Chapter Five
The phone roused me out of bed the next morning and, ever hopeful that it might be a job interview, I dashed across the room.
“Eli Radak.”
“Oh, Eli, it’s good to hear your voice.” It was my mom.
“Hi, mom. I was just talking with my friends yesterday about coming up to see you for Christmas. I’m looking forward to it.”
“Oh…” She trailed off, obviously not expecting that response. “Well, money has been a little tight lately. I just wanted to let you know there might not be much in the way of presents waiting for you.”
“Don’t worry about that.” Inside, I was frustrated and infuriated, not because I wasn’t going to be getting presents; I was twenty-three and could care less about that. No, I was mad at my parents’ foolish spending. Between the two of them, they made eighty thousand dollars a year at the factory. How could they possibly be broke all the time?
It dawned on me that there was substantial irony, not just in my mom calling the day after I’d talked about going back to visit her, but in the fact that their money problems had trickled down to me. For completely different reasons, their uncontrolled spending and my lack of income, money had formed a major conflict in our lives. It brought a wry smile to my face.
But I was thinking more about what I had told Stanley yesterday, about wanting to reconcile with them, wanting to ask their forgiveness for anything they might be holding against me and also wanting to forgive them for making me jump through performance hoops in order to earn their love. I was determined to respond gently to mom here so that I didn’t sabotage our chances of a better talk later.
“Well, I just wanted to let you know so you don’t get taken by surprise when you get here,” she answered. “I’m glad you understand.”
“I won’t be able to buy much for you two, either. The job situation is still a little rough at the moment.”
“Honey, why are you having so many problems finding a job? Is there anything else you can do in the meantime? What about working for a temp agency, or doing day labor? Have you thought of any of that?”
“I have.” Truth be told, though, I felt like it was more important to milk my free time for what I could. How many of the things that had happened to me in the last couple of weeks would have been missed if I’d been working? “God’s taking care of me,” I added.
“Oh. That’s nice. Well, I have your father here, if you want to talk to him.”
“Sure, put him on.”
“Morning, son.” There was no mistaking the raspy growl of my father’s voice.
“Hi, dad. How are things there?”
“Ah, it’s winter. Snow, wind, gray, you know how it goes.”
“Yeah, I sure do. It’s been nice here, almost shorts weather.”
“Sounds good. What’s new on your end? Got a job yet?”
“Not just yet. I told you about the magazine article I’m getting published, though, and there will be more of those to follow. Some of my buddies helped me out in the meantime, so I’m doing fine until someone decides to hire me.”
“Oh, grand. You’re a charity case.”
I really wanted to snap at him, to ask if working forty years in a tomato canning plant was really a step up from having friends who were willing to provide for me, but again, I had to hold my tongue.
I held it so long, trying to think of what to say, that my father awkwardly cleared his throat. “Uh, I guess we’ll see you in a couple of days, then.”
“That’s right, dad. See you then.”
I held the phone for a few seconds before setting it back down on the cradle. I don’t know what had possessed them to get up at eight in the morning to give me a call. Maybe they’d been arguing again. Wouldn’t be the first time.
Danny seemed to be an early riser, so after a quick shower, I took my notebook up to his apartment. He answered, already dressed for the day. “How do you get up so early?” I demanded.
He shrugged. “Just a gift, I guess.”
“It’s not natural.” I held the notebook out in front of him. “Did you really think the story I wrote was that good?”
“I thought it was brilliant, Eli, raw and real. It’s a unique story and I think my magazine would love to print it. I’d like to type it up and send it to them to see what they think. Oh, by the way, they want to publish three more of your album reviews in the February issue. That’s another hundred and fifty dollars coming your way.”
“Nice.” It wasn’t enough to live on, not yet, but it was a good start.
“So, did you want to talk some more about the things we talked about on Tuesday?”
“Not right now,” I hedged. “I just want to think for a while. But I do have something I think you might be interested in. I wrote a song from one of the psalms.”
Danny leaned forward. “Let’s go next door. I want to hear it.”
Nervousness grabbed me by the throat as I walked up to the stage in the church room, picking up my guitar from the place where it was leaning against the wall. Danny went to the back and turned on the sound board so that I could sing into the microphone. I’d never sung a song I’d written before, not so that anyone could hear it, and now I was really hesitant, just like my first week playing in front of the church. I’d gone from nerves to confidence and back to nerves again. But as I looked back at Danny, who in turn looked at me expectantly, I was determined to conquer those fears, to sing the song as if I had every confidence in the world.
And I did. It was a pretty good song, or at least I thought so, and I sang it like I was expecting Danny to feel the same. I had my eyes squeezed closed while I sang, more to keep myself focused than anything else, but toward the end I snuck a peek back and saw Danny leaned over the sound board. I couldn’t tell if he was enjoying it or what, but I played my best anyway.
When the song was over, Danny was nodding slowly, appreciatively. “That’s good, man. That’s really good. I want you to sing it in church sometime soon, if you don’t mind. I like having original songs.”
“Yeah, sure.” The nervousness was wafting away; I’d been strong and confident, and I’d beaten the doubts. Suddenly I smiled, proud of myself. It was a small victory, maybe, but it was a victory. “I’m going home to visit my parents for Christmas. I forget if I told you.”
“No, I don’t think you did. I heard through the grapevine that you were going to be gone on Sunday but I didn’t hear why.”
“That’s why. I haven’t had the best relationship with my folks, so I’m going to try to make things right.”
“That’s really admirable, Eli. I think it’s great evidence of how much God has been working in you in such a short time. Families are brutal, man. That’s the place where most people have to wear a mask. There’s so much pretending.”
“Do you still talk to your mom, Danny?”
He looked up quickly, chewing on his lip. “I try. She’s still around the city someplace. Every so often I’ll try to have a conversation with her, but she’s just gone. Won’t take help from anybody, won’t come live with us. It’s hard to see.”
“I can’t imagine.”
“But yeah, I’ve told her as best I can that Elizabeth and I don’t hold anything against her, that we’re happy and satisfied and that God has taken care of us. She knows we forgive her. I don’t know what exactly you have to forgive your parents for; you haven’t filled me in on all that, but I hope it goes well for you.”
“Thanks. Any parting wisdom?”
“Just remember what I told you on Tuesday. You’re valuable because God loves you and approves of you. No one else’s opinion, not even your parents, means anything. You know who you are. Be strong, be courageous. Tell them honestly what’s on your mind and let God be God.”
I sighed, sitting down on my amp and pulling my guitar off my shoulder. “Why couldn’t y
our advice be something that would make it easier?”
“That does make it easier.” Danny came down the center aisle, taking a seat on the front row. “If you know that your success or failure doesn’t depend on the response you get, that takes all the stress out of it. Now all you have to do is ask their forgiveness, or tell them you forgive them, or whatever it is you’re going to say to them. Their response changes nothing for you. That’s the most liberating thing I could possibly tell you.”
“Oh. I guess I didn’t see it that way.”
“Do they know you’re a Christian?”
I blew out a long breath. “Yeah. They’re worried that I’ve become a…I think ‘Bible-thumper’ was what my mom said, and ‘religious nut’ was my dad’s take on it. I’m not sure they’ll be too sympathetic.”
“It sounds like they’ve been hurt by church or church people in the past. I can’t think of any other reason why they might be so hostile to the idea.”
“I don’t know, I really don’t. I don’t know if it’s even faith at all that bothers them. They just seem antagonistic to everything I do.”
“That’s a tough situation to be in. Just remember that God loves you. You just finished singing about how he’s your shepherd, how he takes care of you and leads you through the valley of the shadow of death. You might have to have those lines running on repeat through your head the whole time you’re up there.”
“I think I might.”
He stood. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to go type up and send off your article. You can come hang out in my room if you want. I don’t know if you have anything else planned for the rest of the day.”
“I’m going to head down and read some more psalms, I think. I’m almost finished with the book. Come grab me if you’re about to do anything and want some company.”
“You got it.”
New Heart Church Page 31