Josh woke early, slid out of bed, and went into the bathroom. Evalyn didn't wake. He looked at himself in the mirror. His eyes were red and his face was drawn. He felt like he hadn't had any sleep.
As the water filled the sink and he put a fresh blade in his razor, his mind wandered back to the previous evening. His thoughts wouldn't focus; they jumped from point to point. What was happening to Evalyn? Was she confused? Had that minister worked on her emotions? Or... was she maybe right? Am I maybe wrong?
He nicked himself with the razor, and the twinge of pain and the reddening spot on his jaw brought him back to reality. He finished shaving, applied a styptic pencil to the cut, and went back into the bedroom. Evalyn was sitting up in bed,
"Hi," she said.
"Easy for you to say." He smiled, halfheartedly.
"Are you okay?"
"Sure. I guess I've got too much to think about. I need to take a walk."
"Good idea. Take your time. I'll feed the kids, but I'll wait for you."
"No, you go ahead and eat. I don't know how long I'll be."
Once outside, he felt a little better. As he passed house after house, he found himself playing a little game with each family name: Smith (probably an alias), Quaker (hah, nothing Quaker-ish about their parties), and so on. Without noticing, he shifted from the game to thinking of church families. The Allens - he was a construction worker, out of work the past six months or so. The Whites had lost a son in Viet Nam. The Currys - a nice enough couple, but with a daughter who had run off to San Francisco with some sort of cult.
The list went on, and Josh suddenly realized that he was characterizing each family by some problem they had. Everyone seemed to have a situation or a problem or something that they had a hard time with. He found himself trying to think of someone who didn't fit that description. His mind proposed name after name, but the only ones that seemed to fit were ones he didn't know very well. They probably didn't qualify as exceptions, either.
This plenitude of problems was not really that great a revelation, once you thought about it. He just hadn't thought about it in that particular way, not that he could remember. Actually, what really started to interest him as he walked along was not that they had problems, but the way they dealt (or didn't deal) with them. Some (most, to one degree or another) seemed to live constantly burdened by their special crosses. Others appeared to be in constant conflict to maintain their domination of the situation. A very few seemed almost oblivious to their burdens.
Thinking and walking, he eventually found himself in front of Paul Grayson's office. He opened the door and went in.
"Morning, Betty. Is the boss in yet?"
"Hi, Pastor Felton. Yes, he's here. Let me check if he's busy."
She spoke briefly on the office intercom, and then Paul was at the door to the inner office. He made an exaggerated sweeping bow.
"Good morning, Sir Shakespeare. Or, perhaps I should say Erskine Caldwell?"
He winked toward Betty, and Josh felt himself blush.
"Come into my inner sanctum. Betty, please hold down the fort for a few minutes, will you?"
Paul closed the door, and motioned Josh to a chair. He took his place behind his desk, sitting bolt upright with hands flat on the desk, and with an overdone air of expectancy about him.
"So?" he asked.
Josh forced a smile, and tried to sound casual. "So, what did you think of Sunday night?"
Paul leaned back in his chair. "Interesting," he said, noncommittally. "What kind of reaction did you get?"
"Mixed." Okay, two can play this game.
They sat in silence for so long that Paul finally pulled his body erect in his chair again, put his hands flat on the desk, and tried to look pompous.
"So?" he asked again, putting so much question into the one word that Josh had to laugh.
"All right, I think I can tell by your antics that your reaction was not one hundred percent favorable."
Paul leaned back. "Well, friend Josh, you didn't exactly set yourself up for the Pulitzer Prize in Literature. No, really, it wasn't that it was bad. It just seemed a little common."
Josh was over the sting of that particular criticism. "Others said the same thing, both about style and subject matter. I guess it needed a lot more than I gave it. Actually, I think I could do better on the style. What's really bothering me is something else."
"What else?"
Josh described his encounter with Bob Hoffmann, the letters, and his discussion with Evalyn.
"Evalyn thinks I should go on. I'm not sure I can."
Paul didn't respond immediately. He drummed his fingers on the table absently, obviously formulating his words.
"Okay. I agree with Ev that Mrs. Hoddy's letter is not that big a deal. I know that we don't want to offend 'the old guard’, but I think they can be handled all right. Actually, as Ev suggested, that letter is probably only from Mrs. Hoddy herself, or at most her and another one or two. It probably doesn't reflect the feelings of all the 'Benevolents.'
"As for the story itself, we've talked about that, and I agree with you that you can write better. In regard to Bob Hoffmann, JoAnne whoever she is, the youth pastor, and Ev's comments about the Holy Spirit, I don't know what to think. There are obviously people out there seeking some real answers to some real questions, and they seem to think your story can help. Ev is saying that God might help, too - I mean with tangible answers to those tangible questions. Maybe so. I never thought about it that way."
Josh looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to go on. Paul shrugged.
"As I said, I don't know. So, back to you: what do you plan to do?"
Josh got up. "I don't know, either. I guess I better think some more."
Paul walked him to the front door. "Ev quoted a scripture about what to do if you lack wisdom. Maybe you should pray about it, as well as thinking about it."
Josh turned to see if he was smiling. He wasn't.
"Maybe I should." He closed the door behind him, and walked back toward home.
***
Evalyn sat in bed for a long time after Josh left the house. Thankfully, the kids stayed in bed a long time, too, because there was a lot for her to think about. She knew - oh my, how she knew! - that her scripture-quoting hadn't helped Josh. It had really upset him. Still, she couldn't be sorry. Despite a certain surface frustration, she found to her amazement that she was really remarkably calm. She had hurt him, yes, but she still knew that it was the right thing to have done.
She smiled at that thought. It really wasn't like her to challenge him on scripture. Not like her - talk about an understatement! Are you my wife, he had asked. She laughed aloud. Am I your wife, indeed? Still, it must have been a shock. Challenge him on scripture? She didn't challenge him on much of anything. He'd been surprised, no doubt about that!
Why had she done it, she wondered, and almost immediately a scripture thought came to her mind: don't worry about what you're going to say, but trust the Holy Spirit to give you the words you need. Her mother's pastor had used that scripture several times. Now, where was it? She reached for her Bible, and took out the paper she had used to jot notes on. It was Luke, chapter 12, verses 11 and 12. Jesus had been telling his apostles not to anticipate their defense if they got into trouble with the authorities for preaching the gospel. He told them that the Holy Spirit would instruct them when the time came. Well, she thought, challenging Josh was a little like "getting into trouble with the authorities!"
Her Bible margin note referred her to Luke 21:14-15. Again, Jesus was telling His disciples that when they needed to speak, He would give them wisdom that would confound their enemies. She closed the book. Well, I'm a disciple, too!
A knock sounded on the bedroom door, and a moment later 13-year old Karen was on the bed with her.
"Where's Daddy?"
"He went out for a walk. He'll be back soon,"
That was a good enough explanation for Karen, but later in the kitchen, Mike (who was 16) asked if his Dad was all right.
"He's okay," she replied, and was going to leave it at that, but then changed her mind. "No, he's not really okay. You're both old enough to share in our family business, and right now your father has some hard decisions to make.”
"About church?” asked Karen.
"Partly about church, but about his life and our lives, too. He's pretty confused right now."
"He's a good pastor," Make said, defensively.
"You better believe it. He's also a good husband and a good father. But even the good types of people can have problems. Remember what your grandmother's pastor said about how the Holy Spirit can be really alive in your life? Your father needs the Holy Spirit to help him. We all do."
"Can we help Daddy?" Karen asked.
Again, Evalyn's first reaction was to downplay the situation. Be nice, don't push too hard - that sort of thing. But then a new thought came to her.
"Yes, there is something we can do. We can pray for him, and ask God to help him see his way."
Both children were silent. They looked a little stunned.
"Pray here?" Mike asked. "Now?"
"Sure," said Evalyn, trying to sound casual. She didn't succeed. "Why not?"
"Out loud?" asked Karen, her stunned look changing to one of terror.
"Of course. They do it at Grandma's church all the time."
"Have you ever done it?" That was from Mike.
His mother smiled nervously. “Well, not so specifically, but I think we should. Hey, how hard can it be?" Their faces said it would be very hard. "Come on, I'll start and you join in."
They all closed their eyes and stood in silence. Evalyn tried to remember how she had heard the people start out. I can't believe that a pastor's wife doesn't know how to pray! But then the words came.
"Dear Lord, we've always believed that You heard us when we said our prayers, but this asking for something specific is new to us. Still, I remember Pastor Thomas saying that we have a right to ask for specific things, and that if we have faith to believe in You, You'll give us what we ask for. Okay, Josh really needs Your help now. He's a good man, and we couldn't be prouder of him, but he needs a lot of that wisdom that Your Holy Spirit is supposed to give. Give it to him, Lord. Let him see what he's supposed to do. Amen."
"Thank you, God," said Mike.
"Ditto," said Karen.
Just then, the phone rang. "Ev, I love you," said Josh's voice. "I'm okay now, and I'll be home soon."
"I love you, too. See you soon."
Quietly, she hung up the phone and turned back to face Karen and Mike, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Hallelujah!" she suddenly yelled, and grabbing the hands of two pop-eyed children, she danced them around the kitchen at full tilt.
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