Someday Home (29 page)

L
ynn glanced at her watch as she got out of the car. She was a couple minutes early, but that was all right. She would be happy to wait for Pastor Evanson. He came out of his office door; obviously he'd been watching for her. “I thought to go walking on the riverbank. It's a gorgeous morning.”

“Good idea!” Lynn fell in beside him to walk the two blocks from the church down to the river.

Riverside Park. Just a small plot of land mowed when the city found some money to send the gang mower out; it wasn't often. Apparently, their pockets were a little short this month, but the grass was growing slower now.

Lynn took a deep breath of clean air. “I love this little place. I don't come here very frequently, but it's always quiet and inviting.”

Pastor Evanson laughed. “You don't have to; you have peace and quiet in your home on the lake. So tell me where your mind has been going lately. You said you were angry at Paul for leaving and at God for taking him.”

Lynn looked out across the river. Technically it wasn't a river, it was a creek. A puny but picturesque one. “I haven't made much progress.”

“Let's start with Paul. His gravestone should say, ‘This wasn't my idea.'”

Lynn laughed out loud at the thought. “I see what you're saying. He didn't want to go or intend to go. But, Pastor, if he had taken better care of his health, they might have caught the aneurysm in time to mend it. He was negligent and it took his life.”

Pastor sat down on a park bench facing the water; Lynn perched beside him. “So, Lynn, how did your own MRI and ultrasound turn out? Any sign of aneurysm in your aorta? Phillip's okay?”

“Mine? I didn't…We…” And Lynn stopped. Of course. Why should she check something nobody thinks about? Except for this menopause thing, she was in perfect health. Until the moment of his death, Paul showed every sign of being in perfect health. And he didn't want to go. It was not his choice to leave her. She said quietly, “I see.”

They sat a few minutes blotting up the peace.

“Now, Lynn, let's look at this anger toward God.”

“I'm very sorry about that, but I can't help it. Why did he snatch away such a fine man, a man who loved Him and was doing good in the world, and leave all the creeps and crooks here?” Her voice was rising but she didn't mean it to. “It's not just! He's supposed to be a just God.” She fought tears; the tears won. “I'm sorry. It's silly, but…” She sobbed.

He was smiling as he handed her a tissue.
Smiling!
“Not silly at all, Lynn. You are exploring one of the deepest mysteries of the faith: Why do the wicked prosper? It's so easy to say, ‘Oh, well, this must be God's will,' and let it end there. But that's the lazy way out. I'm proud of you for tackling such a difficult question.”

She blew her nose. “And I suppose you have it figured out.”

“No one has it figured out. But I've pecked around the edges of it a little. Let's explore this idea that God should leave the good people here to do good and take away the people who do bad, since you brought it up. Let's say that if you love God you live a long and happy life doing good. And if you ignore God, you die young. Where does that concept take us?”

Lynn was more of a doer than a philosophizer. She wasn't into mind games very much, but she could tell that this was an important one. So she thought about it, and the pastor gave her the time, sitting beside her silently. “The good, I guess, is that everyone would love God. That's what Jesus said everyone should do.”

“I believe that's right. Everyone would love God; well, everyone sensible who can see the writing on the wall. And why would they love God?”

“Because it's, uh…” Her thoughts were jumbled. She wasn't sure how to say it or even what she wanted to say.

He said it for her. “If God rewarded His followers—His lovers—here on earth in ways you can see, then everyone would want to jump on that bandwagon.
For their own benefit.
Selfish. Love God for what it gets you. Not love God because He is the creator of the universe and the only being in all creation worthy of love and devotion. Love Him for the payback.”

“But that's not love. That's manipulation.”

“Exactly.” Pastor Evanson handed her another tissue. “Jesus addressed this early on in His ministry, on the Sermon on the Mount. He said God makes His sun rise on the evil and the good and brings His rain to the just and the unjust. As far as you can see, He doesn't treat His believers any differently on earth. The payback comes later. Paul loves God. Not past tense, Lynn. Right now. That is the payback, and nonbelievers cannot see it. But it's very real.”

Lynn was nodding. He handed her a third tissue, and between nose and tears, she got it soaking wet immediately. But this was good weeping in contrast to the weeping her loss had been dumping on her.

He sat up straighter. “I have an assignment for you. Do you have a concordance?”

“Paul did. Yes.
Young's
, I think.”

“Look up
wicked
and see what the Psalms have to say about it. The fate of the wicked shows up in many other places, but concentrate on the Psalms, for now.”

“I will.” Lynn stood up, and her wet tissue joined the wad in her left pocket. Being a loving servant of God himself, the pastor handed her a fourth tissue. The thought made her giggle.

Her mind was racing with new thoughts now, fascinating ideas to explore. Just wait until she shared this with Angela and Judith!

And that thought stopped her in her tracks. They were not just renters. They were not strangers to come and go in her life. Today, they were sisters, to share their insights and hear Lynn's.

Part of Lynn's family.

“Lynn?” the pastor studied her, looking concerned.

She smiled. “Just counting more blessings.”

“G'ma, G'ma! Come see!” Miss Priss charged through the mudroom into the kitchen. Lynn dropped everything and ran after her. Miss Priss grabbed her hand and tugged her along to the chicken yard and inside the chicken house. “Look!” She pointed into a nest box where one little brown egg nestled in the straw.

Lynn grinned. “Ah. One of the hens laid an egg already.” The two bent close, gazing. “Go ahead, pick it up.”

The child did so and grinned up at her grandma. “It's warm. It's not a glass one; it's a real one.”

“Did you hear one of the pullets cackling? A different call than usual. That's what they do when they lay an egg. They announce it to the world.”

Miss Priss held the egg carefully in the cup of her hands. “I wonder whose it is.”

“Well, you watch tomorrow morning. Or if you hear any of them cackling at the top of their voice, go see who just left a nest.”

Miss Priss carried the egg carefully into the house. “Where is Miss Judith?”

Lynn checked the clock. “Still in school. She has her precalc final today. She should be home soon.” And tomorrow was the biology final, her bugbear, so most likely Judith would be holed up reviewing. Were it Lynn, she'd probably not sleep tonight but cram all night. But Judith was more disciplined than Lynn had ever been.

Lynn smiled.
Ah, exuberance.
“I need to can green beans. You want to help?”

Judith pulled into the driveway and parked. She put on her backpack—much more convenient than carrying it in hand—and walked around back to the chicken yard. Lynn must be canning green beans; the chickens were eagerly feasting on pointy bean tips. Judith refilled the laying mash tray. They should start laying soon.

She swung her pack off her back as she entered the kitchen singing, “
Freudig, wie ein Held zum Siegen, wie ein Held zum Siegen!
” She plopped on a stool.

Lynn and Miss Priss stared at her. Miss Priss blurted, “What's that!”

Lynn and Judith both laughed. Judith explained, “It's from Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, and it's called ‘Ode to Joy.' The words are from a poem in German. It urges you to go through life with joy like that of a victorious knight. I am happy and victorious!”

“Tell me!” Lynn paused from snapping green beans.

“Remember I got an eighty-three on the last biology test? I just learned that he grades on the curve. He makes the test too hard to get a perfect score on. Then he takes the highest score and uses that as A.” She paused for effect. “The highest score was eighty-five!”

“Is that good?” Miss Priss quit snapping beans.

“I got an A! I still have the final exam, but I'm confident. And I feel I aced the online course. I'm on a roll!”

Lynn seemed just as happy. “Congratulations! We must do something special.”

“Coming home to hear someone say ‘congratulations,' being supportive, is sufficient for today. Thank you.”

Miss Priss slid off her stool and tore across the room to throw her arms around Judith. “Good! You want to hear something else?”

“Of course.” Judith grinned back at her. “What?”

“One of the hens laid a brown egg and it was still warm and G'ma said hens cackle when they lay an egg. Did you know that?”

“Really, an egg?”

“It's that one here on the counter in a bowl. See it?” Miss Priss scrambled back up on a stool and reached for the dish.

“I can see it. Yep, that is some egg.”

“Will we get white eggs too?”

“I don't think so. You have to have leghorn chickens for white eggs. They are a white bird.”

Lynn crossed to the fridge and pulled out sandwich fixings, setting them on the counter. “I made up tuna salad.”

“'Cause that's my favorite,” Miss Priss explained, “besides peanut butter and jam.”

“Mine, too. Let me go change and I'll be right back.” Judith grabbed her backpack and headed for her room.

Lynn called after her, “If you have any whites that need washing, I'm putting a load in and need more.”

“Thanks, I do.” They had learned that worked for all of them and made laundry easier too.

She dumped her pack on the bed, donned shorts and a T-shirt, pulled her white towel off the rack, and scooping up her white laundry, she headed back to the kitchen.
Doing so well in school sure makes a body energetic!

She plopped her whites on top of the washing machine. Miss Priss was setting the lunch table out on deck, so she headed there.

Lynn came out with a pitcher of iced tea. “Studying this afternoon?”

“I figured more biology review after dinner for an hour or two and then I'll take the rest of the evening off to relax. I think I'm pretty much ready for tomorrow. And then it's over. Until fall semester in a few days.”

“You never cease to amaze me. People like me used to hate people like you. Whatever happened to the all-night cramming?”

“Some do, I don't. This works best for me.”

“Then tonight we celebrate. Angela will be home early and I'll go get the steaks out. Okay if I call Maggie and invite them all?”

“Tommy and his family, too?”

“I think he has a commitment, but I'll check.”

In two glass sheet cake pans, Lynn prepared a marinade for the steaks.

“Roasting ears tonight?” Judith asked.

“Of course. Perfect with steaks.” Lynn laid the meat in the pans and covered it. “And I was thinking home fries. I have the potatoes cubed and soaking in ice water.”

“Love the way you think.”

Judith settled herself to snapping beans. They had the last of them ready when Angela got back from work. She plopped onto a stool at the kitchen counter. “How did precalc go?”

“Smooth as a slug in mayonnaise!”

“Oh, gag!” Angela stared at her. “Where'd you get that?”

Judith grinned. “Hey, that's one of the least offensive; I'm learning a lot from these little college kids.”

“I can imagine.” Angela licked her lips, hesitated. “Want to go out on the lake? Fish half an hour? Something?”

Nooo!
Judith's rigid, unchanging self screamed.

Resilience. Remember?
But that meant changing, doing something she could not do.
Resilience!

“I guess.” She licked her lips. “Sure, all right.”

Angela dug the life jackets out of the shed and they strolled down to the dock, Angela bouncing, Judith slogging as if on her way to the gallows. No. This was so wrong.

Angela flipped the canoe into the water, dropped in the paddles, and stepped into it near the front.

Judith handed her a tackle box and rod and laid another rod near the backseat.

…And lowered herself into the canoe as her whole body shrieked,
Don't!

She sat down in back, tentatively.
Resilience.
Remember that. You're putting your father's negative lessons behind you. You're improving your character.
She picked up her paddle as Angela pushed them away from the dock.
Passive suicide is a character improvement?
Her hands shook and she felt like throwing up.
No, please, God!

Judith watched Angela tie on a dry fly. “Fly-fishing? Trout? Not walleyes?” At least her voice didn't tremble the way her hands did. She broke out in a sweat.

Angela was grinning; obviously she enjoyed this immensely. “Since we won't go to bed hungry if I fail to catch anything, I'm going for the bad boys. Go for the gold, I always say. Well, maybe not always. Go for the gold when it's convenient.”

Judith paddled and J-stroked as Angela set a slow, casual rhythm; they cruised across to a cove. Then Angela shipped her paddle and flicked her rod, the lure whipping away over the water. The canoe glided silently. Ah, there was mama loon out there—well, Judith thought it was the mama. Even Mama was silent this late in the season.

Hey, thank you, God, for seeing me through the semester! I am grateful. And next semester should be even better; I'm in the swing of it again. Thank you! Thank you.
Judith's heart sang and her body sulked, forced into an act of resilience.