What Did It Do For Me?

On Saturday night, Ginny Anderson sat at a desk in Cabin 1 and tried to make sense of her life. She had taken this weekend road trip to try and get away from well. . .life. But so far, the most interesting thing had been her arrival at this motel and meeting the owner--what his name?--Norman.

Norman. She wasn't quite sure what to think of him. He had seemed very friendly and kind, but something about him was a little off. And then there was all that talk about his mother. Ginny hadn't met his mother, and after what Norman said about her, Ginny had no desire to meet Norman's mother. She sounded like a terrible person and, in a way, Ginny admired Norman for being so devoted to her, but that also made him seem a little bit creepy too. A man that age shouldn't be so attached to his mother.

While thinking about this, she happened to open a desk drawer and find a book. Nothing unusual about that. It was the Gideon Bible which one found in every motel room. Bible, she snorted to herself. She remembered how her mother was always making her read that book. And it never did anything for me, she thought. Did it ever make me attractive? Did it ever make the kids at school stop bullying me? Did it ever get me a husband or even a boyfriend? Nope I still have this miserable life.

For a moment, she paused and stared at the cover unaware that someone was staring at her.

* * *

In the wall of Cabin 1, there was a tiny hole, and on the other side of that tiny hole was the motel office and in the motel office was Norman with his eye glued to the hole. He hadn't bothered to open his pants yet because the woman in the room was kind of homely, which was probably the reason that his mother had been so tolerant of her.

Still, Norman was curious. Maybe she would take her clothes off and look cute naked. Maybe, she would even touch herself. Plain women often did that in motel rooms. Maybe she would even want to take a shower. Of all the things, Norman liked about women. It was how they looked while showering.

Of course, if she looked really beautiful in the shower, something really ugly could happen to her. Something very ugly which Norman preferred not to think about.

But this woman wasn't showering or even taking her clothes off. She was. . .reading the Gideon Bible. Norman was astonished. Putting a Gideon Bible in a hotel room was about as important as changing the bed linens, but Norman had never actually seen any woman--or man, for that matter--actually read one.

For a moment, Norman felt like he should open his pants. He was begining to imagine this woman as a sweet Jesus girl who was always hugging people and--whatever Jesus girls did. Maybe she had been baptized. Not sprinkled as a baby, but dunked as a pretty young girl. Maybe she had come out of the water soaking wet and started hugging everyone within reach.

Norman shook his head. If his mother knew he was thinking such things. . .And his mother almost always knew what he was thinking. Somehow, he could never hide anything from her. But this one time, the thought had been so brief that maybe. . .just maybe she wouldn't find out about it.

* * *

The next morning Ginny got up and dressed. She hadn't slept much last night because she had been reading the BIble. Somehow, it had drawn her in in a way she had never experienced. And it mad her think that this was actually Sunday morning. So maybe. . .

She stepped outside of her cabin and saw that Norman was waiting for her. "Hi," he said with a bright smile. "I thought I'd make you breakfast."

"Oh thank you. But I was wondering if you could tell me where the nearest church is."

"Well, the one that the sheriff and his wife attend is just up the road and to the left."

"Great, and do you what time services are?"

"I'm sorry. I wouldn't know that." Norman said this in a guilty voice which made Ginny pity him.

"It's Okay," she reassured, "I'll just drive up there and find out." Then another crazy thought struck her. "Would you like to come?"

Norman looked stunned. "I couldn't leave this motel. Not to mention my mother."

"Oh right." Ginny thought for a minute. "You know, maybe at this church I could talk to the Pastor about your mother. Sometimes churches help invalids or visit them on Sundays."

"That would be a terrible idea," said Norman. "My mother's not religious." Then, he added, "It's too late for us."

"Oh. I thought it was too late for me, but I don't believe it's ever too late. At least, not until you're dead."

For some reason Norman smiled at this. "It really is too late for my mother." Then, he got serious again. "And it's too late for me too. . .in a different way. . Look, honestly. I think you should leave this place."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean Go! Go home! Go to the church! I don't care! But never come back to this motel again."

He was so forceful that Ginny decided to obey. She got into her car and drove towards the church. Once the motel was out of sight, she could think about her night a bit more objectively.

Will going to this church really save me, she wondered.

Will it really change my life?

Will it save my life?


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