Hearing Jesus (Seeing Jesus Book 2)

by Jeffrey McClain Jones

Gladys relayed that odd statement to Katie and then asked the obvious question. “What rules are you talking about?”

  “Grownups generally live by lots of rules. Most of those rules are ones people choose for themselves.” He was looking at Gladys, but glanced at Katie as he spoke. When he paused, Gladys guessed that she was supposed to relay his words again.

  When he continued, he said, “But, for me, rules don’t apply. I don’t need any rules.”

  Her mind set on the pancakes, Gladys just relayed Jesus’s words, without asking for clarification.

  Finally, Jesus brought his comment full circle.

  “So, I seem childlike, because I don’t wait for rules and expectations. Children are born innocent of these things, they only learn to live by rules from the world they’re born into.”

  When Katie heard this final stanza of Jesus’s little lesson, she nodded vigorously. “Oh, I see. He’s saying that he likes to just stand and watch you, ‘cause he doesn’t feel like he has to do some work to be responsible, like adults are always telling you to be. Kids are better at just hanging out,” she said.

  Gladys was happy for Katie’s contribution, because she had no idea what Jesus was trying to say. Even when Katie finished, Gladys felt like this was something for Jesus and Katie alone, not for her, an old woman, who had obeyed the rules all her life. All she really knew was obeying rules.

  Jesus answered her thoughts. “Like not pushing to see Bethany, because you know it goes against Bill’s expectations and Victoria’s rules.”

  Gladys didn’t translate this to Katie. She set the pancakes on the table and pulled out her chair, feeling like Jesus had just stepped over the line from wise sayings to meddling. After Gladys prayed a blessing over the food, Katie asked to be included in what was going on now between Jesus and Gladys.

  Katie knew only vaguely of her cousin Bethany, and was aware that Gladys had never been allowed to see her second youngest granddaughter. Already tuned in better to what Jesus was saying about rules, when she heard what Jesus had said about Bethany, Katie felt she understood his point.

  “He thinks you should go and see Bethany, when you get a chance, even if it’s not what her mother wants,” Katie said.

  “Yes, I could tell that. But I don’t have any idea how that could be possible,” Gladys said.

  “It will be possible next month, when she’s in Chicago for a music competition,” Jesus said. “She’s an excellent pianist, competing for a national award. You could go see her. It’s open to the public.”

  This information slowed Katie from inhaling the pancakes and sausage, when Gladys relayed it. It also completely stopped Gladys from eating. She stared at Jesus, taking in the revelation he had given Gladys.

  Even as she sat there staring, she already knew that she would try to do just what Jesus was suggesting.

  Focused back on breakfast with her granddaughter, and plans for Easter Sunday, Gladys enjoyed the rest of the morning, even getting dressed up for the special holiday service. She was free from fretting about the handicapped parking being all taken up, ready to put some mileage on her new legs. And she was reliving happy times with her kids, dressing up and going out to the annual ritual of Easter service, one Sunday they would not miss, even in the years when church attendance had been scarce.

  Primped, perfumed and shining in new dresses, the two ladies headed out to the car, tunnel focused on getting to church on time. Not until they sat in the car, did Gladys notice that Jesus was also wearing a shinier set of clothes. His oatmeal-colored robe and dull blue coat were replaced by a bleached white robe and fine new coat.

  “What are you wearing?” she said, shock beating every ounce of tact from her voice.

  “My Easter outfit,” Jesus said. His tone clearly implied that she should have known this. “It’s not a day for grave clothes, you know.”

  “That’s not what you were wearing before, grave clothes,” she said, a protest accompanying the ignition, as she turned the key.

  “I love the way you tell it like it is, Gladdy,” Jesus said, with a laugh and a clap, from his place in the back seat.

  “You are too easily amused,” she said.

  Jesus laughed harder, and Gladys started to back down the driveway, interrupting the repartee in order to explain the exchange to Katie. Katie thought it was pretty good, and Gladys got another sample of the sound of Katie and Jesus laughing in unison.

  As expected, the parking lot was nearly full, but Jesus helped out here. “There is a place at the other end of the lot, next to the grass. If you go straight there, you’ll get it.”

  Turning to follow this lead, Gladys explained what she was doing to Katie.

  “Can he do that? I mean, is that fair for him to help us like that?”

  Gladys answered spontaneously. “It must be okay, because he did it. Who’s gonna tell him to behave himself?”

  “Thank you, Gladdy. I appreciate your confidence in me,” Jesus said.

  Approaching the parking space he had revealed to her, Gladys snuck a look at Jesus’s face in the mirror, to read more than words could tell. But, in a way, his face was the hardest to read, at least as she was used to interpreting nonverbal cues. Jesus always looked content, at peace, and totally open, no hint of obfuscation or uncertainty. Though all of that is a clear nonverbal message, in itself, it wasn’t one Gladys was used to translating. Again, she saved this for a later time, concentrating now on squeezing her car between a pair of new SUVs.

  When the three of them got out of the car, Katie naturally took Gladys’s hand. With her purse in her other hand, Jesus had to be satisfied with resting a hand on Gladys’s shoulder, as he walked along opposite Katie. From Gladys's unique perspective on the odd trio, all they needed was a couple of more characters; then Katie would have looked like Dorothy, on her way to see the Wizard. As odd as this trio might seem to the outside observer, if they could see all three of them, that is, Gladys felt perfectly fit into that place between her granddaughter and her savior.

  In the mix of people milling through the church foyer, five minutes before the service, Gladys ran into several people to whom she could introduce Katie. Jesus seemed always to be looming behind her, in the tight crowd, easing her temptation to introduce him to her church family.

  Though she didn’t expect it to stay that way throughout the service, they found three seats together, so Jesus and Katie could sit on each side of Gladys. It was probably not an actual miracle, for there were a scattering of other individual seats left empty by the time the service started, but she was surprised to see Jesus able to keep his chair, not sure what to do if someone asked if the seat was taken.

  This week, instead of a procession, the children stood on stage, in choir formation, with the adult choir behind them, and the band in their usual places. The normally casual style of the members had been upgraded in most cases, including the appearance of a few ties on the men on stage. That reminded Gladys of church in the old days, of course.

  The service opened with a rousing rendition of Jesus Christ is Risen Today, updated with a modern tempo, born of blending the choir with the band. As soon as the music began, Jesus excused himself and headed for the nearest aisle. Gladys watched him scoot past a half dozen people, thinking that one or two of them seemed to be aware of Jesus passing; though, of course, she could have been imagining that. What happened when he reached the aisle nearly knocked Gladys off her feet.

  Gladys had turned to watch the choir, grinning at the cute children, especially. But, when she looked back at Jesus, during the second verse, he seemed larger than she remembered. She fixed her eyes on him, to figure out what was happening, and then knew for certain that he was growing larger with each bar of the song. He also seemed to be producing a golden light, like a rising sun.

  Katie squealed, when Gladys gripped her arm, to keep from falling over, as she looked up at the towering Jesus. He only stopped growing in time to avoid the thirty-foot ceiling.

  Gladys just kept
saying, “Oh, my! Oh, my!”

  Katie practically yelled over the swell of the song. “What is it, Grandma?”

  “It’s Jesus. He’s much much bigger here than he is at my house.”

  Checking the angle of her grandmother’s gaze, Katie realized that Jesus had become much taller, in her eyes. Again she wondered about the propriety.

  “Can he do that? I mean, is that normal, or something?”

  Gladys started to laugh. She was laughing at herself for being shocked at Jesus’s magnification, from human sized to resembling a giant statue of him she had seen on the TV. Of course, she was shaken by how abnormal that seemed. But then, she had to chide herself for thinking that she knew what was normal for him.

  A few dozen people sitting behind Gladys and Katie followed their example, and looked at the ceiling above the aisle. Some expected to see part of the spectacle for the service, a release of white doves, a light show, or something. But they were left questioning each other, when they saw nothing but the golden-stained oak ceiling.

  In contrast to the baffled folks behind her, several people seated along the aisle reacted as if the floor had become electrified. Gladys laughed to see one young man bouncing up and down in place, as well as a woman swinging her hips jubilantly. Most surprising of all, however, was old Eric Swenson rocking back and forth with his hands raised above his head.

  By this time, the giant Jesus in the aisle had spread out his arms and raised his face to the ceiling. Gladys could hear his thunderous laughter over the drums, guitars and choirs. She couldn’t stop laughing in response. Jesus’s joy seeming to rain down on her from his lofty height.

  Katie was watching her grandmother with a mix of concern and amusement. Gladys’s uninhibited laughter reminded Katie of a woman she saw in a park once, a stranger that her big brother explained was drunk. That seemed a funny comparison to Katie and infected her with the contagious laughter.

  When the music died down, and Jim Heskett took the pulpit to greet guests and celebrate the holiday with the usual call and response, Gladys wasn’t the only one restraining laughter. At least, she was trying to restrain her laughter.

  Not looking at the giant Jesus was helping, as Gladys struggled to regain her composure, hunkered down in her seat with both hands over her mouth. She rummaged for tissues in her purse, when her nose began to run, and the tears covered both cheeks.

  The preacher looked in their direction briefly, but seemed to avoid focusing on the disturbance, so he could concentrate on his part in the planned service. Just as Gladys felt that she could settle down, Jim said, “Christ is risen!”

  When the congregation shouted, more loudly than she remembered in previous years, “He is risen, indeed!” Jesus let loose a shout of his own, something between a hoot and a battle cry. This knocked Gladys over sideways, her head resting in Katie’s lap. To Katie this was too funny to resist, and her laughter reignited.

  From where Jim Heskett looked down at the pond of holiday worshippers, little rings rippled the surface, like fish feeding on a summer evening. And, apparently, the biggest fish was swimming right about where Gladys Hight was sitting.

  In a crowd that size, with children present, there were various noises throughout the auditorium. But a large swath of the congregation was aware of the unruly behavior of one septuagenarian and her granddaughter. Jim Heskett urged the music leader to get the next song rolling, to cover over the disruption. For his purposes, this was a good move. The modern song that the band and choir led next, was not nearly so familiar as the opening hymn, and the lower enthusiasm and volume levels of the congregation reflected this.

  Jesus also decided to have mercy on Gladys, and her reputation, for he returned to the size to which she had become accustomed. He contented himself with dancing in the aisle during the upbeat chorus. At one point, Katie watched with fascination, as a pair of preschoolers danced around the area where Gladys had been looking at Jesus. Gladys was careful not to look, determined to get a grip on herself.

  Gladys was sitting up next to Katie, with Jesus seated next to her, by the time the choirs had left the stage. She missed the sight of Jesus dancing with the children in the aisle. She also missed the amused little smirk Jim Heskett cast her way, after the first song. He had already heard a couple of stories about Gladys praying for people in an unusually powerful way, and was not surprised to see her at ground-zero of the commotion on Easter morning.

  She knew, of course, that Jesus could restrain himself, staying a normal human size, sitting placidly next to her in church. But Gladys noted that he had chosen not to tamp down his own joy and excitement, even when he knew she would twirl out of control at the sight.

  Jesus did show more restraint for the rest of the service. Katie, not a regular church attender, enjoyed that service much more than any she could remember. Even if Jesus behaved himself for most of the service, the early excitement, and an always looming potential for more spectacle, sped the time. Gladys fueled that sense of potential, by allowing an occasional fit of muted laughter to bubble up, before getting on top of it again.

  After the benediction, Jesus led the way toward the aisle in which he had danced, not the way they had entered. This resulted in Gladys running right into Eric Swenson. He beamed down at her, his puckery smile and shining round cheeks adding a bit of Santa Clause to that Easter morning.

  “A wonderful service, hey Gladys?” he said, after pausing to allow Gladys and Katie to step into the aisle in front of him.

  Gladys agreed, seconded by Katie. Then Gladys prodded Eric a bit.

  “You looked like you were full of the spirit there early on,” she said, taking a long look at him over her shoulder.

  “I was barely able to contain myself,” he said. “I sorta wish I hadn’t tried so hard.” His eyes showed regret, though his lips still smiled. That look, along with his confession, sent Gladys into another minor fit of laughter.

  She couldn’t have explained the particular trigger for any of these splashes of mirth. She assumed it had something to do with Jesus being present, but couldn’t tell exactly what about that set her to laughing at a given moment. It did occur to her, that it involved more than just seeing Jesus. Something about sharing the joy of Jesus’s presence with others in the congregation, added fuel to the spark she felt with him so clearly present. This drift of self-examination, unusual for Gladys in most circumstances, prevented her from interacting any more with Eric. Instead, she followed Jesus out the sanctuary doors to the foyer, where she and Katie took hands again, and Eric had to wave a goodbye to them from a crush of people pushing toward the coffee bar.

  Jesus wasn’t leading them out the doors to the parking lot, Gladys noted, following him nonetheless, as he zeroed in on Jim Heskett. The pastor was, as usual, shaking hands and exchanging hugs. Like a truck towing a trailer, Jesus swung Gladys right up beside Jim. In turn, Jim seized the opportunity to hug her for longer than most people he greeted that morning. With that long hug, he intended to demonstrate that he wasn’t upset with her disruptions, and fully accepted her in his church. But Jesus added his own agenda, taking Gladys’s contact with Jim as his opportunity to place his hands on the pastor’s shoulders, for the duration of the embrace.

  A startled look passed across Jim’s face, blinking as if recovering from sudden shock. He even looked around Gladys, as if he might be able to steal just one passing reflection of Jesus in the corner of an eye. What he discovered instead, when the next church member shook his hand, was the absence of pain in his right wrist. He had been enduring the handshakes that morning, as sometimes was the case, because of a strained tendon in his wrist. That pain had vanished during his embrace with Gladys. The initial joy at this gracious discovery flipped into a cascade of internal questions, for the pastor, questions raised by a church member who carried Jesus into a Sunday service, and spread joy and healing wherever she went.

  Gladys, Jesus and Katie were out the door by the time Jim had recovered from his musings. He re
turned to his queue of greeters, feeling a micro-burst of gladness with every pain-free handshake.

  In the car, on the way home, Katie reflected on the experience. “So, I wonder how Jesus feels going to hear all those people singing about him,” she said whimsically, a little laugh in her voice, as she pondered aloud.

  Jesus answered, through Gladys. “I love to be with my people whenever they gather together to share their joy and their hope. It’s a lot like heaven. When people worship, they’re doing what they were created to do. That always fills me up.”

  Katie listened to Gladys’s rehearsal of what Jesus said, but skipped across the surface, not sure how to follow his intensity. “It just seems really funny to go to church with Jesus.” She laughed again, but that laughter remained light, and slightly disengaged.

  Jesus answered again. “You always go to church with me. Today was only different because your grandma was sure that I was with her. Even when this time ends, wherever you go, I will be right there inside you.”

  Gladys shivered slightly when the warmth of Jesus’s promise touched the cold realization that this time would end, and maybe soon. She relayed Jesus’s words to Katie.

  This time, Katie’s voice burrowed down low, as her thoughts dug deep. “Remember when you prayed with me, when I was like five or so, and I asked Jesus into my heart?”

  Gladys nodded with a distant smile.

  “Do you think he’s still in there, still inside of me too?”

  Jesus had already leaned forward, before Katie finished, and wrapped his arms invisibly around her. Gladys, of course, could see that embrace and it made her slow the car even more than usual. For Katie’s part, she felt a heat inside her chest that answered her question, most assuredly.

  Chapter 24

  DEPARTURES

  As agreed, Patty and Derek came to pick up Katie late that afternoon. Gladys and Katie had finished their Easter ham, and cleaned up the kitchen, saving the dessert for Katie’s parents to enjoy with them. Until then, Gladys and Katie talked of old times, and recalled parts of the church service, their thoughts and words floating in and out like summer morning mist swirling and rising out of sight. Jesus sat and smiled, offering a word here and there, and laughter throughout.