Chasing Christmas

by Steven Hunt

  The picturesque angel stole Jane’s breath and kept her eyes from diverting away.

  Pastor Joseph produced a remote from his pocket and pressed a button. Bright lights flickered on.

  A sudden glare from the overhead lamps broke the spell. Jane averted her eyes from the angel despite the strong desire to look again. A sense of peace had washed over her as she gazed upon the cherub.

  “Oh, Mrs. Whitaker, I didn’t recognize you.” He grinned. “What brings you and…um…” His eyes shifted to Mandy.

  “Pastor Joseph, this is my daughter, Mandy.” She sneaked a quick glance at the angel.

  Perfect ivory teeth flashed with his smile as he extended his hand. “Oh, that’s right. Let’s see…Mandy Whitaker…basketball and track. I also believe that the high school coach is expecting great things from you over the next four years.”

  “Yes, but how do you—” Mandy dropped her gaze to the floor.

  Joseph bent over so his and Mandy’s faces were aligned on the same level. “I try to take in all the middle and high school sporting events. Not much else to do around here, you know.” He winked at her.

  He straightened to his full height. “I apologize for my appearance. I wasn’t ’specting any visitors.” He brushed invisible dirt from his sleeves and overalls.

  Joseph stepped close enough to place one of his strong hands on Jane’s arm. “I heard about Teddy. I’m sorry for your loss.” He squeezed before releasing his grip. “News gets around quickly in a small town, you know. I assume you’re here to make arrangements?”

  “Arrangements?” Jane asked, her eyebrows peaking.

  “Loss?” Mandy asked at the same time, her eyes widening.

  The shade of Joseph’s face reddened. “I…uh…assumed you’re here to make funeral plans.”

  “My dad’s not dead!” Mandy shouted. Her hands formed fists at her side as she glared at the young pastor.

  “Shhh!” Jane said to her. “Remember your manners and where you are.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.” Joseph looked around while tugging at his collar.

  “Maybe we should go,” Jane said, glancing toward the door.

  “No, please. You came here for a reason. Don’t punish us for my ignorance.”

  “Us?” Mandy asked, still looking at him with cold eyes.

  Joseph nodded. “Yes. You and your mom for the reason you came. Me for missing the opportunity to help in whatever way I can. If you leave, I’d feel uncomfortable from this day forward every time I saw either of you. And if you left, I would not be able to prove how truly sorry I am.”

  Jane glanced at Mandy before nodding. “You’re forgiven, pastor.”

  Joseph wiped his brow. “Whew! I admit I was worried for a moment.”

  “Pastor Joseph, this is serious!” Mandy scolded. Jane noticed a vein protruding from the middle of her forehead. Just like her dad, she thought.

  Mandy continued, “My dad’s in trouble, and we need to help him. So can you, please, refrain from trying to make jokes? I don’t know, maybe act your age?”

  “Mandy!” Jane exclaimed.

  “No, Mrs. Whitaker, she’s right.” He turned to Mandy. “Of course. I was wrong. When I get nervous I say stupid things. Even pastors are human. Forgive me. Again.” After Mandy nodded—Jane could tell by her daughter’s hesitation that she was reluctant to forgive him—Joseph motioned for them to sit on a pew as he positioned himself one row in front of them. “Please tell me how I can help.”

  Jane described Teddy’s mood changes over the past months, the insomnia that kept him up throughout the night, his lack of appetite, and the deputy’s conversation with them. Once she finished she said, “I’ve been told that you’re knowledgeable about depression. Do you think you can help us?”

  Joseph pushed his glasses up on his nose. “What exactly do you want to know?”

  “Anything that will help us find my husband.”

  “Hmm. Well, the first thing you must understand is that major depression—and that sounds like what you’ve described—can be fatal.” He held an open palm toward them before they could panic. “I’m not saying that Teddy is suicidal, but depression is a serious mental illness and one that shouldn’t be taken lightly. I don’t mean to scare you, but that’s the hard truth.” He dropped his hands in his lap. “While psychiatrists have yet to determine what causes depression, they all agree that it’s a mental disorder brought on by a series of low moods, low self-esteem, and a loss of interest or pleasure. The good news is that major depression is treatable and does not need to be a death sentence. Most people who suffer are treated with medication, usually some form of antidepressant. However, the problem here is we don’t know where Teddy is, so the antidepressant route is moot at this time.”

  He shifted. “By what you’ve told me, I believe Teddy suffers from a combination of two specifiers of depression: melancholic and seasonal. Melancholic is characterized by excessive guilt—most likely brought on by the death of his parents, the loss of his business, the bank’s intention to foreclose on your home, and the overall feelings that he’s not able to adequately provide for his family. Keep in mind that I’m guessing these are the items contributing to his depression since he’s not here to speak for himself.”

  He tilted his head, stretching his neck. “Seasonal depression is common around the holidays and usually ends with warmer weather.”

  When Joseph paused Jane noticed “O Holy Night” softly playing through the church’s speaker system. The music must have started when Joseph turned on the lights with his remote. She sighed, allowing the tension in her neck to melt away. Something about this place—and that angel—led her to believe that everything would be OK.

  Joseph continued, “Fortunately, most people who suffer from depression find that their episodes will resolve over time whether or not they seek treatment, with the usual time being twenty-three weeks. Being active and maintaining a positive atmosphere help eliminate the crippling attitudes of unworthiness and failure.”

  “Twenty-three weeks? Why so long?” Mandy asked.

  Joseph looked at Mandy. “Good question. Some people—with counseling and medication—can overcome the negative feelings in a much shorter time. But that takes cooperation from the individual and a lot of hard work from family and friends. The twenty-three weeks is only an average.”

  He turned to Jane. “But you want to know what you can do now, correct?”

  She nodded.

  “OK. This will not be easy to hear and even harder to say. The straight answer is nothing. Not without Teddy physically being here. If he were, we could help him with counseling, medication, and regular exercise. A support team—the family, counselor, doctor, and church family—assist the healing process by keeping the depressed individual on an uplifting path.”

  “So there’s nothing we can do now?” Mandy leaned forward.

  Joseph shook his head. “We can pray. Other than that, I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do. You can’t heal a sick person without the person. When he’s found, then we can get to work and do all the right things to get him healthy again.”

  Jane felt the hole in her heart widen. The peace she’d felt only moments before faded. Her neck tightened. She couldn’t just sit around and wait, doing nothing. If patience was a virtue, it was one she’d missed entirely.

  “How will praying help?” Mandy asked. “Praying didn’t keep my grandparents from dying. It didn’t keep my dad’s business from failing. It didn’t help when we almost lost our house. So how will it help now?”

  “I don’t have the answers you want to hear, Mandy. All I know is that we need to elevate our faith and allow God to work.”

  “Faith? You’re kidding me, right? How’s what I believe gonna help my dad?”

  “Faith is not just what you believe. There’s no action in the whats. Heaven and hell are whats. They’re real, but in and of themselves they don’t contain any action because they’re just places. Their actions come from wit
hin the location. We accept that hell is a place of fire, brimstone, and torture while heaven is…well, paradise. The very presence of God is heaven. Without Him what would heaven be? Just another place. God fills heaven with immeasurable joy for the forgiven. The action of hell is suffering for those who did not seek forgiveness for their sins.

  “In your dad’s situation it’s important that you believe in something—or Someone—you cannot see but you know is real. Our faith should be that you believe God will lead your dad home. Your belief should be that God has already taken action to guide your father’s steps to your door. It may not be a fast as you and I wish, but God’s timing is always perfect. That, Mandy, is elevating your faith.

  “As for the terrible things your dad and your family have had to endure recently, I don’t have an answer and I wouldn’t dare question God’s plan and decisions. I know when people are faced with similar trials, faith can seem meaningless. Just because our belief wavers doesn’t mean God’s love for us wavers. We, as humans, are the weak link in this relationship. Not God. He is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow. We just need to find the way to overcome our disbelief and trust Him again.”

  Joseph’s comments were not what Jane had hoped. She wasn’t sure what she wanted other than a simple fix; a direction to target her zeal.

  Another concern for Jane was Mandy’s recent bad attitude. It weighed on her almost as much as Teddy’s disappearance. While it was obvious that Mandy disagreed with Pastor Joseph, Jane knew when her daughter had reached her limit. Now was the time to leave before Mandy became vocal with her opinions; before she morphed into an erupting volcano, spewing her hot lava of disapproval.

  Jane stood, extending her hand. “I think we need to be on our way. Thank you for your time, Pastor.” As Joseph shook her hand, she glanced at Mandy. The muscles in her daughter’s jaw were taut as she glowered at Joseph. “Maybe we can talk again sometime?”

  “It’ll be my pleasure. I’d like to know when Teddy comes home. Maybe I can be some assistance to him then.”

  “That would be nice. OK, let’s go, Mandy.”

  Mandy walked toward the door without delay.

  As Jane turned to follow, Joseph called her name. She watched her daughter slip through the door before facing him.

  Using his long legs to narrow the gap, Joseph soon stood in front of her. “Your daughter’s carrying a lot of anger. It’s not good for her.”

  “I know. Her father’s disappearance came at the worst possible time.”

  “It may be more than that. I’m concerned about her. Call me if I can help or she just wants someone other than her mom to talk to. Day or night.”

  “I’m worried too, but let me get through one crisis at a time. OK, Pastor?”

  He folded his hands in front of him as he nodded. She could tell by the way his mouth set that he wanted to say more, but stopped short.

  Pastor Joseph’s comments echoed through her mind as she stepped into the cold, Missouri air. What had gotten into Mandy lately? She wasn’t normally this rude. Could more than her father’s disappearance be bothering her? Something deeper as Pastor Joseph suspected? Even after admitting to sneaking out and popping who-knows-what kind of pills, Mandy had not been this rude.

  Jane rubbed her neck.

  Life hadn’t been easy the past few months for any of them. Their lives had changed so much. Teddy’s disappearance could be the very thing that broke her strength and her spirit.

  How would Mandy cope if both of her parents fell to depression?

  Jane hated to think about it.

  7

  “So, tell me, how do you plan to help me?” The question lingered in the air. It was a simple question. But when Christy didn’t answer Teddy continued, “I can’t see how a small, young girl can help with all that has happened.” Teddy’s back muscles had relaxed enough so he could stand, although somewhat crooked, which he did when he wasn’t pacing the confines of the boxcar.

  “Your eyes will be open to what I can do in due time.” Christy continued to sit on the hay bale, as he walked from one wall to another. “As for my age, do not allow your mind to settle on the fact that I look ten years of age. You see me as a young girl because that is the image your mind needs to see. It is the image that is most appealing and the least threatening to you and one that will allow you to listen openly with your heart.”

  Teddy stopped. “What does that mean? Are you saying that you’re not ten years old?”

  “I am many things to many people.”

  Teddy scratched his head. “So you’re an image my mind has created? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

  “No. I am real as real can be. To you, I am a real ten-year-old girl. To another, I might be a forty-year-old man. And to another, I might appear to be a sixty-year-old woman. It is the appearance your heart must see in order to promote understanding. Any image other than the one your heart has formed would be useless in your situation.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t get it. How is this possible? The last time I checked I was unable to change my appearance, so how is it possible with you? And if this is true, why not an image of someone my heart yearns to see? Like my brother who was killed in Desert Storm? Or my mother?”

  “The outcome of seeing a favorite person from your past would be disbelief. It would not serve our needs. If your brother or mother stood before you now would you truly believe it was them? Knowing that they died? Would you listen and believe them or would your mind be confused knowing they had already died? No, my appearance is for the best.”

  He studied her. If it was true that she could be seen as any age, race, and gender to other people, what did that make her? An angel? Bah! He clamped his eyes closed, chasing the thought away. Angels and ghosts weren’t real. Maybe she was exactly how she looked—a ten-year-old girl with mental issues.

  But then there were many things about her he couldn’t explain. Like her presence in his boxcar. And the clothes that never seemed to get dirty.

  And the light.

  This is ridiculous, he thought. Why would a spirit come to his aid? Like the rest of society, he’d fallen into a world of visualization where people refused to believe anything they could not see. And even then, that didn’t prevent them from questioning what they had seen.

  He knelt in front of her, grimacing from the pain in his back as he placed his injured hand gently on her knee. With a soft voice, he said, “Christy…honey…I think I understand what you’re saying…and it sounds to me like you’re the one with the problem. Has your father taken you to a doctor recently? One who played games with you and asked a bunch of questions? Maybe you went to his office instead of a hospital?”

  She smiled, resting a small hand on top of his. “Teddy, I know you do not believe me, and that is OK. You will soon enough. But I am not sick. It is you that Father and I are concerned about. We can help, if you allow us.”

  Teddy stood, stretching his back and legs. He turned away from her, choosing to continue his pacing.

  “When you were a young boy, did you not enjoy visiting your uncle?”

  “Yes, but what—How do you know—”

  “And what did your uncle do?” she interrupted.

  “He preached at a small, country church.”

  “And why did you enjoy going to this church?”

  “Because my uncle was so passionate and energetic about his sermons; about his beliefs. Exciting, I guess. I always imagined myself—” He stopped pacing. “What does—”

  “Was he passionate and energetic about the sermons or the subject of his preaching?”

  Teddy shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess the subject. Uncle Bud was the best man I’ve ever known. Honest and loving and full of peace. I never saw him raise his voice in anger although he wasn’t shy about scolding us kids on the front row.” He chuckled. “He always thought a few words of encouragement benefited a person more than yelling.”

  His uncle—a man of short stature with a full head
of soft, puffy white hair—appeared in his mind’s eye. If he watched the image long enough, maybe he might be able to hear his uncle’s southern drawl.

  “So he believed in the Truth?” Christy’s question snapped the image.

  Teddy smiled. “I remember him singing hymns when he worked as a freelance painter. Rural Oklahoma in those days was tough. It was a very poor state so everyone had to do a little extra something-something to make ends meet.”

  He walked closer to her. “When my uncle wasn’t painting houses or building storage sheds, he dedicated his time to teaching the children—my cousins and I—life lessons. Not the birds and the bees or how to balance a checkbook, but other practical things that would help us along in life. He told us Bible stories and applied them to the lesson he wanted us to learn.” Teddy crossed his arms over his chest. “Good days.” His eyes focused on Christy. “So yes, I would say he believed in the Truth.”

  “And this Truth, could he see it?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  “So you are saying that your uncle believed in something he could not see. He had faith in the Truth.”

  “It’s not the same.”

  “Sure it is. On July 16, 1969, Neil Armstrong was the first man to walk on the moon. Did you see it?”

  Teddy smiled as he nodded. “Mrs. Mayberry, my kindergarten teacher, had a television brought into our classroom so we could watch it live. She said history was being made and it would be a day we’d never forget. That, too, was a good day.”

  “But did you see it personally? Were you on the moon with Neil Armstrong?”

  “Well, no, but—”

  “You did not see it with your own eyes, but through a television, yet you still believed it happened. That is faith. You do not think that the television networks lied to you by staging an elaborate display in order to deceive the whole world, do you? You do not believe Mrs. Mayberry lied to you, do you? You trusted her, right?”