“Lord, we thank you for all the gifts you’ve given us. May we use them for your glory,” Sam prayed, while Bea played “We Give Thee but Thine Own.”
“Amen,” said the congregation, and worship was over.
Sam gathered up his sermon notes and tucked them in his Bible. Seventy-seven down, one thousand four hundred and twenty-three sermons to go, he thought. He had twenty-nine years left on a thirty-year mortgage. He’d counted up all the sermons he’d have to preach before his mortgage was paid off. Fifty sermons a year for thirty years equaled fifteen hundred sermons. He’d be sixty-nine years old. He had doubts about whether he’d make it.
What began as discouragement for Sam in April had by June moved into depression and was now, in mid-August, full-fledged unbelief.
These people would cause Jesus to become an atheist, Sam told himself.
The tractor hadn’t helped. It was just one more pressure. One more thing to take care of.
As it was, Sam had plenty enough worries. Giving had been down at church. People would drop a dollar in the plate, thinking that would do it. The chairmen of the committees would spend money the church didn’t have. Sam would point out that they didn’t have the money.
“Well, it’s right there in the budget,” they’d say. “It says right there on line twelve that our committee has eight hundred dollars to spend.”
“But if people aren’t giving money, then we don’t have it to spend, no matter what line twelve says,” Sam would explain.
“Well, I never heard of such a thing. Pastor Taylor never said anything like that. He never talked about money.”
Which is why our church is down to ninety-five dollars and my last three paychecks have been late, Sam wanted to say.
He’d been thinking of taking a part-time job, in case the church had to cut his pay. A friend from seminary had become a salesman for the Eternal Life Insurance Company of Colorado Springs, Colorado. He’d called Sam the month before, long distance from the city, to ask Sam if he wanted to sell life insurance.
“You can stay right there in Harmony and be a pastor. In fact, most of our agents are pastors. We’ll send you to school in Colorado for two weeks at our expense. You could pull in another twenty thousand dollars a year, maybe more. How about it?”
Sam told him he’d think about it. He could use the money but wasn’t sure he had the time. He had only one day off a week as it was. Hardly saw his boys. They might as well not even have a father, for all the time he saw them.
So when Asa and Jessie Peacock tithed their lottery winnings, Sam was greatly relieved. Maybe the church could pay him on time now. Maybe they’d even give him a raise and more time with his family.
Sam speculated about it at his parents’ house that Sunday afternoon. He and Barbara were sitting with his parents on their porch after dinner.
“This is sure good news for the church,” Sam said. “We can invest that money. The interest alone would pay my salary. Just think, I’d always get paid on time.”
“Don’t count on that happening,” Charlie Gardner said. “It would make too much sense. I remember, it was about twenty years ago, when Bea and Opal’s mother died and left eighty thousand dollars to the church. That was some serious money, let me tell you.”
“We had eighty thousand dollars? I never heard anything about it,” Sam said.
“Yeah, well, it’s still a sore point. People don’t talk about it much. We were gonna build on to the meetinghouse, so the trustees hired some fancy architect from the city to draw up the plans and that cost sixty thousand dollars and there went our money. We had twenty thousand left, which the trustees used to put a new roof on the meetinghouse. It was a special kind of roof, guaranteed for life.”
“But our meetinghouse roof leaks like a sieve.”
“Yeah, the company that did it went out of business.”
“Well, I’m sure people have learned a lesson and won’t let this money go to waste,” Barbara said.
Charlie peered at Sam’s wife. “These are the same people who think Dale Hinshaw’s Scripture eggs are a good idea.”
“We’re sunk,” Sam said.
“Doomed,” added his mother.
“You watch and see,” Charlie Gardner said. “That money will burn a hole in their pockets.”
They sat on the porch, glum.
That Thursday was the third Thursday of the month, the night of the monthly elders meeting. They gathered down in the basement of the meetinghouse at the folding table next to the noodle freezer.
They were all on time for once. Miriam Hodge opened with a prayer, then steered their way in record time through the reading of the minutes and the old business.
“Is there any new business?” she asked the elders.
“I’d like to propose the church donate twenty thousand dollars to the Scripture egg project,” Dale Hinshaw said. “I think we can reach the Muslims in a big way.”
Dale had a globe with him, with straight pins stuck on fifty cities throughout the Middle East, Asia, and Africa.
“These are your major Muslim strongholds,” he continued. “If we could hand out ten thousand Scripture eggs a year in those cities, we could do some serious damage for the Kingdom. I’ve figured out a way we can do it using missionaries already in place. We could mail one hundred chickens to each missionary.”
“Excuse me,” Miriam said, “but don’t those people speak different languages?”
“I’ve already thought of that. The missus is home right now working on the translations. She’s having a little trouble with Swahili, but she’ll make it.”
“I’m not sure the church would approve spending twenty thousand dollars in such a way,” Miriam said.
“Well, I’d hate to think the day has come when we’ve lost our heart for the lost.”
“Supposing we could give you ten thousand? What could you do with that?” Harvey Muldock asked.
“Well, I suppose we could send maybe fifty chickens to each missionary. Of course, that’ll slow the spread of God’s Word. So long as you’re willing to stand before the Almighty and justify your actions, I guess I could try it on ten thousand.”
“I approve giving Dale ten thousand dollars for the Scripture egg project,” Harvey proposed, unfazed at the prospect of standing before the Almighty.
“Does this meet with your approval?” Miriam asked the other elders.
“Approved,” they rumbled, except for Asa Peacock. He just sat in his chair, thinking. Ten thousand dollars for Scripture eggs. This wasn’t what he and Jessie had in mind when they’d given the money to the church.
They’d talked about it that morning at the breakfast table.
“Wouldn’t it be wonderful if Wayne Fleming could get his diploma and land a decent job and buy a house for those kids? Maybe the church could give some of the money to him,” Jessie had said. “Why don’t you propose that at tonight’s meeting?”
“Now there’s a fine idea,” Asa had agreed.
So when Miriam asked, “Is there any other new business?” Asa raised his hand.
“Well, Jessie and I were talking this morning and we were thinking how nice it could be if the church could maybe help Wayne Fleming. He’s been working nights at the Kroger and taking one class at a time. Maybe we could give him enough money so’s he could work part-time and finish college, and then…”
Fern Hampton interrupted, “Are he and that Deena living together?”
“Most certainly not,” Sam Gardner said. “She’s living with her grandmother.”
“Still, I don’t think it’s right that they come to church together,” Fern said. “Him being married and all. And I don’t think they ought to sit in Wilbur Matthews’s pew like that.”
“Fern, Wilbur’s been dead for twenty-five years,” Sam said.
“I still think they could be more respectful of his memory.”
“I think it’s wonderful they’re coming to church and I hope it works out for them to get married,” Miri
am said. “Those children need a mother.”
She turned to Asa. “I think your idea is a fine one. Why don’t we approach Wayne and see how much money he’d need to cut his work hours and take more classes?”
“I’d be happy to talk with Wayne,” Sam said.
“Now hold your horses,” Harvey said. “I believe we’re starting a dangerous precedent here. What happens the next time someone else needs help? We oughta think long and hard before just jumping in and helping someone like that.”
“We’d be encouraging adultery,” Fern said.
“Far be it for me to judge, but I think Fern’s right,” Dale said.
Sam sighed. For a fleeting moment, he’d believed the church was going to do something worthwhile. He’d felt a momentary rise of hope. I should have known better, he thought.
Harvey cleared his throat. “As long as we’re on the subject of money, my brother Bill is requesting a thousand dollars for uniforms and shoes for the church basketball team. And we figured that as long as we’re gonna have new uniforms we maybe should build a new gymnasium onto the meetinghouse.” He passed some papers to Dale, sitting on his left. “Take one of these, Dale, and pass ’em down.
“We’ve worked up some figures. If we do some of the labor ourselves, painting and such, we can build a gymnasium off the west end of the meetinghouse for a little under three hundred and forty thousand, which is just what we have left. Now if that ain’t a sign from the Lord, I don’t know what is. Of course, it just wouldn’t be for the basketball team. We could use it for other things too—the Chicken Noodle Dinner, the ladies’ quilt project, revivals, emergency housing during national catastrophes. What do you think?”
“I tell you one thing,” Fern said. “I’m not sure how much longer the ladies can keep making noodles down in the basement, what with all those stairs. Our knees can barely take it. Speaking on behalf of the Friendly Women’s Circle, I think it’s a wonderful idea.”
“Let’s discuss this a little further,” Miriam said. “That’s an awful lot of money for something we really don’t need.”
“I think Miriam’s right. We don’t need a gymnasium,” said Sam.
“I disagree,” Dale said. “If we had a gymnasium we could have a Bible aerobics class like that new church in town.”
“That would certainly help our knees,” Fern pointed out.
“I think the Lord’s will on this is becoming pretty clear,” Harvey said. “Does everyone else approve?”
“Approved,” rumbled the elders, except for Sam, Miriam, and Asa.
Asa was sorry he and Jessie had donated the money. A gymnasium, he thought. What in thunder will we do with a gymnasium?
Sam looked at his watch. He thought to himself, It took us thirty minutes to spend three hundred and fifty thousand dollars. That’s got to be a record.
“I’d like to make a proposal,” Fern said. “As most of you know, my mother was a sainted member of this church all her life.” She paused and sniffed and dabbed her eyes with a Kleenex. “I think it’s only fitting that we name our new building in honor of her. The Fleeta Hampton Memorial Gymnasium. And I won’t even ask if the rest of you approve, because I know you do.”
They should have seen it coming. It was just like Fern Hampton to not put a dime toward something, then have it named for someone in her family. There was the Fred Hampton Memorial Drinking Fountain and the Frieda Hampton Memorial Crib, which Frank the secretary had bought for the Iverson Chinese twins. Fern had gone and had a plaque made with her sister’s name on it and had bolted it right to the crib. The thing of it was, Frieda Hampton hadn’t even liked children, and children hadn’t liked her.
This is it, Sam thought. I’m selling insurance.
Miriam said, “I think this a misuse of Jessie and Asa’s generous gift.”
“Now, Miriam, don’t be a sore loser,” Dale said. “The Lord loves a cheerful loser. It says that in the Bible.”
“Actually, it says the Lord loves a cheerful giver,” Sam said.
“Sam, you shouldn’t misquote Scripture just to get your way,” Dale said.
If I quit now, Sam thought, I could be selling insurance in two weeks. Maybe my folks could loan me a little money to tide us over.
That was the end of the meeting. Sam walked home. He was tired. More tired than he had ever been.
His thoughts ranged. What good is the church? What good does it do to even be faithful to God? It’s not like God returns the favor. It’s not like God actually causes people to do the right thing. It’s not like I gave up on God. He gave up on me. Who needs Him? Not me, that’s for sure.
Sam Gardner walked down Washington Street past the Grant Hardware Emporium. He stood outside his house. He could see Barbara through the upstairs window, combing their boys’ hair after their bath.
I’ll stick it out for them, he thought. But if a better offer comes along, I’m outta here.
He pushed open the door and went inside, up the stairs and into the bathroom. His boys were clustered in front of the mirror, brushing their teeth. Tanned, skinny boys in their Superman underwear and burr haircuts, frothing at the mouth. Rinse, spit, rinse, spit, and wipe.
“Daddy’s home. Read us a story, Daddy. Read us a story.”
It was the first time he’d seen them that day.
Starting now, I’m taking more time off. If folks in the church can be selfish, so can I.
He tucked his children in bed and read them a story as they fell asleep. He placed the book on the night-stand and pulled the sheets over their skinny shoulders. He stood between their beds, watching them, envying their innocence, their untainted hearts.
To fall asleep without a worry in the world, to trust as they trust—what a treasure that would be. Help me, Lord. Help me trust like them again.
Ten
A Hint of Hope
It had been a little over a month since Sally had called home. For weeks Wayne Fleming stewed about what to do. Finally, one morning in early September, he asked the neighbor lady to watch the kids while he went to talk with Sam Gardner.
He drove into town, parked behind the meetinghouse, and walked in through the back door. Frank the secretary was on the phone. He looked at Wayne, rolled his eyes, then covered the mouthpiece with his hand and told Wayne, “Be with you in a second.”
“Take your time. I’m in no hurry.”
Frank spoke into the phone. “Like I was saying, Fern, Sam isn’t here. Monday’s his day off. But I’ll be sure to tell him you didn’t like his sermon. Good-bye.” He hung up the phone. “I woke up this morning with one nerve and darned if Fern Hampton didn’t get on it.”
“What’s she complaining about now?”
“Oh, she claims Sam looked at her when he was talking about the Pharisees during his sermon yesterday morning. Now she’s all upset.”
“You would think she’d get the hint.”
Frank laughed. “Yeah, wouldn’t you, though.”
“I heard you tell her today was Sam’s day off. I was hoping to talk with him. I don’t suppose I could talk with him today, could I?”
“Not today. Is there anything I can help you with?”
“I don’t think so. It’s kind of personal.”
“Sit down, Wayne, and let’s talk. You’ll feel better getting it off your chest.”
Wayne thought for a moment. “Maybe you’re right. You’ve been married. Maybe you can help me.” He sat in the chair beside Frank’s desk. “Got a call from my wife. It’s the first I’ve heard from her since she ran off with that truck driver last year. Now, out of the blue, she calls and wants to come home. I can’t decide what to do.”
“When did she call?”
“The first time was a month or so ago.”
“I notice you’ve been spending time with Deena Morrison. Have you told her?”
“Not yet. But I’m aiming to just as soon as I get the chance. I thought I ought to make up my mind first about what I’m going to do.”
“
Which way are you leaning?”
“When Sally first called, I didn’t want anything to do with her, and I told her so. Told her not to call me back. I didn’t hear from her for a couple weeks. Then she called back the other night and we talked, and when I hung up I wasn’t so sure anymore. She’s coming home this Saturday to see the kids. She seems really sorry. I’m just not sure I can trust her anymore. I worry if I take her back, she’ll cheat on me again.”
“How do you know she cheated on you?”
“Well, that’s what folks are saying, and I’m inclined to believe them.”
Frank stood up, walked to the door, and closed it. Then he sat down, reached over to the phone, and took it off the hook.
“Wayne, I want to tell you something that happened to me a long time ago, when I was in Korea, back when Martha and I were first married. I need you to promise you’ll never tell a soul.”
“I won’t say a word.”
“I’d been over there about a year when I got a letter from her saying she wanted a divorce, that she’d fallen in love with someone else.” Frank hesitated. His voice caught, remembering the pain of it. “Well, it was the worst day of my life, getting that letter. Forty-eight years ago, and it still hurts to think of it.”
“I know that feeling,” Wayne said quietly.
“I was due to be shipped home in three months. I wrote Martha a letter, asking her not to do anything until we’d talked. When I finally got home, she met me at the train station in the city. I could tell right off she’d been with another fella. Just by the way she looked at me. It liked to have killed me.”
“There’s no pain worse.”
“I talked her into meeting with our pastor, and we were able to patch things up. But it was a lot of work, and it took a while.”
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