Riley studies her plate Sunday morning. “You call this breakfast?”
“Eggos? Breakfast of champions.” I hold up the waffle box. “And it even has bits of blueberries in it, so don’t tell me I’m not hitting some additional food groups these days.”
She rolls her eyes, but I see that smile she covers with her milk glass.
Dad walks in and glances at the table. “Waffles?”
I wait for his caustic remark.
“Seems to me those would be better with eggs.” He puts the paper down in his chair. “Who wants some?”
I choke on a sip of Folgers. Did he get beaned in the head with a horseshoe last night? Who is this man?
“I like mine scrambled,” Riley says.
I cough and try to clear my throat. “I guess that sounds okay.”
“With cheese,” she adds.
“Now you’re talking.” We are so related.
Dad reaches below the stove and pulls out a pan. He sets it on the burner, then rubs his shoulder.
“Working six days a week is getting to you.” I scurry to the bathroom and come back with some Tylenol. “Here. You should take it easy today. I don’t know how you do it.” My father should be fishing and puttering around like other men his age who’ve already put in their forty years of work.
“Thanks.” He sets them aside and pours the whisked eggs into the skillet. “I don’t mind working. I kind of like knowing I’ll be there when the place closes down, just like I was there when it opened.”
“You’ve worked hard, Dad. It’s something to take pride in.” Minus the part where you filled your every waking hour with work and left your family alone all the time.
In a few minutes, the three of us are gathered around the kitchen table, eating steaming scrambled eggs and cold toaster waffles. And somehow it tastes just right.
Riley tells us a story about Josie tripping a boy who chased her with a frog, and she and I burst into giggles. “You don’t mess with Josie,” she says with awe in her voice.
“Her mom was the same way. Hard to believe my motorcycle-riding best friend is now the sweetest mom in town.”
Dad clears his throat and lays down the sports section. “I’ve been thinking about something.”
“Hurts the head, doesn’t it, Grandpa?”
My eyes widen, and I start to defend my niece’s attempt at humor, but Dad’s face splits into an uneasy smile. He reaches out and tweaks Riley’s nose.
I rub my eyes and replay the image in my head. Yep, tweaked that kid’s nose. What is going on here? Did I wake up in a parallel universe?
“I talked to Connor last night, and I thought I’d go pick up that puppy this afternoon.”
“What?” Riley and I say at once.
“Dad, do you have a fever?” I move my hand toward his forehead, but he swats it away.
“Of course not.” He studies his coffee mug. “But if the dog means that much to Riley, then she should have it.”
Riley clasps her hands to her chest. “Oh, Grandpa! Do you mean it?”
“I said so, didn’t I?”
“But, Dad”—my brain sputters like a dying train—“she wants to keep it. Forever. You know, take it with her wherever she goes.” And we don’t know where she’s going to go. “And you don’t like animals.”
“I like animals okay.”
“When they’re on your plate.”
“Ew.” Riley scrunches up her face.
“Riley, do you want this puppy?” he asks.
“Yessss.” She draws out the word like she’s savoring it on her tongue.
“Then I’ll go get it.”
Squealing in the upper decibels, my niece leaps from her seat and throws her arms around my dad. With a small smile, he pats her back.
I guess if Jesus can help Peter walk on water, he can do a miracle in my dad too.
Because that’s all that can explain this.
I help Riley with her hair, promise her ice cream after lunch to get her in a skirt, and finally, we’re out the door for church.
When we get there, Riley sees Josie in the lobby. As I shake a deacon’s hand, my niece hesitantly approaches Beth’s oldest daughter. Riley contemplates her shoes as Josie finishes her conversation with another girl. Yet when she sees Riley, Josie’s face splits into a wide grin and she pulls my niece to her in a big hug. The two dissolve into giggles. As they walk toward children’s church, Riley looks back over her shoulder and waves good-bye.
“What a difference a few weeks make.”
I turn around and find Connor standing near.
Glancing back at my niece, I can’t help but smile. “She’s slowly learning not everyone is going to reject her.”
His eyes level on me. “Good lesson to learn.”
I quickly change the subject. “Why’d you ask my father about the dog?”
“Why didn’t you ask him?”
“I told you.”
Connor’s fixed smile is a sharp contrast to his challenging tone. “Is the issue that I asked him anyway or that he said yes?” He waves to a church member passing by.
I stare at the small emblem on the pocket of his button-down. “I don’t like you butting in.”
“We can discuss it tonight. Over dinner.”
“I think I feel a headache coming on.”
“Wrong thing to say to a doctor.” Connor darts a quick look at my tush. “I’ve got a shot that could take any pain away.”
“I better grab a seat.” I step past him, only to be caught by the hand and reeled back to his side.
“I’ll pick you up at six.” He sniffs near my neck. “And wear that perfume.”
Strangely addled, I move out of his loose grip and manage to find my way through the double doors of the sanctuary. Imagine. Trying to seduce a girl in church.
And imagine . . . me liking it.
“Hey, girl.” Beth moves her purse out of the empty seat beside her, and I sit down.
She and her husband look so happy. Mark has his arm wrapped around her, leaning into her side, smiling like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Like he didn’t just lose his primary means of supporting his family. Like his wife doesn’t have to deliver pizzas at night. How do you get that? That peace, that sense of knowing God’s gonna take care of things so you might as well not even worry about it? If it were a drug, I could bottle it and make billions. Not to mention I’d down them on a regular basis myself.
“The girls had a great time at Connor’s fish fry.” Beth elbows me and wiggles her eyebrows. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”
“Nothing’s going on.” Her face tells me she’s not buying it. “We’re just . . . hanging out, I guess. Plus he’s still searching for Miss Perfection.”
“Maybe he’s changed his mind. You know, it’s all over town that he’s pursuing you.”
The girlie part of my brain takes these words and seals them with a lipsticky kiss. The logical part of my brain—the dominant part—feels the old fears closing in. Shutting the gates down like a mall shop at nine o’clock.
“I have a job interview tomorrow with National Geographic. I’m too mobile for a relationship right now.”
“That’s probably what the people on the ark said, but they seemed to have made it just fine. Girl, you do not toss someone like Connor Blake away. He is the real deal.”
I flip open my bulletin and pretend to read it. “Yeah, real arrogant, real bossy, and real nosy.”
“And real hot.” She swats my hand and laughs. “And your eyes just followed him to his seat just now, so don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”
“I’m not sticking around in Ivy. Connor knows that. We’re just—”
“Hanging out.” Beth purses her lips.
He eases into the seat next to Danielle Chapel and a few other people. She hugs him tight and laughs at something he says.
Beth points in their direction. “He and Danielle are in a Bible study together. They’re just friends.”
“Does she know that?”
Beth throws her head back and laughs. “Maggie, when you do fall, you’re gonna fall hard. I just hope you don’t let it pass you by and decide to go bungee off a water tower instead.”
“That is the most ridiculous bit of—”
I’m cut off as the worship minister grabs his mic and the band explodes into jubilant song. The congregation stands, and everyone begins to clap in time to the beat. Beside me, Mark and Beth Sterling lift their hands up high and praise the God they cling to. The God they’re believing will deliver them from debt and foreclosure. The God they’re expecting to keep their babies fed.
The next few songs keep me on my feet and wind my brain down, letting me shut out the things pressing down and focus on the Lord. I block out thoughts of Connor, my parents, my sister, even Riley. God, help me to keep my mind and heart on you.
Pastor Thomas takes the pulpit, and I grab a pen to fill in the sermon notes on the back of the bulletin. But when I flip it over, there’s just an empty page with today’s date.
“Brothers and sisters, I don’t have blanks for you to write in today. Don’t have my thoughts outlined out all nice and neat.” He slowly walks from the left side of the stage to the right. “You know why? Because I want you to just listen. Because I have a message that every person here needs today. And you’re gonna let the Holy Spirit personalize it for you. He’s gonna tell you when you’re being spoken to. And that’s when you write something down.”
A woman behind me shouts an amen. I settle into my seat and prepare to listen. Though I’d rather have notes.
“Do you remember the story of Jonah and the whale?”
A low rumble of uh-huhs go across the room.
“Maybe you heard this story in children’s church—back in the day when we used puppets and felt boards.” I laugh at the old visual. “I want to tell you that story again. Now, God told Jonah to go to Nineveh. And Jonah said, ‘No way am I doing that.’ So he thinks to himself, ‘I’ll just leave. God can’t catch me. I can’t go to Nineveh if I’m on a boat headed somewhere else.’ ”
I doodle a star on my blank page. Then I turn it into a flowering rose.
“So Jonah hops on a ship, and what does the Lord do? He hurls this huge storm over it. It was so bad the crew knew it was going to split the vessel apart. But through all the raging waves, through the thunder, the lightning, do you think Jonah noticed? No! He was down below—sound asleep.”
The pastor steps down to the main floor. Ten rows away from me. His dark eyes roam over the crowd, but when they float over our direction, I’d swear they land right on me.
“Sometimes we are so used to the thunder and the noise and the rough turbulence of our crazy lives, we don’t even think about it anymore. We just go on. We sleep through the storms. My brothers and sisters, is that you today? Those of you who’ve lost your jobs, are you just sleeping through your pain? Or are you giving it to God? Those of you who have lost a child to an addiction—are you ignoring the call of God while the wind rages? Are you running from your past? It’s going to find you. Just like Jonah, you can’t outrun God.”
The pastor reads from the Bible, and I flip the tissue-thin page and follow along.
“When that big whale swallowed Jonah, that was God saying, ‘Boy, you need some thinking time. You gotta quit running and get your head straight.’ Because I’m here to tell you, God’ll get your attention.”
The pastor’s next words have the hair on the back of my neck standing straight up.
“The waters engulfed me up to the neck; the watery depths overcame me; seaweed was wrapped around my head.”
Flashes of color shoot through my mind. Fragments of movement. Hands outreached. Water flooding my ears, burning my eyes. Weeds wrapping around my legs.
And then it’s gone.
I press my hand to my pounding heart. Was that a memory? A piece of a dream? God, help me remember that night my mother drowned. I want to see that moment again. I have to know.
Pastor Thomas holds up his Bible, reciting the rest from memory. “I love the last of this passage. Jonah’s drowning in the belly of that giant fish. He’s all out of places to run. Death has come for him. And yet he says I called out to you one last time. And you heard me and saved me—despite all my running.”
Feeling a sting in my palm, I look down and find my hands clenched, nail marks in my skin. I rest my hands on my skirt and take a breath.
“You can run, folks. But you can’t hide.” The pastor looks right at me. This time there’s no mistake. His words sink into my heart like seeds in the ground. “Fear is the opposite of faith, and where does that get you? Swimming in the guts of a fish. You can’t outrun God. But you know what the good news here is? You also can’t out love him. So when you’re up to your neck in water and all the other things you’ve let hold you down, you just call out to him.” He smiles and scans the room. “You may have years of fish gunk in your life . . . but it only takes a second to be spit out into freedom. I’m asking you today—stop running from your past, your fears, and his call. Surrender right now.”
The pianist plays a familiar hymn as we’re led in a prayer of invitation.
All around me people move down front. The woman beside me tips over her purse getting out. A man across the aisle brings his baby daughter and weeping wife.
And I just sit there.
My mouth silently shaping the words.
All to Jesus, I surrender;
All to Him I freely give;
I will ever love and trust Him,
In His presence daily live.
I surrender all . . . I surrender all . . .