Dreams That Won't Let Go

by Stacy Hawkins Adams

  She looked at Max and saw that he recognized her “lightbulb moment.”

  He had been trying to tell her this all along. Thank God for sending her a man who was patient enough to hang in there until she got it.

  23

  Reuben was surprised at how quickly he and Peyton had grown to enjoy the laidback, slower pace of life in Jubilant, but church remained his least favorite place.

  Yet, here he was on a Wednesday evening, driving to Bible study at St. Peter’s Baptist. He let Peyton talk him into coming because Charles David enjoyed the youth Bible class as much as she enjoyed the women’s group.

  “Consider this your chance for some guy time,” she told him. “You men can bond and talk about God without a bunch of women butting in.”

  Male bonding? Over God? Just what he looked forward to after a long day at work.

  But Reuben knew he needed to compromise. He still hadn’t worked up the nerve to find a therapist since he’d left home in the middle of the night two weeks ago, during his panic attack. He was still shaken by the incident, and by Peyton’s response to it, but Jubilant was a fishbowl. He had decided he might have to drive to Houston or Austin to seek confidential counseling.

  After their dinner with Indigo and Max, though, Peyton had casually suggested that Max might offer the support he needed.

  “He’s a good guy, rock solid. I think you could trust him,” she said more than once.

  Reuben actually agreed; but men didn’t call each other up professing the need to talk. When an opportunity presented itself, he’d see if Max were open to listening, without feeling caught between him and Indigo.

  This evening, he was surprised to see Max’s car when he pulled into St. Peter’s parking lot. Max attended Wednesday night Bible study? This brother might be too good to be true.

  Reuben took the brand-new Bible Peyton handed him without complaining. “It’s got my name on it,” he said in surprise.

  “Yep,” she said and unbuckled herself. “I picked it up at the local Christian bookstore and asked them to personalize it. Feel free to write in it and jot down notes from tonight’s meeting.”

  Reuben grew tense. If she had taken the time to go out and buy a Bible, she was intent on making this a weekly habit. Great.

  He wouldn’t balk for now. Maybe he could schedule the counseling sessions on Wednesday evenings. First, he’d have to find Peyton and Charles David a regular ride to church. The answer came quickly: as much as Mama loved hanging out at his house lately, she was a shoo-in for the job.

  Reuben opened the door to the side entrance of St. Peter’s and followed his wife and son into the church’s education building. Max approached them from the opposite end of the hall, with a camera slung over each shoulder.

  He hugged Peyton and Charles David, then clasped hands with Reuben.

  “You heading out, man?” Reuben asked. “I thought I was going to have some company in my first Bible study.”

  Max chuckled. “I guess I should be here on Wednesday nights, but I’m usually working. I’m here tonight taking an official portrait of the pastor, for his upcoming anniversary service.” Max paused. “You know what? I don’t have plans for the evening. Indigo is working late tonight, processing the photos she took on her trip to London. How about I stay and sit in tonight? They’ll be glad to see both of us.”

  Reuben’s pride wanted him to balk, to tell Max to be on his way. But he swallowed it. He would appreciate having Max’s company in a setting he knew would make him uncomfortable.

  “Thanks, man,” he said. “How did things go for Indigo in London? She have a good time?”

  Max shrugged. “Yes and no. The job was a wonderful experience, and she made a good impression on the museum officials who hired her,” he said. “But she was antsy the whole time, worried that Yasmin might finally reach out to her while she was so far away. I think she was crushed all the more that nothing happened after all—no call, no text, nothing from Yas.”

  Reuben nodded. He couldn’t believe that the baby of the family had disappeared without a trace, without the thoughtfulness to at least check in and let everyone know she was okay.

  Fannie Grey, the leader of the women’s Bible study, interrupted his reverie when she pranced down the hall toward them. Her name was more fitting for an older woman, yet she was anything but, Reuben mused. In her late thirties, her face was flawlessly made up, her jeans and casual blouse fit her size 6 frame snugly but appropriately, and every inch of her flowing hair was in place.

  “Good evening, Burns family!” She bent over and scooped up Charles David in a hug. Her perfume must have been strong; the minute she encircled him with her arms, he had a sneezing attack.

  “My goodness!” she said, and pulled back to avoid getting sprayed. Max and Reuben traded glances and stifled their laughs. Fannie stood back from the little boy and offered to guide Peyton and Charles David to their classes.

  “See you in an hour,” Peyton said to Reuben. “I’ll meet you in this area when we’re done.”

  Max motioned with his head for Reuben to follow him. “I’ve been to Bible study a few times in the past few months. I’ll show you where we meet.” He lowered his voice as they strolled down the corridor. “It’s not too bad. Pastor Taylor usually leads it, and he really keeps it real.”

  Several men were arranging folding chairs in a semicircle when Max opened the door to the classroom. Reuben followed him inside.

  “Well, hello, fellas!” bellowed an older gentleman, who appeared to be in his sixties. He extended his right hand to Max and then to Reuben.

  “I know the young photographer here, and I’ve seen you in church on occasion,” he said to Reuben. “Welcome. I’m Joe Hartley.”

  “Thanks, nice to meet you,” Reuben said.

  Another older man, Deacon Painter, approached Reuben and gave him a hug. “Good to see you here, young man. I’m glad you and your family are settling into St. Peter’s,” he said. “Joe, Reuben Burns was my Sunday school student years ago, before he left for college and started his career in Washington State. This is Charles’ boy. He’s a good man.”

  Reuben smiled politely at the introduction and remembered that Daddy would be here tonight too, if his blood pressure weren’t elevated. He should have called him to see how he was feeling.

  “I moved to Jubilant about ten years ago and joined the church soon after,” Joe said. “There’s a lot of family history here that I’m still learning. Don’t worry, though, this group isn’t all gray heads. There are some young cats too. They’ll be strolling in soon.”

  Reuben hoped his relief didn’t register on his face. He stepped into the hall to call Daddy on his cell while Max grabbed two seats.

  “Hey, Daddy, I forgot to check and see if you and Mama were coming to Bible study tonight. I’m here with Peyton.”

  “Naw, son, not tonight,” Daddy said, sounding more lethargic than usual. He hadn’t been himself since Yasmin’s disappearance three weeks ago. Reuben noticed he picked up the phone on the first ring every time he called, even though caller ID would have told him if it were Yasmin.

  “Is your pressure high?”

  “No, today was a good day,” Daddy said with a sigh.

  “I know things are tough, Daddy. We gotta keep our spirits up, though.Yasmin’s going to come around. I just know it.”

  Daddy didn’t answer for what seemed like minutes. “I hope you’re right, son. I love that girl, maybe I just didn’t show it the right way.”

  Reuben wanted to tell him to stop beating himself up. He wanted to leave right now and go sit with him, to console him. But Pastor Taylor rounded the corner, with Bible in hand. He grinned when he saw Reuben.

  “Daddy, you did the best you could, and you are still doing that,” Reuben said quickly. “You’re a good father. Bible study is about to start. I’ll call you back later tonight, okay?”

  He ended the call just as Pastor Taylor approached him for a handshake and a hug.

 
Reuben was sure the pastor had worn his official robe for the photos Max had just taken, but now he was clad in jeans, a T-shirt that said “Livin’ for Christ,” and a pair of Air Jordans. He was fifty-five this year, according to Aunt Melba, who styled his wife’s hair, but he could pass for at least five years younger.

  “Good to see you, Brother Burns! Welcome!”

  They entered the classroom together and Pastor Taylor did a double take when he saw Max. “I didn’t even guilt you into staying and here you are!”

  Both men laughed and slapped palms.

  “I’ve still got a lot to learn,” Max said. “I’m glad to be here.”

  By the time they opened with prayer ten minutes later, the group was a dozen strong, and several men in their twenties and thirties had arrived. Reuben was floored. What was drawing them out on a weeknight?

  When Bible study began, he thought he understood. The lessons were biblically based, but relevant.

  “Tonight we’re reading Isaiah 38,” Pastor Taylor told the group. He gave them time to find the passage in their Bibles, and Reuben was relieved to see out of the corner of his eye that he wasn’t the only one who needed to check the contents page first.

  When he located the appropriate book and chapter, he skimmed it quickly. Pastor Taylor asked Brother Joe to read the first half aloud and Brother Tim, one of the younger men who had joined them, to read the latter half.

  When they were done, Pastor Taylor asked the men to share their perceptions of the passage. What had it meant?

  “King Hezekiah wanted to live. He begged God to spare his life,” one of the men said.

  “He was tight with God, so God gave him more time,” another offered.

  And yet another: “His relationship with God was so good that God allowed him to see what was coming down the pike and gave him a chance to respond.”

  “All of that is true,” Pastor Taylor said, after hearing the varying comments. “Now tell me how this passage applies to your life, about something you’re asking God for, or maybe something you’ve asked him for in the past.”

  Reuben’s heart pounded. He couldn’t go there tonight.

  All of the men remained quiet, so Pastor Taylor piped up. “My story is fairly dramatic, so I had planned to save it for last, but I’ll go first. Like Hezekiah, I made a plea to God, but he didn’t seem to answer.”

  The men sat up straighter or leaned in to hear where Pastor Taylor was going with this.

  “I asked God to spare my first wife, Farrah,” he said. “We had been married just three years and were planning to start a family. We were living in Wisconsin, and she decided to go on a mission trip to Thailand with a few co-workers from the Christian school where she taught. I was in seminary and working part-time at a homeless shelter, so I couldn’t get the time off to join her.

  “Three days into what was supposed to be a two-week trip, the group’s living quarters were invaded by bandits. A handful of teenagers from the orphanage they were visiting had accompanied Farrah and the other teachers back to their quarters, to try on some donated American clothing. When the women didn’t return with the kids in time for dinner, the orphanage director alerted authorities that something was amiss.” Pastor Taylor closed his eyes and continued.

  “The relatives of the other teachers and I were notified by the American Embassy that the group had been kidnapped and were being held hostage. Embassy officials thought the bandits wanted money. I was struggling to make ends meet and didn’t have much, but I was willing to beg or borrow to get my wife home. Of course, the U.S. government didn’t want to negotiate with criminals. The other teachers’ spouses and parents and I did all we could do: turn to God.” Pastor Taylor opened his eyes then, and made eye contact with each man in the circle.

  “We held daily prayer vigils, and each of us had our extended family praying around the country. We held press conferences and asked for other Americans to support us however they could to get these five citizens home. We asked God to deliver our relatives, as a sign that he was in control and that he still worked miracles. I believed in my heart that this was absolutely going to happen. Farrah was going to come home and she’d have a powerful testimony to share.

  “But a week after the bandits took over the place, we learned that she and the others had been tied up and tossed in a river. These criminals murdered my wife and the others to send America a message that the United States’ disdain for the needs of the Thai people would no longer be tolerated. It was all over the news, if any of you were watching and listening about two decades ago.”

  Pastor Taylor’s missionary wife had been murdered? Reuben felt sucker-punched. He could tell that the other men who hadn’t heard this story, including Max, were stunned too.

  “The Thai government allowed officials from the American Embassy to retrieve the bodies, but the bandits were never caught. I buried my wife and became consumed with anger. I had a crisis of faith after that.” Pastor Taylor stared off into space. “Here I was in seminary and I couldn’t get a prayer through to God? Something was very wrong with this picture.”

  He eyed each of the men. “How many of you have found yourself in that spot, in a place where you’re trusting God, pleading with God, to make things right, and he seems deaf?”

  A few of the older men raised their hands and shook their heads as memories consumed them.

  Tim, who had read part of the biblical passage, raised his hand and bowed his head.

  Max’s hand went up, and Reuben found himself slowly raising his too.

  “Were the students killed too, Pastor Taylor?” one of the younger men asked.

  Pastor Taylor shook his head. “That’s the victory, son. I’m heading there,” he said, and resumed his story. “I was heartbroken, just devastated, after Farrah’s death. She and I had met during our freshman year of college, dated throughout and waited two years after graduation to get married, so that we could be sure we were ready. We had just bought our first house, a tiny place that Farrah had made as lovely as she could on our limited budget. She was the light there, and in my life. I just didn’t think I could go on.

  “I took a leave of absence from seminary and went to work full-time for the shelter as the assistant director,” Pastor Taylor said. “I’m not really sure I helped anyone in those days, because I was bitter and disillusioned, just going through the motions. And then one Wednesday morning, about a year after I buried Farrah, I arrived home from work and sat in my car, feeling paralyzed.” Pastor Taylor looked off into space, as if reliving that day in his mind.

  “I just didn’t think I could go into that house that still so heavily bore my wife’s presence, and not go off on this so-called gracious God. I got out of the car and retrieved my mail, but got back in the car to open and read it, instead of going inside.

  “Well, lo and behold, there was a letter there from the director of the orphanage in Thailand, the very place where my Farrah had gone to minister. It was written to me and to the families of the other victims. The director, who happened to be a Christian minister, described how the six students who had been with our relatives during their captivity were returned to the orphanage unharmed, but changed forever.

  “During the week they had spent as hostages with our relatives, they saw the women singing worship songs and praises to God. They asked Farrah and the others how they could have such peace when they were in such danger, and the women shared with the kids why they trusted God and would love him no matter what.

  “Apparently, this blew the kids’ minds. When Farrah and the others were led away to the river, the teenagers were dropped off just outside the orphanage and warned to forget everything they saw and heard. But most of them couldn’t forget, and didn’t want to.

  “The letter shared how, within a year of the incident, all six of them had professed a commitment to serve Christ because of the faith they had witnessed in Farrah and her friends. All of them wanted to work in ministry somehow, whether professionally or as volunte
ers, wherever they could transform lives.

  “When I finished the letter, it all clicked for me.” Pastor Taylor brought his hands together. “I wanted God to answer my prayer and let Farrah live. I felt like he had let me down. Instead, I eventually realized that he had used Farrah’s life to show a group of impressionable teens how to live. Because of their experience with these teachers who professed a love for Christ and never faltered, those kids began spreading the gospel among their peers—in the orphanage and at school, and wherever life took them, despite the dangers of doing so. I’ve prayed over the years that all of them are still to this day somewhere giving others hope.”

  Joe Hartley shook his head. “I don’t know, Pastor. That seems like a pretty big sacrifice. I mean, I love your current wife, First Lady Marlayne, but to lose your first wife like that, whew! And what does that have to do with this Scripture? Hezekiah asked God to let him live longer and his wish was granted—he got fifteen more years!”

  Pastor Taylor smiled wryly. “There was a time when I felt as you do, Brother Joe. Actually, I still do on some days. But when I look at this Scripture and consider the fact that God granted Hezekiah’s request, I see it as a bonus. Like the unearned grace and mercy we’re granted when we mess up or knowingly sin and don’t suffer dire consequences.

  “God loves us and wants to give us his best, and when we ask in faith and obedience, he usually honors our requests. The key is for us to know what his will is for our lives and to operate inside that purpose.

  “Honestly, it’s easy to question why a good and just God would let innocent people, who were in a foreign land trying to serve him, be mistreated and murdered. How is that a reward? But because he knows all and sees all, we have to trust that he’s maneuvering even where evil exists and working everything out for our good.” Pastor Taylor made eye contact with the men again.

  “So when we pray, we want to be as earnest and as sincere and as obedient as Hezekiah, but we also want to be inside God’s will, at every turn. And that’s the true challenge—knowing when he wants us to move and when he wants us to stand still. Knowing when to ask for a miracle and when to accept that what seems like our worst experience can, in God’s timing, yield the greatest of victories.