Turn it on.
The remote control was right there on the tousled bedsheets. Right there. Doug swayed from the effort to avoid picking it up. And his meeting wasn’t for two hours.
God, help me.
He forced himself to walk to the closet, to dress in his business clothes, to pick up his laptop briefcase and walk out the door. He closed it behind him, feeling a flood of relief.
And the pictures came again. He whimpered slightly and half-ran down the corridor, heading for his car. But where could he go to escape the parade? It went with him.
Other memories accompanied him out to the car, and out on to the highway. He was thirteen years old, playing backyard ball with his buddies. A wild pitch landed in the neighbor’s garbage can. When he ran to retrieve the ball, a familiar logo peeped out from behind an empty pizza box.
That night, he offered—much to his mom’s surprise—to take out the trash. On the way back, he stashed the ragged men’s magazine under his shirt. He knew he shouldn’t, knew God didn’t want him to, but he wanted to. Up in his room, he studied the images, his young eyes wide, a primeval urge pulling at him. That was his first time. And if he closed his eyes, he could still see Miss September.
Miss September had been a problem his whole life.
Doug pulled off the highway at the appropriate exit and coasted into the parking lot of a popular coffee shop. He still had ninety minutes to kill before his meeting.
He settled into one of the comfortable couches with a tall latte, then pulled out his cell phone, anxious to hear his wife’s voice.
Doug furrowed his forehead when he heard the familiar sounds of his home voice mail.
“Sherry, it’s me. I miss you so much. I’ve got over an hour before my next meeting, so if you get this message by noon your time, please call. I can’t wait to talk to you. I love you.”
He read another paper, then, on a whim, redialed his home.
Sherry picked up on the fourth ring, sounding agitated.
“Hello?” A wailing noise filled the background. “Hello?”
“Hi … sweetheart?”
“Oh, Doug, I—Genna, you stop that now. I told you to stop that.” Doug could hear a smacking noise and then more wailing.
Sherry came back on the line. “It’s been a rough morning.”
“Sounds like it. What’s going on?”
“Genna wasn’t feeling well so I kept her home from preschool, but she’s disobeying me at every turn. I’ve already had to spank her once.”
“I’m so sorry. I wish I was there to help.”
“I wish you were too. Bad timing for her to get all headstrong—no! She just dumped her juice on the floor.”
“On purpose?”
“It’s like she’s two years old again. Hey, Genna—Genna, go to time-out. Now.” Sherry sighed, and Doug could hear her mopping up the spill.
“Let me talk to her.”
“I don’t know if it’ll help. She—”
“Just let me try.”
Sherry handed the phone to their daughter, and Doug tried to sound as solemn as he could, when all he really wanted to do was give her a huge hug.
“Genna, this is Daddy.”
A small, angry voice. “Where are you?”
“I’m in California, sweetheart. You have to be good for Mommy, okay?”
“No, Daddy, no!” He heard the phone clattering to the floor, and his four-year-old daughter throwing a two-year-old temper tantrum.
What on earth?
Sherry retrieved the phone. “She ran upstairs. I better go.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“She’s mad at you.”
“What?”
Sherry heaved a sigh. “She’s just really realized that you won’t be there on Saturday for the play, and she started trying to rip the wings off her costume.”
Doug couldn’t speak for a minute. He felt like he’d been punched in the heart. “I’ve never seen her like this.”
Another sigh. “She’s been like this a lot lately.”
“I haven’t seen that.”
“Well … you haven’t really been around much.”
I’m just a worthless idiot. I can’t even do right by my own family
Doug started to open his mouth when he heard Sherry trying to talk to their daughter. She came back on the line.
“I’ve got to go, honey. Lisa called a few minutes ago about our year-end tax stuff, and when she heard all the commotion she suggested I come over. Maybe that’ll take Genna’s mind off the whole thing.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“I wish there was.”
Doug closed his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. Me, too. I’ve got to go.”
The phone went dead. Doug stared at it for a long time, his mind dull.
Sherry grabbed Genna’s arm in one hand and knocked on her friend’s garage door with the other. It opened slightly, and she stuck her head into the kitchen. A teapot was whistling on the stove, and two mugs stood ready on the counter.
“Hellooo? Lisa?”
A distant voice sounded around a corner. “Come on in! I’ll be right there.”
Sherry turned to her daughter, who was hopping up and down with anticipation. “Okay, you can go. But be careful. And if I see you doing tricks I’m going to come out there, and you’ll have to sit quietly while I talk with Mrs. Elliott. Understand?”
Genna nodded, trying to pull her coat sleeve free, her eyes focusing on something out the window.
Sherry crouched down and looked into her daughter’s eyes. “Understand?”
“Yes, Mommy.”
“Okay.” Sherry released her arm and gave her daughter a pat on the behind. “Go have fun. Maybe you’ll get some of this crabbiness out of you.”
Her daughter raced around the corner of the garage, to the enticing pleasures of their neighbor’s backyard.
“Hey, come on in.” Lisa was standing in the doorway, twisting her hair into a clip.
Sherry stepped over the threshold and gave her friend a hug. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“You sounded like you really needed a break. And since a morning of tax returns has made me want to jump off a cliff, I figured tea with a friend was a much better idea.”
Sherry gave a genuine laugh for the first time that morning, starting to relax.
“Where’s Genna?”
Sherry pointed out the kitchen window. “On your trampoline.”
Lisa handed her a mug of tea, and the two women sank into the comfortable chairs surrounding the kitchen table.
“So.” Lisa looked into her eyes. “Tell me.”
“Oh, I don’t even know what to tell.”
Sherry took a sip of her tea, wondering how much she should say. Lisa just waited patiently.
“Well, like I said, Doug left Monday on this business trip. He’s got meetings all week, including one on Saturday for brunch. So by the time he gets back he’ll miss the kids’ Christmas play. We thought Genna understood, but I think it just sunk in today and … well, she’s just missing her daddy She’s had a rough few hours.”
“Bless your heart.” Lisa’s Southern twang was gentle as she looked at her friend. “And how are you?”
“Well … you want to know the truth? It’s getting hard. I don’t know how you and Eric do it, with all his traveling. Ever since Doug started flying around so much this summer, I feel like we never connect any more. How do you do it?”
“It’s a little easier for me, since all the kids are a bit older and in school until three or four o’clock. I can occupy my mind with work or whatever, but it’s never easy. You just miss your man.”
“What if … what if you’re worried he’s not missing you?”
Lisa sat quiet for a second, then looked up, her eyes concerned. “What would make you think that?”
“I don’t know.” Sherry got misty-eyed. “It’s just that every conversation seems to end up in an arg
ument these days.” She told Lisa a little bit about the last few conversations with Doug, and then hesitated. She saw Lisa at church every Sunday. How much could she really say?
The kitchen was quiet for a minute, the teapot simmering on the stove.
Lisa finally stirred in her chair, her face thoughtful. “How are you and God doing?”
“How are—” Sherry sat back, startled. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Well, truthfully … it just sounds like you’re lonely and stressed. God longs to fill those voids, if you’ll let Him. But sometimes when we most need His presence, we drift away.”
“Look, you know a little about my story, right? You’re probably the only one at Trinity who does. I spent a lot of years not just drifting but running away. So I know what you mean. But I pray—” she looked up at Lisa, her eyes concerned—“I never want to fall away again. Never. But I guess it’s pretty easy to let things slip.”
Lisa set down her mug and leaned forward. “Sherry, can I be honest about something?”
“Uh … sure.”
“This might sound trite, but the only way to let things slip is if you let it happen. God is the perfect Father, the perfect lover, the perfect friend. Just like your relationship with Doug or any other person, your relationship with God requires tending to. But the difference is that He is always there, always ready, always up for a chat … and even more wonderful, is always longing to spend time with you.”
Sherry looked down. “I know that.”
“I know you know that. So here comes a challenge for you. Right now, you’re sad because you think Doug hasn’t been tending to your relationship. Well, maybe there are two sides to the story, but let’s just assume for the moment that you’re completely accurate. I want you to think about the fact that just like you feel the distance, feel ignored, and are saddened because of what Doug is missing out on—and what you are missing out on!—realize that your heavenly Best Friend is saddened by what you’re missing out on whenever you don’t tend to your relationship with Him.”
“But there’s no time. With the kids and doing all the work around the house and volunteering at the school, I’m just exhausted all the time.” She felt tears near the surface. “I feel like if I add one more thing, I’ll just.…”
“Look, I really do understand. And God has great grace in our lives, and He knows when you’re so tired that you can’t see straight. He created us; He understands all that. However, there are ways to solve this problem. And you have some options that others might not, especially since your kids are already in school. Send the kids off to school, or hire a babysitter for Genna if it’s not a preschool day, and spend an hour with the Lord each weekday.”
“An hour?”
“That’s my suggestion.”
“I can’t imagine what I’d pray about for an hour.”
“It might take some getting used to, but I promise you—after a few days your spirit will start to crave your time alone with Him. You’ll soak up that prayer time like a dry sponge soaking up water. Although even ten minutes is something, you’ll really be amazed what a difference an hour makes.”
Her eyes were kind. “And you’ll also have more to pour out on others. Because right now,” she turned her empty mug upside down, “you’re trying to pour out from a dry cup, and it’s not working.”
Sherry looked into her own nearly empty mug. I can’t imagine trying to pray for an hour. I’d be bored out of my mind.
“And you know, as you pray—for Doug, for your marriage—you’ll find that a lot of the issues that are so worrisome to you now, will be worked out.”
“You’re probably right.”
Lisa walked over to the stove and brought back the teapot for a refill. “Look, we aren’t miracle workers, but God sure is. As long as both partners in a marriage have a soft heart and a teachable spirit—which both of you have—and are trying as best they can to follow God, I have to think that God will be faithful to solve whatever problem they’re praying about.”
Lisa returned the teapot to its place, and Sherry watched her daughter happily bouncing on the trampoline. She’d been doing that one thing for well over half an hour, and she didn’t look like she was getting bored.
“So, where is Doug this week?”
“California.”
“That’s funny, so is Eric. He’s in San Francisco all week for a convention.”
“Doug’s in Silicon Valley, land of a zillion microchips. Will Eric be back in time to see Rebekah in the church play?”
“He’s flying out at three o’clock on Friday. It means he’s going to miss the last half-day of the convention and will get in after midnight, but at least he’ll be sure to be back. He didn’t want to risk flying out Saturday morning and maybe cut it too close if they got delayed or something.”
“Understandable these days. I wish Doug could’ve done that.”
“Well, I suppose he would have if that brunch meeting wasn’t really important.”
“Yeah.”
“Listen … are you all in a small group?”
Sherry looked up. “Yes. Well … sort of. We have one that we try to go to when we can, when Doug’s in town. Haven’t been there much lately. It’s on a weeknight, which is tough for the kids.”
“You know, we have a home group that meets here on Friday night for that very reason. We’d love you to visit sometime.”
Sherry gave a noncommittal smile. “Thanks, that would be nice.” She stood up, restless. “I don’t want to take too much of your time, Lisa. You were sweet to ask me to come over, and to let my daughter exhaust herself on your trampoline.”
“Anytime. It’s a standing invitation. You live so close, it seems a shame that we don’t get together more often.”
Sherry gave her friend a quick hug and hurried into the backyard. She helped her daughter down from the trampoline and headed back toward home, her mind turning over the radical, hour-long-prayer idea.
She ushered Genna into the warmth of their home, then stood for a long time at the kitchen window staring out at trees bare of leaves and flowers without the warmth of spring.
FOURTEEN
Sunlight pierced the room through a gap in the thick hotel curtains. As consciousness returned to Doug’s sleepy mind, shame rushed in alongside. He groaned and pushed his head into the pillow.
It had him in its grip. Again. He’d been free of it for years, and now the barrier had again been crossed. He sensed a familiar dark chasm pulling him in, years of struggle looming. Why was he trading a few minutes of pleasure for an open door on years of pain?
He grabbed his Bible from his bag and tried to turn his mind to his morning prayer routine. The images intruded even as he tried to pray.
How can I ask God to bless my family, protect my family when I’m such scum? God, forgive me. Forgive me for … for that sin that I engaged in. Let me be free of this! Don’t let this be another two years of struggle.
He showered and changed, going through the motions with no heart. He was such a fool. How could he do this to Sherry? To God? He knew it was harmful, knew he could not control it once he got started, and yet he had again allowed it in. He felt like throwing up.
God, help me!
He forced himself to read his Bible, sitting in an armchair with his back to the television. The pages of the Word of God became blurred with images from the previous night, images that had haunted his dreams.
Doug crumbled into tears.
God, forgive me.
How many times could God forgive before his pleas became hollow, meaningless? Several years ago he had asked, begged, for forgiveness every single day before again repeating the cycle every single night. Or every single afternoon.
Sometimes he’d stay clean for a few days at a time, until something triggered the memory of an image on the Internet, and within minutes he’d be on-line, his office door closed, spellbound in front of the computer monitor. He knew how to erase his electronic tracks so the syste
ms administrator would never catch his use. But it wasn’t like anyone at the company would care anyway, not like some companies where they’d fire you for a first-time infraction. Jordan himself had shown him some of his favorite sites. And now after two years of freedom, the cycle was starting all over again.
Doug slapped his Bible shut. God would have to help him this time, would have to. This could not happen again!
He shrugged into his jacket and picked up his laptop briefcase. He had to call Gavin Gilmore and ask some additional questions before the big meeting Friday. In the back of his mind, he wondered which members—or member—of the leadership team Gil would refer him to.
He pushed that thought away, feeling useless and inept. He was too weak for this.
Sherry hugged her kids good-bye, and watched as Brandon and Genna scampered off to play with the friends milling about the courtyard. The morning bell at Trinity Chapel Christian School would ring in just a moment.
She saw the volunteer coordinator approaching with a smile, and wavered for a second.
“So, Sherry,” the coordinator pulled up by her side, looking at her clipboard, “what would you think about library duty today?”
“Um … actually, I left you a message yesterday. You must not have gotten it.”
“No, I haven’t had time to check. What was it?”
“Just that I’m going to need to cut back on my volunteering for a while.”
The woman’s eyes widened with surprise. “Do you mind my asking why?”
“Well … we just have a lot going on right now. Some … uh … difficult things we’re dealing with. I have to readjust my time priorities. I’ll still be available to help. Just not as much.”
The coordinator looked down at her clipboard. “I’m sorry to hear that. We’ve relied on you a lot. This will leave a hole.”
“I’m sorry. You know I want to help. But it has been a volunteer thing; I’ve never been paid.”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Listen, I feel terrible, but I just can’t commit to as many hours as before, especially in the morning. In fact, I need to head out right now.”
“I guess you need to do what you need to do. Let me know when you want to go on the schedule again.”
The Lights of Tenth Street Page 12
