She shivered, body and soul. When she was close enough to smell the trees, she stood unknowingly in a puddle of water. She promised God she would stop smoking for good and never drink any more beer. Even though she hadn’t been intimate with Richard Bone for at least two months, she resolved never to have sex with him again, no matter how persistent he might be. She assured God that she would honor her parents and get her homework done on time, even the term paper.
She spoke out loud: “It’s not that I’m going to be different, I’m already different.”
In the distance, she heard a single, muffled honk. A phrase from the unfamiliar hymn, “the wingèd squadrons of the sky,” danced in her head. She found herself praying for all the Canada geese, living and dead.
She wiped her tears with tissues before returning to the tabernacle. A closing hymn was in progress, but it, too, was unfamiliar. Why should it matter, though? If it was praising God, did she need to know the words? Brother Jackson was in the bright light. His arms above his head, his eyes closed, he swayed in lofty splendor.
The collection plate, a simple woven basket, came by. Anne-Marie dropped in her twenty-dollar bill without a second thought.
April 10
Anne-Marie sat in front of her computer on an evening so warm and fresh she opened one of her windows. The phone rang.
It was Sara Curtis. “I’m just calling to apologize for not following you to the woods at Brother Jackson’s tabernacle meeting.”
Sara Curtis rarely called her. “Please don’t apologize. I really needed to be alone.”
“You needed to pray alone, huh?”
“Yes. That’s it.”
“Did you feel like the Lord was blessing you, taking you into His arms?”
“Yes, I guess I did.”
“Praise God for it,” Sara answered immediately. “Do you feel strong in the Fellowship?”
Anne-Marie hesitated for several seconds. “I guess I do, but not enough. I guess I could.”
“Just let yourself surrender every day and the Lord will lead you.”
Anne-Marie confessed, “I feel different, but the world’s the same.”
“I know just what you mean,” Sara replied immediately. “When I first became a Christian, a real part of the Fellowship, I felt the same way. My pastor explained it to me this way: When you’re a born-again Christian, it’s as shining as a crystal in the sun, but as fragile as a soap bubble in the wind.”
“That’s it!” gushed Anne-Marie. “That’s it exactly.”
“How’s the world the same, Anne-Marie?”
Anne-Marie moved to the edge of the bed. She wanted to share her fears and insecurities, and Sara was someone she could trust. “I’m getting two unsatisfactory progress reports, which means I’m probably not on track to graduate on time. My biology research paper is still stuck on square one. All of my friends will be going through the ceremony, but I won’t want to be anywhere near.”
“The Lord will lead you in your academics too, if you surrender,” said Sara. “What’s your biology term paper about?”
“Shaking goose eggs.”
“Shaking goose eggs? What’s that mean?”
“Authorities in the northwest suburbs are trying to cut back on the overpopulation of Canada geese. Their main strategy is the shaking. They chase mothers from their nests, then shake the eggs hard, the way you might shake up a carton of orange juice. When the mother goose returns to the nest, she’s sitting on dead eggs, but there’s no way for her to know it.”
“Yuck. It sounds so sad.”
“I know it sounds sad, which is why I’d like to write the paper on it. I just don’t follow through on big projects, Sara.”
“Take this suffering to the Lord and He will lift you up.”
“If you want the truth,” Anne-Marie continued, “the idea wasn’t really my own. My mother brought me a series of articles she’d saved from the Tribune.”
“So? It sounds like a good topic to me. What difference does it make where it comes from? You’ve already made it your own.”
“I wish I could say that, but I can’t even get a working outline before my concentration runs out.”
“Do you believe the Lord can help you?”
“I’d like to believe it. I’ve been reading and rereading passages of Scripture. I’ve almost memorized some of them.”
“Praise God,” said Sara. “But you need to find a balance.”
“A balance?”
“Yes. If you’re spending so much time reading Scripture that you can’t get homework finished, then you’ll still be in the same place. You can set aside a few minutes each day for homework. The Lord loves dedication as much as He loves the reading of His Word.”
“You seem to understand so much, Sara.”
“I’ve just been in the Fellowship longer, that’s all. We have Bible study meetings every Monday night at my house. Some are from the college, but most are from the high school. You know a lot of them. You’d be welcome to join us any time.”
Anne-Marie was enthusiastic. “It would probably help me grow in the faith.”
Sara laughed. “Not only you, but many others, too.”
After they hung up, Anne-Marie went back to the computer. She tried to concentrate on the title spread across her screen:
To Shake or Not to Shake
by
Anne-Marie Morgan
It frustrated her that she couldn’t even start an outline. She moved her mouse around, centering the title, changing the font several times, as well as its size. Anne-Marie was embarrassed by her minimal computer knowledge; it was humiliating when your own mother knew more about computers than you did. In most families, it was just the reverse, but Anne-Marie’s mother was a software consultant for a high-tech corporation called Gesko.
Anne-Marie knew what she wanted to say in the term paper—some years earlier the Department of Natural Resources had introduced hundreds of Canada geese into the area. In other words, the problem was man-made, and the authorities could look in the mirror to place the blame.
But how could she outline so much material? Restless again, she picked up her Bible, turned to chapter three of Revelation, and read some verses recommended by Coleen. Verses 15 and 16 seemed particularly bold and fearless: “I know your works; you are neither cold nor hot. Would that you were cold or hot! So, because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spew you out of my mouth.”
This was the core of the born-again message. Lukewarm just wouldn’t bring God’s favor. Anne-Marie closed out of her term paper folder and printed the verses from Revelation. It was passion she wanted—the spiritual kind—so the term paper could wait.
Then her phone rang a second time. It was Brooke. “Guess what?” she said.
“What?”
“Chris Weems is gay!”
“Get out.”
“No, I’m serious,” Brooke insisted. “He’s gay!”
“How do you know?”
“He told me.”
“He told you?”
“He told me he’s gay. That’s why he goes to prayer groups and Bible study all the time.”
“But that can’t be the only reason,” Anne-Marie protested. “He’s way spiritual.”
“Not the only reason maybe, but it’s the main one. That’s why he goes to the tabernacle meetings. He thinks it’s a terrible sin that he has to be forgiven for.”
Anne-Marie looked at the phone, then at the screen, then back at the phone again. She was holding the just-printed Revelation verses. Homosexuality was a sin, the Bible was clear about that. But she’d never thought about it much. She knew a few homosexuals, in school and out, but she’d never felt the need to judge them. “What does he pray for?” she asked Brooke. “To be forgiven, or to change?”
“I think mostly he prays to be changed. He believes he can never be a true Christian if he’s gay. Don’t you think the whole thing is pretty trippy?”
Anne-Marie asked, “How gay is he?
”
“What’s that supposed to mean? He’s gay. He’s a homosexual.”
“Yes, but is he way gay, you know, is he like completely gay?”
“I won’t even ask what that means,” said Brooke. “Are you okay? You wanna go to Sorrel’s?”
Anne-Marie wondered herself what she meant about how gay. She answered Brooke by saying, “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
Sorrel’s was a downtown bar where you could get served if you looked old for your age. Anne-Marie and Brooke had been there several times before. “I have to work on this term paper for biology.”
“You could work on it tomorrow.”
“No, I can’t,” Anne-Marie repeated.
“Wow,” Anne-Marie heard Brooke say. “You really took that tabernacle serious, huh?”
Anne-Marie answered cautiously. She wasn’t sure how much of the new Anne-Marie Brooke would be ready to handle. “I guess I did,” she finally replied. “I think I have to.”
There was a long silence on both ends of the line before Anne-Marie eventually said, “I guess if Chris Weems is gay, you won’t be interested in him anymore, huh?”
“Duh.”
It broke the tension. They giggled before hanging up. Anne-Marie turned back to her computer screen, where the same Bible passage was still in the same place, and in the same font.
Anne-Marie’s room had been her older sister Eleanor’s room, only remodeled and enlarged. What had been a simple twelve-by-sixteen-foot bedroom was now combined with an airy sunporch to form a bright and spacious twenty-by-twenty-four-foot living space. The room was newly painted in robin’s egg blue.
But how could any room, remodeled or upgraded or whatever, make her feel better if she might not even graduate with her class? It was her computer, but it was perched on Eleanor’s old desk. From time to time she looked inside the drawers, flipping through Eleanor’s old scholarship offers or academic awards or certificates of achievement. National Merit Scholarship notifications. Full academic scholarship offers from around the country. National Honor Society certificates.
Anne-Marie wondered if she should empty the drawers and fill them up with some of her own stuff. If the room itself was hers, then the desk was, too. But what stuff would it be? The letters from the counseling office explaining how she could make up her schoolwork and still be qualified to take finals? Or maybe some of her past letters which delivered suspensions for cutting classes?
Anne-Marie put her chin in her hands. She stared out the huge picture window, but it was too dark to see much of anything other than streetlights.
The remodeled bookcases near the closet were now configured to form an entertainment center, which housed her Aiwa stereo and her Samsung color TV She could operate them both by remote, from the desk or from her bed.
Suddenly she was restless and irritable. She wanted to smoke, but she’d given up cigarettes. She did like to pick out Bible verses that comforted or inspired her, then print them. She’d choose different fonts and center them on parchment paper. Many of her favorites were from the Psalms:
Blessed is the man who walks not in the counsel of the wicked,
nor stands in the way of sinners,
nor sits in the seats of scoffers;
but his delight is in the law of the Lord,
and on his law he meditates day and night.
The passage reminded her of one of Brother Jackson’s strong admonitions, to “Keep company with the sheep and avoid the goats.”
Anne-Marie also loved Psalm 9:
I will give thanks to the Lord with my whole heart;
I will tell of all thy wonderful deeds.
I will be glad and exult in thee,
I will sing praise to thy name,
O Most High.
When my enemies turned back,
they stumbled and perished before thee.
In her mind, the passage triggered another of Brother Jackson’s urgings, to celebrate the presence of God every day in her life. It also reminded her of the snares and sinkholes the world held for true believers. She flipped pages in the Bible until she found a passage that read:
Because you have kept my word of patient endurance,
I will keep you from the hour of trial which is coming on the
whole world.
The knock on the door startled her; it was her father. She told him to come in. Her screen saver was forming a scrim of snowflakes.
“How’s the term paper coming?” he wanted to know.
“Pretty slow,” she said. “I’m working on it now.”
Her father glanced around at all her printed Bible verses before he said, “If you made this much progress on your homework, you’d probably be in good shape.”
“I hope the passages will guide me by giving me strength.”
Her father sighed. He was a tall, handsome man whose graying temples looked distinguished.
“I’ve been thinking about changing my topic,” Anne-Marie said timidly.
“Changing it to what?”
“To the prayer circle around the flagpole and the law. When they hold hands and pray, Vice Principal Rosario always monitors them with this look on his face. He holds his walkie-talkie. He says his reason for being there is to make sure the prayers don’t last past the second bell. But everybody knows he’s there because of the lawsuit.”
Anne-Marie’s father, who was an attorney, dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “The prayer circle is not a school-sponsored event,” he said. “The lawsuit won’t hold water.”
For a moment, it almost seemed like he was actually standing up for her. “Then why do they persecute us?” she asked.
“Us? Have you been involved in the circle?”
Anne-Marie looked down. “Not yet. My faith isn’t strong enough yet.”
His answer was impatient: “It’s got nothing to do with persecution, it’s prosecution, a simple First Amendment legal action. It goes on all over the country. But even your question itself is reason enough for you to think long and hard about the type of religious group you’ve gotten yourself into. Groups that talk about persecution want to be martyrs and victims. That’s not healthy.”
“We’ve been through all this. I don’t want to go through it again.”
“Neither do I,” her father assured her. “Anyway, this topic wouldn’t work for biology.”
“I know.” But she felt the need to defend herself and her faith. “If loving the Lord and wanting to serve Him isn’t healthy, then I don’t know what would be.”
“I don’t want to argue with you, Anne-Marie. I just wish you’d spend as much time on your research papers as you do printing out Bible passages.”
“You’ve been looking at my Bible.”
“I’ve seen it. I didn’t have time to count the turned-down pages. But I did count these twelve Bible verses you’ve printed out and pinned to your walls. Perhaps I should be grateful that your computer skills are improving.”
“All I really know is how to use the word processing program and the printer. If you’ve been looking through my Bible, though, you’re invading my privacy. This room and computer area are mine now.”
Her father ignored the mild protest. “But I’ve also seen your grades in English and biology,” he said. “This religious phase you’re going through is just another distraction as far as I can tell, which is the last thing you need.”
Anne-Marie bristled at the term religious phase, but merely said, “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I’ll probably say something I’ll regret.” I have to forgive, she reminded herself. I have to learn forgiveness.
April 11
The sheep have to be kept apart from the goats.
Anne-Marie heard her mother calling her from the bottom of the stairs, but it wasn’t until the third time that she actually woke up. She rolled on her side, burying her head beneath her pillow. Her dream had been about Brother Jackson and his sermon. It had been vivid enough to recall one of his admonit
ions again: Keep company with the sheep, those who can help you find paths of righteousness. Avoid the goats; they are the tempters who set the snares.
Anne-Marie remembered the man as well as the words. She couldn’t forget Brother Jackson’s smile or the strength of his body. The dream had such a haloed effect she buried her head deeper beneath the pillow to try to preserve it.
It only took a few moments, though, before she was wide awake and headed for the bathroom. Lathering in the shower, she asked herself, Can I always tell the difference between the sheep and goats? How do you do that? She thought again of his face, but the tingling was nothing more than the hot water rinsing down her limbs. She wondered if there was a way to turn showers into daily purification rites, like baptism.
Anne-Marie used her white scrunchie to anchor her long blond hair in a ponytail. It wasn’t glamorous, but she’d decided it wasn’t important anymore to spend the time and money on her hair. She had tons of makeup in her collection, but it too seemed like overkill, now that she was secure in the Lord. She decided to use only a little mascara and just a touch of lipstick.
She stepped on the scale to discover that she had lost six pounds during the past two weeks. The lost pounds didn’t matter—her physical beauty was never at issue, it had always been the source of her popularity at school, no matter that her behavior was sometimes risky and her grades low. Her appetite must be off due to the excitement brought about by her conversion. She was high every day.
Even though it was a particularly warm day, she decided not to let the weather dictate clothing. In her closet was her newest purchase, a plum-colored Lycra tank top she’d bought at Von Maur’s on sale for $36. She pushed it aside, realizing that the old Anne-Marie would have worn it in a heartbeat. Would have added a provocative pair of shorts to complete the image. And then might have been sent home by Vice Principal Rosario for exposing too much midriff and other flesh.
Faith Wish Page 2
