* * *
He strolled toward the chapel to see how choir practice was going. Trish and Tiffani sat on one side of the choir section, with Rosetta McIntyre, apparently an alto, on the other. Claire Patrenko was at the piano, and Sister Tullis at the organ. Jamie slouched on the front pew of the congregational seating, looking bored and mutinous, with Mallory beside him on her knees, using the pew for a table while she colored a picture from Primary. Linda DeNeuve stood before her choir of three with her arms folded, as they talked in low voices.
“Is this the choir, for today?” the bishop asked, trying to keep his voice cheerful.
Linda turned and smiled. “Afraid this is it, Bishop. What do you suggest we do?”
“Looks like I’m going to have to issue a few calls,” he replied. “I was reluctant to do it, because it seems to me a choir should be a volunteer organization based on interest and musical ability but obviously our members just aren’t used to thinking in those terms.” He thought for a minute, then added, “in the meantime, let’s sing!”
“All three of us?” Trish asked wryly.
“All five of us,” he replied. “Come on, James, we’re needed up here!”
Jamie looked alarmed. “Who, me? I can’t sing!”
“Yes, you can, better than I,” returned his dad, motioning him forward with his arm.
Jamie dragged himself up to a seat beside his mother, who leaned down and whispered, “You can just sing the melody, along with Tiff and me.”
“What part do you sing, Bishop?” inquired Linda hopefully.
“I’d probably be a bass if I knew how to carry a part, but I don’t. Why don’t we just all sing the melody, for now? What hymns have you selected, to start with?”
“Seeing as it’s November, I thought we might start with ‘Prayer of Thanksgiving,’ number ninety-three.”
“Excellent! Let’s do it. With the support of both piano and organ to er drown us out, we should sound pretty good, don’t you think?”
Amid the chuckles, Linda took her place and raised her small white baton. The bishop thought she looked properly competent, and as she directed their song, he was confirmed in his impression. Linda DeNeuve knew her stuff! They sang enthusiastically, they learned something about breathing and phrasing, and when the rehearsal was over, they had a plan to sing the next Sunday and to have the congregation join in on the third verse. The bishop drove his family home feeling much more cheerful about several things than he had when the Sabbath began.
* * *
“So you got Muzzie settled okay, did you?” he asked, as he and Trish, dressed snugly in matching sweatshirts, took their customary Sunday evening stroll around their neighborhood.
“Yes, but it’s just so sad, Jim. I mean, I know the condo’s just temporary, and it’s not too bad, not a dump or anything, but it’s just so generic. It has three bedrooms, and they set one up for Bradley, in the hope that they’ll be able to have him join them, but I just don’t know it’s so bizarre what’s Dugie thinking, to take Brad and run? Where could they be?”
“Yeah, makes you wonder if he grabbed the boy because he genuinely wanted him, or just to get back at Muzzie for taking the girls and splitting. I sure feel bad for Muzzie and the girls and the boy, too. Who knows what kind of stuff his dad is feeding him literally and psychologically.”
“Right. I am encouraged, though, by Muzzie’s new interest in praying and trying to establish a relationship with the Lord. She’s always just been a sort of brand-X Christian, if you know what I mean. She believes in Jesus, but doesn’t really know much about Him, or about the scriptures. If nothing else, maybe this miserable experience will help her to discover His love for her and eventually, maybe she’ll even want to know more about what we believe. She’s sure impressed by you. Said she had no idea you were so spiritually insightful.”
“Did you explain how it’s not me, but the Spirit working through me, that she felt?”
“Tried, but she still thinks you’re wonderful. Of course, I had to agree with her, there.”
He smiled and squeezed her hand. “Well, sure,” he teased, and then sobered, thinking of the many ways in which he knew he was much less than wonderful. The letter to Marybeth was still on his mind, and he dreaded the confrontation he knew was coming with Sister LaThea Winslow over VerDan’s lack of preparation. He had prayed to know how to find a balance between making clear VerDan’s needs and deficiencies without insulting his mother and her desire for her son to serve a mission as soon as possible. Sometimes being a bishop was a lot like walking a tightrope, he reflected. His balance bar was the Lord, his safety net his counselors and clerks or was it vice versa? In any case, there was no way he could make it safely to the other side of this experience without any of them.
* * *
The concepts for the letter came to him in the early hours of Monday morning, and he rose before daylight and padded down to his desk in his robe and slippers.
“Dear Marybeth,” he wrote.
It is with great regret that I acknowledge your request to have your name removed from the membership rolls of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I had hoped never to have to comply with such a request during my term as bishop. I would much prefer to be welcoming you into the fellowship of the Saints and the household of God. However, I respect, and so does the Church, your God-given right to make your own choices and decisions in matters of faith and religion.
You should know, however, that taking this step will cancel all the covenants and ordinances into which you have entered baptism, confirmation, the gift of the Holy Ghost, and all your temple blessings, including your endowment and temple sealing. The consequences are that you will have no claim on your family, nor they on you, in the eternities, nor will you be able to attain the Celestial Kingdom of the Father and enjoy the great blessings that had been in reserve for you if you had remained true and faithful to your covenants.
I am aware that in your present frame of mind, these things seem of no consequence, but I urge you to contemplate the reality and finality of these decisions and the great loss that will come to you and to your family as a result of your decision.
If you still feel determined to leave the Church and relinquish all your above-named blessings, you will need to write a letter to me, officially making your request. If that is your intent, I will fill out the necessary paperwork and forward the documents, along with your record of membership to our stake president. There follows a thirty-day waiting period to allow you time to reconsider your decision, and if, at the end of that time, you still are determined to have your name removed, your request will be honored.
After that, you will no longer be able to participate in any Church ordinances or partake of any of the blessings and privileges of membership, such as attending the temple, praying or speaking in meetings, partaking of the sacrament, holding Church positions, and so forth. You will still be welcome, of course, to attend any regular Church meetings to which the public is invited.
If you in fact pursue this course and your name is removed from the membership rolls of the Church, and should you ultimately desire to rejoin the Church, it will be necessary for you to be rebaptized, following a thorough worthiness interview.
Marybeth, as your friend and bishop, I must encourage you once again to consider well the step you are taking, and the effects it will have on you and your loved ones and all who know and care for you. I still feel that you can learn to know the truthfulness of the restored gospel of Christ through sincere study and prayer. My prayer is that you will make the effort to learn of these things, and I assure you of my willingness to help you in any way you feel I can.
Sincerely,
Bishop James D. Shepherd
He read over the letter, then laboriously typed a clean copy and folded it into an envelope. This task attended to, he put his head down on his arms and gave himself up to the sorrow of the moment. Why, Father? he prayed silently. Why can’t she see the truth, the wort
h of all Thou hast provided? Why is this necessary?
Just before he roused himself to go upstairs and dress for the day, the answer came, gentle but unmistakable: “Suffer it to be so now, for the sake of Marybeth’s soul.” He sat up then, thrills of recognition coursing through him.
“Thy will be done,” he whispered.
Chapter Nineteen
* * *
“of mercies and of miracles”
On his way to the store that Monday morning, Bishop Shepherd detoured by the residence of Scott and Marybeth Lanier to give her the letter. Their one-story home was constructed of old brick in pastel shades with white wrought-iron railings and columns. The early morning sun sent long shadows of tree trunks across the spacious lawn. He rang the doorbell, surprised at the calm he felt.
Scott answered the door. “Oh good morning, Bishop,” he said. “Please, come on in.”
“Good morning, Scott. I have a letter for Marybeth. Does she happen to be up and about at this hour?”
“Actually, she’s out jogging. Can I give it to her?”
“Sure. And let me give you a heads-up regarding the fact that she’ll need to write a letter making her request and detailing her reasons for it, however she chooses to do so, and give that to me. I’ve told her that in here and also tried to explain the consequences of her choice.” He gazed at the polished parquet floor for a moment, then looked up and continued. “I’ll tell you something interesting, Scott this whole thing makes me real sad, but the Lord’s made it known to me that, for some reason, this is what’s in Marybeth’s best interest, right now. That’s of some comfort to me, and I hope it can be to you, too.”
Scott frowned. “I wonder how can that be? I mean, it seems so wrong, so senseless . . .”
“Believe me, Scott, I understand you. Those have been my exact feelings. But early this morning, I was blessed to know just that much not why, or what’ll happen down the road but just that for now, this is what needs to happen, for the sake of her soul.”
“Well, thanks for sharing that insight with me. I’ll let it soak in and try to comprehend what it might mean. I remember reading that in cases of excommunication, it’s actually kinder to the person to remove their Church membership and its obligations than to allow them to continue to sin as members, but I don’t exactly see that applying here.”
The bishop shook his head. “We know so little of what goes on in another’s heart and mind,” he said. “Generally, only what they allow us to know. I surely can’t claim to understand Marybeth’s thinking right now, but it may be that she’ll have to lose her membership and her temple blessings before she can realize that they’re meaningful and valuable to her. Ultimately, this may be a learning experience for her that she needs.”
Scott blinked. “It’s certainly a tough learning experience for me,” he said. “I sure hope I wasn’t the one who needed it to happen, in order to grow spiritually!” He attempted a wobbly smile. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t volunteer for this in the pre- mortal life. If I did, somebody should have yanked on my robe and told me to sit down.”
“I hear you, Brother.” The bishop glanced at a framed photograph of the family on a small table in the foyer. “How’s John doing?”
“He’s finally figured out that his mother is serious about this, and he’s pretty upset. He and his wife, Meg, are fasting and praying for her.”
“That can’t hurt. You might share with him the insight I was given, in case it helps.”
“I’ll do that. Bishop, you’re a rock thanks so much for standing by me.”
“Glad to do it. Have as good a day as you can, okay?”
* * *
About eleven-thirty, he heard himself being paged by Mary Lynn Connors, asking him to come to the office. He had been back in the storeroom, and hurried to his office on the northeast front corner of the market.
“Hey, Mary Lynn, what’s oh, I see! How are you, Jack?”
Jack Padgett stood by Mary Lynn’s desk, shifting uneasily from foot to foot. He shook the bishop’s outstretched hand. “I’m in town checking on my store here, and figured it was my turn to treat you to lunch,” he said. “Unless, of course, you’ve got other plans.”
“Nothing I’d like better. Let me just wash my hands and grab my jacket, and we’ll run out and try to beat the rush.”
In the restroom, he took a moment for a quick prayer of guidance, then hurried back to Jack. “You pick the place,” the bishop told him. “Whatever sounds good. I’m not particular.”
They drove in Jack’s SUV to a home-style cafe on the far south end of town.
“Gotta stay as far from the house and Andi’s school as possible, you know,” he remarked dryly. “Guess you’re aware of the new situation.”
“I am,” the bishop agreed. “I was at the hearing. I’m glad Andi’s back with Melody. But I know it must be hard on you, not to be able to see them.”
Jack didn’t reply, but concentrated on the menu. “Meatloaf,” he told the server when she appeared. “Mashed potatoes, corn, and a cola.”
The bishop ordered smothered pork chops with rice and a green salad. Just water,” he told her when asked about a beverage. Trish would be proud of him. When the server left, Jack turned to the side, leaned back, and stretched his legs out on the seat of the booth.
“So, how does Andi look? She okay?” he asked.
“She looks great. She was really glad to see her mom, and she asked if you were there, too.”
“Did she? Little pun’kin’.” Jack allowed a pleased grin to touch his lips for a second. “You know, it’s kinda ironic the way things work out, sometimes.”
“How’s that?”
“I used to be so dang sure that if I gave Melody half a chance, she’d take Andi and leave me. Now she’s got the opportunity, and she can’t leave the area, by decree of law.”
The bishop shrugged. “You know, I never got the impression that Melody wanted to run off with Andrea,” he said. “She’s never said a word to me that indicated that.”
“Oh, don’t you worry. She thought of it, plenty of times.”
When you were hitting her and pushing her around? the bishop asked silently. Aloud, he said, “I imagine lots of wives have a few times when the thought enters their minds. But from everything Melody’s said, it’s seemed to me that one of her main goals was to keep the family together.”
Jack gave one of his quick sideways glances. “That’s been one of my goals, too. Guess I just didn’t go about it the right way.”
The bishop took a sip of his water and squeezed a spritz of lemon into it. “Well,” he said mildly, “force and intimidation don’t usually work real well with people. Especially in a family setting.”
Jack ducked his head. “Worked for my old man,” he said in a low voice.
Their food arrived, served family style so that each could try some of every dish if they wanted. The bishop picked up on Jack’s last statement, knowing from the way it was delivered that it was important and true. Jack had a way of throwing away his most meaningful comments as if they were nothing.
“Have a pork chop, Jack,” the bishop invited. “Two’re plenty for me, and they smell real good. Tell me about the family you grew up in,” he added. “How many kids were there?”
“Just me and my brother,” Jack said. “Help yourself to meatloaf, too. I get it every time I come here. It’s not bad.”
“Thanks. Were both folks at home while you were growing up?”
“Huh. Unfortunately.”
“Which one would you have tossed out, if you could’ve?”
“My dad, no question. He was a hell-raiser, no doubt about it. Didn’t give a hoot for either of us kids. Guess we weren’t any great prize, for that matter couple of little ruffians but yeah, whenever he was gone, things were easier at home.”
“How’d your mom deal with him?”
“They fought. He was a drinker, and liked to gamble. He’d gamble on horse races, football games, whether a sto
rm would hit when the weatherman said it would anything to bet a buck. You can imagine, he lost way more than he ever won and Mom’d get mad and yell at him for hours, till he’d either leave or knock her across the room.” Jack was silent for a moment, eating, then stole a glance at his companion. “I know what you’re thinking, and you’re right. I learned it from him.”
The bishop nodded. “It’s pretty hard not to learn from what we see, every day of our lives.” Inwardly, he gave thanks for the peace-loving, kindly man his father had been. “Were you close to your mother, then?”
Jack didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he raised a hand to signal their server and asked for a refill on his drink. Then he glanced away out the window to the parking lot. “Couldn’t trust her,” he muttered. “Have some of these potatoes, will you? They really pile ’em on.”
Aha, thought the bishop. Another throwaway line. He worked on his lunch for a few minutes, then after the refill had arrived, he ventured another question.
“So your mother wasn’t trustworthy, either?”
Jack frowned. Finally he shook his head. “Hm-mm,” he agreed.
“This is hard to talk about,” the bishop observed in a quiet voice. It wasn’t a question.
“Well, you know all these blasted counselors and therapists, they keep picking and picking at old sores, trying to get ’em to drain all the infection out so they can heal. Guess I see the reasoning, but it hurts like hell, Bishop, I gotta tell you that.”
“I’ll just bet it does. I’m sorry, my friend. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. I’m just interested, because I care about you and Melody and Andi.”
Jack took a long drink of his soda. “Mel used to try to get me to tell her about my family. I didn’t want to. I mean, I’d left all that behind when I turned eighteen. I figured there wasn’t anything the Marines could throw at me that I hadn’t already been through. So no point in dredging it all up again, was there? It’s not exactly a pretty family history to put in an album.”
Mercies and Miracles Page 23