Both Ways

by Edward Goble

  “Thanks.”

  Dave left the Sunday morning before the long morning shadows had been reduced by the sun. Madison watched from the porch as dust followed Dave’s car down the gravel road. The Caddy disappeared from view when it turned right onto the paved surface street.

  Chapter 36

  “So, who is the unidentified member of the congregation you are quoting here?” Paula said without taking her eyes off the second page of Steve’s draft. She had a sip from her iced tea and looked over the top of the manuscript at Steve Franz, “Hmmm?”

  “If the person wanted to be identified, their name would be in there, you know that.” Instead of looking at him with big puppy dog eyes and batting her lashes like he would expect most girls to do, Paula Stone just refocused on the page and continued reading. After she finished, she set the three-page draft down and folded her hands on top of it.

  “It’s good, thanks,” she said.

  “That’s it?”

  “Okay, it’s really good. It positions him exactly where I wanted.”

  “I didn’t write it for positioning.”

  “I know. That’s what I like about it. It’s totally objective and yet tells the story I was hoping for; that this is a man with something to say, someone you can trust, someone who can help you get fixed.”

  “It doesn’t exactly say that.”

  “No. But it’s there, between the lines. I think this will really create the suction we need going into the fall. Especially for the Family Series we’re doing.” She raised her glass to toast, “Job well done, my friend.”

  “Here, here.” Their glasses clinked.

  Steve had a pretty good poker face, but Paula was more intuitive than most people he dealt with.

  “What is it, Steve? What’s bugging you?”

  He looked at her and exhaled deeply.

  “Paula, can I ask you a hard question?”

  “After that article, I guess I owe you one.” He had to be careful. He wasn’t sure of Paula’s allegiance to Enright, but his assumption was that anyone working 55 or 60 hours a week in an organization whose leader was so charismatic and strong would probably have some deep emotional ties - possibly to the exclusion of the truth. “Do you ever think that Pastor Enright might be, uh, too perfect?”

  “That’s from left field,” she said, sounding objective enough.

  Steve was quick to explain. “Here is a man with no apparent weakness, no vice. He helps people, he knows everyone, loves unconditionally, and he’s kissing babies and raising a family and building this powerful organization.” He had been counting off points on his fingers, then opened both hands incredulously. “Now, you have the best instincts of anyone I know, I’ve told you that. And you are on the inside, you see things others don’t, so, objectively, what do you see? That’s all I’m asking.”

  “You looking for a chink in his armor for the next article?” She was feeling for motive.

  “Not at all. You just read the final article. There are no more planned. And if you tell me he is John the Baptist incarnate, I’ll believe you and that’s that.” She believed him, wasn’t sure why. She had wanted someone to confide in for months, but there was no one who was really safe. Her parents wouldn’t understand, and she couldn’t talk to anyone at church. The downside with Steve was his job. Talk about shouting from the rooftops, he could destroy someone with the power of the Chronicle. “Off the record?”

  “Off the record.”

  “I have your word?”

  “You have my word.”

  At the last second, she decided not to open the door. “He is John the Baptist.”

  “Come on.”

  “He’s the genuine article. What you see is what you get.”

  “I’ll be honest, I got a little bit of a weird vibe from him the last time we met,” he said.

  “Steve, I think everyone has their little quirks and idiosyncrasies, don’t they? We will always be able to find something in another person that doesn’t quite line up. We’re only human. I can’t think of anyone, with the possible exception of myself, that has it all together.”

  “So you’re saying...”

  “I’m not saying anything. Don’t read anything into it - he’s just human, that’s all.”

  “One more question.”

  “You’re wearing me out.”

  “Last one. I promise.” He put an elbow on the table, resting his chin in his left palm, looking at her intently, “Why haven’t I ever asked you to marry me, Paula Stone?”

  “We’re too much alike, for one thing.”

  “Are you saying you’d drive me crazy?”

  “That’s exactly it,” she smiled, “I’d have to drive, and it would make you crazy.”

  Chapter 37

  Labor Day would be the last relatively mild weekend on the church calendar for eight months. The staff used the summer months to rest and plan for the next community outreach campaign, which, in the case of Community Chapel, was the Back-to-School Family Series scheduled to take place for three consecutive weeks after the holiday. Paula Stone had crafted a brilliant marketing and public relations campaign that had climaxed with the concurrent drop of a direct mail postcard, the series of articles in the Chronicle, a special family segment on the local Fox affiliate, local cable commercials, and a phone blitz that involved three hundred volunteers and touched 18,360 area homes. Email and phone inquiries from people as far as 200 miles away had caused the Chapel staff to shift into high gear regarding upgrading signage and services at the local plant, as well as preparing overflow rooms and parking services.

  It was needs-based evangelism. The Chapel had discerned a growing need in the community, namely, family health, and had fashioned a program to address the need. It was a formula that everyone used, but rarely were others able to replicate the promotional prowess of Paula Stone, the charismatic insights of Madison Enright, or the technical wizardry of A/V guru, Terry Fields.

  Terry produced a series of knock-off commercials, using the old “Real American Heroes” theme created, originally, for a popular beer campaign. He featured man-on the street interviews with soccer moms, stay-at-home dads, an old couple that had been married for fifty years, single parents, and several other “Real American Heroes of the Family.” Paula Stone pulled a major coop by securing licensing for the spots. All the owner required of the nonprofit was to credit the original campaign and advertising firm in small print at the bottom of each spot. That and pay a handsome fee for the privilege. It was difficult for the church council to justify paying such a ransom just to be able to air the spots on local cable, but the cost was quickly forgotten when an executive producer for the Today Show happened to see the spot from her hotel room and promptly arranged a brief interview with Pastor Enright, via satellite, featuring the commercial on the national morning show.

  The capacity crowd of 1,645 people on the first weekend of the series was treated to an audio and visual experience second to none. Madison spoke on being “others focused” and ended each service with a challenge that made a final and crowning impact.

  “Being ‘Others Focused’ is hard work. It’s not natural. You might say we’re myopic, but that’s not exactly it. Myopic suggests that you are blind, and, for most of us, that’s not the case. We can see - it’s just that we only see ourself. We’re more accurately, ‘Me-Opic.’ People are naturally Me-Opic - my life, my clothes, my career, my wife, my kids, my my my, me me me. We just see ourselves, just see how other people and circumstances affect ‘Me.’”

  “That’s not being ‘Others Focused.’ Being ‘Others Focused’ means changing from ‘Me-Opic’ to ‘You-Opic.’ Becoming You-Opic takes effort. But you can do it. Just like you can train your fingers to type and your ears to understand language, your eyes can be trained to see others first. What it takes, first, is a covenant. Job said ‘I have made a covenant with my eyes; why then should I think upon a maid.’ Job 31:1”

  “Job made a covenant with his e
yes. He made a deal with them - a pact. He said, ‘I don’t want to think about other women, so eyes, don’t look at them.’ And he had a covenant. An agreement.”

  The congregation was listening intently, many around the room nodding in agreement, giving an affirming squeeze to the hand of a spouse, or writing notes in their Bible margins.

  “As I close, I would like to invite my wife to join me on the platform,” he said. Jill was seated in her customary spot on the first row but didn’t know she had been written into the script. Madison hadn’t planned this either, but, after his conversation with Dave on the lake, his awareness of his personal distraction and neglect had been heightened, and now an idea entered his mind like a trail he wanted to follow. Jill stepped to the stage and joined her husband at the clear acrylic pulpit.

  “I know there are couples in our audience, both married, engaged, dating - right? If you are in a relationship like that, could you raise your hands, just for a moment? Okay, yes, most of us. Here’s what I would like you to do. Just relax and watch for a moment more. Then, I want to invite you to do the same thing I am about to do.” Madison turned to his wife, and they joined hands as they faced each other. Jill had no earthly idea what was about to happen but was smiling, playing along, giving curious glances at the congregation who responded with sporadic laughter.

  “Jill, how long have we been married now? Don’t answer that, it was rhetorical,” he said, followed by more chuckles from the audience. “It’s been nearly seventeen years.”

  Applause from the congregation was interrupted by laughter as Jill replied, “Seventeen looonnnggg years.”

  “I haven’t always been the easiest person to get along with.” Another glance to the congregation by Jill broke them up again. “Hey, this is serious, now,” he said, to which she mimed, “Oops,” with a glance at the crowd. He should have known that inviting Miss Ponca City to the stage would be dangerous. If anyone could upstage Madison Enright it was his beautiful wife, whose graceful southern charm was enhanced by the recent need for maternity clothes.

  Madison gave an audible sigh as the house settled down again. “Jill,” he said as they looked into each other’s eyes, “I have become ‘Me-Opic.’ I have begun to focus too much on myself, on my work, on opportunities that are before me. My focus has been off. It should have been, should always be, on you, on our family. And so today, before you and before this congregation, I want to make a new covenant with my eyes to become You-Opic. To see you, first and foremost, to love you, meet your needs, and honor you through my actions.”

  She was expecting him to do something theatrical to drive the point home to the congregation, but his sincerity caught even her off guard. It was as if he were truly repenting before her and asking to start fresh. Her eyes became moist with tears as she felt his touch and looked into his honest eyes. She pulled one hand free from its place in his and waved it before her face to dry her eyes, “No fair playing with the emotions of a pregnant woman,” she said, breaking the ice for the congregation. They hugged, and Madison helped her down the steps.

  “Friends,” he added, “if you’re like me, it is easier than you realize to pull your focus into yourself and become ‘Me-Opic.’ It’s natural. I wish I were above it, but I’m not. But we can change. If you are listening to this, and God has revealed a selfish, me-focused streak in your heart, make a change right now. Make a covenant with your eyes, make a covenant with your spouse, with your fiancé,” he paused for effect. “And now, while the band begins to play, I want to invite you to stand up, but don’t look down here. Turn to your wife, turn to your mate, and say what you need to say, make a covenant. If you are here alone, but know that this is for you, make the covenant with your eyes right there, say what you need to say out loud. No one is going to listen; they are doing the same thing.”

  The band started a song, and the congregation stood, spouses turned and began to talk, others hugged, held hands, and some wept. It was a powerful moment. Madison looked at Jill. She had been waiting for eye contact and mouthed, “I love you,” as her man smiled sincerely and left through the side door.

  Chapter 38

  Dawn Neilson was on a mission to find her own apartment. She had borrowed a laptop from Dan the Football Player and had set about checking the online listings for rentals in the area. She found a one-bedroom about three blocks from work that would fit her monthly budget if they would allow her to spread the deposit over several months. It had a small workout room and a pool. It was a family complex, so there was a playground for kids. It seemed clean and in a pretty good area. She took an application home to fill out and, before she turned it in, felt like she should ask permission to put the church down as a reference. She stopped by the office to try and catch Pastor Dan or Julie Williams. The receptionist rang Pastor Dan’s office and, in a moment, Julie stepped into the waiting area.

  “Hi, Dawn. This is an unexpected surprise, come on in.”

  “I hope I’m not interrupting. I just wanted to speak with you or Pastor Dan for a minute.”

  “No interruption at all.”

  Dan was on the phone and the ladies took a seat on a small sofa while they waited for him to finish the call.

  “How have you been? I don’t think I’ve seen you since the housewarming in the city,” Julie said. “Wasn’t that a beautiful place? I’d never been in one of those row houses before. It was really something, huh?”

  “It was really nice. Nice kitchen... Uh, I’ve been good. It’s been busy at work, I switched to days, which is a blessing, but it’s way busier.”

  “So, are you off today??

  “Mhmm. Wednesdays and Sundays now. My manager says they’re the two slowest days, so I’m off, don’t ask me why.”

  “You must be good at your job. She wants you around when the most people are there. Good for you!”

  “It’s tiring, I’ll tell you that.”

  Pastor Dan hung up while she was finishing. “I’ll tell you what?”

  “Dawn’s just telling me that her manager has switched her to days, and her days off are the two slowest days of the week,” Julie said.

  “And it’s exhausting,” Dawn added.

  “You musta be ‘Prima Barista,’” Dan said with his best Italian accent. “Congratulazioni.”

  “I didn’t know you spoke Italian,” Dawn said.

  “He doesn’t,” Julie added.

  “Hey, I think I’m part Italian,”

  “A three-day vacation in Florence doesn’t make you Italian,” His wife clarified.

  “Point taken. But the food is great.”

  “You guys are too much,” Dawn said. She thought Pastor Dan and Julie were the most precious older people she knew. They were in their late fifties, which made them about the age of her own mother, and she wondered how great it would have been to have people like Dan and Julie for parents.

  “I don’t want to take up your time, but I wanted to stop by because I’m applying for my own place. It’s a one-bedroom apartment over by work.”

  “Hey, that’s great.” Dan said. “How can we help?”

  “Well, I put you down as a reference, if that’s okay.”

  “Absolutely. Want a letter of recommendation or something?” he said.

  “Well. Maybe, if they call, you could offer that, but the application doesn’t say I need one up front.”

  “Whatever you need,” Julie said. “What about Terry and Greg? She said the living arrangements were working out nicely. Live-in cook.”

  “Oh, you know them, they are great, and they would never say anything. But they need their space. They’ve put up with me long enough.”

  Julie wrote down the name and contact information of the apartments so that the receptionist would send through any calls. By the end of the day, they had received a call and given a glowing reference on behalf of Dawn Neilson. Dawn left a voice mail on Julie’s office phone early Friday morning that she had gotten the apartment, which Julie forwarded to Dan. Dan
included Dawn’s exciting news, including her new address, as a benevolence follow-up report that he prepared each week for the Friday afternoon executive meeting he had with Madison and Paula prior to the start of the weekend frenzy.

  Chapter 39

  The little apartment had a fresh coat of Navajo White paint and standard issue beige carpet that the manager said was brand new. The complex took pride in making sure everything was clean and fresh and in good working order before turning over the keys to a new tenant. Dawn arranged to spread the security deposit of $500 over three months, making her rent temporarily $950 per month, but, after that, it would settle into an almost manageable amount. She would have to keep the old Cavalier for a few more years, but at least she would have her own space, something she hadn’t had, really, ever. She couldn’t hide her excitement and pride. She wanted to make it special, decorate it with her special flair, something else she’d never been able to do, except maybe in her room as a child, and then with no budget. She wouldn’t have much, but she was determined to make it home. Greg and Terry were excited for her. She had come a long way in the past few months, distanced herself from unhealthy relationships, become a regular at church, and overall, seemed healthier and happier.

  Terry and Shani had pulled Sunday morning nursery duty again, as had two other sets of regular volunteers, with the paid staff rightly expecting a huge turnout of young parents for the second week in the special Family Series. The hour was spent, for the most part, cleaning bottoms and feeding hungry tummies, but they also had a brief reprieve to chat while they rocked a couple of satisfied customers.

  “This is crazy,” Terry said. “I’ve never seen this many babies in here. It’s like the waiting room at work.” She bent her nose down to smell the fine brown hair of 12-week old Carter, “You’re a handsome little man,” she said to his closed eyes as he sucked firmly on his bottle. “Smell good, too.”

  “It’s different, that’s for sure. I wonder if all these people will stay and plug in, or if it’s, you know, just a one-time thing.”

  “Never know. I’d bet some will stay. How about you little Carter-man, you like coming to church?” Carter didn’t acknowledge the question. “Hey, I didn’t tell you about Dawn. She’s getting her own place.”