Hearing Jesus (Seeing Jesus Book 2)

by Jeffrey McClain Jones

  Gladys’s luggage, which Katie helped her carry, included the laptop from Derek. Something was not working right, and Gladys hoped to get some help from more technically-minded folks. She had tried to connect with Bethany on that social networking site that Katie and Patty used, but wasn’t sure if she did it right. She hoped for some more hands-on help with things like that.

  That Friday night, it turned out, was dominated by computer questions and tutorials. Katie loved it, because she felt that she was substantially helping her grandmother with something that was very important. Connecting with friends on the Internet was considered very important to most of the eleven-year-olds Katie knew. For Gladys, it was wonderful to watch the ease with which Katie navigated the computer operating system and the Web sites her grandmother wanted to use. Gladys’s exposure to personal computing was so limited that she still appreciated the wonder of it all, enhanced by an often-comical little tutor.

  Katie and Gladys had commandeered the dinner table after the lasagna and salad had been vanquished. Patty and Derek each offered limited advice to the two girls hunched over the laptop. Most often, they inserted a word for Katie to slow down, so her grandmother could follow her nimble clicks and scrolls.

  Gladys felt a bit like one of those anthropologists on public television, visiting a tribe whose customs were so foreign that they could only watch and marvel. But she did learn a few important points, writing them down in her swoopy long-hand, on a legal pad that Patty provided. The juxtaposition of those pen strokes, from a bygone educational era, with the shiny plastic push-button education of Katie’s generation, could hardly have been more stark.

  Sleeping that night in Becky’s room, its regular occupant still at college, Gladys dreamt of Katie playing the piano masterfully on her laptop. Her dancing fingers seemed to have their own will, their own rhythm, and their own grace. Gladys didn’t even mind not understanding how these young people could play such beautiful music on a laptop, an enigmatic machine that simply confounded and frustrated her.

  She woke up laughing at this odd dream, as well as her complete lack of meaningful anchorage in the seas of binary code and interconnected computer networks. Gladys would be satisfied with the plan for that day, which didn’t required turning on that slim new computer, even if she did appreciate the gift.

  Though Derek regularly commuted into Chicago for his work, the women in the house prepared nervously for the epic journey from the Suburbs. The size and speed of downtown Chicago requires those who have been initiated to turn up their dials and switches in preparation. To the uninitiated, staring upward in awestruck wonder, where glass and steel meet the sky, was simply unavoidable.

  The train into the city, on a Saturday morning, felt festive. Many of the riders dressed more like tourists than commuters, leaving their sunglasses perched on top of their heads so they could watch the landscape rush past the tinted and splotched windows. This, of course, recalled Gladys’s days as Adventure Mom. Her chuckling and indefatigable smile added to that festive air in their car. The adults had vetoed Katie’s desperate pleas for seats on the upper level. Even her parents looked at the twisting stairs, and narrow catwalk between seats, as inhospitable. Only Gladys’s presence persuaded Katie not to leave the lagging adults and seek the advantage of a higher viewpoint.

  A collection of Chicago fine arts organizations hosted this national music competition, in several venues around Millennium Park, along the lakefront. The finals for each category would be held on the big stage at Orchestra Hall, the home of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. For the spectators, navigating between buildings would be part of the adventure. Fortunately for them, it was cool along the lake but not raining, or snowing (an eventuality Chicagoans have seen as late as May more often than anyone wants to remember).

  Patty had inherited the best of Gladys’s Adventure Mom skills, and had learned to apply them in the Internet age. She had gathered all available information about the piano contestants. Though individual schedules were not available, she knew when and where Bethany’s age group would be performing. If Bethany was indeed there, they would at least be in the same room with her.

  Being more adept at covert operations, Patty had put some thought into avoiding Victoria, Bill’s former wife, Bethany’s mother. Victoria would be there, of course. But would she recognize Patty and Gladys after all these years?

  “We just won’t sit up front, or in the best seats. I mean, you know Victoria. She would only be in the best seats.”

  Without even looking at her, Gladys knew that Patty was rolling her eyes, as she said this.

  To Gladys, it didn’t matter. She wasn’t planning anything. She had been sitting with Jesus that week, thinking about this day, and was convinced that he would take care of everything. There were so many unknowns about how Bethany would feel, and how it would affect her to see her grandmother, and her aunt. Gladys had completely stepped back from the Pickup Sticks pile of expectations that she had begun to accumulate.

  The lashing winds along the lakefront that day, left all four of them breathless as they pressed toward the first venue, like pioneers crossing the prairie. What a contrast, to step inside the hermetically sealed fine arts center hosting the opening round. From ear-filling wind, breaking down even the chance of basic conversation, to the pin-drop silence of acoustically-engineered rooms, Gladys had to stop and slow her breathing in the foyer of the immaculate music center.

  Patty seemed unable to self-regulate, as usual. She was tensed up like little a girl who knows she has done something wrong and vigilantly waits for her parents to find out and punish her. Gladys just uttered a silent prayer for her daughter.

  In all her motherhood adventures, Gladys had never encountered anything like this performance competition. Patty and Bill tolerated music lessons only for a few years, until their parents could no longer tolerate the complaining. No one in Gladys’s entire family, going back all the way to cousin Leah, had excelled at any art form so impressively as Bethany’s mastery of classical piano. Gladys assumed this anomaly entered the family through Victoria, a high-strung perfectionist with very expensive tastes, and lofty expectations of the people around her. Bill, obviously, had not been able to measure up.

  They listened to nearly a dozen performers, young teenagers with honed manners to go with their music skills. Then the moderator announce Bethany’s name, in a slightly British accent. When she walked onto the little stage, Gladys lost her emotional control. Her chest constricted, as if breathing might shatter the moment, might reveal her subterfuge, and get her ejected from the building. Patty was so overcome by the tension and excitement, that she grabbed Gladys’s hand, and squeezed it until her mother had to wriggle free, to save herself from injury. No one was watching Katie at this point, so they didn’t see the magnetic link she formed with her cousin, the instant she saw her, as if they were twins separated at birth.

  No one in Gladys’s group sufficiently understood music, or the standards of this competition, to make an objective evaluation, but they all listened with rapt attention, and sighed in unison, when Bethany finished the final crescendo, and tapped the final key. Was the applause of the audience louder and more intense? It seemed so to Gladys.

  To her relief, Gladys watched Bethany leave the room, and presumably the building, as soon as she finished playing. This meant that they would not have the option of trying to get close to her and perhaps greet her. Gladys hadn’t yet heard any assurance from her internal teacher that this would be okay for Bethany. That’s all she was waiting for, clarity about what would be best for her fourteen-year-old granddaughter. Patty shared this concern, at least in word, if not in spirit.

  Patty used her phone to find the results of the first round of performances. They were not surprised, but uniformly relieved, that Bethany had made it through to the next round. The schedule would allow them an early lunch, before attending her second performance, just two blocks away. They took the opportunity to wander up Michigan Avenue, duck
ing into a half-dozen stores, where they were not very likely to buy anything, but where they could find refuge from the willful spring wind.

  Derek led the way to their lunch destination, selecting a place that he thought everyone would enjoy, he and Patty for the micro-brewed beer and Katie for the house root beer. Gladys opted for joining Katie in her selection of drinks. In deference to Gladys and Katie, the beer drinkers limited their consumption. The root beer drinkers, however, indulged freely.

  Back in padded theater seats, under dim lights, after a substantial lunch, Gladys had to sit up unnaturally straight to keep from napping, as they waited. Finally, she decided a stroll around the building would be a more realistic way to stay awake. Katie, of course, tagged along.

  They sauntered down a wide hallway, with glass display cases on either side. Gladys looked at the black-and-white photos of famous people who had performed in that building over the past seven decades, far enough back that she could recognize some of them. As she and Katie examined the displays, and read the commentary printed on little manila cards, they could hear a whispered dispute around the corner, a part of the building they hadn’t yet explored. When the hissing argument resolved in the two parties apparently going separate ways, the younger antagonist scooted out into the wide hallway. She stopped when she saw Gladys and Katie, and tried to act composed.

  Gladys looked up at the girl and caught her breath again. This time, she heard that internal voice, prompt her with permission. “She won’t recognize you and needs some encouragement,” the voice told her.

  Following that internal prompt, Gladys looked at Katie to signal a coy approach, with a half wink and slow nod. Katie understood immediately. Gladys sauntered to where Bethany was playing silent piano on the banister above a stairway into the mysterious depths of the building. Bethany didn’t look up, and Gladys made a meandering approach, looking at more display cases and reading a poster about an upcoming musical comedy.

  “I remember that one from when the kids were young,” Gladys said to Katie, in a low but chipper voice. She turned toward Bethany, fifteen feet away. Gladys could tell that she had caught the girl’s attention and didn’t sense any hostility.

  “I hope you don’t mind me interrupting,” Gladys said, approaching cautiously, “but we thought you were the best one this morning. It seemed so effortless.”

  Bethany stopped her frenetic fingers. She glanced at Gladys and Katie and then pretended to be interested in the bulletin board to her left. She turned back toward them. “Thank you. I played my best.”

  “I’m not surprised. You seem like you’ve done this kinda thing before,” Gladys said.

  “Oh, yeah. My life has been nothing but lessons, performances and competitions.” The bitterness in that synopsis was nearly palpable, especially to a grandmother.

  Gladys waited for the right words to say, then followed what she hoped was a hint from her internal spiritual director. “Well, I’m sure your family is proud of you,” she said, thinking this was certainly true of one of her grandmothers.

  Katie agreed. “Yeah, you’re amazing.”

  Bethany looked straight at Katie, she almost smiled. “I bet you do something that’s amazing,” she said magnanimously.

  Katie shrugged. “I play soccer pretty well. At least that’s what they say.”

  Gladys fought off an urge to grab both of her young granddaughters, to wrap them up with love, and never let them go. But she felt a little tug holding her back. In fact, she had to look down to check that Katie hadn’t pulled on her arm. But Katie’s hands were down at her side and she was studying Bethany.

  Bethany made eye contact with Katie once again. “Don’t let ‘em make it all about them. Make sure it stays what you want.”

  Like a younger sister, Katie absorbed that advice and nodded her head knowingly, maintaining their eye connection.

  “I see two very wise young women,” Gladys said, beaming. “I think you’ll both be just fine. I expect that all your hard work is going to pay off for things in your future that you can’t even imagine yet.”

  Bethany snapped her gaze quickly to Gladys. Gladys recognized the reaction of someone who has heard more than the mere words that she said. Gladys had seen this sort of reaction several times since she started relaying messages from Jesus.

  Bethany paused to study the old woman, her head tipping a few degrees to the side. “Do I know you?” she said, her brow furrowing slightly.

  Gladys shook her head. “We’ve never met. But I think you recognized the one that told me what to say to you.”

  Bethany tilted her head still more.

  Gladys explained. “Jesus sometimes tells me things I should say to people. Those were his words to you.”

  Bethany seemed to be reviewing this accounting of what had just happened. She smiled shyly. “I probably need to get to know more about that,” she said.

  Gladys took the opening. “Well, I’ll just say a little prayer over you, my dear. Then you can get back to your beautiful playing.”

  While Gladys prayed a brief prayer of blessing over her, Bethany didn’t take her eyes off of the kindly grandmother. Katie peaked, noting this bond.

  When Gladys ended her prayer, opening her eyes and meeting the gaze of the girl she hadn’t ever seen before, she knew that something had changed. A thrill ran through her body, ending with an internal shiver.

  Bethany stepped up to Gladys. “Thanks, Grandma,” she said, and she hugged Gladys.

  Katie would have joined in the hugging but she was stunned motionless.

  “You’re a good girl,” Gladys said, tears filling the brims of both eyes. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

  Bethany nodded and then turned away. She was afraid her mother would come and break the spell of this encounter. She was also afraid she would start crying like a little baby. Walking away briskly, she stopped and turned around just before opening the backstage door.

  “Grandma,” she said.

  Gladys stopped wiping her eyes and looked across the little lobby at her second youngest granddaughter.

  “Thanks for coming to see me.”

  Gladys nodded vigorously, she couldn’t speak.

  Katie led Gladys back to their seats. Neither of them told Patty or Derek what had happened. The first performer was being announced and the lights on the audience had already been lowered. The low lights hid their red-rimmed eyes, and excused their soulful silence.

  Later, Gladys would talk to a friend about what happened that afternoon, a talk while on her couch with her eyes closed. She wondered why Jesus told her that Bethany wouldn’t recognize her. When she asked, she felt as if he assured her that she had heard correctly, and that Bethany didn’t recognize her until he opened Bethany’s eyes, to realize who she was looking at. More troubling to Gladys, was the question of what happened in that second round of performances. To the untrained ears of Gladys and her party, Bethany played as well as she did in the morning. But, to the judges, she had slipped out of the elite ranks who would go on to the finals that night.

  Before they found out that she had lost, they got one last look at Bethany. She was walking stoically next to Victoria, who was talking a mile a minute. Without her mother noticing, Bethany spotted Gladys and Katie. She snuck a quick wave and fired a small smile their way. Victoria only noticed that she had fallen out of the center of her daughter’s attention and verbally dragged Bethany back into what looked, from a distance, like a tongue-lashing.

  In that quick little gesture of greeting, reaching out to her grandmother and cousin and yet hiding this fact from her mother, Bethany shouldered the weight of her family’s fracture on her thin teenage frame. Gladys would pray for Bethany with that picture in mind for many years to come.

  Jesus reassured Gladys that her contact with Bethany had been a pure and refreshing blessing, and that it had nothing to do with her granddaughter not advancing in the competition. If anything, it gave her a better chance, with more confidence and
a bit of relaxation, to loosen her best skills. He teased Gladys that, just because she thought her granddaughter was the greatest pianist in the world, didn’t mean that the judges would agree.

  At least, that’s what Gladys thought she heard from him.

  Chapter 26

  REMINDER

  Gladys had some time to herself on Sunday morning, before the rest of the family rose and began assembling themselves for the day ahead. As she sat in the loveseat in Patty’s well-appointed living room, she consulted that friendly inner voice about going to a soccer game instead of church on Sunday morning. She was feeling like that was against the rules. But she was fairly sure that his response was, “What rules?” She thought she heard him laughing. It seemed to her that this had to be his voice in her head, because she never would have acted so careless about church and rules.

  All fed and packed up, two hours later, the family of four people—and three generations—drove to the complex of soccer fields at one of the newer high schools in the area. A visitor would need a map to find their way among more than a dozen playing fields, spread across what would have been a sizeable farm in Gladys’s youth. But Gladys only had to follow the little family, which had mastered those fields, and the whole business of traveling soccer. They had started back when Katie was a pint-sized kicker in pigtails.

  As she watched Katie in action, Gladys thought of what Katie had said to her cousin the day before. Though it’s hard to compare piano skill to soccer skill, Gladys could see that her youngest granddaughter was being quite honest about her abilities with the round spotted ball. To a grandmother’s eye, and no soccer aficionado, it seemed that Katie ruled the field. If she were forced to be more specific about this grand claim, Gladys would have pointed out the way Katie’s teammates always looked for her when they got into trouble with the ball. She seemed to be right where they needed, ready to receive a pass. As for the other team, they clearly respected her, keeping two defenders busily shadowing her, even when she didn’t have the ball. Katie was, in fact, a rare commodity on a soccer team playing at that level. She was a very skilled player who specialized in passing, not scoring. This, of course, made her immensely popular with those girls who were keen on scoring.