Church,  A School of Love

Part 1

Matthew 21: 12 “And Jesus entered the temple and drove out all who sold and bought in the temple, and he overturned the tables of the money-changers and the seats of those who sold pigeons. 13 He said to them, “It is written, ‘My house shall be called a house of prayer,’ but you make it a den of robbers.” 14 And the blind and the lame came to him in the temple, and he healed them.” ESV

Six

The heat from the sun was causing sweat to run down Aaron’s back. But he didn’t care. He was feverishly flipping sand, the goal was to build a moat around his sandcastle. A boat sped down the river causing gentle ripples to reach him. They made it easier for the water to flow into his moat. He hummed a little tune he had heard at Sunday school as the ripples continued. “Three, four, five.” The sixth ripple didn’t make it to his moat. “Five.” He sounded confidently. More sand flew through the air. 

His grandma came rushing down the hill toward him. He paid her no mind as he continued working on the moat. A crack filled his ears. Followed by terror. “Don’t you run, you miserable little shit.”

But he ran. That sound always made him run. He tried to run away from the sound. An exposed oak root caught his tiny foot; he gasped, falling on the cool damp ground. 

“I told you not to run.” She panted. 

He heard the air being pushed away by the leather long before it touched him. Curling into a ball, trying to protect himself. What good would shorts and a t-shirt do him against grandpa’s old leather belt? 

“Wha’d I do?”

Each blow landed harder than the last. His little body jumped as they landed. “I told you not to run.”

“Wha’d I do?” He peaked through tears to look at her face. It was red. Like an apple. Her mouth was distorted. He saw a comic book once, his friend Jimmy had. There was a clown in it that killed people. That was her. A scary clown face. 

“Told you not to run.” She hissed, as another blow fell. “Don’t,” a blow landed. “You,” this one got his back. “Ever,” this one got his shoulder. “Do,” this one was back to his leg. “That,” this one got his elbow. “Again,” she shouted. This one hit his head. The blows didn’t hurt anymore, his body was numb. “You little devil. How dare you embarrass me like that.” She panted. “Don’t you ever argue with the Sunday school teacher again . Where did the unicorns go?” She mocked. “Who gives a shit?”

Aaron snubbed, “unicorns are in the Bible. Three times. Whur’d they go?”

She hauled off and hit him again, this time with the clasp. “You’s is to shut up and listen.” 

Aaron woke to the sounds of crickets. Every part of his body was sore. His right side from falling. His left side from the beating. In the moon light, he could see the footprints that had destroyed his sand castle. It was rare for a boat to be on the water at night. With one giant leap, the water consumed him. It stung and burned. He knew he shouldn’t scream. 

But he did. He screamed until his lungs burned. The sound of a dog barking filled his ears. Why was a dog underwater? How could he scream underwater? 

Aaron rose straight up out of bed, screaming. The barking was his dog. He scooped her up. “Sorry baby,” came his breathless apology. “I’m sorry I scared you.” He held her tight, rubbing her fur, “I’m sorry.”