4

 

Fridays are especially anticipated in our home. Griffey has always taken that day off. Unless something unexpected happens, like a death in the church, we try to spend time together. When Elianna was small, the three of us would go shopping or take a picnic to the park. Now that our grown daughter is a busy college student, she can rarely join us. I miss her, but I must admit that time alone with my husband is nice. His occupation means I’m required to share him with a whole congregation of people.

“It’s so pretty this morning; let’s go for a drive,” Griffey said.

“OK. I’ll spring for a chicken biscuit if you’ll pull through the drive-thru.”

“Sounds good.”

He kissed my forehead and grabbed his keys and cell phone.

After picking up our food, I fixed Griffey’s biscuit by folding the paper wrapper down for him. I opened his straw and stuck it into his large sweet tea. As we ate our breakfast, Griffey headed toward a local park. He slowed when we came to an area overlooking the lake. A pullover spot ahead was vacant, so he eased the car into it. He was quiet for a bit as he finished the biscuit and washed it down with a big swig of sweet tea.

I looked out my window. In the foreground, trees were trying to hold on to the last of their leaves. The ground already had disappeared, covered by a bed of crisp foliage. Just beyond the widely spaced grove, the lake water resembled a mirror with a black base and sunlight glinting in various areas. In the backdrop, mountain ridges jutted up in deep hues of purple.

“Wow! How gorgeous is that?” Griffey said.

“Mmm, absolutely beautiful.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Kevin came to see me yesterday.”

I turned from the landscape to give Griffey my attention. “Oh yeah?”

“Yes, he’s gonna speak next Sunday night. After talking with him, I’m sure God’s calling him. I told him I would be glad to give him opportunities to preach.”

“He’s blessed to have you as a mentor.”

“I don’t know about that, but I do wish I had had more support when I was young. It’s the least I can do.” He stared out the front window for a moment. I had a feeling I knew what he was thinking. He had told me that his father had mixed feelings about him becoming a minister. Reverend Townsend had been a wonderful pastor during his years of service, yet he knew the toll the occupation had taken on his family and himself. He wasn’t sure he wished that on his only son. But, Griffey couldn’t ignore his calling even knowing the good, the bad, and the ugly of full-time Christian service.

“I know Emily will be grateful for your input and support.” I turned back to the picturesque view.

“So, have you had any more visions?”

“No, but out of the blue Sue brought up blessings at Bible study last night. I about freaked out, but Emily was there, thank goodness.”

“Why did you freak out?”

I turned back toward him with eyebrows raised. “Because I don’t know what God is trying to tell me. If He expects me to speak, well that is totally out of my comfort zone. I’m just plain ol’ me. I don’t have much to offer.”

“Why are you so shocked and resistant to God using you?”

“I don’t know … I just don’t have the gifts …”

Tears began to sting my eyes, threatening to fall. My lip quivered. Griffey cupped my face in his hands and gazed directly into my eyes.

“You have everything you need if you’ll just trust Him. I know it’s not easy climbing out on that limb, but the view is incredible.”

I leaned my head forward resting it on his shoulder. A tear finally escaped. Was I brave enough to climb out? Did I truly want God to use me?

Griffey’s cell phone rang, causing me to jolt upright. He answered, and I knew from his tone that he wouldn’t get the whole day off. As he talked to whoever was on the other end, I studied him. Maybe he understood more than I gave him credit for. He could relate to being called to do something that couldn’t be done without God. He snapped the phone shut and looked at me apologetically.

“Miss Myrtle is back in the hospital. Do you want me to drop you by the house?” He took another sip of tea and reached for the car’s ignition.

“No, I’ll go with you.”

Another area which makes it clear my husband is gifted as a pastor/shepherd is his interaction with people in times of crisis. I tell him it’s no wonder why his congregation calls upon him so often; he knows just what to say when someone is sick or injured or grieving a loss in death. I actually enjoy tagging along hoping I might learn something.

Griffey located Myrtle’s room. As we walked in, her face lit with a smile.

“There’s my preacher and his wife.” She clasped her hands in front of her chest.

“Hello, Miss Myrtle. What are you doing in here, young lady?”

He spoke a little louder than normal since Miss Myrtle is far from young. In fact, the church had celebrated her ninetieth birthday just a month ago. She giggled with glee at his greeting, and I could hear Elianna’s words in my head. “I just love old people!”

I loved them, too.

As Griffey did all the talking, I just stood by and smiled. I supposedly had the gift of encouragement, but I didn’t get the gift for voicing it. I feared in delicate situations such as this one was, I’d say the wrong thing.

We visited a few moments longer and then Griffey prayed before we left. The sparkle in Miss Myrtle’s eyes said it all. Her pastor had encouraged her with his presence and the perfect words of comfort.

God used Griffey in ways I think Griffey himself was not even aware. I remember when I first met him, he was painfully shy. God molded him into a bold proclaimer of His Word as well as a compassionate shepherd. I had witnessed God’s handiwork, and I was a proud wife.

I couldn’t help but think if God had transformed Griffey and used him so mightily, then surely He could do something with me. I knew I had to be a willing student, but I was so hesitant, even afraid. I desired to do something significant for God, but I wanted it in my comfort zone. That is not always how God works.

 

****

 

The afternoon had been promised to Elianna because she needed to shop for items for her mission trip. Shopping isn’t Griffey’s idea of fun, especially with two determined women. He was saved by the men’s ministry and their annual “leaf relief” to Griffey’s relief. The men were raking leaves at precisely the same time as our shopping spree. He did offer to meet us for a late lunch, though. Elianna and I just laughed and sent him off with a leaf blower, rake, and work gloves.

Not long after his departure, we climbed into my car and headed for our local mall.

“Mom, thanks for encouraging me to go on this trip. I suppose the thought of being out of my comfort zone—way out like all the way to Africa out—made me fearful.” Elianna said as she checked her makeup in the passenger mirror.

“The ‘all the way to Africa’ part bothers me a little bit, too,” I admitted with a sigh, glancing her way.

“I just want to do what God wants me to. You know, make a difference. Does that sound crazy?” She leaned toward me with desperation in her eyes.

“Not at all.” I grinned and patted her leg. The only thing that sounded crazy was that I wanted to do the same thing. But while Elianna was young with her whole life ahead of her to prepare and follow God’s will, statistically speaking, I probably had only another forty years to accomplish something significant. Had I wasted half my life spinning my wheels when it came to God’s will?

I didn’t want to miss out on any more blessings due to my lack of obedience. If Elianna could climb out on a limb and go to Africa, then surely I could make the climb too.

 

****

 

Sunday morning came around way too soon, and I made my way to the nursery, which is my post during Sunday School. I enjoy getting a baby fix each week. Griffey and I thought we would never have children, even though we wanted them. Elianna had been a definite blessing, and sometimes it’s hard to believe she’s a grown woman.

I held little Caleb first. I took in his sweet facial features and remembered the struggle his parents went through to finally conceive. He was such a miracle. Come to think of it, this whole room was filled with blessings.

“…so has your husband talked to Bill?” Beatrice said as I cuddled with the two-month-old infant. Bill was Beatrice’s oldest son.

I scanned my brain to figure out what she was talking about. I had no idea, and in my hesitation her tone raised.

“You know Bill and that whole situation. I just wanted to know what happened.” Her face had reddened, and she crossed her arms.

“Beatrice, I really don’t know what you’re talking about. I …” I placed Caleb back in the crib and turned my full attention to her.

“Well, he came to talk to the pastor!” Her pitch raised into a frustrated tone.

“My husband is confidential. I don’t know about everyone he sees or what they discuss. Griffey really feels strongly about keeping confidences with those he counsels.”

“Umph!” She turned on her heels and stomped to the other side of the room.

My flesh wanted to “umph” her back, but I controlled myself. I suppose everyone has someone that makes them want to lose their religion from time to time. Mine was Beatrice, and there was no avoiding her. She headed the nursery department. Admittedly, she did a wonderful job of that, but her other skill was to irk the pastor’s wife. I was grateful when she strode off to the toddler room.

The clock seemed to tick slowly, though I attempted to will the Sunday School hour to be over. I didn’t want to go another round with Beatrice. I escaped, heading toward the ladies room to check for drool damage. I often found myself thankful the choir wore robes when a clothing mishap occurred during my nursery time. I eyed myself in the full-length mirror and breathed a sigh of relief.

I ran into Emily on the way to the choir room.

“Emily, Beatrice did it to me again. She expects me to know everything Griffey knows. Then she makes me feel like an idiot for not knowing.” I rolled my eyes.

Emily just grinned. “She doesn’t make you feel like an idiot. That interpretation is your own. She may be prone to rudeness and even being unkind, but you are the only one who can make yourself feel like an idiot. But, I know what you mean; she can be quite testing.”

“Testing? Annoying is more like it.”

“Addy.” She said my name as a reprimand and then looked me in the eyes.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t intend to sound so mean.” I whispered, instantly feeling guilty for my unkind words.

“Look, Beatrice can be Miss Eyewitness News, I’ll admit.” I smiled at the nickname we had given her, comparing her to a reporter that just had to know all and tell all. “But, she’s good at what she does.”

“You’re right.” I nodded, remembering how the kids flocked to her. She truly seemed a different person with them. “She’s devoted to her nursery and her babies. The kids adore her. I wish she’d mellow out in some other areas.”

“I guess we all have our rough edges, and they probably annoy someone.” She shrugged.

I wondered what rough edge I had that annoyed Emily, but felt too sensitive at the moment to ask. I would probably be offended at her quick response and stomp off. The thing that annoyed me most about Emily was that she was usually right.

Sometimes I didn’t want the right answer; I just wanted sympathy and support for my side. Truthfully, I was envious of Emily in many ways—even her wise and honest rebukes. At least she had the nerve to say something.

 

****

 

Monday morning’s alarm startled me awake. I jumped to my feet, anxious to see if I might run into Conrad again.

I zipped my jacket and started my walk. The morning was crisp as evidenced by the little white clouds created by my breath. Halfway through my walk, there was still no sign of Conrad. I scanned homes as I passed, even looked behind me—but there were just neighbors doing what they do. Arriving back at my front door, I was disappointed Conrad hadn’t joined me. I hoped he was all right. I didn’t even know how to find him if I wanted to check on him, but my main reason for wanting to see him was to see if he might have insight into the visions.

I went through my morning routine realizing that tomorrow would be a whole week since the two visions. I wasn’t sure if I felt relieved or ashamed. Did God want to use me, only I had pushed the opportunity away?

When I entered the dental office, I remembered it was the new assistant’s first day. It would be my job to acquaint her with the routine of our office. She was already waiting.

“Addy, this is Marilee,” Dr. Reeves said as I stowed my purse in my locker.

I faced the woman and extended my hand. “Nice to meet you, Marilee. I guess you’re stuck with me to show you the ropes.”

She grinned, looking rather nervous. As I studied her more closely, I wondered if Dr. Reeves misunderstood her age. The leather texture of her skin and abundance of wrinkles surrounding her eyes and mouth tended to portray a longer life than early thirties. Judging by the dark circles around her eyes, perhaps she was ill. The frequent raspy cough evidenced some malady as well. The skin on her arms thinly covered protruding bones. My mother would have said, “One good wind gust and she’d be gone!”

“Well, I suppose I’ll start by giving you a tour.” I kept my tone cheery, hoping to make her feel welcome and at ease.

“All right.”

Marilee was attentive and eager to learn and after a couple of hours working together, I felt Dr. Reeves had made a good decision hiring her. But, about ten-thirty Marilee became quite anxious; she even had a slight tremor in her hands.

“Are you all right?” I was back to my theory that she wasn’t well.

She wrung her hands. “Just need a little break.” She smiled, but it was obviously forced.

“Sure. We’ve worked hard this morning. Go ahead.” I nodded toward the lounge. She might be diabetic. I had a friend in college who was. She had to make sure she ate at short intervals throughout the day to avoid insulin fluctuations.

I cleaned the exam room and wandered toward the small employee lounge area to check on Marilee. It was empty. I hastened to the employee restrooms but found them vacant as well. Just then the back door opened. Marilee sashayed in with a calm expression on her face. My nose burned from a sudden flood of cigarette smoke. Her requirement wasn’t sugar, but nicotine.

“Nasty habit, I know,” she said rather repentant.

She tossed the pack and lighter into her small locker. “What’s next?” She seemed revived.

The day continued in the same manner—we would work about two hours, and then she would have to run outside to smoke. Cigarettes controlled her life—her very schedule. Her intermittent coughing spells alarmed me. There were times I feared she wouldn’t be able to catch her breath.

At lunchtime Marilee sat alone in the break room picking over the last bits of a microwave meal. I took a seat beside her, hoping to find out a little more about her.

“So, are you new in town?”

“Sorta. I moved away when I married years ago. When my husband left last year, I went back to finish my dental assistant training. I decided that home was as good a place as any to start again.”

“Do you have a church?”

She diverted her gaze, concentrating on her plate. “Haven’t been in years. Probably should go. My health is not so good. Maybe I could get some prayers.” Her voice held a hint of sarcasm.

“Well, you’re welcome to come to the church my husband pastors.”

Marilee’s expression changed to embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know…” She patted her chest.

“Relax Marilee. It’s all right.” I waved my hand dismissively. “But, we would love for you to visit some Sunday when you feel ready and settled.”

“The last church I attended wasn’t very fond of my smoking in between services outside. I just felt I needed to be there when I found out about my COPD and lung cancer risk.”

When she spoke the last line, she wouldn’t look in my eyes. Her face flushed, and she stared at her soda can.

I patted her hand. “Wow, look at the time, we had better get back to work or Dr. Reeves might come searching for us.”

A look of relief flooded her face. I supposed she expected me to scold her. How sad that other Christians would judge her so harshly and ignore her spiritual need just because of a bad habit.

Later, as we were all leaving for the day, I stopped Marilee.

“I don’t work on Tuesdays, Marilee. Are you working tomorrow?”

“Yes, but you’ve prepared me well. I think I’ll make it.” She bit her bottom lip.

“I think you’ll make it too!” I gave her a quick pat on the back.

“When do you work again?” Her brows rose.

“I work Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday.”

“I’ll see you on Thursday then.” Marilee gave a smile.

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. Everyone’s pretty friendly around here.”

“Thanks, Addy.”

 

****

 

Sitting at Emily’s kitchen counter for our weekly Chinese lunch the next day, I told her all about Marilee.

“Sounds like she needs a friend,” Emily said.

“Yeah.” I shook my finger with emphasis. “But, if I ever do something that appears to be killing me, please step in. It is disturbing to hear her cough and see how her health suffers.”

“Don’t worry. You know me. I would do more than step in—maybe shake you.” She glared at me for a moment, and then we laughed.

Emily’s expression turned serious. She propped her elbows and leaned toward me. “So what about the visions?”

“I haven’t had any more. It’s been a whole week. I’m relieved on the one hand, but I feel guilty on the other.”

“Guilty?”

“Yes. Did I miss out on God wanting to use me? I wasn’t very willing.” Suddenly my sweet and sour chicken seemed just sour.

“Addy, you need to decide—do you want to forget about the visions or do you want to be willing to be used, however God chooses?” She gestured as if she held the two choices in her hands.

Emily placed her hand on mine and patted like I had done to Marilee yesterday. She smiled that reassuring smile I’d grown to love over the years. Emily is one of my biggest blessings, and sometimes that means being honest with me even if it is painful.

 

****

 

Wednesday evening during prayer meeting, Griffey shared as delicately as possible about the death of Gladys Stanley, another senior saint in our church. He didn’t need to explain who she was, for everyone knew her and had been touched by her.

“The family will receive friends on Friday evening at McCarty’s from six until eight with the funeral following. The graveside will be Saturday morning. Naturally, it was her wish in lieu of flowers to make donations to our church.” Griffey’s voice quivered slightly, but he stood tall. A congregation had no idea the depth of feeling stirred in those who ministered to them. Deaths like Miss Gladys’s resembled that of a close family member, even though there is no blood relation.

And on Friday evening when I sat in a padded folding chair in the back of the funeral home chapel, with no more seats available, and people clumped in the back lining the side walls, I marveled at the testimonial to this woman’s life.

Even though Griffey’s occupation required my presence at many funerals, I always hated them. I believed it morbid to walk by a casket and look at a corpse. I didn’t want to see my mother that way, but had no choice. When my mother’s cancer fight ended, I was only eighteen. I had no experience with choosing a casket and making funeral arrangements, but there was no one else to do it. Even though I detested funerals, I just couldn’t bear to think of anyone else having to go it alone as I had.

A hush fell over the crowd as Griffey stood to begin the service.

“We have come today to honor and celebrate the home-going of Gladys Stanley.” His voice was clear, but his eyes exuded sadness. “As is evidenced by this crowd, she touched many lives.” A hint of a smile curved his lips. “I first met Gladys when I became pastor at New Glen Baptist Church where, I might add, she was a charter member. At the beginning of every service you would find her at the sanctuary doors greeting all who entered. As a ‘wet behind the ears’ pastor, I asked if I might stand with her. She was most gracious and enthusiastic in her affirmative reply. Many of you may not be aware that when she wasn’t working in the church, she was at our local food bank or our association’s pregnancy crisis center. She was a blessing to so many people. I know on Wednesday morning when she closed her eyes to this world, she opened them in heaven and heard: ‘Well done, my good and faithful servant …’”

Tears welled up so deep my vision blurred. Silently I poured my heart out to God. “Oh God, this dear lady worked for you until she physically could not go on. I want to hear: ‘Well done’ when I see You face to face. I don’t care what it takes, use me.”

The tears spilled down my cheeks. I experienced a release like the peace of resting in a safe place.