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Esther
“It’s hard not to be discouraged,” Dawn lamented.
Esther tried to ignore her.
“Are you kidding?” Rachel looked around the sanctuary in wonder. “God has given us this beautiful building and beautiful people to love on. What’s discouraging about that?”
“He didn’t give us the building,” Vicky broke in. “Cathy bought it.”
“I had lots of help,” Cathy said quickly. “And I never would have been able to chip in if it weren’t for God’s provision.”
“A little less talk and a little more action, ladies.” The furnace wasn’t working, and they were running around trying to find outlets that worked so they could plug the space heaters into them. But Esther was doing most of the running around.
“It’ll be fine, Esther,” Rachel said. “It’s October, not January. No one is going to freeze to death.”
Esther bristled. “I want them to be comfortable.”
“Who?” Dawn cried. “Who do you want to be comfortable? That’s the discouraging part! We’ve been at this for months, and still no one has come!”
“That’s not true—” Rachel tried, but Dawn interrupted her.
“I know, I know. The Puddys. And they’re wonderful. But when they walked in that first Sunday, didn’t you all think that they were a sign of things to come? I certainly did. But they weren’t. They were it. No one else is coming.”
“People will come.” Esther tried not to grind her teeth. “Would you all please help me?”
Rachel picked up a heater and moved toward the altar outlet. “It’s only been a few months. And we haven’t done much outreach yet.”
“Outreach?” Dawn cried. “We’ve fed nearly a hundred people! And Tonya gave away nearly everything she owned!”
Esther really needed Dawn to be quiet. Esther wasn’t discouraged, but Dawn’s attitude was contagious. Trouble was, she didn’t know how to make Dawn stop talking.
The old door creaked open. Esther glanced at the clock. It wasn’t even ten yet. Someone was early.
A man with long, greasy hair stepped into their sanctuary. His clothes were torn. He was filthy. Vicky audibly gasped.
“Good morning!” Esther hurried to say. “Welcome to New Beginnings!”
“It’s getting kind of cold out there,” the man said slowly. “I was wondering if I could warm up a bit in here.”
“Of course!” Esther said before Vicky or Dawn could say otherwise. “Make yourself at home.”
Vicky headed her way, and Esther picked up the last space heater and scurried in the other direction.
Vicky caught her anyway. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“I know you don’t. But this is a church, and we don’t turn people away.”
“But he’s not here to go to church.”
“How do you know?” Esther snapped and then felt guilty. She bent down to plug in the heater. Nothing happened, and she moved on to the next outlet. “We know nothing about him, but he can do no harm to us just sitting there.”
As if she’d directly challenged him to cause trouble, he started to sing. Vicky gave her a knowing look that she didn’t appreciate. His voice grew louder and more confident, and his song—which Esther was fairly confident she hadn’t heard before—featured a few expletives.
“We’ve got to get him out of here,” Vicky said without moving her mouth, “before the children arrive.” She looked like an amateur ventriloquist, and Esther didn’t know why she’d bothered. He was singing too loudly to hear anything.
“He’s fine. We told him to make himself at home. He is.”
“We told him no such thing,” Vicky argued. “That was all you.”
The newcomer tipped his head back and howled at the ceiling.
“For all we know, that could be Christ himself.”
Vicky gave her a sardonic look. “Christ doesn’t howl.”
Esther hadn’t enjoyed his singing, but when he stopped howling and returned to singing, she was grateful. She headed in his direction. Don’t get too close. No, get as close as you can. He is a child of God. “Would you like some coffee?” She forced a smile.
He looked stunned by her offering. “Sure! Thank you!”
See? Quite polite! “Cream and sugar?”
He looked confused. “Sure,” he said again, after a pause.
She went to the back of the sanctuary, where their coffee pot was set up. Her friends gathered around her to bicker. They were all talking very quietly and very quickly, but it was still easy to get the gist of what they were saying. Half of them wanted him gone. Half were excited he was there. Vera remained quiet on the subject. There was a chance she hadn’t heard the howling.
Esther stirred the coffee and then turned to leave her friends behind. She took long strides across the sanctuary, trying to look confident. “Here you go.”
“Thank you.” He took the coffee from her outstretched hand.
She forced herself to edge closer. “I’m Esther.”
He took a sip of coffee that had to have been too hot to drink. He didn’t say anything.
“What do people call you?”
The door opened, and Fiona came in, struggling to carry a bag heavy with her sheet music.
The man whirled toward her, dropping his coffee on the carpet.
Esther suppressed her cry.
Vicky did not.
“Who are you?” he said to Fiona, who had stopped walking and stood staring at the newcomer.
“Who are you?” she fired back. This made Esther very proud of their organist.
The visitor wasn’t amused, though, and whipped a small knife out of his pocket.
Esther reflexively took a step back, but then she tried to be objective. It was a small knife. There were eight of them. Granted, they were all over seventy, but still—eight against one. And he hadn’t moved. He simply stood there looking at Fiona, holding the knife menacingly.
Fiona backed up a step.
Esther feared that if Fiona left the building, she’d never come back. She couldn’t let that happen. “What’s wrong?” She tried to step into his peripheral vision.
He ignored her.
“If you tell me what’s wrong, we’ll try to help.”
He continued to ignore her. The arm that held the knife was shaking, and his lower lip trembled.
Keeping her eyes on their newcomer, she tried to keep her voice even as she said, “Rachel, call Roderick.”
