Ephesians 6:11 “Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the Devil.”
Six Years Ago
I pick up my Bible and eat the last bite of my pancakes before bringing my plate to the kitchen and kissing my wife on the cheeks. “It was delicious. Thanks, hun,” I say, winking as I tuck the Bible into my pocket. “See you later.”
“Work hard, honey!” she yells as I run out the door, not even having the time to close it behind me.
However, I still make time to turn around halfway down the path and blow her a kiss, which she catches and holds close to her heart.
Just the sight of her warms mine.
It reminds me of the day we met. One year after I left behind the gang life and vowed to take care of the church, I went to buy flowers for Margaret. When I entered the shop and saw a girl … my wife … behind the cash register, I instantly fell in love with her welcoming smile.
I asked her out on a date, took her to a fancy restaurant, and the rest is history.
She knows about my past. About all the messed up things I did. And she accepts me anyway. Even knowing that someone’s going to come for me one day didn’t stop her from loving me, and I can’t help but love her madly for it.
It’s true what they say. Love knows no bounds.
With a stupid smile on my face, I make my way to the church, enjoying the nice weather outside. “Morning, Frank!” Margaret walks out to greet me as I come in, and I say hi to her too.
“Hope you’re having a great day,” I say.
“Sure thing. Can’t wait for today’s sermon,” she says, smiling as I place my Bible on the pulpit and pull out my notes for today.
“I’ve prepared a great speech. You’ll be amazed.” I wink at her, and her smile widens because of it.
She quickly steps toward me and pinches my cheeks like she did when I was still young. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Thanks,” I reply. Even though I hate it when she squeezes my cheeks, I still love her. “I mean it. I’m eternally grateful you let me be here.”
“Aww … Frank … you don’t have to say it.” She cocks her head as she places a hand on my arm. “You know I’ll always accept you, no matter your past.”
I nod, and after a short hug, we part because the church bells are ringing and people are pouring in.
Soon, believers fill the whole church, waiting for me to talk to them about their faith and give them encouragement in their daily lives. Just like I’ve been doing for the past few years.
I’ve come such a long way. From barely being able to form the words to performing complete speeches in front of entire crowds. All with Margaret’s help. I couldn’t have done it without her.
It’s because of her that I’m here today.
Back where I belong. Back in the church. Doing good instead of evil.
Margaret made me swear that I would devote my life to God, so that’s what I did. I turned my back on the gang life and focused on being a new me. A different me. A man worthy of the unconditional love she gave me.
She is the reason I’ve come so far. The only person who’s supported me through hardship. Who held out her hand when no one else would.
She helped me become the person I was meant to be. It was a long road, but I fought hard, and look at me now.
A full-fledged preacher.
I sigh and stare at the note in front of me. While the crowd grows quiet, I look around, trying to find that spark to start my sermon.
Except what I find today isn’t hope.
It’s judgment.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand straight as I lay my eyes on the devil himself.
Time seems to come to a stop the moment I’m confronted with my past.
Or rather … the one whose life I’ve ruined.
A top dog in a drug empire not far from here.
The rival drug empire of the gang I was a part of during my darker days.
The same gang that asked me to prove my worth to them … and pay a visit to that rival to teach him a lesson and show him who’s boss around this neighborhood.
That man is sitting right in front of me.
My throat clamps up as he eyes me down, and my fingers tremble with fear. I’m suffocating in my own memories, wanting to erase them from the planet, but I know I can never take back what I did. I wish apologizing was enough, but I know he’ll never accept it.
He wants blood.
He licks his lips, tilting his head as he sees my slow demise. And right then, he gets up and walks toward the exit silently.
I can’t help but stare at the door even though all these people are waiting for me to continue my sermon.
How did he find me?
Why is he here?
Before he opens the doors and leaves, the man briefly holds up what looks like pieces of flesh … a piece of an ear and part of a nose.
I gape in shock and horror, unable to utter a word.
Flashes of memories pass through my mind of Mother telling me Carl didn’t show up for work yesterday … and it all suddenly clicks.
If he has Carl, then he knows … I took something away from him.
And now, he’s going to take what’s mine.
My notes blow off the pulpit as I take off as fast as I can after him. I rush through the church, past the people waiting in the pews, who look at me like I’ve seen a ghost. I don’t care what they think, and I don’t even care about Margaret screaming my name as I sprint for the door.
When I’m outside, the man is already gone.
As fast as I can, I make my way to my house. Faster, faster, faster, as fast as my legs can take me. The pain tears away at me, but not as much as the pain in my heart as I realize what’s about to happen.
The ultimate revenge.
When I arrive at my door, almost tumbling over a toy on the driveway, I scream at the top of my lungs, but no one screams back. My hands shake as I search for my keys, my heart racing as I stuff it into the lock and turn it, slamming open the door.
The house is completely silent.
Unlike anything I’ve heard in ages.
But then a door bangs in the back, and I rush toward it.
I’m too late.
What I see rips a hole in my soul.
My wife being dragged away by two men toward a car with her hands tied behind her back. A piece of black tape slapped across her face. Her eyes filled with a terror that will haunt me forever.
She’s pulled feet first into the car by another man who was already inside, along with a little boy.
My baby boy.
I howl like a dog losing its owner when the tires screech as the car pulls away … as I know that the look of pure horror on their faces will be the last thing I’ll ever see of them.
Now
“Oh … God.” Laura covers her mouth with her hand in shock.
But then she does the most unexpected thing.
She pulls me in for the tightest hug I’ve had in years. Literally squeezes the life out of me while wrapping her arms around me like a warm cocoon. At first, it feels weird, but after a while, I just accept it and relax, letting her take me over.
Now that I’ve finally told someone of the horrors I’ve faced, it feels like a weight has lifted off my shoulders. Like I can finally breathe a little again.
“God, no wonder … I’m so sorry …” she whispers. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything.” I clear my throat to prevent more tears from falling. I’ve cried enough now. “It was a long time ago.”
“Yeah, but you’re still … you’re still …”
Still messed up?
Still a drunk?
Yeah, whatever it is, it’s not okay, and she’s right. What happened to my wife and son does still affect me.
“I can’t get that image from my mind,” I say. “Her face.”
“It must’ve been horrible,” Laura says. “And it was the last time you saw them?”
>
I nod, but then I shake my head. “Alive, yes. I saw my wife after she died. They eventually found her body not far from this neighborhood. I had to identify her at the morgue, but what I saw wasn’t my wife. It was a body, cut up in pieces.”
“Oh, God …” She shudders, but her hands remain steady on my back. “What about your son?”
“I never saw him again. The police assumed him to be dead too, but they never found his body. I even searched … day and night for a whole damn year, but it was useless.” I close my eyes and try to imagine his face, but no matter how hard I try, I can never get it right. “He was so young. Just a few months old. How could they do that to a kid?”
Laura hugs me even tighter. She’s unrelenting in her support like she’s willing to take up the world and more. A fighter, just like me … or at least, what I used to be.
“I’m here,” Laura whispers, holding me close. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Her support means the world to me. I never thought I’d be able to lean on someone else like this, but it feels good. I’m relieved I can finally tell someone my story without feeling guilty.
Even though I am.
I couldn’t even go back to the same house where I once lived. Not after they were gone. It was too empty and loaded at the same time. So I went back to the church, and that’s where I’ve been ever since.
Still, the shame never stopped.
“My wife died because of me. My son is gone because of me.”
“You didn’t kill them,” she says.
“No, they died because I took something from him.”
She puts her hand on my arm. “He chose to retaliate. That was not your choice.”
“Revenge,” I say through gritted teeth. “That’s what it’s all about, right?”
“It doesn’t have to be.” She grabs my shoulders. “Look at me. You are better than this.”
“They took everything from me.” I grab my bottle, but when I attempt to drink, she snatches it away.
“No. Alcohol is not the answer, and you know it.”
“Maybe not the answer but definitely a great distraction,” I muse, chuckling like an idiot.
She shakes her head. “Look at you. Getting drunk at your wife’s grave.”
“Pathetic, right?” I fill it in for her.
“No.” She sounds upset, and then she shoves me. “Get up.”
“Why?”
“Get up and walk, goddammit,” she snaps, slapping my chest. “Get up and go on with your life.”
“What’s the point?”
“There’s more to it than sulking and staying in the past,” she growls, grabbing my arm to try to lift me up. “C’mon.”
I sigh, looking at my wife’s grave one last time.
“She would’ve wanted you to go on even though it’s without her.”
I frown. “How do you know?”
“Every woman wants her man to be happy even if she’s not there,” she replies.
That actually makes a lot of sense.
I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and then let her help me up.
“Steady,” she says as she supports me.
I’m so drunk I can’t even walk straight.
“I’m sorry I put this on you. But you didn’t have to come, you know.”
“And leave you here in the dirt?” she scoffs. “Not a chance.”
At first, I’m still holding the bottle of liquor in my hand, but then I mumble, “Ah, fuck it,” and I drop it on the ground, letting the alcohol spill out onto the soil.
“Good,” Laura says. “It’s time you said no to yourself.”
“Someone’s gotta do it,” I jest, laughing a little even though it’s not funny.
However, my smile dissipates the moment I see an old Chevy with darkened windows slowly driving along the cemetery. I stop walking. Goose bumps scatter on my skin. I can barely make out the two figures in the front, but I feel their intense stares as they drive by and disappear from view.
“What were you looking at?” Laura asks.
With furrowed brows, I look at her and then back at the empty road. It must’ve been my imagination. “Nothing.”
15
We go back to the church even though I’m drunk as fuck and shouted at Margaret. I don’t want to be an even worse person by not fixing it even if I’m only partially capable. Besides, the cold air of the night has done me good. My vision is much less hazy than it was at the cemetery, and since I left the bottle of liquor, my head feels much clearer. Although I am expecting a raging headache any moment now.
Laura smiles at me as she helps me up the steps of the church and I open the door. However, what I see inside is not what I expected.
The altar is completely clean again with everything back where it’s supposed to be. Not an item misplaced. It’s like we were never there.
Confused, I stumble inside and gawk at the scene in front of me.
Mother appears from behind a column, and when her eyes slowly fall onto mine, this innate sense of guilt and humility wash over me.
I fall to my knees and face the floor, unable to look at her.
“I’ll … let you two talk,” Laura mumbles, and she quickly scurries toward the chapel.
I hear Mother’s footsteps approach me, but I’m frozen to the floor, bowing my head as low as I can.
“I … cannot apologize enough,” I say softly, hoping she can hear.
“Look at me.” Her stern voice can pretty much make me do anything even when I know she’s upset.
However, I never expected to see the calm in her eyes. It makes the tears well up again.
“I’m sorry …” I mutter. “For all the things I put you through since … since …”
Margaret goes to her knees and wraps her arms around me, pulling me into her embrace.
“What did I do to deserve you?” I murmur, hugging her tight.
“You don’t have to do anything, Frank. I’ll always be here. I’ll always forgive you,” she whispers, kissing the top of my head.
“I know I’ve been an incredible burden. Especially with the drinking,” I say.
“You have to stop destroying yourself, Frank. It’s the only way,” she says, making me look at her. “You have to stop and love yourself.”
I nod.
“I know you’ve been dying inside,” she mutters. “I can feel your pain every day.”
I sigh out loud as I realize what I’ve been doing to myself.
“But you have to stop now. You have to be better. And you have to love God. Trust in him to guide you even in the most difficult times,” she says, turning her head to look at the statue of Jesus. “Go pray with him.”
Inside me, a powerful current of energy directs me and forces my limbs into action, commanding me to get up and walk. And I do. I let go of Mother and let my body be drawn to the cross, an immense need to repent and do good being the driving force behind me.
It’s like I’ve suddenly seen the light.
Felt the vindication falling in my lap.
The shroud of anguish lifting to reveal a new man.
I stand tall and look up, making the sign of the cross on myself. “God, I’ve mistrusted you. I’ve blamed you for everything that happened to me. I hated you for so long. But enough is enough. I won’t live this life any longer. I won’t continue to hurt those around me for the sake of hurting myself. I’ve been punished enough. No one but You can judge me now. God, please forgive me my sins. I put my life in Your hands once again.” I draw another cross on my chest. “Amen.”
Suddenly, someone rams on the big front door and smashes it open without regard to its value. It almost comes unhinged. I turn to see what the ruckus is. Two tattooed guys wearing dirty jeans and white shirts saunter in. It’s the same guys from the bar who were looking for a fight not too long ago. One of them, the bald one, is holding a bat … the other pimply one, a gun.
“Well, hello there!” the one with the bat yells, and he smashes the pew
to his left. “Long time, no see!”
Mother slaps her hand in front of her mouth, shocked and completely frozen to the floor.
“Nice church you have here,” the one with the gun says, swaying it around. “Be too bad if something were to happen to it, don’t you think?”
The more I look at them, the more I’m starting to realize they were the guys in the car at the cemetery.
Did they follow me here?
“Back for a rematch?” I ask, cocking my head.
“Oh, yeah.” One of them swings his bat again, ramming it into a pillar, and some stone flies across the room.
Grinding my teeth, I ball my fist and narrow my eyes at them. “Leave this church alone. Your fight is with me.”
“Or what?” the one with the gun asks. “You gonna slap us with your Bible?” He laughs as he approaches Mother. “Or is she gonna?”
“Stay away from her,” I growl, and I march to her, blocking her with my body to prevent them from hurting her.
The one with the gun cocks his head at me from afar, but he doesn’t move an inch.
“Go,” I whisper over my shoulder at Margaret. “Lock yourself in your room and don’t come out until I say so.”
“Yeah, go on, Granny,” the one with the bat jests, and he smashes a vase in the corner of the church to smithereens.
“Come with me. I don’t want you to get hurt,” Mother murmurs, grabbing my hand.
All this time and she’s still trying to protect me.
Now, it’s my turn.
I let go of her hand. “I won’t. I promise.” I straighten my collar and crack my neck. Behind me, Margaret slowly slips away into the back of the church, and when I hear the door lock click, I know it’s game on.
“You ready for a second round, pretty boy?” the one with the gun threatens, and he spits on the marble floor. “We’ve come prepared.”
“Do you even know where you are?” I ask, tilting my head as I roll up my sleeves.
“Fucking churches.” The one with the bat smashes another bench, breaking the wood in two.
“You’ll pay for that, you know,” I say.
He laughs. “Yeah, with what?”
The one with the gun grins and quips, “Yeah, tell us how we’re gonna pay because as far as I know … we just came to smash shit up.”
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