Oscar was sitting at a picnic table outside eating his lunch. It had turned out to be a warm sunny fall day. He was working on his lesson plan as he ate very slowly the potato stroganoff that she’d made. It hadn’t bothered him when he ate it for dinner; so here goes round two, he thought to himself.
A large black shadow overtook him and loomed over where he sat. When he looked up from his bowl, Chaz was sitting down in front of him.
“For what do I owe the pleasure?” Oscar asked.
Chaz sat without a word. Oscar could only assume he was staring at him. He couldn’t see through the mirrored aviator glasses. Finally Chaz said, “I can’t decide if I want to try to get to know you better or stump your ass.”
“You’ve been wanting to kick my ass since the first day you met me.”
“Oh, you’re good.” He hissed.
“How’d you even get in here?”
“Oh, all you have to do is flash a badge.” Chaz shrugged.
Oscar tried to ignore him; thinking, hoping that he would just go away. But he was wrong. “What do you want?” He finally conceded.
“I just wanted to size you up. I wanted to take a good long look at the man that finally got under Esther’s skin.”
“Am I to assume you couldn’t?”
“Didn’t try too hard, but I would have enjoyed the opportunity. The two of you seem like polar opposites to me.”
“You don’t know anything about me.”
“True, only what I can read on paper.”
“I only have 30 minutes.”
“Look,” Chaz paused. “I care a great deal about Esther.” He pointed a very large finger at Oscar. “Don’t you hurt her.” Chaz continued to set there. After several minutes, he leaned in closer. “I know you can’t answer this for me, but help me put together the pieces, New York has changed her.”
“You’re right. I can’t help you.”
“So what did you do?”
“I don’t follow.”
“Did you get down on your knees and beg? Did you cry? Did you promise her the moon if she would turn me down?”
Oscar was confused. “Turn you down, what are you talkin’ about?”
“Esther told me she wasn’t interested in the job.”
Oscar was stunned. “She did?”
“Yeah, and I’m assumin’ Lover Boy that it has everything to do with you.” Chaz sucked air between his tongue and his teeth, “that’s one mighty fine ring you put on her finger.”
The sky looked so close to the ground. My first thought was, someone could reach up and touch it. While I know that’s not gonna happen, the sky reached down and touched us with more rain. ☔️
The next Sunday, Oscar and Esther did go back to church. After the choir sang their songs, Brother James stood behind the pulpit with his suit coat unbuttoned and his left hand in his pocket. There was a hushed silence that fell over the congregation.
“I had one of the ladies ask me where I’ve been all week?” He rubbed his free hand through his hair. “I’ve been praying.” He paused, “God tells us to go to a closet and pray, (Matthew 6:6) that’s pretty much where I’ve been.” He paused. “Last Sunday I upset someone very much with my sermon. And God led me to learn more about why. The subject of sin is always upsetting. But there is always more to every story.”
Oscar put his arm around Esther.
Brother James fidgeted for a moment. “I have never had anyone in my life commit suicide. No one close to me is a homosexual. I do have people close to me that have committed adultery. That have abused drugs. That have sucked the very marrow out of life, threw away the bone and sucked for more.” He turned to lean on the pulpit; “the human in me wants to glorify God and to live a life that is pleasing onto him. The human in me also knows the pain that having people close to you commit public sins causes.” He put his hand over his heart. “Pain that, it’s hard to talk about; pain that we had soon just forget.” He lowered his head as if in shame. “I try really hard not to preach about those sins that lay close to me. For the simple reason, I don’t want to relive the pain. I guess in essence, that too is a sin. Ignoring the will of God.” He rubbed his face with his hands and let out a long sigh. “I mentioned that I felt led to go to talk to the person that I hurt. And when I did, it wasn’t about the sin. It was about hope. I had popped her bubble of hope. I had taken away the hope that she would one day get to see that special person again. I need to wrap up in grace.” He hugged himself for a moment as if wrapping himself up in that word. “Jesus died on the cross to forgive all our sins and give us grace. It’s all about grace.” He pointed out over the congregation. “I see heads bobbing so some of you agree with me. As it was pointed out to me, the Bible is full of fire and brimstone. The bible is also full of mercy, love, compassion, our beloved grace, and,” he paused, “hope. I forget about hope. But think with me, when we pray: we pray for Bob’s cancer to go away. We pray that Amber will arrive safely in Denver. We pray that God will make the people that we work with more understanding. We pray the Cats will win tonight.” There was soft laughter in the congregation. “But what is that prayer?” He looked out over the crowd. “It is our expression of hope. This person wasn’t upset because I said suicide was a sin. She agrees with me that it is. But I took away her hope.” He put both hands over his heart. “When Jesus was hanging on the cross with the two thieves next to him, one says to him, ‘if you are the Lord, get yourself and us down.’ But the other one said, ‘we deserve to be here. We have committed our crime. Lord, but you are innocent. Remember me when you come into your kingdom.’ And what did Jesus say, ‘Today you will be in my kingdom with me.’ I paraphrased a bit, my point is this, I don’t want you to leave here today thinking that Brother Randall gave me permission to kill myself, no. What I am saying, is that without being witness to the event. We have no way of knowing if he or she cried out to the Lord. That’s what we need to do in our time of sorrow and triumph, is cry out to the Lord.” He stretched out his arms, “cry out to the Lord. He will hear us.” He bowed his head, “please brothers and sisters, if I ever preach on a subject that is close to you and you are hurt by my words: please, talk with me about it. I don’t want to be the preacher that turns you away from God. Tell me about it. I don’t want to be the man with blood on his hands.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “She asked me why I chose suicide as my sermon? I didn’t have an answer until now. I can only assume it’s like being an author.” He put his hands in the air around his head. “God puts ideas here.” And with a fluid motion, he moved his hands from his head to his mouth, “and they come out here. I didn’t have a sermon prepared that morning.” He leaned back on the pulpit. “Perhaps it was to teach me a lesson. If I am too human to talk about my pain, it is ungodly of me to belittle someone else’s. And for that I am truly sorry and I beg your forgiveness.” He made direct eye contact with Esther. “There will be inflammatory subjects that we discuss. Not because they are political, but because God requires it. Please, let it be a learning opportunity for me. We are all here to learn about God, myself included. I am young and the years of life are not under my belt. Let me learn from you just as you come here to learn from me.”
After the service, Brother James shook Oscar’s hand. He just stared at Esther, not really knowing what to say. She finally said, “thank you.”
He smiled for the first time since she had met him. “No, thank you.” He didn’t shake her hand, instead he hugged her.
On the way home, Oscar asked, “are you okay?”
“I think so.”
He took her hand and kissed the top of it. “What do you think about coming back?”
About three o’clock the doorbell rang. Oscar opened the door to find the pastor standing on the other side.
“Did my mother send you?”
“Mr. Patterson.” He shuffled his feet. “No, I’m sure I don’t know your mother. Sister Sharon told me where I could find you.” He forced a smile. “I knocked at your door. She also told me that the lady that left abruptly was your fiancée.” He cleared his throat. “I couldn’t help but notice.”
“How astute of you.”
“Well,” He looked back down at the porch, “I would like to talk to her.”
“Come in.” Oscar let the young man in.
Esther was standing behind the couch.
The young man walked over to Esther and extended his hand in a handshake, “James Randall.”
She accepted, “Esther Morrison. Have a seat.” She pointed to the couch. Oscar went into the kitchen and got 2 chairs.
“Thank you.”
He cleared his throat as everyone sat down. “I couldn’t help but notice that you got up and left.”
“Very astute.”
He smiled. “Yeah, I feel like I need to talk to you.”
“Where are my manners? Would you like something to drink?” She looked at Oscar, “we have Coke, water, tea, coffee, and I think some apple cider.”
He looked at Oscar, who was staring lovingly at Esther. “A Coke would be fine.”
Oscar got up bringing back three Coke Zeros. The young man rolled his around in his hands. He used it as more of a distraction than a drink.
Esther finally started the conversation, “are you a called to preacher or educated?”
“Both.” He smiled. “When I was 16, I had a pastor reach down to me. I was on a road headed for destruction. He reached out and saved me. From that moment on, I wanted to be just like him; full of passion and fire. When I graduated from high school, I went to seminary.”
“Have you ever had anyone in your life commit suicide?” Esther asked.
“No.”
“What compelled you to preach on the subject this morning?”
He shook his head, “I can’t answer that. One thing led to another and there it was.”
“When I was six, we had a preacher come to our house and talk to my grandmother like a dog about the sin of suicide. As if her guilt wasn’t enough, he took away her hope that she might one day get to see her son again. I was playing under the sink when all of this happened. I heard every ugly word that he said to her. I have spent the better part of my adult life hating organized religion for that very reason. He is the one human on this planet that I hate, in the true since of the word. The man that was supposed to help me and my grandparents through this tragedy was in fact telling us what a monster, a devil, and an evil man my dad was. We never went to church again after that day. My grandparents went to their graves with the,” she stopped for a moment. Oscar held her hand. “They wanted to kill him.” She took a deep breath. “I’m not saying that suicide isn’t a sin. It is the murder of oneself and our bodies are temples onto God. You have just destroyed his temple.” She got up, returning with a Kleenex. “They are his house when he lives in us. I have spent years studying suicide and religion. I have read hundreds of opinions, sermons, editorials; you name it on the subject. Through those, I understand that yes, it is a sin. But in all his grace, in all his mercy, will God forgive this sin.” Tears rolled down her face as Oscar put his arm around her. “What was so broken in my dad that made him want to take his own life? Will God not take that into consideration on judgment day, that my dad had a mental illness? What conversation did he and God have before he pulled the trigger? Or even after? Was he able to ask for forgiveness? ” She wiped at her tears. “I pray that he lived long enough to ask God for forgiveness. I pray that God will show mercy for his transgression so that I will be able to hug him again someday. I pray that he will show mercy on my grandparents for falling and not being able to get back up.” There were several moments of tense silence. “The last time I had this discussion with a pastor, I just wanted to hurt him for all the hurt he caused us.” She rubbed her hands up and down her thighs as if trying to wipe dirt. “But I want you to know that you busted my bubble of hope. You took away the hope that in God’s grace and mercy he will forgive my dad. He will forgive my grandparents. And that he will forgive me.” She got up, whispering, “You took away my hope.” She turned at the kitchen door, “suicide is talked about in the bible: Judas, King Saul, and Samson being the three I can think of right off the top of my head. What made you choose that sin?”
Brother James was near to tears himself, “please come back to church.” His voice cracked, “please let me make it right.”
God’s lessons are all around us. We sometimes don’t know how to interpret what he’s saying. Or perhaps we know but we choose to look the other way. I know I do. Brush off an experience and say, ‘that’s not me’.
There was a time in my life that I questioned how people could spend so much on their pets. Dress them up in little outfits. Take them on dates. Or spend thousands of dollars on them at the vet. Their whole world revolves around their pets.
For those of you that know me, you know I’m a little bit obsessed with my Chico. He is king of this castle. I had to take Cheekie to the vet last Tuesday. A two night, all inclusive, medical emergency (in my eyes) And I had no idea how much was gonna cost. God has used this situation to open my eyes and say, ‘this is why those other people did it. This is what it feels like’.
Chico became part of my life in 2015. 9 years this August. There are times he dances on my last nerve. But I wouldn’t trade him for all the tea in China.
God could have used a less painful way to get the message across. But I got it loud and clear.
Esther and Oscar were cleaning up the kitchen after dinner. “One of the teachers invited me to go to her church, what do you think?” Oscar asked.
“What did she tell you about it?”
“It is a Baptist church and they have a new young pastor. She says that he is full of passion.”
“Sure, we can give it a try.” She winked.
That Sunday they went to a little brick church about forty-five minutes from their homes. It was nice enough. There was about a hundred people there and much to
Esther’s joy, the congregation was diverse. Young and old were at this church.
This pastor was a very young man. He couldn’t have been more than twenty five, Esther calculated. The co-worker that had invited Oscar to church welcomed them warmly.
Esther enjoyed the music. When she looked over at Oscar, he was smiling. When they sat down for the message, he held her hand.
The pastor got behind the pulpit and let his sermon about fire and brimstone rain. And the co-worker was right, he was full of passion. But toward the middle of his sermon, he started talking about the sin of suicide. Of all the sins in all the bible to talk about, he spoke about this one. Esther could feel herself getting upset. Relived the confrontation with her gram and Brother Evan. Then, her meeting with him. As the pastor pounded his fist on the pulpit, she jumped. As he continued to rain his words of sin, she could no longer contain her tears. She bolted from the church, falling to her knees in the parking lot sobbing. Oscar wasn’t far behind her.
She was too upset to eat lunch. They went home, changed clothes and she cried all afternoon.
Oscar was heartbroken. He didn’t know how to comfort her. She was lying in what he hoped was their bed, and crying.
Yesterday my chapter of Winter Season was one of my main characters being lonely. Loneliness has been called an epidemic.
The other day, while shopping the coffee aisle, scanning for a bargain, this flustered woman says, ‘“I can’t find the Coffeemate”.
So I helped her look. They had little containers but not the big one that was on sale. We chatted for a moment before parting company. The person I was shopping with found more creamer. After getting the ladies attention, I took her a big Coffeeemate. She talked and talked and talked. Is this what lonely looks like?
We get pictures from society of old men sitting on a park bench feeding pigeons. Of an old woman sitting in a rocker watching it rain. Is this what lonely looks like?
In our conversation, the Coffeemate lady shared that her child had just gone off to college, who normally did the shopping. And that she wore her prescription sunglasses into the store instead of her normal glasses. Not wanting to look like she was stoned, she was trying to shop without proper eyewear.
In scary movies, we get the image of the widow living in the run down house, with 10 cats, that all the neighborhood children are afraid of. Is this what lonely looks like?
WHO has stated the effects of loneliness is the same as smoking 15 cigarettes a day. You would think that with social media that the number of lonely people would be declining but you’d be wrong.
What does loneliness look like? How about the clerk at Wal-Mart that can’t make eye contact with you? Afraid she can’t hold back the tears. The dad, married, with 2 children. You think, ‘this fool shouldn’t be lonely. He has what I want. Loving family. Good job. What does he have to be lonely about’? Or the billionaire sitting on top of the world.
There is such a stigma associated with loneliness or being lonely that many find it difficult to talk about. Like the example above; good job, food on the table, car to drive, people in your life that love you, what do you have to be lonely about?
I’ve heard it said, ‘this is a problem you can fix’. How hard is it to (fix) loneliness? Talk to a stranger, make a new friend. Many people would rather curl up in a ball and die before they would talk to a stranger. Remember that phrase we learnt as children, ‘stranger danger’. I’ve heard it said, ‘fill your life with God’. No issue with that. Does it really fix loneliness?
When we share our thoughts, feelings, or vulnerabilities , too often they are weaponized. Making many afraid to explore. The devil you know is easier to live with than the devil you don’t know.
I will ask the question this way, how do you fix loneliness?
Oscar tossed and turned in his bed. There was no sleeping. The day that his brother shot Esther kept playing in his mind. They hadn’t said goodnight to each other or gave each other a good night kiss. He couldn’t stand it. His call, it went unanswered. He wouldn’t let the night pass in such a fashion. The knock on her door went unanswered. He found her sitting on the back porch.
“Ess, we can’t end the day like this,” he stood in the yard waiting for her to respond.
“How shall we end it then?” Her voice was flat and dry. Had she been crying?
“May I come up?”
“Sure.”
He moved a chair to where he was facing her, “honey, have you been crying?”
“Can’t fool you.” She snubbed.
“Oh God, my love, do you need money?”
She gave a long sigh, “I’m good for now.”
“Then tell me what you need.”
“We’ve had this conversation.” He lowered his head. “Oscar, I can’t tell you not to be afraid. I can’t tell you that bad things won’t happen to me. All I can do is tell you that I love you, pray for the best and plan for the worst.” She paused, “I miss it. I’m not sure if I miss the job or the people that I worked with.”
Oscar’s voice was but a whisper, “are you lonely?”
“I hate that word.” She hissed.
“Talk to me.”
She held his hand, “and tell you what?”
He knelt on the porch in front of her. “Tell me what I need to do to make you happy. Tell me what I need to do to fulfil you. There’s no gag orders here, what do I have to do to make you talk to me?”
She jumped up out of her chair, “I’m lonely. There I said it. Are you happy?” She turned back around to face him. “I don’t have anyone to talk to while you’re at work. I don’t have anything to do. I set here on my ass all day long. When I first got here, I needed the rest; I was a giant ball of stress. Then after the letter came, again, I needed the rest, the weight of the unknown world had been lifted off my shoulders and I just wanted to rest. Now that’s gone.” She lowered her voice and closed her eyes. “Oscar this has nothing to do with you. I love you. I love being part of your world. But I don’t have a world right now for you to be a part of.”
He got up out of the porch, “I disagree. You live. You have a world.”
“What is it?” She pleaded. “Tell me what my world is.”
“What about being a house wife?”
She laughed, “me? A house wife?”
“You know that look you said I get when I come home to a hot meal?”
“Yes.” She was now leaning up against the banisters.
“It’s not just because of the food.” He paused praying that she wouldn’t think he was crazy. “It’s because you’re here waiting for me. You always have your arms open for me wrapping me up in a warm strong embrace. No matter how horrible my day has been; the sight of your smile, the warmth of your embrace, your smell, it makes everything better.” He rubbed his face with his hands. “I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose you.” He whispered, “I can’t.” He walked over beside her, “I’m not strong enough Esther.”
She placed her hand on his chest over his heart. He let out a long sigh. “So what’s next?” She asked.
“Let me pray about it. Let it sink in. Let’s talk about it more. I’ve got another week.” When she looked at him there were tears in his eyes.
She wiped away his tears, “please don’t cry.”
“Why can’t I be enough?”
“Let me ask you this. If you lost your job tomorrow, could I really fill your life? After having worked the last twenty plus years, can you honestly say that I would be enough?”
He placed his hand over hers, “I would like to think so.”
“I don’t want you to find out. I don’t want you to lose your job after you’ve worked so hard to get it.”
He held her face in his hands, “I love you so much. I just….I can’t.” He held his hand toward her. She accepted it and he led her into the house, to bed and into an embrace he would give her every night that she would allow him. If this is what he had to do to show her that he loved her, he would gladly do it. He just held her.
Esther was standing in front of the stove stretching out her back and shoulders as the last couple seconds ticked away on the timer. Oscar heard her shoulder pop, the one that gave her so much trouble. The timer went off and she sat the hot pot on the counter. He could have stood there the rest of the day and watched her but instead he wrapped his arms around her waist.
“Good morning,” she purred. “I didn’t hear you get up.”
“I know.” He pulled her close, kissing her neck, up around her ears. “I’m so sick of oatmeal.”
“I know. Let’s go to the grocery today and look for new things you can eat.” She enjoyed it when he was behind her. To her, it was a position where he was in control. She ran her fingers through his hair.
He slowly worked his hands up her abdomen as he ran his nose through her hair. He kissed her left shoulder.
She turned facing him. His eyes were closed and his lips were parted. She ran her fingers through his hair again as she drew him toward her. Though she felt she hadn’t perfected her version of THAT KISS, she was still working on it. He started falling catching himself on the counter.
As he pulled away, she rested her hands on his chest, feeling him breathe.
“When we are married, I’m going to show you a new way to eat oatmeal.” She giggled.
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