Leap - chapter nine

9

Grace once again found herself knocking on the door of the little green house in the woods. She had spent all day yesterday trying to avoid any thought of this place and the old man who made her question herself. Four years of arguing with her parents, and she had never questioned her logic, but this Aubrey guy and his certainty made her question her concept of God in a way that her parents never had.

'What if you’re wrong?'

Yesterday had been a futile attempt to run away from that question. She went shopping in Lufkin, but found nothing that sparked her interest. She went to a movie but couldn’t concentrate and left before it was over. All thoughts lead back to this man and his conviction. He was more certain of his beliefs than she was of her logic and it bothered her.

'What if you’re wrong?'

So here she was, knocking on his door with no idea of what she was going to say to him. Hi, I’m here to give you one more chance to show me the logic in your belief system. Or maybe, Hi, I’m here one more time to show you that you’re nuts. Either way, she could not walk away from this. She didn’t know if it was a desire to justify her running argument with her parents, maybe by showing this guy that his beliefs made no sense, or if it was a desire to have the assurance he had, but this had to come to a conclusion. She could not live with that question hanging over her.

'What if you’re wrong?'

She had to know, to be sure, one way or the other, once and for all.

Aubrey opened the door and a quick smile transformed his face. “Hey Grace, good to see ya. I’ve been thinkin’ about you.”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about you too.”

“Well come on in here.” He stood back to let her in and closed the door behind her. “Have a seat and I’ll getcha some tea.”

She sat at the small dining table and noted that the bible was in the same place as the last time she had been here. It was opened to the book of Job, a legal pad, pen and yellow highlighter lay beside it. The visible page of the legal pad was covered with small, neat handwriting. Numerous passages in the bible were highlighted, some were underlined in pen and there were notes in the margins. The different colors of ink indicated that this was an on-going process. This guy had no life. No wonder he was always glad to see her.

Aubrey placed a tall glass of iced tea in front of her and sat down across the table. She thanked him and took a sip of the tea. It was so sweet it made her mouth water.

He folded his hands over his bible. “So . . . should we spend some time on the niceties or just get right down to what brought ya all the way out here? We both know it ain’t cuz yer smitten with me.”

She chuckled, appreciating his disarming charm. “Maybe I came back for another lively discussion.” She twirled the glass between her hands, enjoying the coolness against her palms. “Truth is, I just can’t stop thinking about some of the things you’ve said.” She looked across the table and saw concern in his eyes.

“And what do you think about the things I’ve said?” Was this guy a retired psychiatrist or what, with all his ‘how do you feel – what do you think’ questions.

“I don’t know . . . I guess I just need to know why you’re so sure about God. I mean, my parents and my sister all believed like you do, and they were sure of their faith, but you just seem to speak with such . . . authority.” She paused and shrugged her shoulders. “It bugs me.”

It was his turn to laugh. “Why does that bug you?”

She sighed, “I don’t know . . . I guess it’s because I’m not sure of anything.” She paused and when he failed to fire off another question she did not know how to continue. She had no idea why she started to tell him about her dream but she did; she just opened her mouth and it all came pouring out. “And I keep having the weirdest dreams. Like last night . . .”

She recounted the dream she had last night, the strange vision of the walled place where she could hear her sister calling her, and the horrific pit. She gave him all the details, from the giant men, the pitiful screams of the woman who had been thrown in the smoking pit, to the beautiful man who always brought peace with his presence.

“And like that he was gone,” she snapped her fingers, “and I was awake in my bed.”
“You say you saw this man in other dreams,” he asked.

“Yes,” she answered and anticipating the next question, she saved him the trouble of asking and told him about the dreams with the crosses.

He listened intently and when she was done, his reaction was simple, “Wow.”

“Yeah I know,” she said. “I’ve been having some really unusual dreams lately. It must be all this clean air,” she tried to laugh but it sounded weak.

“Ya know Grace, the bible gives many examples of God using dreams to talk to His children.” He flattened his hands over the open bible.

“Oh come on Aubrey, are you saying that I’m having visions?” So the old guy was crazy after all.

“No, now, I’m not sayin’ visions exactly. What I’m sayin’ is, God could use a dream to get a message across to ya. He speaks to people’s hearts in a lot of different ways.”

She ran a hand through her hair, resisting the urge to argue. “Let’s say just for a minute that you’re right. What’s the message?” She voiced the question more as a challenge than as a desire to understand a supposed message from God.

Aubrey scratched his chin for a minute gathering his thoughts. “They’re your dreams Grace, your heart He’s speakin’ to. I think ya gotta let your heart find the message.” When she started to protest he quickly added, “But . . . if I were to try a guess I’d say He’s callin’ ya out. He wants you.”

“For what?” He looked at her for a long while, and for the first time since the night she meet him, she noticed sadness in his eyes.

“Because He loves you Grace.”

“Then why did He let my family die?” she demanded. Her face grew hot.

“God’s ways aren’t our ways, and it’s hard for us to understand. He sees the entire big picture - we only see our tiny little piece. God knows how everything fits together, how it all works with each other - we struggle just to understand how we fit.” He reached across the table and took her hand in his. She did not pull away; there was something comforting in the contact. “But I believe that God never wastes a hurt. When something painful happens, something good can come from it.”

“What good came from Ruth Ann’s death,” Grace asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. She was ashamed to ask the question but she had to know.

“Well, I think that so far, the Lord has produced three things through her passin’. First, Ruth Ann is with Jesus, and I know that there was nothing in life she wanted more than to see her savior, face to face. Second, my faith was tested, and I think I have grown stronger because of that. And third,” here he gave her hand a gentle squeeze, “I got to meet you.”

She tried to smile. It was a nice thing to say but it did nothing to calm the turmoil inside her.

God loves me?

But He let my family die!

She could not reconcile those two points. The aching emptiness caused by the loss of her family did not fit with a picture of a God who loved her and wanted what was best for her. “I don’t know Aubrey,” she said pulling her hand back and wrapping it around the cool glass. “It doesn’t feel right . . . I don’t feel loved.”

Aubrey sat back in his chair. “What do you feel Grace?”

“Angry.”

“Angry at what,” he asked.

“Angry at God.” She got to her feet and began to pace in the small dining room, the strength of her emotions making it impossible to sit still. “I’m mad at God! If He really loves me then He wouldn’t have taken my entire family away from me.” Her voice rose an octave. “It was a horrible thing to do. To leave me all alone and empty. It’s not fair - I need my family.” She stopped pacing and looked at him, her eyes filled with tears. “I just miss them so much. It hurts so bad sometimes I can’t breathe.” Tears were streaming down her face, dripping from her chin as she stomped her foot and shouted. “I can’t do this . . . it’s just . . . too hard . . . I can’t.”

Aubrey got up and wrapped his powerful arms around her, silently letting her cry on his shoulder. Holding her, he slowly walked her over to the couch and sat down beside her. She felt her anger and her pain flowing away with her tears as he held her there until she grew quiet.

When she was spent she pulled away from him and leaned back on the couch. There was a large wet spot over his heart where her tears had stained his shirt. “I’m sorry,” she said wiping her face with her bare hands.

He handed her a tissue from a box on the coffee table. “No need to apologize,” he said.

“But look what I did to your shirt” Grace said and quietly blew her noise.

“Aw, that’s nothin’, it’ll come out in the wash. Besides, it’s been a long time since a pretty girl cried on my shoulder.” The old man squared his broad shoulders and puffed out his barrel chest. “It made me feel useful.” She laughed a genuine laugh that sounded foreign to her ears. Aubrey blushed.

“Well you ought to feel pretty useful lately. It seems like every time I come out here I end up crying like a baby. It’s embarrassing; you must think I’m a ninny.”

“Tears ain’t a sign of weakness,” he said, “they’re evidence that you’ve got a heart. And I do not think you’re a ninny. I think you’re a strong young woman who’s in a lot of pain.”
The kindness in his voice brought fresh tears. Disgusted with herself she closed her eyes, pinched the bridge of her nose and pressed her index finger and her thumb into the corner of her eyes to stop the flow before it became a torrent.

“I don’t feel very strong,” she said. “I just feel empty . . . and alone.”

“Don’t you have any family Grace?” She heard hesitation in his voice. He was probably afraid she would start crying again.

“No. My dad grew up in the foster care system – no siblings – and he never talked about his childhood. His mom died when he was seven and he never knew his father. My mom’s dad died when I was twelve and my grandma died three years ago.” She twisted the crumpled tissue in her hands. “I do have an aunt in Oklahoma – my mom’s sister – she’s thirteen years older than my mom. She never had children so, no cousins. She asked me if I wanted to go back to Oklahoma with her after the funeral, and I thought about it for a while but . . . she’s old and set in her ways. I didn’t want to disrupt her life.”

“Ya know, even us old dogs can learn new tricks,” he said, a twinkle in his eye.

“Oh I didn’t mean . . . she’s a lot older than you . . .” He held up a hand indicating there was no need to continue. “Anyway, we were never very close. She sent gifts and cards at holidays, and she stayed a week with us occasionally, but I don’t really know her. It would be like living with a stranger.”

“Some of the people I’ve loved most in my life have started out as strangers,” he said.

She chuckled, “Well yeah – of course – everyone starts out as a stranger. I do love her in a way but . . . I don’t know. I guess I’m just not ready to leave Texas. I’ve never lived anywhere else.”

“I can understand that.” He slowly nodded, gazing out the window and scratching his chin. His hesitation hung in the air and she could tell he was preparing to say something important. “Ya know Grace, I don’t think yer as alone as ya feel.” He turned to look at her and she was surprised by the kindness in his eyes. Like the man in the dream. It seemed he genuinely cared about her. “I think God’s tryin’ to show ya that He’s there with you.”

“Yeah, well I’m mad at God,” she said. She leaned her head back on the couch and put her hand over her eyes. She was too empty to work up a better argument in the face of his concern.

“I know ya are,” he said, “and it’s okay to be mad at God. After what you’ve been through you’re prob’ly mad at just about everything. Like the guy driving the other car.” She felt Aubrey change position on the couch. She took her hand from her eyes so she could see him. “And maybe you’re mad at your parents.” She sat up – he was getting too personal. “I mean if they hadn’t been driving on that road at that time, none of this would’ve happened. Have ya got around to being mad at yourself? Ya know - if you’d’ve been there maybe they would’a stayed at home that night and they’d still be alive.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, incredulous. How could he say that to her? She wanted to tell him he was wrong – she didn’t feel guilty - but he wasn’t.

“Once you get to that point, ya’ve pretty much covered all the normal reactions to grief. But ya can’t just stay mad Grace, it takes too much to sustain – it’s exhaustin’. And once ya’ve burned off all the anger what’s left?”

“Nothing,” A big black nothing in her center that pulled at her mind and her heart, threatening to suck her in to its depths where she would disappear forever and she was so tired of fighting it. She just wanted to turn inward, to step to the edge of that nothing and just fall into it. She could see herself standing at its edge, looking into the darkness, the nothingness and she longed for the peace that would come from oblivion. “Nothing but an aching emptiness.”

“Grace, I think your dreams are the answer to your emptiness.”

She heard him as if from a distance and in her mind she took a step back from the darkness. “What do you mean?”

He took a deep breath and scratched his whiskers. “Well . . . when a person opens their heart and invites Jesus in, he literally moves in. He lives there. Now I know that may sound a bit cliché but it’s true.” He paused and she recognized his habit of hunting for the right words, and when he had them he would spill them all out in a rush. Then he would go hunting again. “It’s hard to explain to someone who hasn’t experienced it, but He fills you up with His love, it’s something ya can physically feel. It feels warm . . . solid . . . safe. You can feel that He’s there with ya and you’re not alone.” He looked long at her and when he spoke there was a promise behind his words. “That feelin’ of him bein’ there with you comes with the assurance that he will always be with you. Not even death can separate you.”

She rested her elbows on her knees and held her head in her hands, letting her hair fall around her; a dark curtain to hold the endless decisions at bay.

Not even death can separate you.


“What if I can’t do it,” she asked.

“What do you mean?” It came out, Whadaya mean.

She lifted her head to look at him. “What if I can’t follow all the rules? What if I can‘t be the perfect Christian?”

“Ya don’t have to be perfect, that’s the point. No one can be perfect,” he said.

“No, I know that. I don’t mean sin, my parents made it clear that no one can live a sin-free life and I get that; I mean the rules of being a Christian. Going to church and studying the bible – all the things my parents did.”

“Grace darlin’, I think you’re makin’ this too complicated. Being a Christian ain’t about rules, it’s about having a relationship with God. A loving two-way relationship with a living God. All you have to do is trust. Trust Jesus enough to open your heart to Him. Being a Christian is a life-long process, and when Jesus comes to live with you He guides you through the process. When He wants you to go to church – and He will –, He’ll put that desire in your heart. You’ll want to go to church.” The look on his face made her envious. She had seen that look from a dead girl; joy.

“It’s that simple huh,” she asked, hanging her head again.

“Yes darlin’ it’s that simple.”




That night she sat on the couch going through the channel guide on television. Lost in her thoughts and inner turmoil her eyes read the channels scrolling by on the screen, but nothing managed to break through the storm.

She struggled with an inner conflict, caused by dreams and conversations. The dark void in her soul, born of the sudden loss of her family, threatened to draw her in and consume her, but there was something growing in that void, a pinpoint of light, a vague sense of hope had begun to form.

Her mind drifted back to the night before Anna was baptized. She had been home between semesters and Anna was sitting on Grace’s bed trying to explain why she was going through with baptism.



“I’m not doing it for them Grace, I’m doing it for me.”

“Because Mom and Dad have convinced you that you’re supposed to,”
Grace retorted.

“I really don’t understand this battle you’re waging against them,” Anna said, “but it seems to me you’re hurting yourself more than you’re hurting them.”

“Hurting myself! How? By living my life my own way? I don’t think so,” Grace said. “For as long as I can remember Mom and Dad have been telling me to be independent - think for myself - live my life for me first. Well, that’s what I’m doing. Now all of a sudden I’m wrong? Just because they decided to give their lives to Jesus and the church? That’s crap! And I can’t believe you’re going along with it. Your life is yours Anna, your future is wide open - it could be anything you want it to be.”

“My future is still wide open,” Anna said. “But now there’s a sense of
purpose. I want to live my life for God. I mean, He’s the one who made me - He knows what purpose He has for my life. To me there’s no better way to live than by my Father’s perfect plan.” Anna closed her eyes and quoted some part of the bible. “For I know the plans I have for you declares the Lord. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” She opened her eyes and looked at her sister with such a beautiful smile it took her breath. “Hope, and a future Grace.”



Sitting here now, alone in the world, the future looked anything but hopeful. Yet . . . There was something stirring inside of her, a restlessness, a longing. She stood up and ambled over to the front window. She peered into the night, staring up at the multitude of brilliant starts standing out against the black sky, giving her mind time to analyze this new sensation.

The future still looked bleak and lonely from here - hopeless. But, Anna had found hope in Jesus. And hadn’t Aubrey told her that with Jesus, he was never alone?

She grabbed the quilt from the back of the couch, and slipped her shoes on. Stepping outside she drew in a deep breath of cold air. The sky was still, clear and sparkling. She moved out to the center of the yard, wrapped the quilt tight around her and plopped down in the dry grass.




At that same moment, in a little green house in the woods, Aubrey Thacker knelt beside his bed in the dark. His hands clasped before him, he prayed in a strong voice choked with emotion.

“Dear Heavenly Father, thank You for bringing Grace into my life Lord, and thank You for using her to pull me out of the pit of self-pity I had dug for myself. Grace is diggin’ a pit of her own Lord and I’m askin’ You to throw her a lifeline. Don’t let her sink in despair Father. She needs You desperately, and I think she’s close to realizin’ it. Lord, I’m askin’ You to please move her heart - call her to You Lord. Heal her heart Father as only You can. Please dear God, help that girl be whole again.”




Grace lay back and looked up at the sky. She thought of Aubrey, who in the course of a few days had gone from annoying her, to comforting her. He was kind and gentle, and he was genuine. He cared about her and wanted to help her - like the man in her dreams. Aubrey tried to convince her of God’s love, not because he thought it was his duty to convert her (as her parents had), but because he really believed that God had the cure for this throbbing ache in her soul.

Maybe he was right, maybe God could make her whole again. Maybe He could fill the void left by her parents and her sister. Maybe He could make her want to live again. And if Aubrey was wrong? If God could not heal her heart? She would be no worse off for having tried would she?

She looked up at the sky and tried to imagine Him there behind the dark jewel-encrusted veil of night. “God,” she began tentatively, “I believe in You. I really do - I believe You’re there - I always have. But now I know that I need you.” She covered her face with her hands and cried. “I don’t want to feel like this God. I don’t want to be alone . . . I can’t do this by myself . . .please God . . .it hurts too much.” She imagined taking all this pain, this fear, anger, and loneliness and wadding it up into a tight little ball. She imagined holding the ball of despair in the palm of her hand and lifting her hand heavenward. “Take it. Father. . Please. I don’t want it anymore.” Her shoulders shook as she sobbed and she cried out to heaven, “Please Jesus . . .come into my heart . . Make me whole again. Give me something to live for. Help me live for you!”