by Todie West
“Yes, Sir,” answered Jose.
Following the spelling test, Michael noticed that there was another quote on the board. “I almost forgot. Mr. Secretary, we need you to collect the Tuesday quote challenges. After reviewing Monday’s challenges, I have decided to change the rules up a bit.”
“Awe,” the class whined.
“Remember, complaining will start costing you. Here’s what I’m going to do. Should the quotes continue to appear, I will require a little more effort on your part in figuring out what they mean and a little more about the person who signed them. Some of these were ridiculous and should receive no credit, but since I hadn’t changed the rules up to that point, I’ll give full credit for them. But from now on, the amount will be based on the effort in the research. Ms. Recorder, here are the challenges from Monday which you will need to record who is to receive their $100, which will go into the bank accounts after they give you their deposit slips. You’ll all get the hang of it after a while. And I have shown you each how to balance your checkbook. It is up to you to record your own deposits and withdrawals. At the end of the school term, the person who has kept the best record of his or her money and who has the most money left in his account will be the winner. You can always come to me if you get confused. And remember, you can’t cheat on this one, because the bank will also have a record of all of your transactions.”
“What’s a transaction? … I know, look it up.”
“Now you’re catching on, Marco.”
“What do we win? What do we win?” Everyone asked.
“I haven’t decided yet. Now let’s take a look at today’s quote. The truth shall make you free. It was signed John.
“John who?” asked Amber.
“That’s for you to find out.”
The bell rang for lunch recess. “Mr. Bailiff?”
Jose jumped up from his seat and ordered everyone to line up in an orderly fashion. The city experiment thus far was proving valuable in keeping the students engaged, at least for now. Michael’s goal was to keep their attention and help them learn and, at the same time, gain control over his classroom. He was half-way hoping someone would do something to warrant a jury trial. He was curious to see how they would handle that process.
Chapter 8
Search the Scriptures. (John 5:39 - Washington Monument)
Of the many influences that have shaped the United States into a distinctive nation and people, none may be said to be more fundamental and enduring than the Bible. (President Ronald Reagan)
Wednesday after school, Michael met with Pastor Dan to put the finishing touches on his mother’s celebration of life. Michael was asked if he wanted to speak at the service.
“I don’t think so.”
“I understand. We have quite a few people who knew and loved your mother very much who have voiced a desire to say a few words. If it’s okay with you, we can even open it up at the end for anyone else to add anything, if they want.”
“Yeah, okay, as long as it doesn’t drag on too long.”
Pastor Dan laughed, “No, I don’t think that’ll happen. We’ll keep as close to our time and agenda as possible.”
“Agenda, you have an agenda?”
“Well, I don’t know if you would call it an agenda. Let’s say program. Here’s a draft of what we have. You look it over and tell me if there’s anything you’d like to change.”
The program included a prelude, special music, welcome and invocation, opening prayer, opening hymn, and words of remembrance by several church members, followed by a closing hymn and benediction.
“Looks good to me,” Michael handed the paper back to Pastor Dan and got up to leave. “Is that all you need me for?”
“Yeah, unless you have any other questions.”
“Nope. I’m good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay.” Pastor Dan wanted to give Michael a hug, but he knew it would only make Michael feel uncomfortable. He said a little prayer in his heart that this whole ordeal would turn Michael’s heart around and that he would understand how much he was loved.
That evening Michael went over the quote challenge. Eight students had responded and the answers showed that some had really done their research.
* * *
“Good morning, Class. Let’s get right into our day, since I will be having a sub come in to take over for me this afternoon.”
Groans from the classroom gave Michael a good feeling. At that moment he felt they were really beginning to connect.
“I haven’t mentioned it to you, but my mother died last week and her funeral is today.”
“Oh, Mr. Webster, you should have taken the whole week off,” Rene responded in a sweet, caring manner.
“Thanks, Rene, but I’d rather be with you guys than sitting at home.” He quickly changed the subject so as not to show too much emotion in front of his students. “Another quote challenge for us, I see. And no one has any idea who’s doing this?”
Everyone shook their heads in the negative. Michael was sure that if anyone knew, they would tell him. “Today’s saying is signed by Abraham Lincoln. It says The Almighty has His own purposes. Okay. You know the drill. Now let’s go over a couple of answers from Tuesday’s quote. In God We Trust. I think the most research was done by, oh, looks like Peter has been busy. I warned him to be a bit more serious, and boy, he really got serious. Here’s some of what he wrote - In God we trust is on our money. Some say it is the United States national motto. The words are in the last stanza of the National Anthem written by Francis Scott Key in 1814. It was put on some money in 1864 because of the Civil War and people wanted God’s help. I guess.”
“That’s great, Peter,” Michael exclaimed. “Even I didn’t know there were more stanzas to the National Anthem. It sounds like you really took some time to study this. Like I said, there’s no right or wrong answer. It’s just how much time you spent researching and learning something.”
“So do I get $100?”
“I should say so. Now there were some others who did not get full credit because all they wrote was that it is written on our money. Everyone knows that. What I was looking for was some new information, something you learned that you didn’t know before. That’s what Peter did. Great job!”
“Thanks.” Peter grinned.
* * *
The morning went by quickly and Michael put on his sport jacket and left his classroom during the lunch hour to go to the church. He passed Trish In the hallway.
“Well, don’t you look dapper.”
“On my way to my mother’s funeral.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I forgot all about that. So will we see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I’ll be here.”
“It’s getting a bit too cold for milkshakes. I don’t drink coffee, but I do love a good cup of cocoa.”
“Sounds good. Maybe next week. Say, I’ve been meaning to ask you. Have you seen anyone come in or out of my classroom when I’m not around?”
“What do you mean?”
“Somebody has been going in and writing stuff on the blackboard, weird stuff.”
“Is it graffiti or pornographic?”
“No, it’s religious.”
“Wow, that is strange. No, I can’t remember seeing anyone except Roy, the janitor, but he wouldn’t be writing in the blackboard. That is too weird.”
“I don’t want to sound like I’m losing my mind, but the quote for today I just read in one of my mother’s books about Abraham Lincoln. I never believed in ghosts or anything, but … nah.”
“You think it might be your mother?”
“Well, I hate to admit it, but the thought had crossed my mind, especially since she was such a deeply religious person and tried everything in her power to indoctrinate me. And the quotes started appearing the day after she died.”
“I don’t know, Michael. It is odd, though.”
“Or it could be a bunch of ghosts. S
ince they’ve all been signed by somebody who is dead.”
“That’s a strange thought.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Well, I’ve got to run. See you tomorrow.”
“Okay. Again, I’m sorry about your mom.”
“Thanks.” Michael ran down the hall, stopped and walked passed Ruby’s office, and then ran the rest of the way to his car. He brushed his disheveled hair with his fingers while looking in the rearview mirror. He took a deep breath and then started for the church.
Upon entering the parking lot of Orchard Christian Church, Michael was amazed at the number of cars. There were ten times as many as there were at the going away party, and he thought that was a lot of people. They couldn’t all be here for my mother’s service. She didn’t know that many people, did she?
Michael had to park near the street and walk quite a ways to the entrance of the church. It was only 12:30 so he couldn’t imagine how many more people there would be by 1:00. Maybe there’s something else going on before the service and all these people will be leaving soon, Michael surmised.
Michael wasn’t sure he was in the right place. No organ music, but a man and woman playing guitars and everyone singing and clapping. Again, he felt they were a bit too happy about his mother’s death. Michael’s irritation was mixed with nerves. He spotted Pastor Dan who gave him a big hug. Michael braced himself for more hugs from the blue haired church ladies, and he was right. One after another they hugged as he walked to the front of the sanctuary where Pastor Dan had reserved him a special spot in the front row. His mother’s beautiful casket sat draped with the most colorful blanket made of pink roses, with stands of flower bouquets surrounding the entire staging area. Mom would like that, he thought to himself. Her casket was closed, at Michael’s request. He wanted everyone, including himself, to remember her full of life, with that contagious smile of hers.
As Michael sat listening to the 200+ choir behind him accompanied by the couple and their guitars, he felt a tap on his shoulder.
“Brad… Jason. Thanks for coming.”
“We’re the three Musketeers, remember?”
Michael smiled and his two friends sat on either side of him. He felt a protective buffer from the crowd, just what he needed. Michael turned around and looked behind him to see several people his mother knew from around town. There was Bob the clerk from the grocery store, Maxine, who worked at the drug store, the woman who cut her hair, all of her doctors, and even Dr. Bailey, her dentist. There were people of all ages. What an impact his mother must have had on so many people. Michael was in awe of the devotion. He wasn’t sure he could contain his composure. He had only cried once since she died, the night he found out when his two buddies were over watching the ball game.
Pastor Dan approached the podium and the music stopped. He thanked everyone for coming and spoke with a humble elegance about Bessie Webster. Michael couldn’t remember a word of what he said in the invocation, but the music was refreshing, Michael had to admit. He definitely didn’t feel like he was in a church. He could almost see what his mother liked about this place.
Pastor Dan read the obituary, but then he began to speak about Michael’s dear, sweet mother in words that filled the room like a fresh fragrance, as if her spirit was right there. “Bessie was a class act. She truly lived what she believed. I met Bessie five years ago and what she taught me, and all of us, about Christian love cannot be learned just by listening to a sermon every Sunday. Her life was a sermon. A sermon of love. If someone was ill, Bessie was there, with a home baked pie and sometimes an entire dinner, or a bag of groceries. Her deep relationship with her Lord was intoxicating and contagious. Everyone wanted to be around her. How many here had her as a Sunday School teacher.”
Over a third of the room raised their hands.
“And how many people in this room did she transport on the school bus?”
Many more hands went up.
“How many were blessed by her Christian love?”
Every hand in the place went up and there was not a dry eye to be seen. Even the trio in the front row were having trouble holding back the tears.
“You are a testimony to this wonderful woman’s giving heart. And her last act of love, traveling to Ecuador to work in an orphanage, will never be realized because the Lord decided he had bigger and better things for Bessie to do in Heaven.”
Loud amens filled the room. Michael disagreed with the statement, but could see how believing it might help justify her death, taking the blame off of God. Michael had no problem blaming God.
Pastor Dan continued. “Bessie always told me that she knew she might be the only Bible that some people would ever read. That was her motto and she lived it out in everything she did in her life, both here and outside the church. We have a few people who would like to share some stories about Bessie in celebration of her life. Tim Borland would like to say a few words. Tim.”
“Mrs. Webster was my Sunday school teacher when I was about 10. I was going through some major traumas in my home life. My parents were getting a divorce and I was really confused and angry. I never told her what was going on, but she could tell something was wrong and gave me some extra attention. She not only told me that Jesus loved me, she showed me, by encouraging me. Every year I saw her, she gave me the biggest hug and told me how much Jesus loved me. She saved me from going down the wrong path. My parents’ divorce hit me hard, but Mrs. Webster softened the blow and gave me hope. Instead of being angry, I put all my energy into, what was that scripture she always quoted, ‘whatever you do, do it heartily as unto the Lord.’ So that’s what I did, and still do. I am married now to a wonderful Christian woman and we have two young sons who are also in love with Jesus. And I owe it all to Mrs. Webster for being Jesus to me.”
“Thank you, Tim. Now we have another speaker, Nan.”
“Bessie and I have been best friends since we both started going to this church at about the same time oh so many years ago.” Nan paused as she wiped away her tears. “I’m sorry…. Bessie had already lost her husband, but when my husband, Alex, became ill, she was right there with me through the whole ordeal. She never said ‘I’ll pray for you,’ instead she would put her arm around me and pray for me right there. I know she continued praying, because I believe she was in constant, direct communication with the Lord. When Alex died, my two best friends were right beside me, Bessie on one side and Jesus on the other. We shared lots of fun times together, too. And the girl loved to bake. If you attend potlucks at this church, I am sad to say that the dessert table will be missing some wonderful pies, and we will miss our dear, sweet Bessie. We love you, Bessie.” Nan dabbed her nose with a tissue. “Thank you.”
“Okay, we have a very special videotaped message from Araceli Salazar, one of the young ladies who was with Bessie on the mission trip to Ecuador. This is a great example of how God works. Bessie may not have made it to the orphanage to work, but God still used her in a big way on her trip. I’ll let Araceli tell you the story herself.”
“Why do they keep trying to justify God’s actions?” Michael thought to himself.
“Hello, everyone. I got to know Bessie about a year ago at an informational meeting on a mission trip to Ecuador. I have family that still lives in South America and thought I might like to go visit, perhaps share the gospel to some of my people. I spoke the language so it was a perfect fit. I was drawn to Bessie right away. Her sweet spirit and magnetic smile illuminated the room. Joy flowed from her heart when she spoke. She loved the Lord more than anyone I’ve ever known. And she was so very proud of her son, Michael, and what a wonderful man he had become. When he became discouraged about teaching, she told him ‘if you impact only one life, it is all worth it.’ In Bessie’s life, she impacted many people, but on that last day, two days before she went to be with the Lord, I saw her impact one last person, in a very big way. In one of Pastor Dan’s sermons a few months ago he spoke of how, if we want to know we are really a Christ
ian, one of the determining factors is more what we do when no one is looking, when we know we are not doing it to be seen by others. It is in those times that God gets all the glory, and rightfully so. Sure, we all like a pat on the back now and then, but Pastor Dan was right.”
Araceli continued. “If there was any doubt where Bessie was going when she died, you can rest assured, what she did on the plane proves she is with her Lord. She had no idea anyone was listening to her conversation with the young girl seated next to her. Bessie did not know this person, and she knew she probably would never see her again. I have to confess, I was eavesdropping, but I’m so glad I did. I was seated in the row in front of Bessie and she had no idea anyone could hear. She listened intently to the girl’s very sad story of how her family had deserted her because she had become pregnant without a husband, and how the young man, the father of her baby had beaten her up and sent her to the hospital, where she gave birth prematurely and how the child lived for only a couple of days and died from head injuries from the blows. She was carrying around the guilt of the pregnancy, the guilt of the baby’s death and, most of all, not being able to forgive either the baby’s father or her own parents for their desertion of her. The girl was in tears, as Bessie held her hand and listened intently. Then, as the girl sobbed, Bessie began to speak. I won’t go into great detail about what she said, but she ended up taking the girl down the Roman’s road to salvation and, before it was over, the girl was praying for a forgiving heart. As Christ had forgiven her, she too wanted to forgive them as well as herself. By the end of the conversation and a time of prayer, the girl’s demeanor had changed so much, there was no doubt she was a new creation, as the scripture says. Bessie had been used by God to bring this poor girl into His loving arms, and then it was finished. Her work here on earth was done and she is now sitting at the feet of Jesus, literally. I was blessed to know Bessie and I am thankful I was within earshot of this miracle. Thank you. We love you, Bessie. And we miss you.”
