I loved.
I love. In a bigger, broader way than I ever have before. I realized Lark was right. God wants us to care for the poor and the lonely and the sick, not just for their sake, but for ours. Because in this, we become like Him, growing a bigger heart than we ever thought possible.
It wanted to burst from my body.
I wanted to tell everybody. I wanted to shout it from the housetops. God makes it all work together, folks! It’s redemption time, and will you come to the well and drink deep? You’ll get far more than you could ever give. Don’t die in the desert of your Christian radio, Pottery Barn lives.
A cop pulled me over on the way home, and I swear he thought I was drunk, the way I was smiling.
“Do you know how many times you swerved over the lines, ma’am?”
“No.”
“Five times to the right, four to the left. I thought you were drunk.”
“I’m on my way home from volunteering at the homeless shelter.” Would that extend me a warning and not a ticket?
He shifted his feet. “It’s obvious you’re not intoxicated, ma’am, but I must say, your driving is atrocious.”
Well, I could have told him that!
I couldn’t wait to tell Jimmy about it. And Mo. Oh yeah, he’d get a good laugh.
THIRTY-FOUR
Jolly has been delivering something from his autumn garden or his orchard every day. He’s trying so hard to get over Helen, or at least to find a place to set his feet between the time they hit the floor in the morning and rise above it at night. He and Will are establishing a poetic friendship. An old man, a child, and so much to figure out on both of their parts.
I actually found time last night to read some Dylan Thomas.
Sister J thinks Jolly grows the best peppers she’s ever tasted. I told him folks at the Hotel don’t get enough produce, and Jolly scratched his cheek and said, “That so? Well, I believe I can help out a bit there.” He’s already planning a vegetable garden twice the size next year.
Jace fell in bed last night and said, “Well, Bonnie’s ecstatic we’re even thinking about it.”
“What did she say about Will and me?”
“Not a problem as long as she can put you to work too.”
“That’s Bonnie all right. Nicola’s going to have a fit.”
“They’re quite the number, huh?” He doubles his pillow and shoves it under his neck.
“Definitely.”
“So it’s looking quite dotty around here. You almost finished categorizing?”
“Yep.”
“And then what?”
“I’m going to put all the yellow stuff in one room and reevaluate the blue and green.”
“What about the house?” he asks.
“What do you mean?”
“Blue dot or green?”
“I think you know the answer to that.”
“You want to start looking for something else?”
“Not yet. I was thinking that a tennis court would be a good investment for resale.”
“What?”
“Just kiddin’, sweets. Just kiddin’.”
* * *
I’m always shocked and overcome with thankfulness when Will walks in the door after school in one piece. The lady I carpool with, well, let’s just say that if my bad driving is a cup of Folgers, hers is a triple espresso. She ran over Will’s foot last week! Of course, he thought it was hilarious.
“It didn’t hurt at all, Mom. No harm, no foul, right?”
Normally we meet in the kitchen, break open a bag of chips, and munch for a while. He tells me about his day, and I listen. Then homework time.
Can I say I haven’t been this happy in years? I’m watching my family with new eyes, new hope, my own sense of purpose, present and future, mingling with theirs like the hands of long-lost friends clasped in reunion at the train station. And I’m so thankful these days! Put yourself on the thin edges of society, and you’ll see how paunchy you really are!
The garage door slides up. Will’s home.
He sets his backpack in the middle of the floor and starts taking off his shoes.
“Bud, how long has it been since you’ve changed your socks?”
“I don’t know. Can I have a soda?”
“Sure. How’s Nicola?”
“Unbelievable. Man, Mom, she’s perfect.”
Ah, remember the days?
“Why don’t you invite her over tomorrow? We’ll cook out. I don’t have anything going on.”
“Cool.” He swigs his Sprite. “You know, it’s been kinda nice not being caught up in church so much like we used to be.”
“I know. But I kinda miss it, don’t you?”
“Some. You know, I think Miss Laney’s getting tired of the rat race too. Maybe we can do something with them or something? I mean, the woman has her PhD in the Bible! We could learn a lot from her, you know?”
“You’re a genius.”
* * *
Jace helps me with the dishes, our butts sort of swaying in tandem in front of the kitchen counters, and we catch up on our week. He usually swings home a little early on Fridays and we eat a family meal together. Will made homemade ravioli along with a homemade mess.
I turn on the tap and start scrubbing the pans. We work together in silence, listening to Will practice his trumpet. He has a very mellow tone and could play jazz, I’ll bet, if he wasn’t such a rock ’n’ roller stuck in the ’70s like his father.
“I’ve been thinking,” I say a few minutes later.
“About what?” Jace scrubs the spattered cooktop.
“I need to go away for a little while.”
“Again?”
I look at him sharply. Turn back to my task. “I need to find Mary Andrews. Xavier was last in Minnesota. But he’s in a remote area. The Boundary Waters. Ever heard of that area?”
“Great fishing spot. I went there in college. Hon, what good is this going to do?”
“It’s Will. This year has been a turnaround. He’s doing well, the stupid jerks are leaving him alone, he has the fair Nicola. I’ve got to make it up to Mary if she’s not all right.”
“Maybe you’ll just open up old wounds.”
“I’ve got to do this. Isn’t there anything big in your life you regret, Jace? Things you wish you’d never done?”
“Not really, hon. But I can think of a lot of things I regret that I should have done, but didn’t.”
“Please understand this.”
“Go ahead, then, hon.”
“Just think, in a year from now, Jace, we might be sailing on a big old boat.”
“I can hardly believe it,” he whispers in my hair.
I wonder how many Jaces are out there. Men and women held behind in their calling because their spouses hold on to their ankles in one way or another, refusing to let them step out.
* * *
She pushes a light brown dreadlock crisscrossed with some kind of yarn over her shoulder. “And so I just parked my butt right there in the middle of the road. Almost got hit by a coal truck as it rounded the bend. And man, did he give me what for! Cussed me up one side and down the other, and I gave it right back to him.”
I’m chopping onions and listening to Ashley talk about her latest protest. Her partner, Scott, stands there listening. He’s the quiet one.
And talk about liberal! Oh my gosh! I swear, they’re practically communists. Carmen would have a field day. But here they stand next to me chopping carrots at the Hotel.
I always thought people like this were evil. That’s what the radio guys say. Well, sort of.
Then she starts in on her religious convictions. Or non-religious convictions. “God’s doing a poor job if there is a god. Look at this earth! It’s a stink-hole!”
She just keeps on chopping.
“Don’t you think man’s made it that way?” I ask, thinking that’s a pretty good question.
“Of course I do! Which is why there can’t be a god, if this g
od won’t lift a finger to do anything about it.”
I shake my head. “Why are you here, then? If it’s all so pointless?”
“I didn’t say it was pointless. We got ourselves into this mess. We’re going to have to get ourselves out of it.”
I’ve met more than one Ashley down here. I ask Sister J about it before I leave.
“What do you make of that?”
She sits down in her chair and settles a worn copy of the Douay-Rheims on her lap. “That’s the crazy thing. Here God’s using her to make things better, and she doesn’t realize it.”
“But God’s using her nevertheless.”
“He’s not as choosy as some people tend to think He is. I’ve seen it over and over again down here. Frish, but I never turn away a pair of helping hands. It would be like turning away Jesus. And Ashley’s a good person, doll. She needs to keep her mouth shut more than she does, but she’s young. She’ll learn someday the world isn’t hanging by a thread waiting to hear what she thinks.”
“That’s a good attitude to have.”
“We can’t be picky here. And God’s got Ashley here to be served as well as to serve. We can’t forget Jesus shows up in all sorts of forms, even in people that don’t give a rat about Him.” She opens her Bible. “So we haven’t had cake in a while.”
“I’ll take that as an order.”
“You bet. If that’s what it takes. Now let me share this verse with you. Have a seat. ‘I thank my God upon every remembrance of you.’” She looks up. “You’re doing a good job, Heather.”
It was all I needed, just for her to take a little notice.
Yeah, I’m not that holy yet.
THIRTY-FIVE
Carmen corners me in the bathroom at Will’s first band concert of the year. “Hey, freshman moms are doing a lunch bunch on third Tuesdays this year. Do you want to come?”
Don’t these people have anything better to do with their time? “I can’t. I volunteer downtown on Tuesdays.” Drat, why Tuesday?
Brenda, who lives about a mile from me, applies a fresh coat of lip gloss. “Oh, come on! You can skip for one day, can’t you?”
“Well, there’s this girl down there. Krista. She and I always sit together for a while and talk. And I hate to let her down.”
Laney, gorgeous Laney with five kids tucked in a town house, rubs my arm. “You knock ’em dead down there.”
“Can we do it another day? My schedule is clear every day but Tuesdays and Thursdays.”
Brenda purses her lips. “Let me work on that. Maybe next month we can switch it.”
I head out of the bathroom, and Krista steps forward, looking scared and out of place. I invited her to go out to dinner with us and head to the concert. “Ready to go in?” I ask.
She nods. “Can I take this coffee in?” She holds up the cup.
“Sure. Let me get one before we sit down.” The Booster Club is selling refreshments, and God bless those parents! They’re hard-core.
A few minutes later we sit near the front at Krista’s request. “I want to tell my grandmom everything about tonight. She be so happy I’m actually out with good Christian people.”
A white turtleneck covers the “Playgirl” tattoo.
I grieve for her if her definition of good Christian people includes me!
* * *
The phone rings Sunday night. “Heather, it’s Laney. Let’s go out for coffee. I’ve got to get out of this house. These kids are about to drive me nuts.”
I can see her standing there, her strawberry blond hair pulled back in a clippie, a sponge in her hand as she swirls it on the counter.
“Sure. I want to run something by you anyway. Wanna meet somewhere?”
“I’ll come pick you up.”
An hour later we’re sitting at Starbucks. Yuck. But hey, this chai latte is pretty good! I may have to start coming here if they serve drinks like this.
“Thanks for doing this, Heather. I swear, I was about to become abusive.”
Okay, so Laney doesn’t wear a mask, and I love that about her.
“I’ve been there. Will went through the most horrible stage at seven. If you can’t tell, he can be a little self-righteous.”
“A little?”
“I know. But it would be worse if he didn’t care about things. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.”
We both sip our drinks.
“Look, Heather. There’s been some talk among the women at school about you.”
“I figured. Carmen especially, right?”
“Nothing bad. They’re just worried.”
“Really? None of them have come to me with these concerns. Except Carmen. Which isn’t surprising.”
“That’s for sure. Carmen says it like she sees it.”
“I mean if they were worried about me, wouldn’t you think one of them would come talk to me?”
“Oh yeah! Definitely.”
“I mean, it wasn’t like we were all the best of friends or anything.”
“Oh, please. It’s a gossipfest. I’m not worried about you, but I want to hear what’s going on with you down there.”
“I just didn’t want to wear my good deeds on my sleeve. I mean, you’re the Bible expert; you know more than anyone it’s not what I’m supposed to do.”
“Well, I’m asking you, then. As your friend. I’ve been praying for you ever since you started volunteering.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I can’t believe it either. I’m not much of a pray-er, if you want to know the truth. I mean, I can go for several days and it’s like ‘Shoot! I haven’t prayed in forever!’ But God just keeps you on my mind.”
So I tell her everything. The good, the bad, the boring. The funny and the sad. “You know what, it’s the times that make me laugh and the times that make me cry that keep me going down there.”
“Shoot. It’s like that raising children.”
“Definitely.”
“Only nobody’s going to end up in a shrink’s chair someday if you don’t show up. Well, I’m happy for you. I think it’s great. I figured you must be doing okay at it since your crazy calls stopped.”
Laney’s right. Interesting. “Sorry about those.”
“Are you kidding? I loved them! Actually, if I didn’t have all these kids, I’d be right there with you.”
“You’ve got your own ‘least of these’ right now, Laney.”
She shakes her head and picks up a napkin.
“There’s another reason I’m staying away. I’ve become so judgmental inside. I see all these women who have everything in life, and not only do they not reach out past the gates of the country club, but they act so miserable and wounded all the time. Like they’re victims or something when God is blessing their socks off. Believe me, I’m one of them and I’m trying to change, but it’s so easy to fall back into the habit.”
“I know.”
“It’s hard for me to hide my feelings, so I just stay away.”
“Yeah, but when you do that, it’s easier to objectify these women. And they’re people too. With their own pain.”
“You’re right, Laney. I know that.”
“And you know, maybe some of them would actually like to help out too. Have you thought about asking them?”
“I did wonder if anybody would want to help paint the main room, but I didn’t want to impose on them. Everybody’s always so busy.”
She begins rolling up the napkin. “I think it’s worth a shot. You can’t blame people for being farther back in the journey than you are, Heather. I mean, it took a kangaroo to get you on the road, for heaven’s sake!”
Mercy, she’s right.
“Maybe, Heather, you’re supposed to be our kangaroo.”
“Well, if that’s the case, you’re going to have to step up your prayers, Laney. I mean ‘pray without ceasing.’ ”
“I can’t do much outside the home, but I can pray. If I remember to. Man, don’t you wish all this was easy? Some
people make it look so easy.”
“I honestly don’t think it’s easy for anybody. Some people are better actors than others.”
She drops me off at home fifteen minutes later, and I hug her as we sit in the car. “Thanks for reaching out, Laney.”
“Hey, you gave me a good excuse to get out for a good cup of coffee.”
“No really. You have no idea how much I needed that. I’ve been isolating myself, I know that. I just have to learn to navigate these new waters.”
“Well, you’re not alone. Hey, and you pray for me too, okay?”
“I will.”
See, it’s like this. When God shows up, you never know what form He’s going to take. But when it’s Him, if you’re at all awake, you know it.
“Laney, I’ve been meaning to call and ask you this. What would you think about our families starting a house church? Will came up with the idea, and it’s all the rage, you know.”
She barks out a laugh.
“Think about it. We shouldn’t let your education go to waste a second longer than we have to.”
She grips the steering wheel. “Really? Are you serious?”
“Definitely. Jace thinks it’s a good idea too.”
“Wow. I mean”—she presses her hand to her forehead—“I mean, I just figured God didn’t want me to . . . well, didn’t want me anymore . . . to serve Him like that . . . Oh, I don’t know what I’m even saying, Heather.”
She cries a cupful of very complicated tears.
* * *
I wave Laney off and turn toward the side of the house and the entrance in the breezeway between the kitchen and the garage. Someone sits on the porch bench.
“Jolly?”
“Hello there, Heather.” His voice sounds sanded thin.
“Are you all right?”
“I just brought over some apples.” He holds up a bucket. “And I just can’t go home. I can’t go back there, I miss her so badly.”
He’s been crying again. For a long time if I’m not mistaken.
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