Leap - chapter seven

                                                      7




          The morning dawned clear and cool, and after a restless night she walked to the dining room for an early breakfast.  She picked at the food on her plate, not really tasting anything and failing miserably at small talk with the couple at the next table.  She was too unsettled to sit for long and soon found herself back at the Family House. 

          She sat on the porch swing, wishing she’d thought to grab the quilt before coming out here, but unwilling to go back inside once she’d settled.  After the last few weeks her reserves were spent and it was just easier to sit still. 
But her mind would not cooperate, it would not stop chewing on the events of the last few days.  She had seen a ghost; followed the ghost through the woods to the home of a religious zealot; received a message from said ghost to give to said zealot; and had several dreams in which she was personally interacting with Jesus Christ.  The events of this week read like a road map straight to the loony bin.  Completely new realms of strangeness had opened up before her and she had no idea of what to make of it. 
         
        Of all the strange encounters she’d had lately, the old man in the woods was by far the most unsettling.  She couldn’t get him out of her head.  It was as though his voice was stuck on a taped loop in her head; “Beautiful eternity . . . I know she’s happy . . . I know she’s in heaven . . .”  He knew; that annoyed her.  How could he know that heaven existed?  She understood the concept of heaven, there was no way she could have been a part of her family for the past four years and not understood the concept. And she would love to know in her heart that Anna and her parents were waiting for her in paradise. (The alternative, that they were irrevocably gone, non-existent in any form, made her hollow).  But she couldn’t be sure the concept of heaven was anything more than just that, concept.  How could he know?
         
          That question got her off the swing and propelled her toward the woods.  She zipped her jacket against the chill November wind and set off with determination.  She had to know how Aubrey could be so certain.  She had to know how anyone could be certain.  Anna and her parents had believed in a loving God and a heavenly reward, and they’d had confidence in their beliefs, but with him it was different.  When he spoke about knowing, it was as if he spoke not only with confidence, but also with authority.  Maybe he knew some divine secret or had some sort of proof that her parents had missed, or neglected to tell her.  She had to know where his certainty came from, so she intended to ask him.  And if he couldn’t satisfy her then she would know that he was just guessing like everyone else, and she would never know for sure.
         
          She knocked on the door and when Aubrey opened it, she caught the aroma of fresh coffee.  He stepped back, a smile on his stubbled face, and held the door for her to enter. 
         
          “I prayed you’d be back” he said as he closed the door on the morning chill.
         
          “Yeah, that’s me, the answer to prayer.” That sounded sarcastic and she regretted it immediately.  Aubrey only smiled.
         
        “Have a seat at the table.  I’ll get us some coffee.”
       
          Grace sat at the small dining table and noticed an open bible where last night there had been a bottle of whiskey.  After coffee was served and Aubrey was seated across from her, she tried to begin, but didn’t know how.  She took a sip from the steaming mug in front of her.
       
          Aubrey must have sensed her reluctance.  “So, what’s got you walkin through the woods this morning,” he asked.  A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.
       
        She set the cup down.  “Well, I’ve been thinking about some of the things you said last night and . . . I’ve been wondering . . .  How can you be so sure?”
       
        “Sure about what?”
     
        “You know, God, Jesus, heaven, all that,” she said.
     
        “Oh that.” His smile had now reached his voice.
   
        “Yes that,” she said a little embarrassed.
   
     
        “May I ask what you think about all that?”
     
        She glanced out the window and spotted two squirrels playing chase in the brisk morning air.  Their dark little bodies darted around the trunks of trees and barreled through piles of leaves, all in pursuit of a prize she could not see.  “I guess I believe in God, or something,” she admitted.  “In some kind of force that created the world.  I mean this can’t all be just some sort of cosmic accident,” she shrugged.  “And I believe Jesus was a real person, historically speaking, but I’m not sure I can believe the whole loving-Father-God-who-sent-his-son-to-die-for-us thing.”
         
          I died for you Grace.

        She shuddered and hoped Aubrey hadn’t noticed.

        “What keeps you from believing in a loving Father God,” he asked.

          “I don’t know,” she said.  This man was frustrating; she had come out here for answers and all she was getting was questions.  “I guess I have a hard time watching the news and then believing that the God of the universe is all-powerful and all-loving, yet still lets such terrible things happen to innocent people - like children.  It just doesn’t make sense to me.”

          “Let me ask you something Grace, do your parents love you?”

          “What?  Of course they love me.”  More questions!

          “Okay, so your parents love ya. They probably take good care of ya, right? But do they make all your decisions for ya?

          “No.”  She did not see where this was going.  Why didn’t this guy just tell her the secret or whatever?

          “And why do ya think that is?”

          “I guess because I’m not a child, I’m an adult and they trust me to make my own decisions.”  However, the truth was, they had not been happy with her decisions in quite a while.

          “Well, it’s kinda the same thing with God.  He loves us and He takes care of us, but He gave us free will so He lets us make our own decisions.  He also gave us the gift of His word; the bible tells us exactly how God meant for us to live and He trusts us to make decisions based on the information He gave us.” 

          “But how do you know He loves you,” she demanded.  Aubrey reached beside him and lifted the edge of his bible from the table.  “What…because the bible says so?  That’s not proof,” she said.  “Just because some guy who died a couple thousand years ago said it doesn’t make it true.”

          He scratched at the gray stubble on his chin.  Didn’t this guy ever shave?  “I’m sorry Grace but that’s what it boils down to.  I know God loves me because He told me so.” 

          “Well that’s not good enough for me.  I need proof - something I can see or touch. Where’s the proof, the evidence that everything in that books is true?”  Maybe this guy didn’t know anything, maybe he was just snowed like her parents had been. But that would mean that they were all wrong and death was the end.
“There is no tangible evidence darlin’, at least none that you prob'ly couldn’t argue away with logic.” 

          “Then how do you know?  How can you be so certain?”  She felt a familiar fatigue clouding her mind, stealing her ability to think.  The void in her heart was threatening to suck her in, like an internal black hole and this time she had no will to fight it.

          “Because I know,” he said, a smile made his eyes sparkle.  She was beginning to hate that smile.

          “That’s not good enough,” she sighed.

          “It’s called faith Grace.  Faith is choosing to believe in what we can’t see or touch.”

          She wanted to scream, this was getting her nowhere.  Believe because someone tells you to.  Believe because everyone else believes.  Have faith.  Choose to believe.  “Yeah, well, when I was kid I chose to believe in Santa Claus and we all know how that turned out.”

          “I can see this is frustratin’ for ya,” he said, “and I wish I had the proof you’re looking for, but I don’t.  All I can give ya is my experience and that of countless other people.”

          “Well, I’ve never been one to just go along with the crowd.”

          “I can see that.”  He paused.  “Let me try to explain another way,” he shifted in his seat, preparing to try again. “God requires a leap of faith.  He requires us to stand up and say ‘okay,’ I don’t have proof, I don’t have all the answers, but that’s okay, I know there’s somethin’ there and I’m gonna chose to believe anyway.”  She rolled her eyes.  The old man did not seem to notice.

          “When I was a young man,” he continued, “I took that leap.  I opened my heart to Jesus.  And when he came in and set up residence there, somethin’ amazin’ happened.  I began to fall in love with him.  The more I read about him, the more I learned about him, the deeper that love got, until it was more ‘real’ than anything else in my life.  It’s a process Grace, one that starts with a leap of faith.  Please believe me when I say that God rewards that leap with a knowledge of Himself.  You can know.  You can be absolutely certain, but it starts with that first leap.”

          Grace studied the old man across from her.  She looked hard into his eyes, searching for a hint of doubt in his reasoning.  “But what if you’re wrong?” she asked in a tired voice. 

          “What if I am?  What’s it cost me?”  He paused, and she could see him searching for the right words.  When he finally spoke it was soft and slow, almost as if to himself as much as to her.
“I’ve tried to be a good person, tried to treat people fair.  I’ve lived with a sense of peace durin’ the hardest times in my life.  I’ve had comfort when I was in a painful place.  And I’ve had hope.  Hope that when the struggles are over, it’ll all have been worth it.  So even if it’s all over when I breathe my last, if there is no heaven, only oblivion, then I still came out ahead.”  He stopped and took a drink from his mug while she mulled that over.  When he continued, she wished that he hadn‘t.  “The question you need to be askin’ is, what if you’re wrong?”

          The question hung in the air like a storm cloud, dark and full of threat.  She did not have an answer.  She had never contemplated the consequences of being wrong about all of this, not before meeting this old man, and she did not want to think about it now.  She finished her coffee in silence.

          “Can I ask you a personal question Grace?”

          She wanted to say no, but she was too tired to resist and she answered with a weary nod.

          “Are ya hungry?”  For a second she was not sure she had heard him correctly. 

          “Am I hungry?  That’s your question?”  She had expected some form of uncomfortable probing, but not into her stomach. 

          Aubrey laughed a deep, quiet laugh.  “No, that wasn’t the question I had in mind.  I just thought I could make us some lunch while we continue our visit.”  He was already up and moving toward the refrigerator.  Relieved by the break in the conversation, and the shift of focus, she agreed to lunch.

          They worked together in the bright little kitchen and prepared a garden salad.  The conversation was light and trivial; the freshness of the tomatoes, the selection at the Farmer’s Market out on 270, the changing season and the pleasant respite from the heat and she felt herself begin to relax.  She could actually enjoy this mans company, if she could forget to see him as a threat.
Seated once again at the table, Grace picked up her fork as Aubrey bowed his head.  Embarrassed, she hastily put the fork down and closed her eyes.  “Dear Heavenly Father,” he began in a strong voice, “You are truly a God of wonders.  We thank you Father for the bounty of Your creation and the nourishment it provides.  We thank You for a break from summer days and for the promise of their return.  And Lord, I thank You for Grace’s company.  I love You so much.  In the name of Jesus, Amen.” 

          She was surprised, and touched, that he mentioned her in his prayer.  She still was not sure that prayer was anything more than talking to oneself, but she was touched nonetheless. 
         
          “So . . . here’s the question,” Aubrey said as he stabbed a wedge of tomato.  “Why are you here?”
         
          “I told you, I wanted to know how you could be so certain of your beliefs.”
         
          He smiled and popped the tomato in his mouth.  “No . . . I mean, why are you really here,” he asked around the bulge in his cheek.
         
          Grace forked some lettuce and a crouton, she chewed slowly and deliberately, buying time to think of an answer.  “You said that you know Ruth Ann is in heaven.  You said it with such conviction that you left no room for doubt, even for me.  When you said you knew she was in heaven, I knew it too.”  She put the fork down beside her plate and sat back in the chair, surprised by her own answer.  Softly she continued, “I guess I just want to know that my family is there too, and I was hoping you could convince me.”  She stared at her plate.  That was it, the truth lay bare.  She wanted relief from the terrible fear that had been introduced into her life, the fear that she would never see her parents, or Anna again.  That fear made her desperate.
         
          Aubrey was quiet and continued eating.  Just when she wondered if he had heard her, he thoughtfully laid his fork on the edge of his plate.  “Grace . . .” he waited until she met his gaze, “do you wanna talk about your family?”
         
          “No . . . that’s not what . . .” she sighed.  “ No, not really.”  She felt the sting of tears behind her eyes. 
         
          “Are ya sure?” The kindness and concern she heard in his voice were like arms reaching across the table to hold her.  Her resolve weakened. 
         
          “Maybe I do,” she said as the tears began to spill.  They came slowly at first, and her recounting of the last two weeks was hesitant, but as she opened herself and let the whole story pour out, she almost forgot Aubrey was there, and she lost herself in her pain.  By the time she told him of her agonizing guilt and her decision to carry out tradition by spending Thanksgiving at the Family House, her recounting was interrupted by her sobs. Aubrey came around the table and put an arm around her shoulders.  When she was spent, he handed her a napkin to wipe her face and returned to his seat.
         
          “I’m sorry,” she said once she had reigned in her emotions. 
         
          “There ain’t no need for apologizin’ Grace.  Your heart is broke.  Ya can’t keep all the pieces inside - you’ll choke on ‘em.”  For some reason she would never understand, the mental image that remark conjured made her laugh, which brought a smile to the old guy’s face. 
         
          They sat in silence for a moment until she stood up.  “I think I should be going,” she said.  She was already moving toward the door with Aubrey right behind her. 
         
          “But you haven’t finished your lunch,” he objected. 
         
          “I know . . . I’m sorry.  I just feel so tired.  I think I’ll go take a nap.”  She pulled the door open.  “Thanks for lunch . . . and for letting me take up so much of your time.”  She stepped out into a blinding fall day. 
         
          “Well, it was my pleasure.  I hope you’ll come back soon.”  He stepped outside with her.
         
          “I’ll try.  Thanks again.” Before she had gone ten feet, he called to her.  She turned back, shielding her eyes from the sun with one hand.
         
          “Grace, were parents believers?”
         
          “If you mean did they believe in God yeah – church, quiet time, ministry – they took it all pretty serious.”
         
            “And your sister?”
         
            “Yeah, she was a baptized bible-totter too.”  Grace winced as she heard the old taunt escape her lips.
         
            “Well then, I know that your family is in heaven, and they are happy.”