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October 28, 2014

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Storied Past – 10

The seat was empty! Ramona looked around. There was no way Edith could have slipped out. Ramona was on the aisle seat! Now she was really confused! What could have happened to her? She knew it was crazy but she even looked under the seats.

Then she noticed that the bag was still there. She grabbed it and stood up. Edging her way up the aisle to the rear she looked at every seat for Edith. Arriving at the onboard restroom she checked there, too. It was unoccupied. Puzzled, she returned to her seat.

Well, that was surely weird; almost creepy, that she had been sitting by someone who suddenly disappeared. What on earth was going on? She settled back into her seat not sure what to think now. Well, there must be an easy explanation, but what? One moment she was talking to this nice, sweet, grandmotherly lady and the next she had disappeared!

She drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Now really! Did all that just happen? No, she probably imagined it all. Surely it was brought on by the turmoil of the last several hours. At least she could chalk it up to a stressful day! Your mind can play tricks on you sometimes. She was just starting to believe this self-talk when a disturbing fact dawned on her. The bag!

She was still holding the bag Edith was carrying. Oh, God! It wasn’t her imagination, as she had tried to convince herself. The flowered bag was still in her hands. She slowly raised it up to look at it. It wasn’t very heavy for an overnight bag. She set it on the seat and laid her head back. Wasn’t this bizarre?

What did it all mean? And the way Edith had looked at her when she last spoke; her eyes seemed to penetrate into her very soul. How did she know how Ramona felt when she was little; that she loved Jesus so much? It was a bit spooky. Or, or maybe, just maybe . . . no, no that was too trippy.

She fell asleep. Grandma Beckett was holding her on her lap, shushing her while putting a Band-Aid on her scraped knee. Grandma kept saying, “It’s gonna be alright, just alright sweetheart,” her sobbing comforted by the elder woman’s gentle voice and she felt, no, she knew, that everything would be alright. Tomorrow always would be better than today.

 

Mr. Beckett woke up slowly. He laid there not wanting to open his eyes. His concentration was a bit groggy as he tried to recall the day’s events. His daughter had stopped by; he remembered that. How did their conversation go? He really hoped she would get back to church but then he started to grasp the content and reality of what he had said to her. That part about how hard it was to keep her obedient to God with rules. Had that been the right approach? Well, he just wanted the best for her and to make sure she was ready for heaven.

There definitely was a rift that had developed in their relationship these last several months since Sarah passed. He really missed Sarah. Her absence left such a hole in his purpose and enjoyment of life. He knew she was in a better place and was waiting for him there; in heaven. Pastor Marlowe had counseled him to be sure he was ready so he could see Sarah again. That had driven him to a renewed enthusiasm for the Bible and being faithful to its precepts more than ever! He continued to seek God and consecrate his life and behavior so that he would be more Christ-like and holy.

Now with Ramona pulling away and the added pain of her having a baby out of wedlock seemed to tear the hole even larger. What had gone wrong? He had tried to be more careful to direct her and instruct her in the ways of God. Whenever Pastor would bring something from the Word, he made sure Ramona followed the teaching. After all, he was responsible and his reputation as a Christian father was at stake.

 

Becky and Jeremy stood in the middle of the bus station. This late in the evening it was quiet. There was a faint smell of stale popcorn lingering in the air that stole your attention when by day the busy activity would have. As there was hardly anyone there it was easy to see that Ramona wasn’t either. Jeremy strode over to the ticket counter. The only window open revealed an older gentleman sitting on a worn metal stool dressed in a gray uniform with a nametag, Robert G., proudly prominent on his right pocket.

“Sir, may I ask if you have seen someone?” Jeremy proposed.

“Ask away,” the man answered.

“Well, I am wondering if a girl, about twenty, or so, just bought a ticket from you?”

“Maybe,” he said. “What did she look like?”

Jeremy described as best he could Ramona’s physical features. By now Becky had joined the conversation and added more detail.

“I just sold a ticket to someone like that about forty-five minutes ago. ‘First bus out,’ she wanted, so that’s what I gave her.”

“Where was it headed?” Jeremy inquired.

“Rancho Cucamonga,” he said. “Won’t get there till late tomorrow some time though.”

“Where is that?” Becky asked.

“Southern California, just east of Los Angeles area,” the man in gray answered with an obvious pride in his geographic knowledge.

“Oh no,” Becky and Jeremy answered together. “Thank you, sir.”

“Yup,” Mr. Robert G. said. “No problem!”

As they walked toward the exit, the seeming finality of Ramona’s decision settled in to Becky. It looked like she was going through with it and there was nothing Becky or Jeremy could really do right now. Becky stopped.

“Jeremy, it looks like it’s a done deal for Ramona but I still think there is hope. God can arrange her circumstances to help her make the right choice about this baby.”

“Yes, I believe that, too. I don’t want her to choose to end the baby’s life but even if she does, there is still hope for her to find a way to trust God for her future. He is such a loving and forgiving God, isn’t He?”

 

Ramona woke with a start. The bus lurched over the driveway apron and into the parking lot of a small town. The flickering sign over the station revealed it wasn’t her stop. Brownsdale, it announced, Home of Elkhorn Tractor.

She got up to go inside to the restroom, as this was a 20 minute stop, and took Edith’s bag with her. Well, whoever that was that sat with her for an hour and a half! As she waited her turn she became curious about the bag. It couldn’t have had much in there: maybe some clothes and toiletries. She guessed she may as well open the bag. There could be something to identify the owner.

Pulling the zipper she reached inside. There was something soft and a small box. She pulled out the softness: a smallish blue blanket, like a baby blanket. Well, maybe there was something that made sense about that! The woman obviously had mental issues. She opened the box. It contained a baby pacifier.

Ramona was suddenly taken aback as her mind connected some dots. This woman, Edith, was no mental case! Somehow, she knew that Ramona was pregnant. It had to be that. And, Edith had to be an angel of some sort. That was the only rational answer to her disappearance and the strange events the last few hours!

Ramona forgot she needed the restroom. Dashing out to the bus she begged the driver to retrieve her suitcase. She had to get back to Maple Valley!

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October 21, 2014

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Storied Past – 9

Becky called the names Marlowe had given her. The second girl, Rachel, answered.

“Oh, I don’t really know where she could be. I haven’t talked to her since, well since she left church and kinda went into sin. She could be anyplace. Did you check that saloon, or whatever?” Rachel said.

“No, I haven’t, but thank you for the lead.” No answer on the third girl’s phone either.

“I’m not sure what to do now, Jeremy.”

“How about asking someone who does know?” he suggested.

“I’m sorry. You are so right! I’ve been a bit consumed by the crisis here and I forgot what I really should be doing first.” She bowed her head slightly. “Father, we really need some help here. Would you please show us, or lead us to Ramona? Whatever she decides to do next could impact her life forever and she needs some friends with her.”

“Thank you, Lord,” Jeremy finished.

“Duh!” Becky suddenly exclaimed. “Why don’t I just call her?” Her voice rose a bit in pitch at the end in a rhetorical question. Jeremy’s eyes rolled back in his head.

“I can’t believe we didn’t think of that already!” She scrolled down to Ramona’s number and tapped it.

 

Ramona nervously paced back and forth across the large waiting area at the bus station. The room was empty except for a sleeping pan-handler or two, and an older, sweet looking lady carrying a small bag.

A few minutes earlier she had purchased a ticket to some California town, Rancho something-or-other. She didn’t really care where she went. She just thought that any place in California would be safe and far enough away that she could start over. With the few hundred dollars or so she had saved, at least she could get a room somewhere, pay for the procedure and hopefully find a job before she ran out of money. If only she could stop this insistent, naggy voice deep down inside that was disagreeing with this whole line of reasoning!

She felt her phone vibrate and then ring. She looked at the number that popped up; Becky Moore!

“No, I just can’t talk to her right now,” she thought as she let it go to voicemail. “She will just try to talk me out of this.”

The monotone loudspeaker voice sounded bored as it announced the arrival of her ride south. She walked to the door indicated by the voice and waited. The sweet, old lady approached and smiled at her.

“Hello. You must be going on my bus, too.” Her smile was disarming and friendly to the point that Ramona couldn’t ignore her.

“Uh, yes, I guess so.” She kind of reminded her of her grandmother. She died when Ramona was only six years old but left such a wonderful memory.

“My name is Edith. Would you care to share a seat with me? I could use some company.”

Ramona really didn’t want conversation with anyone but maybe she would be kind and gentle, like her grandmother. She decided to take a risk anyway. Maybe “Edith” would go to sleep.

“OK, sure.”

 

Becky hung up her phone.

“No answer, Jeremy. Well, I can try again later. I don’t have any other ideas, do you?”

“Do you think she might leave town?” he posited.

“Well, I don’t know. I haven’t heard of any doctors who do that sort of surgery here in Maple Valley. Maybe she would leave. Let’s drop by the bus station before we head home. It’s only a few blocks away.”

“Sounds good to me,” Jeremy said.

They left the coffee shop and walked toward the Pub-Trans station. As they approached the block where the station was, they had to pause while a big interstate bus turned in front of them.

“Oh, I hope she’s not on that one!” Jeremy moaned. They tried looking in the windows but they were all darkened by the tint and couldn’t make out any faces.

 

At that moment, Ramona looked out past Edith. Her heart nearly stopped as she recognized Becky waiting to cross the street. As the blood drained from her face, which must have had a look of horror as well, Edith asked, “Are you alright dear? You look worried about something.”

“I’m OK; I just . . . may have forgotten to turn the iron off. Well, no worries, it goes off after thirty minutes. I’m fine.”

“Oh, that’s a relief. Well, where are you going; to visit some relatives?” Edith asked.

“No. I don’t know anyone where I’m going.” She suddenly realized what she had said and knew that statement made her vulnerable to more lines of questioning from this Edith lady. But Edith didn’t pursue the unintentional blunder.

“Oh, that’s lovely!” Edith said. “What a great adventure you must be looking forward to!”

The statement sounded like her grandmother, too. Come to think of it; she had a slight resemblance to Grandma Beckett. She was short, plumpish and smelled of lavender.

“Yes. It will be an adventure, I’m sure.” Ramona returned. The way she said it, she was sure she didn’t sound very convincing.

“I’m off on an adventure, too!” Edith shared. “It is completely new territory for me. I’m going to a retirement village down near the Oregon border. All of my things are there already and I am excited to meet my new friends.”

“Meet . . . your . . . new . . . friends?” Ramona asked haltingly. “How can they be friends and you haven’t met them yet? Doesn’t make sense.”

“Well, you ARE right. I don’t know them yet but I am sure I will like them. I have peace about my future and I know everything that happens to me will be special. I am so blessed!”

This sounded a little too disconnected from experience for her taste. She felt special all right; like, specially taken for an idiot and especially in trouble now! But blessed? All she felt was cursed; cursed to a life controlled by everyone but her.

“How can you feel so confident about your future? I’m not sure about tomorrow but I intend to take control of my future and do what I want to do.”

“Oh no, my dear. I didn’t mean I am in control. Usually it’s quite the opposite. I just mean that I am alright with what is coming tomorrow because I trust the process and who is actually in control. Every day is challenging but I am grateful for it. I meet new people; like you for instance, and I only want to try to be kind and love people because I know I am loved and valued.”

“Hmmm. I thought I was loved but it seemed like it was only when I obeyed rules; not just loved for who I am. And, I was not valued after I was taken advantage of, for sure!” She ended with an edge of venom in her voice.

This did not go unnoticed by her seat companion. “We have all been taken advantage of at some time or other,” Edith shared. “I married young. My husband was a charmer but he had a drinking problem. He used to come home and physically abuse me and the children. Then . . . well, he would fall asleep after he had his way with me. I had quite a painful time for several years.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Ramona was sincerely moved. “What happened then?”

“Well, he met with an accident on his way home one night. I was so bitter. Not that he was gone but that I let him abuse me and the children for so long.”

“You don’t seem bitter now,” Ramona said. “How did you get over it?”

“Well dear, I don’t know whether you can ever “get over” an experience like that. The scars are so deep. But I met someone who helped me learn to forgive him and myself. That was the best thing that could have happened. The memories are painful but they are in the past. I try to live each day with a joyful spirit while being at peace with the future.”

“Wow! I wish I could be at peace with the future. I mean, I’m going to make my own future and it will be what I want but I don’t know about the peaceful part yet. There will be some trouble and hard times before I get there, no doubt.”

Edith looked directly at her. “Yes . . . there will be some trouble and hard times. But you will come through all of that just fine. Just remember how you felt when you were a little girl. Remember how your faith and trust was so strong in Jesus? Get back to that place and you will be peaceful.”

Ramona teared up. She glanced away out the opposite window to keep Edith from seeing her cry. Yes! She remembered a time when life seemed simpler. Her faith was strong and she used to talk to God a lot! How she missed those times, but they seemed so long ago and far from reality now. How many bridges had she crossed and how many were burned that might be keeping her from getting back to that place?

She discreetly wiped her eyes and turned back to Edith. “I just don’t know if I can . . .”

She froze in mid-sentence. No one was sitting next to her.

– To Be Continued –

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October 1, 2014

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Storied Past – 6

“What is it, Ramona?” Becky raced into the kitchen.

“My dad, he’s lying on the floor,” Ramona cried. They both stooped for a closer look at the man. He appeared to have fainted or something.

“I’ll call 911,” Becky exclaimed.

Ramona mumbled, “Dad, what happened? Dad! Oh, please don’t be dead. I need you!”

She could hear his slight breathing and uttered a silent prayer of thanks to God. “Don’t let him die, God. I couldn’t handle losing him, too. ”She heard the sirens now and Becky returned to the kitchen. “Is he . . . ?”

“He’s still alive, Becky. Thanks for calling.”

“Of course,” she replied, and then intoned, “Thank you Jesus, for letting us get here in time.” Ramona tightened up inside but didn’t say anything.

The next many minutes melted together into a nightmarish fiction at glacial speed. The paramedics told the two girls that Mr. Beckett had suffered a heart attack. Arriving at the hospital, they followed the gurney into Emergency. Becky had to go to work leaving Ramona to witness the medical staff scurrying around attending to her father. A few moments later the doctor on call stopped to give her an update.

“It was a heart attack, probably from high blood pressure,” he related. It was pretty high when he came in.”

“Has he been under a lot of stress lately, Miss Beckett?”

“Well, my Mom passed a couple of years ago. Would that have caused this kind of stress,” Ramona queried.

“It certainly could have contributed but generally this comes from chronic stress which exposes your body to elevated levels of stress hormones like cortisol and adrenaline. Eventually, your body reacts to this unhealthy exposure in a sudden event, like a heart attack.”

“OK, thank you, sir. What are you going to do now?”

“Well, we are doing some testing now to check for coronary artery disease. We will know the results in a little while. I’ll keep you posted.”

Just then a tall, slender figure approached from her peripheral vision. “Ramona?” Pastor Marlowe asked. “Are you doing OK?”

“Oh, hello Pastor. Yeah, I guess. I’m still numb I think.”

“I heard about your father from a girl who called me this afternoon. Becky, I think she said? I figured I should come and see how he is.”

“They are running some tests right now. Looks like he had a heart attack; may be stress related.”

“He was pretty worried about you, Ramona. Thought you had run away when he couldn’t find you. Maybe that you had taken off with . . . well, no matter. You are here now. He was so hurt by . . . ; he felt like you had just gone over the edge.” Marlowe struggled to keep his own feelings and verbal communication in check. Ramona sensed he wanted to scold her himself but thought better of that idea.

“No, I just needed some space to think so I disappeared for a while.” She thought the less said to him, the better. No telling where that information would go. She recalled that other people’s issues often surfaced in private conversations disguised as “prayer requests” and she didn’t want to be the topic of church gossip any more than she already was.

“Well, I hope you take this situation to heart. Bad things often happen as a result of our own misguided actions. Who knows? Maybe your father was so distressed about you, thinking you left God forever, that his body just couldn’t handle it anymore. I believe God will forgive you when you come back to your faith.”

This last comment made Ramona seethe with anger. Why would she have anything to do with a heart attack? She wisely refrained from lashing out knowing it wouldn’t do any good anyway. She was glad to be away from such judgmental assessments like his. Maybe she would make this separation from church more permanent.

“Well, we will be praying for you, Ramona. I’ll get going but I hope you will come back to church soon.”

“Goodbye,” Ramona said. Under her breath she muttered, “. . . and good riddance.” Ohhh, she was feeling a bit wicked.

Pastor Marlowe’s absurd chastising reminded her of his weekly discourses to the congregation: Bible teachings that were explorations into how to be more consecrated and holy. They occasionally involved more esoteric excavations of ritual biblical practices like weekly fasting habits or Bible teaching topics of late 19th century holiness movements. The latter most often focused on women’s clothing. She recalled an instance where shoes with high heels were spotlighted and condemned because they caused the leg calf to be more pronounced and thereby seduce men. So it was the woman’s fault that men lusted, she assumed was the conclusion. Something there she needed to process more.

The nurse on duty approached. “Miss Beckett?” she inquired.

“Yes, I am.” Ramona replied.

“Your father is in a room now, 314. You can go sit with him until he wakes up, if you wish.”

“OK, thanks. I will.” She walked a few doors down finding the room the nurse indicated. Slowly she pushed the door open and parted the curtain around the bed. She stood there for a few minutes looking at him. Memories of when she was little crept out of hiding into her consciousness. Scenes of playing with her father on the backyard swing. He would come home from work tired but happy to see her. Standing in the driveway, he would call through the window for her to come out and play for a few minutes before supper. She wished she could see him happy like that again. She wished she could be happy like that again. Where had that closeness and joy gone?

She saw a bit of movement. “Dad? Are you awake? Can you hear me?” Mr. Beckett opened his eyes.

“Hi pumpkin.” It had been a long time since he called her that.

“Hi Dad.”

She bent over to give him a hug and squeeze his free hand. She felt a bit of wetness on his face and realized a tear had leaked out one corner of his left eye.

Ramona felt her own tear trail down over her makeup. “How do you feel?”

“Well, I don’t know. I remember I felt a horrible pain in my chest and then . . . what happened?”

“The doc said you had a heart attack. They are running some tests. I’m so glad you’re still with me.”

“Ramona, I . . . ; you don’t know how much I have been worried about you, leaving the church and all. I don’t want you to go to hell and split up our family.”

“Oh, Dad, I didn’t leave God or my faith. I just was having a hard time following all those rules. I don’t know how you and Mom could follow them but I felt like I had a chain on my ankle. I couldn’t even enjoy life. Do you know how hard it is to snowboard in a dress? Do you know how that made me feel when I was around friends who don’t go to that church? I’m sorry; I shouldn’t bring that stuff up when it’s you in the hospital.”

“It’s ok, pumpkin. Since your mom died, I tried to deal with it by being more involved at church and trying to live more holy. This whole thing about your having a baby just made me see how that trying to keep myself, and you, unspotted from the world is so hard and out of my control. I want to be perfect but I don’t know. I’m kind of confused. Maybe I need to get saved again.”

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September 23, 2014

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Storied Past – 5

“Ramona! What are you doing here?” her father repeated, this time more irritated. “Where have you been? I’ve looked all over for you. I haven’t seen you for two days and I’ve been worried. I called the police this morning after looking for you all last night. Where did you go?”

“I . . . I just had to leave for a while. I needed some space to . . . “

“Well, you coulda’ said something.” He interrupted. “You had me scared. You need to come home right now.” He seemed to be gaining speed, anger and volume all at once.

“Well, I think I am, no I know I’m OK and I will come home soon. I just need some space; to think and figure things out.”

“What’s to figure? You are pregnant, in trouble and in sin. You need to get saved,” he spat out. You’re lucky I haven’t thrown you out. I’m still your father and I say you need to come home.”

“No sir,” she countered. “I am staying with a friend and I will be just fine.”

Becky had observed the interaction from a few aisles away and felt like it had escalated more than necessary. She stepped up to the cash register. “Could you call 911 please? I hope everything will be OK but just in case.”

“Sure,” the cashier said.

As she returned to her previous position a safe distance away she saw Ramona’s father reach out and grab her arm. “I said, you need to come home, right now.” Ramona pulled back so fast she knocked over a display of windshield wiper fluid. A couple of bottles split open spreading bluish liquid over the surrounding area.

“Dad, I said I am just fine. I will be home soon. Now could you just leave me alone for a while? Please don’t cause a scene.”

“Well, I guess you already caused a scene, didn’t you, when you went out, got drunk and got all knocked up from some guy you didn’t even know. You’ve probably been sleeping around, too. You’re a whore and damned for Hell.”

Ramona started. She had never heard her father talk like that. But then the impact of what he had said infuriated her. “I was not sleeping around! I have been your perfect little girl all my life trying to please you and the church and now you call me that? I hate you, I hate you!”

Just then the squawk of a police radio coming in the front door demanded everyone’s attention.

“Hey, Hey,” the officer called out. “Let’s calm down and tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing, officer,” Ramona’s father replied. “I was just leaving. I’ll see you later little Miss sleep-around. Don’t think this is over.”

“Now wait a minute, mister,” the officer known as Riley demanded. “You are not leaving that soon. I want to talk to you first. Here, step outside for a minute. And you stay here in the store, young lady. I want to talk to you, too.”

Ramona looked over at Becky, her heart in her throat from fear. Where did that talk-back spunk come from? She never talked to her father that way before. She guessed she would be in trouble with him for weeks because of it. If Mom were still alive she would be disappointed but she knew Mom would be at least understanding and loving through all this.

Come to think of it, it started to make some sense. Since Mom died her father seemed to become more harsh and demanding. He went to church more like he was off to war or something. When they came home he was more rigid and mechanical around the house. “Everything has a place and there is a place for everything,” he kept saying, as if he were getting OCD or something. Structure, organization and perfect behavior were the most important values. No time for fun anymore.

Becky had walked over by this time and touched her elbow. “I’m so sorry, Ramona. Are you going to be OK? We can go. I still have a few more days until Saturday to find a scarf.”

“Probably should go. I feel weak in the knees. But the cop wants to talk to me first.”

After a short conversation with Officer Riley they headed back to Becky’s apartment. It was still cold out and Ramona clutched her coat closer. She did need to go home and get some clothes to wear. She really hadn’t planned on being gone long when she left yesterday. Now, with her father’s behavior, it made things more complicated. Should she just go on back home or stay with Becky a couple more days?

Turning to Becky she said, “If it’s OK with you Becky, I think I may need to stay with you a little longer but I need to get a change of clothes. Could you go with me? I’m not sure how my father will act when I get there.”

“Of course, Ramona. And yes, you may hang out with me until you get things straightened out with your dad.”

They caught a bus for the ride over to Ramona’s neighborhood. These colder days would eventually give way to the warm spring season but winter seemed to refuse to let go of its grip. Gray, cloudy skies and the accompanying rain squalls were the norm now and this afternoon was no exception. They seemed to overshadow Ramona and eerily prophesy that dark forces were in control of her destiny. The awful dream from last night stole back into her memory in an effort to confirm a hopeless feeling that had nagged her subconscious recently. Why had all this happened to her? What good could possibly await in her future now? What a mess this was.

The bus stopped at East Granite Street where she and Becky got off. Walking two blocks up brought them to a crème colored bungalow with chocolate brown trim where Ramona’s family lived; that is to say, where she and her father lived. Since mom died it hadn’t seemed much like a home. Oh, the place was clean and decently appointed, as it had always been but the warmth of her mother’s graceful spirit was missing, replaced by the drab clamminess of legalistic rule minding imposed by her father.

She turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open. She invited Becky to go in first. Suddenly a strange feeling came over her when she crossed the threshold. What was it? Walking through the living room into the kitchen she nearly tripped over her father’s shoe. Then a horrified scream vaulted past her brain and out of her mouth.

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September 16, 2014

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Storied Past – 4

Becky and Ramona walked down the stairs and out onto the sidewalk. They said nothing as they crossed the street and over two blocks to a storefront. Becky stepped inside and Ramona followed cautiously. Inside it smelled of breakfast but there were no cash registers or menus in view. They walked past a line of people Ramona would describe as losers. Street people, she determined. Not the kind of folks she was used to socializing with. She sure didn’t like the prospect of eating breakfast with their ilk.

“Good morning, Marcy,” Becky greeted a heavy set woman in line. She returned the salutation in a loud, raspy voice.

“G’ morning, Becky. Who’s your friend?”

“Her name is Ramona. Everyone say hello to Ramona. She is hanging out with us this morning.”

“Hello, Ramona.” Several folks called out. “Welcome to City Reach, Ramona,” said someone else. City Reach? What was that?

“What’s this place all about, Becky?”

“Well, the mission group I am part of started a program here to help folks who are homeless and hungry. They come Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings for a free breakfast and someone to talk to. We are a little short on staff right now but usually there are 7 or 8 who come and eat with them and listen to their stories.”

“Hmmm. That’s a little different, listening to their stories. Usually missions try to cram Jesus down their throats along with the oatmeal. How is it working for you?”

“Well, it isn’t always easy, listening to other people share their life stories. Sometimes they ramble on but it’s usually because nobody wants to take the time to listen to them. There are some amazing stories of God activity here, though. Our challenge is to listen and gently point out to them how God has been there, present in their lives, even in the pain and disappointment of living. Sometimes they can see it, sometimes they are oblivious but we have to try.”

“There are some success stories, though. Eben over there, the guy with dark hair, is a Muslim. He started coming about six weeks ago. One of our staff started a conversation while eating with him. Eben was very skittish at first but he was hungry so he stayed and eventually shared his story. He and his family grew up in the Sufi tradition. Our staff guy, Jeremy, told him about Jesus’ non-violent teaching of love, even for the woman who was caught fornicating and was condemned to die by the religion police. Jeremy told him some other stories of Jesus and finished up with the statement that God loved all people, Jews, Arabs and Gentiles alike. Eben was thoughtful. Of course, he had heard stories of Jesus. Muslims think Jesus was one of the five greatest prophets the world has ever seen but not Messiah.”

“Wow, that’s interesting,” Ramona said.

Yeah an’ Eben loves Jesus now!” Raspy voice Marcy butted in. She had snuck up on Ramona’s blind side. “He loves Jesus now,” she repeated for emphasis.

“Yes,” Becky confirmed. “And we are excited about that, aren’t we Marcy?”

“Yep,” Marcy said triumphantly with a big smile. Ramona noted the two missing teeth and the remainder quite deteriorated. “I’m gonna find a place for you guys to sit and eat,” Marcy offered.

“Sounds good . . . I think,” Ramona said hesitatingly. “Thank you, Marcy,” Becky cheerfully returned. Becky steered Ramona over to the end of the line which was now much shorter and closer to the food.

“Uhhh, Becky, what’s her story?”

“Marcy? Oh she was a meth addict for many years. She lost all of her family because of it. You can probably tell she lost her health, too. She came in here a few months ago. We were able to work with Social Services to get some help for her. They allowed her to stay with us during treatment so we could coach her. Four weeks and many hours of conversation and praying later she asked if she, too, could be a disciple of Jesus. Want some pancakes?”

“Oh, uh yes, of course. I guess I’m starving.”

After taking the pancakes and some scrambled eggs she turned to look for Marcy. Marcy waved way too much for the situation, which kind of embarrassed Ramona but she signaled that she saw her and started over. Becky had paused to answer someone’s question so Ramona was left to Marcy’s mercy.

“Do you love Jesus?” Marcy boldly and loudly demanded. “Well, I . . . I used to,” Ramona admitted. “I don’t know what happened but I think I lost him somewhere back there.”

“Oh don’t worry, Marona, he’s still there. I know because I found him when I turned around and went back home,” Marcy said reassuringly. “He’s still there.”

“It’s Ramona, Marcy.” Becky quietly reminded her as she sidled up and sat down next to Ramona. “Oh yeah, I’m sorry, Ramona, I forget things sometimes. I forget.” Marcy said more quietly now.

“I was telling Ramona about how you have changed since you have been coming down here, Marcy.”

“Oh yeah, I changed a lot, haven’t I? Want some ketchup for your eggs Ramona?”

“Thanks, no. Uh, Becky where is the restroom? I’m feeling a little noxious.”

When she returned, the three women visited until most everyone had left the room. Becky rose to take her dishes to the back kitchen area and Ramona followed. The small space was sparse but clean. Ramona asked, “Can I help wash up?”

“Sure. If you can rinse those plates I will put them in the washer.”

“Marcy has had a pretty tough life, hasn’t she? It really is amazing she is still alive after all those drugs and stuff,” Ramona said thoughtfully.

“Yes, it is amazing. But God’s love is more amazing because He still loved her even when she was at her worst. She had nothing to bring to the table, so to speak, but God saw beyond her hurt and physical condition and steered her here one morning. She was hungry and we met that need. She was in an emotional and mental state that prevented her from being in close proximity to the others here. We called the county Human resources and they assisted us in getting her help. If you could only have seen her before . . . oh, my goodness, I have to scoot! But you could come with me.”

“What’s up, Becky?”

“I have to look for a new scarf. Brad invited me out Saturday night and I really have to wear something different. He’s seen everything I have in my closet! Won’t you say you’ll help me choose?”

“I’ll try. I . . . I haven’t been shopping for a while. I guess I’ve been hiding from people.” Ramona looked tentative.

“Oh, sweet!” Becky said. “I need to go by the house to grab the blouse I’m wearing first. They hurried back to the little apartment chatting all the way. When they arrived, Ramona waited just outside the door.

As she recalled the past twenty-four hours, Ramona felt Becky was one person she could like—could have as a friend. Why hadn’t she met her before? Why did she seem like a real person, not fake, like she was the same person in real life as she was when she was helping people. That was a change from her social circle at church. It was like they all wore masks. Even people at the bar she frequented seemed fake; like they were always trying to con the opposite sex with clever seduction techniques. Well, she had to admit, it worked on her. That’s why she was in this fix now. “Stupid, stupid, stupid!” she told herself. If only she could turn the clock back!

On Main Street they found the mercantile store and headed to the back where the clothing section lived. The smells in that store were so familiar to Ramona. As a little girl she used to come in with her parents for weekly items. Her father liked the hardware department with the tools that seem to attract all men everywhere. Her mother gravitated to the fabric section with the large bolts of variegated material. Ramona breathed in the mixed odors of the past reminding her of days when life was more peaceful and more predictable. Closing her eyes for a minute she silently wished she could return to that time. Suddenly, her reverie was smashed to pieces by a familiar voice.

“Ramona? What are you doing here?” her father said.