by Reed Sprague
Some want it to be definitive and exact, a precise boundary, used to outline their position, a position packaged in such a way that their opponents and proponents alike will buy into it. A great deal of money is at stake, and sometimes the very existence and definition of God is the case to be made. Still, it won’t conform. Boundary lines drawn by others are simply obliterated by it and replaced with more palpable borders, borders that it moves and replaces at will. It frustrates those who feel strongly about their positions, and it never accommodates them. They cannot use it. They never stop trying, though.
It isn't at all sure about money or the existence of God — not that these are insignificant issues, surely they are significant — it’s just that it is not sure about anything. Maybe it is anti-social. Maybe it exhibits anti-social tendencies and personality traits, and therefore just needs to be put away somewhere. But where? How? It just can’t be gathered together to be transported to an institution. How can it be institutionalized when it can’t be made to gather itself up and go? Even if it were somehow gathered together and hauled away, it would simply reinvent itself and carry on because it doesn’t need itself in order to continue its existence.
There are plots to destroy it. Some feel that it needs to take a stand on some issues or be gone. Destroying it would be interesting. First, its size is an issue. It exists on every continent in the world. If it’s not possible to hurt it, how can it be destroyed?
Maybe it can be changed. It could be converted? It could be made to see the light? That would work; or maybe not. Light, dark, whatever, it simply doesn't notice. That stuff doesn’t matter. It wants only to be left alone. No, it doesn’t want anything. It just exists and it does what it does. It doesn't even want to be left alone. It just is alone, but not lonely. It is isolated yet it often finds itself in the center of everything. It carries on, no matter what.
Who in the world can sort this all out? Oh, well, somehow they'll figure out what to do with something omnipresent and colossal that is disinterested in it all.
Everything she had ever learned about a line in the sand, this was not. A line in the sand represented an absolute condition—solid, predictable, uncompromising and without the need to reinvent. She had learned that Jesus made a line in the sand in order to give the members of the religious and legal elite of His day the boundaries and definitions they wouldn’t have otherwise known. They had been so right about that terrible girl, and they had been so right about the thousands of terrible girls like her who were judged by them before they met the girl in Jesus’ story.
They couldn’t have been wrong, they just knew. Until they saw the line in the sand, that is. It made all the difference in the world. Before its appearance, lines meant little to them, and the thousands of young girls they had passed judgment on meant nothing to them.
The line, though, challenged all they knew and all they had convinced themselves was true. They had justified their positions in every way there was to do so: intellectually, socially, religiously and legally. Their positions were all set and everything was right for them.
The smart people of their day all agreed, and they wrote books and held memberships in think tanks that proved that they were smart and that they were right about all they believed. The smart people also made certain that they were in full agreement with the socialite, the clergy, the politician and the lawyer. Conformance was important. It meant a great deal.
The socialites wrote books to prove that they, too, were right. Their books contained writings that recorded what was proper. Things were all proper and orderly with the socialites, and they could prove that was the case. They checked often, and each time they checked, they were fully in agreement with the smart people, the clergy and the courts.
The theology of the day was sound as well. The Good Book of The Lord defined proper behavior. Fundamentalists guarded the details of the Good Book and referred to it often to bring about society’s condemnation and indignation for each of the vast number of sins written on its many pages. The clergy were careful to be in full agreement with the academic, the socially prominent and the attorney. Religiously, all was well.
The law, of course, universally condemned improper behavior. Law books as thick as camels’ necks lined the walls of the law libraries and even worship centers. The law, matching word for word the Good Book, stood ready to condemn when called upon. A separate council of the court compared all they held sacred with the smart people, the social personage and the clergy.
So the smart people, the members of high society, the clergy and the attorneys all were in agreement. They had compared notes many times, and everything added up. It all matched. All was proper and orderly, then. Members of the religious and legal elite couldn’t conceivably have been wrong about this girl.
Yet, somehow, Jesus’ line redefined everything for them. That’s what lines in the sand are supposed to do. They set things straight. They are ferocious and unforgiving. They cut away all that seems right but is, instead, horribly wrong. Then they define right, and it is so forevermore.
But what about this ever–changing line that Eddy was walking and watching; this unpredictable, seemingly important line that really didn’t mean a thing? Aside from changing itself constantly, it seemed to do nothing. What’s that all about? She walked the line often. She studied it and wondered about it. She was fascinated by it. At first she was not obsessed, just curious and enamored, but she soon grew preoccupied.
Today’s lines were hopelessly blurred for her. Boundaries existed only for those in power to use against the powerless. They were used to keep power, to structure things in such a way as to ensure that the status quo would remain just that. Still, she walked endlessly, studying the line intently.
Eddy awoke more disturbed than she had ever been about the details of a dream. She went to the sink, splashed her face repeatedly with cold water, grabbed her coffee cup, filled it with water, heated it in the microwave, stirred in a heaping tablespoon of coffee, and went out to the patio to relax and think things through.
Early the next morning, Saturday, the doorbell rang. Eddy opened it to see a cute teenage girl who was scared, pregnant, poor and alone. Her previous night began terribly with a huge argument she had with her mother, and it ended even worse.
Penny had decided that she wouldn’t burden her mother, Diane, with her pregnancy. Later that night, after Diane went to bed, completely exhausted and exasperated from the day’s argument with Penny, Penny slipped out the door of their apartment. Using the logic of a scared and pregnant sixteen–year–old girl, Penny went to a friend’s house, told her that she could not return home, and asked if she knew anyone who could help her. She spent the night at her friend’s house. The next morning, Penny’s friend sent her to Eddy’s apartment to ask for help.
“Hi, my name is Eddy. Can I help you with something.”
Penny stood, silent, staring ahead. She couldn’t speak because she was embarrassed at having to ask a stranger for help. She also knew that she was going to lie. She didn’t want Eddy to burden her mother. She was concerned that her mother would want to care for her but would be unable to. She was a desperate kid without options, or so she believed.
“My name is Penny,” she said, as she began to cry. “I was told that you could help me.”
“I think God may have spoken to me about you, in a round about way, last night in a dream. Please, come in.”
“How old are you, Penny?”
“I’m eighteen.”
“Really? You will always look young for your age, then, because you don’t look a day over fourteen. How old are you?”
“I’m sixteen.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Right. A sixteen–year–old girl shows up at my door early in the morning, says she needs my help, lies to me about her age, and then tells me that there’s nothing wrong. Sure. Yes, it all sounds normal to me, too.
“What can I get you to eat? What do you like f
or breakfast? Pancakes? Eggs? Cereal?”
“Cereal and toast would be great.”
“Good.”
“My twins will be up shortly, so I’m pressed for time to find out what’s wrong with you. Please help me out by letting me know what I can do to help you.”
“I’m… well, at some point I might give bir—” Penny couldn’t complete the sentence.
“So you’re pregnant?”
“Yes.”
Penny was crying. She and Eddy had known each other for less than two minutes, and she was already crying on Eddy’s shoulder.
“Where are your parents?”
“My parents are not around. My father has nothing to do with me. My mother can’t handle my pregnancy right now. She’ll soon loose her apartment. We have no money or food. Nothing. It’s all gone.”
“I have to contact your mother. I’ll help you, but I have to try to locate your mother.”
“No, please, no. She can’t handle this. It’s too much.”
“Have you told her that she’s going to have a grandchild soon?”
“Well, she—”
“So you haven’t told her.”
“She can’t handle it right now. She’s suffered enough. She climbed over a wall of debt just a few years ago, and now we have nothing. I’m worried that she’ll crack if she finds out. It would be better if I had the baby, put him up for adoption, and then returned to my mother’s life.”
“No, that wouldn’t be better. Have you been to a doctor or hospital yet?”
“No. Hospitals and doctors no longer see patients without money. My mother and I have no money, and there are no programs that will help us. The government programs have all been cut, and private charities are broke as well.”
“Okay, let’s make a commitment to each other, Penny. I’ll agree to help you if you’ll agree to contact your mother and bring her back into your life. She needs to know what you’re going through. She needs to help you.”
“I’ll agree. I’ll call her in the morning.”
“No. You’ll call her now. Do not tell her that you’re pregnant. She needs to hear it from you in person.”
Penny called Diane and they talked for over an hour. Diane had no choice except to tell Penny that they had been evicted from their apartment. They were homeless. Diane had no money to find an apartment. All area social service agencies were broke, so there was no help available to Diane. She and Penny would have to figure something out.
Eddy asked Diane if she could get a ride or make it somehow to Eddy’s apartment. She and Penny could stay the night, Eddy explained. Penny still hadn’t told Diane that she was pregnant. Penny had no idea how she could bring herself to burden her mother with the news, especially after finding out that they had been evicted.
Diane showed up at Eddy’s door early that evening. Eddy welcomed her in, and the three of them sat and talked.
“Diane, you have such a wonderful daughter. I hope I do as good a job raising my twins as you did raising Penny,” Eddy said.
“Thank you so much, but I have no idea how Penny turned out so well. It certainly must have been in spite of her father and me, and not because of us.”
“Well, I’m going into the twins’ room to get them bathed and ready for bed. I’ll leave the two of you to talk.”
“Mom, what are we going to do? We’re in trouble, aren’t we?”
“Yes, Penny. We’re in trouble.”
Eddy could hear the conversation from the twins’ bedroom. She heard the words of two people who loved each other deeply, but who were living without hope.
“Mom, we’re in more trouble than you know. I didn’t want to tell you because—I mean, are you pre… I mean, I’m pre… I’m not sure; I mean, I am but—maybe several months from now. A baby, a baby.”
“Penny, are you trying to tell me that you want me to have a baby brother? When you were very young you asked me each day for a baby brother. I’m not having anymore children, Penny. I can’t even take care of you.”
“Mom,” Penny said forthrightly, “you’re not going to have a baby, but I am.”
“What! Penny, please don’t fool around with me like that. I can’t take it. You’re not serious, are you? Penny! Penny! You are serious, aren’t you. Oh, my gosh, what are we going to do? How did it happen? You’re only sixteen. You’re only sixteen. I’m sorry, Penny, I’m so sorry. I put you under so much intense pressure. I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
Diane rambled all of her questions and statements out in quick succession, while tears streamed down her face. She didn’t understand what was happening to her anymore than Penny understood what was happening to her.
Eddy returned to the living room to check on Diane and Penny. “Well, that went fairly well, didn’t it?” Eddy said, hoping that her statement would provide at least a small bit of humor to lighten the moment.
It worked. Diane and Penny smiled slightly. “Let’s eat,” Eddy suggested. “I have something here to eat somewhere. It’ll take me just a minute or so to get it together.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
AUGUST 2025
Real estate agent, Antonio Rodriguez, had not brokered a decent deal in over four years. It had been nineteen years since he had earned an annual income that provided a high standard of living or even paid the bills for a basic living. Rodriguez had been living off of his savings for years. He was nearly broke.
At sixty–six, Rodriguez was supposed to have been ready to face retirement. Like many Americans of that day, Rodriguez faced the grim reality that there would be no comfortable retirement for him. Maybe, if he were lucky, his retirement would be a simple existence that would include a steady stream of small monthly Social Security payments, walks in the park, golf once or twice a month, and cards and bingo on Friday nights at the recreation center. This was not exactly the country club life style he had imagined for his retirement forty years earlier when he began his career in real estate sales, but it was all he could hope for.
Eddy had called Rodriguez because he was known to handle the purchase and sale of small apartment buildings. Eddy needed a small apartment building in order to continue her charitable work. Her clients needed a place to live. She could no longer accommodate pregnant young girls in her small apartment, especially if the girls’ mothers came with the package, as they often did.
After driving nearly every road in the Houston area looking for an apartment building to sell to Eddy, Rodriguez stopped on the road in front of 1206 Southwest Dallas Street. He pulled into the parking lot. Eddy’s eyes watered as she looked at the building from the passenger seat in Rodriguez’s car. It was perfect. Fifteen apartments. Three of them had two bedrooms, two baths; twelve had one bedroom and one bath. The building was located in a decent section of town. The girls would be safe there. Eddy and the twins would live on the ground floor, in one of the two–bedroom units. She would run the center from there.
The girls would live in the other apartments with their babies. No men allowed. Only the girls’ mothers would be permitted to live on the premises with the girls and their babies. It was perfect. Eddy cried as the plans raced through her mind. She begged Rodriguez to work out a purchase arrangement with the buyer.
Eddy would put down three hundred fifty thousand dollars and finance four hundred fifty thousand. She had no idea how she would obtain the loan or, for that matter, how she would make the payments.
The roof was good. The walls were sound. The foundation was solid. The appliances were old. Most of the air conditioner units clunked along, but not all. Some didn’t clunk at all. The place was filthy, inside and out. It was abandoned. Every wall needed paint. No carpet to fret over because each unit had Linoleum flooring throughout. Outside lighting was not bad. Each unit had an outside light fixture in the ceiling of the overhang, above each door.
The building was a three, at best, on a scale of one to ten. Eddy saw a ten. She saw fifteen Palm Beach mansions. She was thrilled. She and Rodriguez engaged regardin
g the business of the deal. Eddy was at a disadvantage because she understood nothing of business. Her advantage, though, was that she was willing to beg on behalf of her clients.
Rodriguez and Eddy had not met before. He knew nothing of her plans. She knew nothing of his. He was on the verge of financial collapse. She had money. He was consumed with personal financial desperation. She was burdened with visions for the use of her money. Rodriguez was working to satisfy himself. Eddy was dedicated to River, her children and her vision to help pregnant young girls who had no place to turn.
Rodriguez worked alone. Eddy labored day in and day out with her husband, regardless of the fact that he was often thousands of miles from her. Rodriguez was trapped by his dependence. Eddy was free because of hers. They went to a coffee shop around the corner to talk.
“Mrs. Warwick, this place is a great investment. Even after paying me my ten percent commission, you could still pay the asking price and come out way ahead. Listen to me, each apartment will bring you an average monthly rent payment of nine hundred dollars. Nine hundred times fifteen equals thirteen thousand five hundred dollars a month income. Wow! Can you believe it? You’ll be rich, Mrs. Warwick. You mentioned to me that you can put down three hundred fifty thousand dollars. If you are able to do that, your payments could be as low as seven thousand dollars a month. You’ll make a gross profit each month of six thousand five hundred dollars.”
“What do I do if the girls can’t pay me?”
“What girls are you talking about, Mrs. Warwick?”
“I want the apartment building for use as a shelter for young girls who are pregnant and have no place to live. With the economy so bad and the government and churches out of money, pregnant young teenage girls have no place to go. They’re literally having babies on the street.”
“Well, they shouldn’t get pregnant, then, should they?” Rodriguez said, in a half–hearted attempt at a cruel joke.
“No, Mr. Rodriguez, they shouldn’t get pregnant, but they do. It happens all the time. As soon as they become pregnant, Mr. Rodriguez, they have to be cared for. Would you agree?”