INFECtIOUS (18 page)

His prayer felt
like it was meant to chide me more than encourage me—reminding me that I'm
falling short in my dedication and trust. I wonder if he meant it to be a
hidden lecture or if I'm just paranoid.

"So, I
guess I'll be going home now." I say, more than ready to get out of this
office.

"Yes, your
Aunt is waiting in the lobby to take you home."
 

Great.
That's probably
the only thing he could've said that would make me want to stay here for as
long as possible. My face is as
telltale
as ever,
shame and dread cloud over my proud demeanor. With an irritating chuckle, the
Reverend catches that I am in no hurry to see Aunty. He gives me a consoling
pat on the back and then gently shoves me out of his office door.

I Get Rid Of That Cold
Sore

There is no
lecture. Aunty doesn't speak to me at all on the short walk home. Somehow, this
is worse. I'd rather a lecture. Even Aunty and I are damaged. My life is
literally falling apart. We used to be close, telling each other everything. I
never went through a "difficult teenager" phase. We've never even had
a fight. Sometimes I'm emotional and sometimes I'm irresponsible but Aunty
is always understanding
and I always apologize later. She's
never been anything but patient with my moods and immature moments. Where is
that Aunty now? I feel like she could
be a little more
understanding
now. I've been through a lot. She's the grown-up. She
could bear with me. I'm sorry I haven't been perfect enough for her
lately.
 

Back at the Inn,
otherwise known as my new prison, Aunty starts up the stairs to her room
without a word.

"Aunty?"
I ask, despite
my prideful plan to stay aloof.

When she pauses
on the second step, I wonder if she's about to continue on up the stairs and
just ignore me. Sighing, she turns to me and stares at me with ice in her blue
eyes. Over the last four years, those eyes have been soft pools of warmth and
kindness that I could bathe my wounds in and refresh my heart from. Tonight
there is only ice. This is the first time I've ever felt chilled by her gaze.

With a sad,
tired face that robs her of her youthful look and shows all the weight of her
62 years she says, "We're supposed to be a team Ivy. I've lost someone
this week too."
 

It takes me a
second to realize she means me. She's breaking out the big guns now, guilt
tripping. She turns and finishes the climb to her room. I hear the door lock
click tight on her bedroom door. She's in for the night.

Angry, lonely,
depressed and hungry, I raid the kitchen for something to eat and realize that
tonight was my night to cook dinner. We usually eat together around 5:00 and
I'm always the chef on Saturday evening. It is now 6:00.

Geez Louise I'm
batting a thousand.

I pour some of
the peaches we canned last summer into a bowl and grab a
gov
bar. I put it on a tray with a cup of chamomile tea and head for my room to eat
and sulk. I eat alone in total silence. The winter evening is quiet with no
wind. There aren't any sounds from birds or crickets, not even the hum of the
furnace to keep me company. The cold hibernation of outside is too much like
the cold I feel taking over my heart. It's been coming on slowly, and it has
dulled me.

I scarf my
peaches and nibble my
gov
bar. I am trying to decide
what to do with myself when I remember that Mrs.
LaFakis
sent me work to do.

And chocolate!
Chocolate sounds
sooooo
good.
 

I find the
little pile that Harmony set by my closet earlier. Eating two of the five
precious pieces of chocolate, I start leafing through the pages Sherry sent. A
letter is attached on top.
 

Dear Ivy,

I have a lot
going on this coming week in preparation for the

missionaries
coming in. I
handled this week's lesson without you.

I know you had a
lot going on. I'm glad you are safe, dear. You

know
we all love
you. I was hoping you'd help me prepare the

Sunday
School
lesson for next Sunday morning. I'm sending you

a
few devotionals
that I'd like you to read over and combine for me

into
a lesson
format. They have minimal scripture attached and I'd

like
you to dig in
and find some more scripture to go with them.

Thanks
hun
.

P.S. enjoy the
chocolate

Love,

Sherry

Sounds
easy.
I need something to fill my time and distract me anyway. With a
notebook and pen in hand, already missing my computer at work, I start reading
the first devotional. It's by Charles Spurgeon. I've read his work several
times before in my secretarial duties to the teachers. He was a pastor in
England in the 1800s. He was dead long before The Lord came to collect His own
and I'm sure he will be a fascinating person to meet when we're done here. It's
a little hard to read his
stuff,
it's very old
fashioned and very intellectual.
 

A lot of the
kids my age aren't intellectuals.

Bible study
aside, each family is responsible for the non-Bible schooling of
their own
kids. Some of them care a lot and some don't care
at all. Aunty teaches me some things, mostly things like cooking, cleaning, and
of course proper speech and grammar. Her tutoring helped me to get my job at
the U.R. where I've had to teach myself a lot about typing and filing and
office work.
 

Tim's dad, Dr.
Markowitz, is one of the ones who
cares
a lot. He
keeps Tim busy all day long, five days a week learning math, science, history,
the whole shebang. Tim is a genius by today's standards.
 

Most of the
other guys our age are helping with hunting, fishing and building or repair
work for the community. They learn a bit about the Bible on Sunday under
Sherry's teaching, but they are pretty lost when it comes to anything more than
basic math and reading. High speech and Old English might as well be Chinese.

For most of the
Living, it's hard to see the point of higher learning. We are nearing the end.
There are different interpretations and opinions about how much time we have
left here. Most people think we may only have a year or so of time left on
earth. So calculus is kind of silly at this point. Most people have a "let's
just get through it" mentality.

Sherry doesn't
have to do much teaching with Harmony. The girl loves to learn. She reads
constantly. She's doing a pretty good job with her own education. I really hope
she isn't mad at me. I don't want today's trouble to affect my relationship
with Sherry either. If she felt like I was a danger to Harmony, I'm afraid she
wouldn't let us hang out anymore.

I'm getting
distracted.
Back to the Charles Spurgeon.
When Sherry
wants to quote him or use one of his devotionals, I have to go through it and
make it easier to read for the kids who aren't as studious. I actually enjoy
the challenge of studying his writings.

The Spurgeon
paper is based on Psalm 120:5. It reads: "I'm doomed to live in
Meshech
, cursed with a home in
Kedar
."
 

Ok. I've never
heard of either of those places. I look up the rest of the Psalm so I can try
to figure out what the heck that means. Both names are completely unfamiliar to
me and I've read my Bible front to back.

Psalm 120

The Message
(MSG)

A Pilgrim Song

120: 1-2 I’m in
trouble. I cry to God,

   
desperate
for an
answer:

“Deliver me from
the liars, God!

   
They smile so sweetly but lie through their
teeth.”

3-4 Do you know
what’s next, can you see what’s coming,

   
all
you barefaced
liars?

Pointed arrows
and burning coals

   
will
be your
reward.

5-7 I’m doomed
to live in
Meshech
,

   
cursed
with a home
in
Kedar
,

My whole life
lived camping

   
among
quarreling
neighbors.

I’m all for
peace, but the minute

   
I tell them so, they go to war!

So it sounds
like
whoever—
I mean whomever—wrote this Psalm hated
where he lived too. He says he has lived his "whole life" in close
proximity to his enemies. As I keep reading, I am hit with how much it applies
to me. Did Sherry know? Or is it just God? I don't know why I'm surprised, it's
happened so many times before. Goosebumps run up my arms in anticipation of
hearing His voice. A small part of me is shouting to put this devotional down
and go to bed. I suspect that's the zombie in me. I turn my back on that girl
and set my eyes on Spurgeon's words.

 
Spurgeon writes about verse 5:

  
As a Christian you have to live in the midst
of an ungodly world, and it is of little use for you to cry "Woe is
me."

I've been doing
a lot of that.

Jesus did not
pray O that you should be taken out of the world, and what He did not pray for
you need not desire. Better far in the Lord's strength to meet the difficulty,
and glorify Him in it. The enemy is ever on the watch to detect inconsistency
in your conduct; be therefore very holy. Remember that the eyes of all are upon
you, and that more is expected from you than from other men. Strive to give no
occasion for blame.

I can't help but
think of the horrible example of Life I was to Matt. If he never wanted
anything to do with being healed, finding Life, would it be totally my fault?

Let your
goodness be the only fault they can discover in you. Like Daniel, compel them
to say of you, "We shall not find any occasion against this Daniel, except
we find it against him concerning the law of his God." Seek to be useful
as well as consistent.

I have gotten
really good at being useful, but for who?
To give glory to
the God who gave me these skills and abilities or to make Ivy feel better about
herself?
To lose myself in doing
good
and hope
to find my worth there? Instead of the only place I can really find any worth,
in the love of a God who made me and bought me with blood. Who gave me healing
and Life when all around there was death and that death was what I deserved!
Then when it came time to
to
put my money where my
mouth was, to be like Jesus in the hard times, well, that didn't go well at
all.

In the last week
I've been assaulted, terrified, full of hate and new longings, heartbroken,
made to feel like a pariah in my own community, and, now, chained to the house.
I can't think of any other time in my life with that much trial and drama.
A test to be sure.
Who is Ivy? What is she really made of?
Who does she really value? Oh, it's so obvious. I'm full of me.

Perhaps you
think, "If I were in a more
favourable
position
I might serve the Lord's cause, but I cannot do any good where I am"; but
the worse the people are among whom you live, the more need have they of your
exertions; if they be crooked, the more necessity that you should set them
straight; and if they be perverse, the more need have you to turn their proud
hearts to the truth. Where should the physician be but where there are many
sick? Where is
honour
to be won by the soldier but in
the hottest fire of the battle?

Was Spurgeon
clairvoyant! Did he look into a crystal ball and write this specifically for
me? How could anyone describe the zombies any better? Or my trapped position in
the town of
Toccoa
in the midst of all the hate
outside our gates!
 

And when weary of
the strife and sin that meets you on every hand, consider that all the saints
have endured the same trial. They were not carried on beds of down to heaven,
and you must not expect to travel more easily than they. They had to hazard
their lives unto the death in the high places of the field, and you will not be
crowned till you also have endured hardness as a good soldier of Jesus Christ.
Therefore, "stand fast in the faith, quit you like men,
be
strong."

All
week I've been asking the wrong question, "Why me?"

Really the more
appropriate question would be, "Why not me?"

 
I can hear the warriors and saints of old
asking me, "Who do you think you are? Hundreds of thousands of saints have
suffered much worse than you and persevered and won their crowns. How
wussy
can you
be
?"