Overcomer

by Chris Fabry

  The man sipped his coffee and put the mug down. “No, he didn’t. In fact, he’s been adamant that I not reach out to you or your granddaughter.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  Another flash of teeth. “Well, first of all I’m hungry. Second, I have a long drive ahead of me, so I need the coffee to stay awake.”

  “Is there a third reason?”

  The man’s voice grew soft. “Barbara, would you sit with me a moment?”

  “I’m working, Reverend.”

  He glanced at the dining room. “But you’re not busy. It won’t take long. I promise.”

  Flustered, she looked at the ticket. “I need to get this to the kitchen if you want food.”

  “All right,” he said, taking another sip of coffee.

  She put the order into the computer and paced in the prep area. When Tiffany spoke, it startled Barbara.

  “What did he want?”

  “He wants to talk with me. Wants me to sit down with him. He’s a minister.”

  Tiffany seemed full of questions. Instead she said, “I’ll take anybody who comes in next. Go ahead and talk with him.”

  “I don’t want to. He has nothing to say that I want to hear.”

  “What’s he want to talk about?”

  “I don’t know exactly.” Barbara shook her head. “Come rescue me in five minutes, okay?”

  “Whatever you say,” Tiffany said.

  Barbara freshened the man’s coffee and reluctantly sat across from him. “I only have a couple of minutes.”

  “I appreciate you taking the time. I didn’t plan this. I drove by and saw the restaurant name. Your granddaughter mentioned you worked here—”

  “You spoke with Hannah?” she said, interrupting him.

  “No, I’m sorry. Hannah told Thomas the name of this place. That’s how he knew it. And he mentioned it to me along the way. He told me you visited him.”

  “I don’t see how any of this is your business.”

  “It’s not. And I may be stepping over a line here—”

  “You most certainly are,” Barbara said.

  “—but I always try to be obedient.”

  Barbara furrowed her brow. “Obedient?”

  “As I drove by, something clicked inside. I got the impression that . . .” He paused and folded strong hands on the table. “Do you believe the Lord speaks to people, Ms. Scott?”

  “You’re the reverend. You’re asking me?”

  He smiled. “I have a hard time with people saying the Lord told them this or that. My conversations are often one-sided. At least they seem that way.”

  He held out his mug and steam rose above it as she poured him another cup.

  “As I drove by, I felt a strong urge to stop. To see if you were here. Maybe share something from the Word.”

  “I thought you were hungry and wanted coffee.”

  “I think it’s all three. Thomas didn’t put me up to this. He’s resigned to having you hate him because of what he did.”

  “That’s good,” Barbara said, sitting back. “Go on.”

  “We were talking this morning. He said it was the guilt that kept him away. The shame. He couldn’t call. Didn’t reach out. He was scared. And since meeting Hannah, he’s grateful he doesn’t have to be held back by the regret and guilt.”

  “Bully for him.”

  The man nodded as if expecting her sarcasm. “Do you know what he asked me to pray for today?”

  “I couldn’t care less.” Barbara stood. “I need to check on your order.”

  She walked toward the kitchen. Tiffany was there.

  “Why didn’t you come get me?” Barbara said.

  “It hasn’t been five minutes yet.”

  “Seemed like five hours.”

  She toasted the man’s English muffin and buttered it, and the kitchen finished his order. She walked it to his table and paused because the man had his head bowed. His lips moved and she watched. When he looked up, she put the plate in front of him.

  “Just like manna,” he said, rubbing his hands.

  “Can I get you anything else?” she said.

  “Ketchup?”

  She retrieved a bottle and put it beside him and placed the check on the table. “There’s no rush on this. I’m just putting it here.”

  “I understand, Barbara.” He lowered his voice. “I understand more than you can know.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Six years ago I lost someone dear to me. Feels like yesterday.”

  Barbara put a hand on her hip. “Who?”

  “My son.” He lifted his fork and pointed toward the chair. She looked at it, looked at him, then sat.

  “There’s a lake down the road from our house. On my day off I used to take my son fishing. But being a pastor means you’re important. People call at all hours. Sometimes you’re not there when you said you would be.”

  The reverend got a far-off look, like he was watching something in the distance, something he didn’t want to see.

  “There was a teenage girl who had just gotten her license. She was driving to work. Her first day at her new job. Got distracted. The radio or her phone. Doesn’t matter. By the time she realized she’d run off the road and corrected . . .” His voice trailed. “She thought it was a dog. Heard a thump. But she kept on going because she didn’t want to be late. It was her first day and all.”

  Barbara stared at him.

  “She didn’t know. Didn’t understand the hurt she’d caused. It took us a day to find him. Tangled in some bushes. He had his rod and reel and the tackle box with him.”

  Barbara swallowed hard. “You came here to tell me that? To say you forgave her and everything’s okay?”

  He stared at his food. “No. I came here to tell you I think God is on your trail, Barbara. And that He cares more than you know. The hardest thing for me was living every day thinking I could have done something different. If I’d said no to those people who called, I might be fishing with my son right now.”

  Barbara studied his face. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  He nodded. “I’m not asking you to give Thomas another chance. I’m not even asking you to forgive him. I think the reason God stopped me here was something different.”

  “And what was that?”

  “I think He brought me here to ask you to open your heart to the possibility that He’s walking with you through all this. Just like He walked with me.”

  Barbara stared at his plate. She wanted to tell him his food was getting cold, that he ought to eat it. Instead she said, “What happened to her? The girl who hit your son.”

  “She moved away not long after the law got through with her. Her parents tell me she’s struggling. She’s having a hard time putting all of it behind her. I pray for her every day.”

  Barbara’s eyes blurred and she felt her chin quiver. “Well, I’m glad for you. I’m glad you’ve been able to get to that place.”

  He leaned across the table. “I didn’t get there on my own. I had to lay down the hurt and pain and regret. I poured it out day after day. And I told God He was the one who would have to lift it. That’s when things changed.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I began to receive the love He wanted to pour out. He wanted me to live fully loved, fully forgiven. He wanted to guide me, instead of me being led around by hate or regret or anything but His kindness.”

  Barbara looked out the window. Clouds hovered over the town, but in the distance there was the faintest gleam of sunlight reflecting on edges of the sky.

  “For years I’d have this dream. My son’s walking up that road with his fishing pole on his shoulder. Now I have a bigger dream. A bigger hope. Now I see a young girl walking home, out from under the weight of the past. I’m believing God that one day I’m going to look out and see her sitting in my church.”

  “And what will you do if that happens?”

  “Not if, but when,” he said, smiling.
“I’ll stop whatever I’m preaching and I’ll march down those steps and hug her the way I would embrace my son. That’s what I’ll do.”

  Barbara nodded. “I believe you, Reverend.”

  He put a hand on hers. “I think that’s what God wants to do with you today. He loves you like crazy, Barbara.”

  The pastor left a nice tip, as well as his card with a phone number and an e-mail address. There was a verse reference he wrote on the back along with the words I’m praying for you.

  At home, Barbara glanced at the picture of Janet in the living room, that smiling face. Then she saw Hannah’s backpack on the hook by the front door. Such a small thing. But big changes started with small ones, didn’t they?

  Perhaps people could change.

  The pastor’s story had moved her. She believed him when he said Thomas had not asked him to find her. She believed that somehow God had moved the man to reach out and try to give her hope. There was no way to explain what she’d seen in Thomas’s face outside of God doing something miraculous. And as sick and broken as he was, she knew he was in better shape than she was. And in that moment, she felt a strong tug on her soul and she sat at the kitchen table. Thomas had run away and wound up running into the arms of a God who loved him in spite of all he’d done. How could a holy God embrace someone like that? Love like that didn’t make sense.

  She caught sight of her reflection in a mirror across the room. She hated the look on her face. She didn’t want to be angry anymore. She didn’t want to carry the weight of hate. But she’d carried it so long it was just part of her now. And she carried it because she had closed the door to God, thinking by doing that she could keep the hurt and the pain and the regret away.

  She crossed her arms on the table. Quietly she began the conversation she had avoided for fifteen years.

  “Hey, God, it’s me. I haven’t talked to You in a while because I’ve kind of been mad at You.” The emotion came and she felt her chin quiver. “Ever since You took my baby. No parent wants to outlive their kid. Angry. Mad. I’m not like You, God. I don’t know how You do it. I mean, everything they did to Your Son and You just forgive them. You just forgive them. I’m not there yet.”

  It was as honest as she could be. And in the process, she was being honest with herself. Tears came and she made no effort to stop them.

  “My baby’s gone and now he wants to take Hannah, too? I’m not handling this very well. God, I’m working two jobs, I’m trying to do everything I can do on my own, and it’s not working.”

  She heard an echo of a whisper spoken long ago. “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”

  Oh, how she wanted rest. She wanted to let go of the burden and the weariness she felt down to her bones. But how?

  If God knew everything, she wasn’t telling Him anything He didn’t already perceive about her, but just saying the words made her feel something. The emotion rose, not anger this time, but something that sent a shiver of warmth through her. It was close to the feeling of surrender.

  “So look, if You want me to do this forgiveness thing, You’ve got to help me!”

  Her voice bubbled with struggle, just like she’d heard in Thomas’s cry to God. She was praying the same prayer but from a different heart. “Don’t You leave me here useless.” The emotion overwhelmed her and she choked out, “Because I can’t do this anymore. I need Your help, God.”

  For the first time in fifteen years, she felt heard. She felt like she had broken through the portals of heaven itself. But she knew deep inside God had been there, waiting, ready to listen as she brought her broken heart to Him.

  “You’ve got to help me, okay? You’ve got to help me forgive.”

  CHAPTER 38

  As the cross-country season drew to a close, John watched Hannah grow stronger. She was running faster than ever and had a level of endurance she didn’t have at the beginning of the season. Her grandmother still wouldn’t allow Hannah to have contact with Thomas, but Hannah held out hope that might change. Barbara hadn’t taken action against John or the school, for which he was grateful. It felt like they were in a holding pattern.

  The week before the state championship race, John attended the annual dinner with the league’s fourteen cross-country coaches and the association leaders. He ate rubber chicken, unspeakable peas, and enjoyed the banter between coaches about the depth of their teams, as well as the fresh lament over the changes in Franklin.

  Mitch Singleton, who also coached basketball, made a remark about Brookshire’s one-runner cross-country team. Other coaches stifled laughs and John took the ribbing in stride. But as he ate, he realized how much he had enjoyed the season and how much Hannah had improved. He wasn’t ashamed of his one-runner team. In fact, he felt proud. He believed in Hannah. The other coaches had dozens of great kids, good runners, but he had one exceptional young lady with a huge heart who deserved to run alongside the top athletes in the state.

  Gene Andrews, the association president, spoke at the lectern in front of the group and informed them what they already knew, that Sherwood College would host the state championship race and McBride Racing Events would time the event. The college would also provide medical personnel.

  “At this time, Cindy Hatcher, our vice president, has an item to discuss with you.”

  Cindy was a no-nonsense official who cut straight to the chase. “So we have three rule changes in consideration this year. A few of our schools have requested that runners be allowed to wear earbuds during a race.”

  She explained there were two potential problems with the request. The runners needed to hear signals or warnings during the race. Plus, any live communication would give an unfair advantage. But the league had come up with a solution.

  I can’t wait to hear this, John thought.

  “If the runner uses only one small earbud, and the content is prerecorded only, we will allow it, pending your vote. So for instance, if the runner wants to listen to music or recordings of their favorite motivational sayings, we’re willing to try it.”

  John turned to Mitch and whispered, “This is ridiculous.”

  Another coach asked for clarification and Cindy responded that the player would have to be small enough to be strapped to the arm or waist, but no loose wires.

  Another question came and John rolled his eyes. Who cared whether runners listened to anything? As if that was going to matter in a three-mile race. Everybody in the room knew who was going to win. Gina Mimms certainly didn’t need music to motivate her.

  Cindy asked for a yes or no vote and began going around the room. As the first few coaches responded, John suddenly sat straight in his chair, a flash of an idea coming to him—fully formed. He could see the whole thing, could hear the content of the recording they would make. He imagined Hannah’s face when she heard the audio. As his mind spun, he could hardly contain himself.

  When it was his turn to vote, he held up a hand and confidently said, “I vote yes.”

  Mitch stared at John like he was crazy. John whispered, “Say yes.” Then he leaned forward and a whole row of coaches stared at him. “Say yes,” he said loudly.

  It worked. They had enough votes for the motion to pass. On the way to his car, he called Ethan and began to set his plan in motion. They only had a couple of days to pull off the idea, but John was confident they could do it.

  At home, with a map of the Sherwood course in front of him, John met with his family. “Gina Mimms won the state championship last year on this course with a time of nineteen minutes and forty-five seconds. So I need to know where she would be at any given point during the race.”

  “Why do you need to know that?” Ethan said.

  “We’re going to help Hannah,” John said.

  John called the head of building and grounds at the school and asked if he could borrow the golf cart. He and the boys took the cart to the Sherwood course. Will sat in the back and kept the stopwatch while Ethan used his tablet to record the r
oute. It was a rough ride in certain parts, but when they crossed the finish line, they had perfectly timed the pace Hannah would need to keep up with Gina Mimms.

  John dropped the boys at the house and raced toward Franklin General. He was just outside Thomas’s room when Nurse Rose stopped him. “What is all this?”

  “I need to do something with Thomas today,” he said.

  “And what is that?”

  “Rose, Hannah is running a race this weekend. I think Thomas can help her.”

  “He’s in no condition to do anything. You can’t move him from—”

  “No, I’m not going to move him at all.” He explained his idea.

  Rose relented. “I’m giving you one hour.”

  “Thank you, Rose.”

  Thomas was surprised by the activity and the equipment John had placed on his bed. “What is this again?”

  “The state championship race is this Saturday. You’ve wanted to be there for Hannah, and now you’re going to. I’ll walk you through the course, and then you’re going to coach her.”

  John hooked a lapel mic onto Thomas’s hospital gown. He finished setting up the equipment just as Ethan had told him, fearful he’d get something wrong and not hit Record. He told Thomas what they had done in the golf cart, the pace they had driven and the pace Hannah needed in order to match or exceed Gina Mimms’s time the year before.

  “Does Hannah know anything about this?” Thomas said.

  “Nothing. And I’m not telling her ahead of time.”

  “You’re pretty sure about this plan, aren’t you?”

  “I know what it’s going to mean for Hannah to hear her father’s voice. She loves you so much.”

  “It’s been hard knowing she’s so close but can’t come to see me.” Thomas pursed his lips. “One time when you came in here, I said, ‘Put me in, Coach.’ I guess that’s going to happen today.”

  John explained the signals he would give Thomas when they reached different stages of the race. He would give different taps on the arm for a hill and the straight, flat ground. He would give signals for the first mile, the halfway point, and the beginning of the final mile. There was a signal for when Hannah would near the finish line, assuming she kept up her pace.