A Future and a Hope

by David Mathews

  How could a loving and understanding God allow this to happen? Could it possibly be true that God really wasn’t good all the time?

  Did I really just think that?

  The pity party in Caleb’s mind came to a grinding halt. Resentment, anger, and bitterness exited as shame made its grand entrance.

  He set down the glass of iced tea and picked up his Bible. In vain he tried to locate some verses of comfort and hope, but it was as if he were reading a book written in a foreign language.

  Abandoning that plan, he decided to pray instead. But try as he might, no words came, and that pursuit proved to be futile as well.

  This wasn’t the result he’d hoped to gain by coming here. He’d come to find some peace, to gain some comfort, to get some direction. Not this!

  He fought to hold back the onslaught of fear and panic that threatened to overwhelm his heart and mind. Finally, in desperation he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and grabbed his head with both hands. His stomach churned and his head pounded from the tension. He felt as if he were losing the battle.

  “Caleb?”

  He straightened with a start. He hadn’t heard his pastor come up the walk or onto the porch.

  “Pastor Murphy? What are you doing here?”

  “I thought you might need someone to talk to.”

  “But . . . but how did you know I was here?” he stammered.

  Pastor Murphy chuckled. “Well, actually, Miss Cora called me, bless her heart. She said you seemed to be troubled and she was concerned about you. I hope you don’t mind me taking the liberty of coming over here.”

  “No, I guess not. I probably should have called you myself.”

  “Not a problem.” He smiled and sat down in the rocker adjacent to the swing. “Caleb, I know you’ve been through a lot lately, first with the accident, and now . . . this. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on, and I’ll do my best to help you any way I can.”

  Tears welled up in Caleb’s eyes. They broke free and ran down his face. He swiped at them with his sleeve but failed to erase their escape route. His body began shaking with silent sobs.

  Pastor Murphy rose and put an arm around his shoulder.

  “That’s okay, Caleb. Go ahead and let it out.” He remained quietly supportive until Caleb was able to regain control of his emotions. Then he returned to the rocker.

  Caleb began to talk. At first, he spoke haltingly. But then the feelings and thoughts and words began to flow like water through a widening crack in a dam. For the next twenty minutes he opened up and poured out his heart to the man whose spiritual insight he had come to so highly respect. He shared his feelings of hopelessness, his fear of not being able to move past the loss of Ellie, his questioning of God, and his inability to find answers and to pray.

  Pastor Murphy, ever the good listener, sat quietly, frequently nodding in agreement or understanding as Caleb revealed the pain and confusion and helplessness that had him tethered to despair. When his reservoir emptied, the preacher spoke up.

  “Caleb, I want to thank you for feeling free enough with me to share all that’s on your heart and mind.”

  “I didn’t mean to go on and on like that,” Caleb apologized, somewhat embarrassed.

  “Don’t apologize.” His pastor held up one hand. “I wish everyone I counsel would be as transparent and honest with me as you are. Besides, it’s good to get things off your chest and out in the open.” He settled back in the rocker. “Caleb, telling me, and your parents, and others you trust can be very helpful. We all—to a certain extent—can help you shoulder the burden you’re carrying. Jesus said we’re to bear each other’s burdens. Some can understand what you’re going through more than others because they’ve experienced similar heartaches and trials. That can be a great source of comfort in times like this. But none of us is able to remove the burden for you.

  “Only one Person can totally and completely do that. I’m sure you know this verse, but First Peter five seven says we’re to cast all our cares—that’s our anxieties, our fears, our burdens, our troubles, every last one of them—on Him, because He cares for us. It’s an act of faith. It not only means we believe that He loves us, but that He’s able and willing to remove our load and take it on Himself. If He was able to carry the sins of the whole world on the cross, don’t you think He’s able to carry your burdens as well?”

  Caleb sighed. “I know that’s true, and I’ve done that in the past, but for some reason, I’m finding it hard to do now. Maybe that’s because I’m having trouble understanding why this happened. I mean, what purpose would God have for bringing Ellie and me together in the first place, only to take her away from me now? I thought He had a plan for us. You know, like the verse says, for our good and not our harm. To give us a future and a hope. I just can’t make any sense out of it!”

  Pastor Murphy took his time answering. “You’re right, Caleb. God does have a plan for your life. And for Ellie’s. And for all of us who put our trust in Him. And that plan includes an eternity with Him in heaven. That’s our future. That’s our hope. For Calvin, his future began, what, twelve years ago? For Mr. Williams, his future began nearly six years ago. And for Ellie, that future has just begun. Yours and mine is still to come. None of us is guaranteed another day in this life. But we are guaranteed an endless day in the next.”

  He paused and shook his head. “I can’t tell you why God took Ellie when He did. But have you considered that He might have brought the two of you together so she could hear about Jesus from you? Without you, she might never have accepted Him as her Savior. And she might not be in heaven today. Maybe that was God’s plan and purpose for the two of you all along.”

  Caleb pondered that possibility. “I . . . I hadn’t really thought about that. I guess knowing that she’s safe in heaven now, with her mother, helps some.” He shook his head sadly. “But it still doesn’t make me miss her any less.”

  “Caleb, I’m not going to preach a sermon, or quote a lot of verses to you.” He smiled. “I’ll save that for Sunday mornings. Yes, you will miss her. No doubt for the rest of your earthly life. And you’re going to mourn for her. There’s a time for that. But it’s only temporary. Jesus promised that even our sorrow will turn into joy.”

  “But when will that happen? Does that promise apply now, or is it only for when we get to heaven?”

  “I believe it applies to both. Caleb, do you remember that large picture hanging in the church hallway outside the fellowship room?”

  “You mean the one of Daniel in the lion’s den?”

  “Yes. Have you ever noticed what Daniel is looking at?”

  Caleb had to stop and think. “Is he looking up at heaven?”

  Pastor Murphy nodded. “Yes. And he’s not looking at the lions. In fact, he’s got his back to them. If he were facing them, he’d no doubt give in to his fears. Instead, he’s focused on the source of his strength and help. Not on his problems. Caleb, focus on the One who can carry your burden, not on the burden you carry. And when you think of Ellie, focus on her gain, not your loss.”

  Caleb dabbed at his eyes. Pastor Murphy was right. He’d been focusing on the lions instead of the Lord. And he was fearful, and helpless, and miserable because of it. He allowed the air to escape his lungs.

  “Pastor, I think my focus has been in the wrong place.” A wistful smile broke through the despair that had clouded his face. “Thank you for encouraging me to look up.”

  His pastor returned the smile. “You’d be surprised how many times God tells us to look up, or to look unto Him, or to lift up our eyes. He knows how often we need that reminder.” He leaned forward and put his hand on Caleb’s shoulder. “You’re going to get through this. Go ahead and mourn for now. Grieve for a time. But keep your eyes on Jesus. He loves you and He’s with you. And He’ll see you through this crisis, just as He has in the past.”

  Pastor Murphy prayed with him and took his leave.

  Caleb remained alone on the porch sw
ing, reflecting on their conversation. He knew what he had to do. He would mourn a while longer. Then he would try to move forward.

  It wasn’t going to be easy. In fact, it was going to be impossible—without the Lord’s help. In that moment, a thought that refused to leave planted itself in his mind: “With God all things are possible.”

  Caleb struggled to move beyond his grief. Some days proved to be better than others, but he did his best to focus on the One who had offered to bear his burdens, and that made all the difference. He still missed Ellie terribly, and felt the daily ache of her absence, but he was at last able to begin thinking about the rest of his life.

  He attended Kelli’s June wedding. She married the young man she’d become engaged to the night of the accident.

  As he listened to the exchange of vows, an anguishing thought hit him. This could have been Ellie and me standing up there, pledging to have and to hold from this day forward, ‘til death do us part.

  Only for him, death had parted them before he could even make those vows.

  As he congratulated the newlyweds, Kelli must have sensed his inner distress. She gave him a hug and whispered, “I miss her, too, Caleb. I wanted her to be one of my bridesmaids.”

  That was Kelli for you.

  On August fifteenth, he got a call from an ecstatic B.J.

  “Guess what, dude? I’m a father!” his friend announced.

  “Congratulations, B.J. That’s awesome. Is it a boy or a girl?”

  “A boy. He was born at six forty-eight this morning. Weighed in at seven pounds fourteen ounces and measured twenty and a half inches long.”

  “Wow. That’s great. How’s Allison doing?”

  “She’s fine. Came through like the trooper she is. Guess what we named him.”

  “What? And don’t play ‘The Game’ with me this time, pal.”

  B.J. laughed. “Okay, I won’t. We named him Joshua Caleb Martin.”

  “Joshua Caleb?”

  “Yep. We named him Caleb after you, dude. Aren’t you impressed?”

  Caleb couldn’t pass up the opportunity. “After all we’ve been through together, and I only get the middle name?”

  Caleb held the painting up against the wall and eyeballed it. “That looks about right,” he said.

  Convinced that it was at the proper height, he hammered a small nail into the plaster, and hung the painting in place. Then he plopped down in his new recliner, and with great satisfaction surveyed the rest of Ellie’s artwork that graced the walls of the small but cozy apartment.

  Perfect!

  At first he wondered if they might be too painful a reminder for him, but now, seeing them actually hanging there, they proved to be a source of comfort instead. It was as if a part of her was still with him.

  Caleb stared at the diploma hanging next to Ellie’s artwork and let his mind drift back. It was nothing short of a miracle that it was even there. Due to the accident, he’d been forced to withdraw from his final semester at UGA, and following Ellie’s death, he’d lacked the motivation to go back to school.

  But at his parents’ urging, he’d enrolled in the community college and taken an internship with a small design firm in Baxter. The work had been challenging on both fronts, but had proven to be a much needed diversion.

  Then, two weeks ago, he’d been offered a full-time position with Wilshire and Cunningham, a prestigious architectural design firm with an office here in Columbus, and headquartered in Atlanta.

  Now, he was finally ready to begin this new chapter in his life. He was determined to devote himself to his new career with all the eagerness and enthusiasm of a rookie football player seeking the good graces of his new coach.

  Six weeks into his job, the office manager announced that he was sending him to the company headquarters in Atlanta for a three-day training seminar required of all new employees. As he packed for the event, it dawned on him that this would be his first trip back to Atlanta since visiting Ellie’s grave nearly nine months earlier. The memories of that painful day came flooding back, and he found himself wishing he didn’t have to go.

  But he was curious to see what kind of permanent marker Ellie’s father had put in place, so he decided to face the challenge head on.

  After the seminar, I’ll swing by the cemetery and leave some fresh flowers on her headstone.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  A RESURRECTION OF HOPE

  DRIVING THE TWO-YEAR OLD metallic blue Camaro he’d purchased after landing the Wilshire and Cunningham position, Caleb headed north out of Columbus early on the morning of November tenth. This vehicle with very low miles, was all one color, had no dents or hail damage, and was quite an improvement from the old Sonata, which he had dubbed Old Faithful. As he merged onto I-85 North toward Atlanta, he couldn’t stop thinking about Ellie. The feeling that she was somehow still with him had never fully faded, and he began to feel a bit guilty for harboring the idea for so long.

  He hoped that this second visit to Woodlawn Cemetery would permanently lay those thoughts to rest. Arriving in Atlanta around nine, he checked into the Regency Towers Hotel which was within walking distance from the company headquarters. He headed toward the elevators to the left of the front desk, and pushed the button for his floor. As he waited for the doors to open, he glanced around the lobby.

  A row of five framed drawings on one wall caught his attention. He stepped closer and studied the artwork. They were water color and ink drawings of the five hotels that had been purchased by the owner of the Regency. The detail of the renderings was exquisite.

  Although he’d never seen the other hotels in person, the buildings looked awfully familiar. He searched for the signature of the artist.

  These were the drawings Ellie had been commissioned to do when she was in high school!

  A lump rose in Caleb’s throat, and his eyes grew misty. A sense of happiness washed over him. Even in downtown Atlanta, right here where he was staying, a part of Ellie was with him.

  Once in his room, he changed clothes and freshened up. Then he went back down to the lobby and out the main glass doors of the hotel. As he walked the block and a half to his company headquarters, he kept an eye out for restaurants he might want to try over the next few days. A number looked promising.

  Upon entering the glass and steel lobby of Wilshire and Cunningham, he followed the signs down a side hallway to the meeting room. After registering at the table, he went in and took a seat with the other seminar attendees.

  The three days in Atlanta passed quickly.

  Caleb thoroughly enjoyed the seminar, and he learned a lot about the company and its high standards of excellence. In between sessions he got acquainted with several other attendees over lunch and dinner.

  On Wednesday, the final day of the seminar, the last session wrapped up around four o’clock that afternoon. Caleb decided to hang around and try a little sidewalk cafe he’d spied the day before.

  He planned to visit Ellie’s grave before driving home that evening. Sitting alone at the small, round metal table on the sidewalk outside the cafe, Caleb enjoyed a cheesy bean and rice burrito as he relaxed in the shade of the large green and white striped umbrella. Rush hour in the city was just beginning. The sidewalks and streets were filling up with people and cars, all eager to get somewhere as quickly as possible.

  From his sixth floor hotel room earlier that morning, he’d watched the throngs of people rushing to and fro, like so many ants going in all directions, each with a purpose and destination. While he enjoyed the city, with its sights and sounds and smells, he couldn’t picture himself living in such a crowded, bustling area.

  No, he would always be a small town boy at heart.

  The sound of someone laying on a car horn caught his attention. Apparently a car had cut in front of another vehicle, and the offended driver was offering his opinion of the guilty party in no uncertain terms.

  Caleb’s attention drifted to the throngs of people on the sidewalk across the street. A
homeless man sat on a low cement wall pounding on an overturned five gallon bucket with his palms. Although he couldn’t hear the drumbeats over the din of the street, the man’s playing must have been pretty good, because people would stop long enough to drop a few coins or a bill in the coffee can next to him. A young woman walking past the sidewalk musician caught his eye. It wasn’t the way she was dressed, or the way she walked that grabbed his attention.

  It was her hair.

  The long, wavy, auburn hair that bounced as she walked. An icy chill shot down Caleb’s spine. He sat upright in his seat, eyes frozen on the figure passing by on the crowded sidewalk across the busy street. Only one person he knew had hair that bounced like that.

  “Ellie?” His mouth formed the word.

  Dropping the unfinished burrito onto the open wrapper, Caleb stood up quickly, knocking over the metal chair in the process. Several cafe patrons at nearby tables turned to stare at him.

  “Ellie?” His voice cracked. “Ellie!”

  Adrenaline shot into his veins like an injection of nitrous oxide into a racing engine.

  Dodging tables with moves worthy of a Heisman Trophy winning running back, and ignoring the pain in his left leg, Caleb hurdled the low iron railing that separated the cafe’s seating area from the rest of the sidewalk’s pedestrian traffic.

  “ELLIE!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. “ELLIE, WAIT!”

  Waving his arms to get her attention, he dashed into the street, dodging oncoming traffic. “ELLIE!”

  The screech of brakes turned heads up and down the busy avenue. Scree-eeeech!

  Something struck him on the right thigh. He tumbled to the pavement, narrowly avoiding hitting his head on a manhole cover in the center of the street.

  People on the curb started toward him as he struggled to his hands and knees.

  “Ellie!” he managed to peer around the vehicle blocking his view.

  A man in a gray business suit was the first to reach him. He grabbed Caleb’s arm and helped him to his feet. “Are you all right?”