had no idea; my mind was an out-and-out blank, a clean slate, void of memories. Was this creature my mother, had I just been born? Would a new born know they had just been born? That’s a tough philosophical question for someone as young as me, I must be a genius.

Mom nudged me with her nose and directed me towards home; a nice dry cave complete with branches to sleep on and meaty bones from her last dinner for me to gnaw on. She tucked me in for a good night’s sleep, under her arms near her comfortingly loud beating heart and I soon fell into a peaceful slumber.

I don’t know how many moons and suns rose as I never learned to count, that wasn’t important for my survival. Finding food and shelter and keeping up with Mom were my only priorities. At first I felt a little self conscious as she seemed stronger and fuzzier than me, and talk about trees, I couldn’t climb one they way she did with her beautiful claws. I certainly couldn’t topple a mighty oak like she could; I was still on trainer trees, more like twigs with roots. I must be handicapped! A runt! No wonder Mom never takes me to see her friends. No. She loves me, a child can always tell these things. Over time I grew more fur, mostly on my face, my nails grew long and tough, body parts calloused and my muscles enlarged but I still had runt written all over me when I stood beside Mom.

One clear day at the river, Mom was lazing on the rocky shore, sunning, but not tanning, while I fished for dinner. She did the cooking last night so it was my turn this evening. I may be a runt but I do a fantastic job of setting the table, and cooking sushi is easy, after all raw fish is fireproof! Or is that foolproof? Whatever.

I chomped my teeth down on the squirming rainbow trout that I had tossed onto the ground and my teeth got snagged by something. Shaking my head, fish still in mouth, I felt something slap my cheeks so I pawed at my face. Something looped over my wrist. This fish had been wearing a necklace. What in the world? How did I know what a necklace was? I examined my find carefully. I’ve seen this before. The sun hit the metal just right and it glowed, it sparkled. It was a cross. This is the cross Miss. Isle Winsome had given me…..Hold on! What is going on here? I shook my head to clear it. It was coming back! I stared at the cross. God! God had done this to me! I believe now! God help me!

I turned slowly, fearfully. If my memory was right and I wasn’t crazy, (anymore) I would discover an enormous big hairy grizzly sitting behind me, licking its jowls at me as though I were pork chops on a platter. I may be a new believer but it might be a short lived belief!
There she was. Big and beautiful. Awesome. Staring at me like I suspected. But she wasn’t a big hairy grizzly anymore. She was Isle Winsome in all her radiance. An angel staring at me like a lost sheep she had just brought home (get the pork chop connection?). Mrs. Isle Winsome had had conversations with God after all. Personal upfront conversations. She wasn’t psychotic, though now I’m wondering about me. Isle Winsome. I’ll win some! God does have a sense of humor, I’m not sure I share it though, standing here waist deep in freezing water, a dead raw fish in my mouth, wearing tattered clothes that had cost more than some people’s unemployment checks.

I was brought back home by Miss Winsome to find no one had done an extensive search for me when I went missing three years ago. Oh, they searched, but without gusto. My partners had been happy to be relieved of my presence, my obnoxiousness, and explained to the press I had gone away for a restful sabbatical. How rude. Me that is, not them. I came to many conclusions on my quick flight home, airplaneless, mind you! What a way to travel. I had been wrong about so many things. Major things.

I had the church remove all the plaques with my name on them and rewrite them as Donated In The Name Of Jesus. He would be getting all the glory from me from now on. I had my lounge chair and personal name plate in the parking lot removed. When prayers were offered for jobs I created some in my corporation. I started spending more time in church, especially the outreach programs. Boy did I have things to teach about denying God! But I had to be careful because I’m still not sure I hadn’t been dreaming…..for three plus years! I still fish with my hands, who needs a rod and bait? And Mother’s day now has a special meaning for me, as does Easter, Christmas, Sunday, laundry day, trash day, Monday, Tuesday , Wednesday, …….

Daniel 4:28-36
Eccles. 5:1-7
Psalm 34:7
Rom. 2:1-16
James 2:1-13
2 peter 3:9

roll call

We all stopped gossiping when Ellen entered the lounge, only because she was our main topic. Several of us had been discussing her appearance lately; clothes that looked slept in, hair that needed washing and an apparent weight loss that seemed non intentional. We were having difficulties feeling sorry for her since she had such an air of superiority. We'd all been to her house at one time or another for wedding and baby showers, not because we liked her, but because we loved the guests of honor. Ellen was always more than eager to show off her latest home improvements and designer touches, therefore with every pregnancy and engagement she quickly offered her services for hosting the inevitable parties, before anyone else could speak up. She did indeed have a magnificent home, well decorated and roomy enough for all of us to gather in for festivities. And she did indeed love to flaunt it.

I'm sure Ellen knew we were discussing her since the air changed rapidly in the room. After all, she'd sat at the same table when someone else was the target of loose tongues, inspired by her observations. Come on, we all do it, talk about those not present, don't we? She poured a cup of coffee and sat at another table, appearing interested in the magazine on the table top. What an act, I knew she wasn't really interested in a Field and Stream periodical; they didn't have ads for home décor!

I had just made myself another cup of tea when the familiar roll call sounded over the intercom. We were being asked to go home early, again. Hospital census was down due to the recent recession. Lost jobs meant lost insurance, which meant no elective surgeries, which meant no postings, which meant not enough cases to go around which meant we could go home early occasionally (i.e everyday.)For me that was fine, I'd succeeded in paying off my house and car. I had only one mouth to feed, well, actually, one human mouth and four canine mouths, but they were little canines, they hardly ate much. Throw in some shoes, books and furniture legs and they did fantastic.

My first stop on my way home was at the book store, I'd been eyeing a new devotional book there for some time and decided I'd procrastinated long enough. While there I meandered to the back of the store where a group was gathered around some counters demonstrating tarot cards. Just see if christians could gt permission to demonstrate the Lord's Supper!

"Want a reading?" I was asked by a wacky looking man with long hair, scars, piercings and demonic tattoos ( literally; tattoos of demons)..

"No, thanks," I politely declined.

"Why not? It won't hurt," he responded. "You might have an interesting future." He said enticingly.

"Hey, I guess you're pretty rich then," I suggested.

"Why do you say that?"

"Well if this helps you predict the future you should have been real prepared for this recession." I explained, I then got a sour look as he turned his attention to some more willing participant.

Lots of young impressionable kids and spellbound adults were all hovering around getting readings. Some of the tarot card practioners looked like people I would meet in Sunday school. . I didn't need a reading from some cards to know my future, as a Christian I was positive where I was going by reading the book. I clutched my devotional book and scurried out, praying for the lost souls behind me. I could feel the presence of Satan's minions suspended in the air causing my blood to curdle. Oops, I almost forgot to pay for my book! Silly me, but it would have been the devil's fault.

Next I headed to the grocery store where I loaded up my shopping cart with over priced delectable's trying to remember the current list of off limit products. Let's see, I don't need contaminated baby formula, strawberries, peanut butter, spinach, mercury saturated tuna fish, recalled dog food, meat tainted with mad cow disease, hell, I'd be mad too if I was the primary protein source for the globe, like the add says, let them eat chicken! Then again, chicken has had its' day of bad publicity. I selected produce with a prayer upwards that God would protect me from unwise choices in this age of pollution and uncertainty.

My last stop before heading home was the gas station. As my car guzzled in its life giving fluid I caught sight of someone....No, it must have been a look alike. Casting my eyes about the parking lot I saw it; Ellen's van. That must have been her going into the rest room....with a towel and toiletry bag. Returning the nozzle to its resting place I decided I needed a pit stop myself.

Inside the bathroom I found Ellen and her daughter at the sink, washing their faces and brushing their teeth. It was a rather awkward moment....for them, not me. I was puzzled not embarrassed. Ellen stuttered something about the plumbing in her house being repaired and they were just here for a fix up. I wasn't fooled. When I casually went out of my way to walk past her van I noticed...after pressing my face to the tinted windows...that the car was crammed with personal possessions . An air mattress covered the back end under rumpled blankets and clothes, a portable grill was on the front seat and sacks of canned and boxed groceries lined the back seats.

I just drilled Ellen with the look; you know what I mean, the universal look that has so many different meanings for every occasion.

Ellen lowered her head and confessed, "Without the over time I'd gotten used to at work I couldn't make my house payments anymore. Janice and I have been living out of our car for the past few weeks."

I was shocked. That lovely house we had all been so jealous of, that Ellen had been so proud of, had gone back to the bank. Well, now I was sure there was a God in heaven. This was wonderful. I could barely keep from gloating. I chivalrously murmured my hypocritical condolences and hastily retreated back to my car where my cell phone was. I had calls to make, people to update, gossip to proliferate. Reputations to ruin. My evening was looking up. Unfortunately for me my cell phone was next to the bag I had gotten at the book store. You know, the bag with the devotional book I'd wanted. The book that honed your attention on God and his will. Drat it all. I returned to the restroom , slower the second time around as my feet were weighted down with upcoming regrets, and offered to take Ellen and her daughter into my humble home. They would still need the air mattress, I informed them, and we would be a little cramped, but it was better than living on the streets in a car. Ellen was definitely taken aback and I could see hope cross Janice's strained sixteen year old face.

Ellen must have suspected what we girls at work had thought of her superior airs and just requested that I take her daughter in till she could get on her feet again.

"Nope," I answered, "This is a package deal, I either take the both of you or none at all."

To Janice's relief Ellen agreed to the "temporary offer". She insisted it wouldn't take long to get herself sorted out. It was a happy duo that trotted back to their van and followed me home. I on the other hand prayed for a quick release from my momentary insanity. God, please make this short-term. Why did you let me do this? I can't believe I'm so impulsive, what was I thinking? If I was flexible I'd kick myself in the ....where ever I could swing my foot.

We worked out a routine over the subsequent weeks. No one at work suspected we were co habituating, I agreed to keep Ellen's confidence and she agreed (nonverbally) to be free slave labor. I didn't have to cook or clean. (Actually that wasn't much of a change from my regular custom but this time my house was really getting cleaned and I was eating home cooking.) My expenses went up somewhat but Ellen was contributing to the kitty, and I grew to love Janice. It was fun having a teenager in the house again. Did I really say that? Oh, my gosh, don't let my daughter ever get wind of that! And Ellen provided some wonderful touches to my home. She filled in my dirt yard with a concrete patio, added some solar lights, potted plants and poof , a nice little garden of Eden sprang up before my eyes, minus the snakes. I was definitely getting my money's worth and receiving more than I was giving. This was working out pretty good for me. It was my turn to flaunt my little habitat, now I can see how easy it is to feel pride in your home.

Ellen and Janice came with me to bible studies where I tended to feel a little hypocritical since I had slandered Ellen's name at work in the past. But thank heavens we have a God that causes us to eat our words and actions and teaches us the meaning of repentance. Ellen genuinely forgave me and apologized herself for her foolishness in submitting to the demons of boast and pride.

Meanwhile the recession wasn't abating. Things were getting tougher in the world at large and I was glad to not be alone. People were getting laid off, crime was going up, (I couldn't believe that was possible) food prices were soaring, elderly retired people were job hunting with the twenty year old college grads to supplement their vanishing retirement accounts. And Ellen, Janice and I grew into an odd family.

The temporary living conditions had become a relative term. My den had been transformed into Ellen and Janice's bedroom with furniture they had taken out of storage and she had stopped apartment hunting. And at work we were hearing the roll call more and more often. We all feared lay offs were pending. Oh the sweet aroma of fear. I still clung to my believes that God would not let me down, me or any other believer, despite the discouraging news reports from worldly announcers and predictors. The words coming from the lips of our new president were pleasant to hear, but as of yet we weren't seeing much progress.

One afternoon in October as we gathered in the break room (as a part of my self improvement project I had given up gossip, and no it wasn't easy) I heard a loud noise and glanced at Ellen. She had heard it also, but it didn't seem anyone else had so we shook our shoulders and went back to our discussions. Then we, Ellen and I, heard it again. There was unquestionably something going on somewhere.

Something that only Ellen and I heard......Roll call. We were being called to go home...again. No finally. "Ellen. Marcy. Come on over." A loud thundering voice from somewhere above invited, mimicking Bob Barker in the Price is Right. I didn't even have a chance to blink my eye before it happened, I was answering roll call up yonder, on the other side of eternity singing When The Roll is Called up Yonder I'll be There!; with more than just blind faith but total devotion and conviction, in a giant crowd of recession survivalists who were all in line before a great white throne being handed their non perishable and uncontaminated rewards.


Duet. 28
Pro. 11:25
Pro. 26:20
Psalm 68:6
Gal. 5:16-25
1 Thes. 4:15-18
1 pet 1:22-25