In Church
In Church
Martha Zayer was an older woman. She went to the church at the corner of 5th and main, every Sunday since she was six years old. Being a pillar of the church by way of just being there, she had it in aces. Showing up and attending. Martha paid her tithes as well. Never short God. He keeps a tally and an accounting. She did not gossip, but she did not talk either, to anyone.
Monday through Saturday, Martha lived way out past the four mile post. It was quiet, and no one drove out that way much. She had the same car her whole life. It drove her, or rather she drove it, from the house to the little sanctuary, without fail. After papa, passed away, she just slid over and took the wheel. Mama, had been gone forever. She had died when Martha was born. Now it was just Martha to drive the car…
Today was Friday, a bright and beautiful day if you like cold weather. A slushy storm fell all night, then the kiss of winter hand-made ice in every shape, water took. The liquid was frozen solid across the big drinking barrels in the yard. The little fountain looked magical, captured in air…like a lace doily on her aunts table, the sister of her father that came to visit and then left. It had been so beautiful. But she like the fountain had been, so cold and really so uninviting, like the land between her life and theirs, the distance was too far.
There was always, things to do for Martha. That is how she kept the evil sadness away. She would get up and get moving. Forward. That is exactly what the “word” said to do. Move forward. Martha tried to do everything exactly the way she was supposed to do it. That way she would be right with God.
This morning she poured a cup of hot coffee from the pot and sat. The kitchen was uncommonly cold, the fire in the furnace had gone out at some point. Everything was chill, down to the bones. Martha avoided the temperature gauge; bad news was just not worth the time. She needed to go into town today. She had a few errands that just could not weight, or be put off.
Martha continued for a while looking out the kitchen window at the cold. It was just about the same inside as out, she needed to fix the heater. It was just one more thing on a list that could never be completed if she lived to be a 100. Yet, all of it could wait. Fix only what you have to. This is not your home. Just passing through. Yet, was that all? Living and passing through?
In a funny mood the lonely woman wondered if she took the car now, could she make it back before dark. It was morning, why would she ever think that way? Yet the thought did cross her mind. The yard looked muddy, snowy and slushy all at the same time, not very inviting to be sure. A glance at the calendar confirmed it was December 23rd. Well, two more days until the Lord’s birthday. Wow, time sure moved fast, and slow, all at the same time. Her memories of her father, danced to a tune in her heart. That made her feel better, at least. There were no memories of her mother. Except the ones her father gave her.
If ever she asked, he would get that sweet smile he had, the one that he woke her up on her birthday with. A smile that was rare indeed. He talked about her hair, her eyes, and especially the way she laughed. Martha wondered what that sounded like? When he laughed, Martha liked to think she could hear the echo of her mother, somewhere in the sound, as he was always so happy when he spoke of her. Then he would get that other face, and be lost for days. It was not okay, but there had been nothing to do at the time. Just help him get through it. She died of cancer. She could have lived maybe if Martha had not. But that was never mentioned, not once.
Regret is a funny thing. As a child she never thought about it that way. She just knew that her father was sad and empty. No matter what she did, she could never fill the place, that had been created by her mother’s absence. That part still bothered her deeply. It had created a new kind of emptiness in her as a child, that never felt fulfilled. Passed tense, all of it! Not worth thinking on.
“Swish, swish like fish.” Papa use to say. Fish would always run in all directions if you put your hand in and swished the water. That made her smile and changed her mood just a bit. A little less dark was much better. She got up and dumped the end of her coffee in the sink. Set the cup on the counter and headed for the door. Stopped, at the coat stand, and donned her attire for the journey ahead. Coat, gloves, galoshes, (I love to say and write the word galoshes.) boots, a small umbrella that “pops” when you open it, and a flash light. Why? A flash light? It was not dark outside. In fact it was getting lighter all the time. Funny…odd even…Martha put the small lantern in her bag. Opened the door and stepped out.
Instantly a biting cold touched her nose, like a pinch. Her cheeks went bright pink and her eyes were dry. Winter was harsh here, if not lengthy. This had been the worst she had ever been through since she could remember. Still, life had to go on. There were always chores and things to do. With full intent, Martha carefully walked across to the big barn, opened the small side door and went in. Outside everything was pretty quiet. The wind was light, and the clouds were just meandering across the sky. Not in a hurry to leave, but not really adding to the “last” night’s party.
Then Martha came back out and went around to the two huge wood sliders. First one then the next, opening them took her whole weight. She kind of laughed at that, thought. She had lost nearly forty pounds in the last year. If she lost much more, she would not be able to open her garage. Funny.
Papa’s old car was right there waiting. It was like his horse. He had kept it well and taught his daughter to do the same. So “she” Papa called her Ms.Penny, was in prime care, nearly no miles, having only been driven here to town, here to the hospital to bring me home, here to the cemetery to bury mama and back and forth to church. The little home was at the four mile post. So the math was not hard at all. If anyone cared to work it out. The reality is the vehicle looked as if it came right off the showroom floor and was well past its prime.
Martha did not hesitate, well maybe for a moment, as she looked up into the heavens. It id not really make her feel like praying, as that was for Sunday’s at church. It just made her feel uneasy, and wonder if she should just get a second cup of coffee? No. This day had been put off several times, and the mail man had made her sign for the last letter. It was distressing, that he could not just leave it in the box. It had been Linda’s son, the lady from church. It was her young boy, that was now the mailman. He went to the church too. She did not know his name, as she did not speak to many. The only reason she knew Linda, was because she had received a card last Christmas from the woman. Why? Martha was still unclear. But it had happened. An odd thought…that card was still in the kitchen window. She had never taken it down from the day she set it there. It felt like it was the right place for it, somehow.
The woman got behind the wheel and slowly drove out the building, across the yard and out the gate. It was a ways to the road, but the path was very clear. Somehow the work father had done, before he had to leave her, had held well. Finally at the intersection to the highway she looked both ways. Everything was quiet, but then she was four miles out. That was not so unusual.
Martha pressed the accelerator and headed toward town. All was as it should be. No problems. The weather was not great, but clear enough. The town in the distance drew closer, or in fact she drew closer to the town. That was a game her father use to play with her. He called it “all about words”. He said they had great meaning and that people should love them more, as they should love God’s word with all their heart. Funny, all these memories today. Rushing around in her head like traffic in a downtown jam. She could not stop them. Focus was difficult at best.
Main street was pretty busy. More people than Martha cared to come across to quickly, but she continued. The woman drove on past the post office to the little medical center. Her goal the doctors office and on to her set, arranged appointment. She pulled in and stopped at the first open space. Under her breath, to herself, “Hurry to the door, but don’t look like you are in a “mood”. You just came, because of that stupid letter.” It was still in her purse? Or was it on the kitchen table back home? Did she need to bring it with her? Would they see her without it?
Martha walked right into the double door. She followed her exact plan as set into motion in her car. She went to the front desk. No one was waiting there. She stood there a while, not long really. A nice lady stepped back to the counter. “May I help you?” A few people were in the room waiting for their turn, but the nurse looked right at her.
Had that woman just appeared? Martha could not remember suddenly. She had not been there a moment ago. Now she was talking to her. Directly.
“Martha Zayer, so glad to see your this morning.” Sweetly the young lady smiled. “Please sign in and we will get your right in…”
For a few moments, Martha could not find her voice or feel her feet. The last time she had been here, she took a few tests. Nothing really important, or so that is what she thought when she agreed to take them. They had made a point to send her a green slip she had to sign for. It suddenly came to her, that she did not want to be here at all. Calmly she gathered her wits back together, and put them in her big purse invisibly. “Thank you.” She heard herself say. Then she turned around and walked out the door.
Martha’s mother died of cancer.
Outside, the heavens were still stormy looking. It was unclear if she should just drive home…or continue with the rest of the errands. At her car, her hands shook. She could not open the door. Frustrated, she kicked the tire and instantly regretted it. Tears filled her eyes, but then why? Everyone dies…
Instead she turned and walked. The sky grew a bit darker, unnoticed.
The first shop was a small RX. She thought to go in and buy aspirins. She had a huge headache that was not going to go away easy. Yet, the idea of going in, anywhere gave her an oppressing feeling, that felt like being smothered. “How did you feel when they told you?” She found she wanted to ask her mother a question. She had not done that or felt that way in ages. When it came to “girl” stuff or later “woman” stuff she never talked with papa. She just went to the library or sent for books by mail. No need in bothering anyone with how she felt about anything.
The next shop was the market. It was a large general store, kind of place. Yes, this was a small town, but Martha was still mostly a stranger. Even having spent a lifetime here, she was still outside. Odd how there can be only a few people, yet there are still “outsiders”? It had not been a big deal, until papa died. Then it was just what it was… Martha was like a ghost that came and went, but no one really noticed her passing.
There was more traffic then usual. The morning was going right along and the weather had changed dramatically, if suddenly. The lone pedestrian on the wet street, glanced up and made a decision. Reached into her bag and pulled out magic. “pop” and she was dry. No need to go inside, or back to the car. Walking was better, less stressful, than trying to drive home. Why was she so afraid? She had not even heard the bad news…Maybe it was something else? Yeah, right.
Martha had continued on, passed several smaller shops, an auto place and dozens of houses. She walked and walked, sometimes changing the direction, sometimes not. She went up and down the lines of houses, framed in storm clouds and rain now falling freely. No one looked out unless to look up and see the show. No one noticed Martha.
After several hours, drenched to the bone, Martha was still walking. Back toward Main street. She laughed at herself a little, she needed to go back for her car. She could probably drive now. Maybe she could go inside and apologize to the doctor for leaving. No, too late today. Wow. Time had flown by unnoticed. Every step closer her feet gained weight. It was not the right direction. Odd. So Martha turned again. The sky was still pelting large drops down on her, but missing her a little. The umbrella had worked well.
It was getting dark and the street lamps had just come on. The corner of 5th and Main street. Busy, but winding down. The little post-truck was heading right across the intersection, going home at the end of the day after late runs for the holidays. The other driver must have been feeling the same happy feeling at heading home. However, they were running a little late, so they were checking their phone to save a moment or two. Save? A funny word, that holds little water in bartering for a life.
The small white truck was hit in the middle of its side. There had been no attempt to slow down for the blood red light that still was just as bright as ever. Martha looked on in horror. The body of the postman flew like a bird. The man had grown invisible wings, launched out and up, across the lanes, across opposing traffic. Metal, flesh, words, and sound a confusion of mistakes. The screaming, that was hard to ignore. Then Martha realized it was her, making that horrendous noise.
No hesitation, Martha ran for the man. She held up her bright yellow, “pop” umbrella and screamed out in the dark. Cars slammed on brakes and no one was hit. A crazy woman had entered the lanes. No…, someone had made sure the postman had not been run over. People crowded in… Too many people for Martha. She felt faint. The man was safe. She needed to move away. So she did. A few wanted her to wait, others were already helping him, and the man, that had hit his postal truck. The woman was glad to have been in the right place. How did that happen? She had walked all day? What if she had taken a different turn or even just gone home?
Martha walked back toward her vehicle. This time was a little easier. It was still in the parking lot now deserted, as everyone else had gone home. She fiddled with the key, got in and started it. Having not ate all day, left her giddy. The experience of the crash, well that was an echo that just kept rolling in her mind. “CRASH!” The man’s face, the kind man, that sad man, the man that had brought her the green card, flashed inside the brightness of the lightning at times. Erie. Bad enough to be thrown from the truck, but thank God, he was not run over as well.
The car drove out of the lot slowly. She turned left. The church was right up-ahead. The clouds were darker here. Lightning was flashing all around the edges in the distance. Tonight would be worse than yesterday’s storm. She had better get home before it really hits. Yet, she kept driving toward the church. A bright sudden flash from nowhere and the car veered to the right. The tire flattened. This was not a good day. She edged to the side of the road and stopped safely. A few words mumbled to no one. There was never anyone to talk to, why bother.
In one motion, she hit the steering wheel with both of her forearms. Angry? A little. Frustrated? a lot! She opened the door and thought about attempting to change the tire. Maybe on a good day, but in a storm? It was going to pour like cats, dogs and perhaps elephants in just a short while, from all that it appeared. Out came the umbrella, “pop”. It was a pleasant sound. Going home was going to have to wait. Maybe she could stay in town? Ha. That was not likely. The storm would pass. She could call AAA. They would fix the tire. Actually she would call the man named, Fred Hayes. He was the local tow man and worked for the big company, far from here. How did she know him? He went to the church. He had been going there since she was 6 years old also. They were not friends, and had never really talked. She just knew he would be the man that would come, when she called. No one would be happy to be called out at this time. So it was not going to be a pleasant encounter.
Martha walked on toward the church. The rain continued, heavier, and heavier. The little, umbrella strained. She upped her pace, hail was next. “Crazy, weather!” Martha took a moment to consider where she was and how she had gotten here. She should have stayed home.
Finally, she made it to the church lot and her destination. Why was she here now? No one was likely to be left here this night to do anything. All would be home by now. As she suspected the front entrance was locked tight. Somehow that made her sad. More overwhelming than when she was standing in front of the nurse, back at the doctor’s office. What had that woman said to her? She had an appointment… Yes. She would have to call tomorrow and apologize for leaving without saying anything. How silly was that?
Still she pressed the front door of the church. It did not give, but remained locked. Martha on the outside, God on the inside. She had come here all her life, to know him, but felt so lost, sitting in the storm…outside bared doors. Had she ever known him? She prayed to him every Sunday, when they told her to bow her head. She agreed and said, “Amen” along with all the rest. She had not missed one day, not one in all her life since she was 6 years old. “Job well done…right?” Then why did the pit in her stomach feel like she had stepped off a cliff and was still falling?
Again, Martha rattled the doors. They did not open. There was no light inside. There was a nice sign in the window with hours and emergency number. If she called, what would she say? I am afraid? I am scared?
Behind her the storm had come. It was like a hundred year event. Martha tried to make herself be closer to the doors, sheltered by the small overhang. Hail, big as golf balls, bounced across the parkway, like “dots” for giants. Ice-cream creatively marketed in little perfect snowballs of shivering cold taste. These however, just hit and some exploded into smaller pieces. All damaging in their weight and intensity.
Martha was afraid. How in the world did she get into this mess? The night was getting darker, the clouds blocked out the stars. Street lights!... Starting in the distance, nearly unnoticed, but with every heart beat the action repeated, the lights went dead. The ice balls slowed a bit and stopped but the water faucet in the sky turned on as a flood. The front lawn was a lake. The parking area had islands here and there, but no real refuge of escape.
The woman clung to the doors. “I need you. I need to be inside. I can not get in.” Martha fell to her knees. Lightning flashed and thunder rolled for so many minutes that she thought the world would never stop shaking.
War was at hand.
Angels, set there by prayer, her father’s on request, surrounded his small daughter. He knew she would need them.
They pushed her out of the office, they sent her down the street, His hand brought the color of flowers brightly to her umbrella, the artist in a far away land. So beautiful so colorful, sufficient to stop traffic on a gray day. Then, they guided her steps, with purpose. They did so even now. God was listening to the man. His heart Our Lord as ever, full of grace and mercy. His kindness immeasurable, is patience without end.
Tears filled her eyes. She cried. Again the lightning flashed. Evil danced and death was close. What had the doctor meant to tell her? What did it matter anyway? What is it that I am really afraid of?” Martha found breathing hard. “Will you hear me, if I pray out here? Will you hear me if I am not…, on the inside? If I am not one of the best, or perfect? I have tried…, will you hear me? I am so alone.
“…” a small sound. How could it even be heard? There, just between the rumble and the roar… There, it is again. Martha slowly climbed to her feet. She stood very still and tried to focus. “…” Yes that was real. She moved suddenly without fear. “…” again. Closer, closer, closer still. “m.”
The grate was in the street, along the curb. Water was rushing in. Swirling around, captured by the hand of death, a tiny kitty nearly drown, “m”. Flash! Run... back to the car. The trunk, a bar, a jack, something was needed. Now!. Martha flew into action, like a sunny day. All other thoughts swiftly washed down stream. “m”…
Back to the bars, the tiny body fought, weakly. It was probably to late, why bother? Why do we think things like that? We have not tried, so we have failed. Martha did not like that at all. Her father would be more than mad. She took the long metal bar from the jack in the back, and pushed it between the cracks. It lifted. She pulled with all her might and achieved a small gap. Down on her hands and knees she fished her arm into the murk. Nothing… then again, nothing! She pulled back, brushed the flowing tears from her eyes and peered into the gloom. She could not see.
Martha got up without delay, rushed back to the car. Thinking feverishly, “the flashlight”! There it was in hand. She raced across the space of the church yard, back to the open grate. No sound, but the swirling gurgle of water…chocking sounds, like fatal moments. The woman held the small light in her hand. She flicked the on switch and dropped back down to her knees. Water soaked her completely, and kept threatening to overwhelm her efforts as it rushed to enter the gate. There, just there on a small ledge. A tiny kitten had found a place to cling. Its eyes were huge; terror and desperation were evident still as the water continued to rise.
Again, Martha got down close to the ground, plunged her hand as far as she could in the right direction. “Trust me, or die.” She heard herself say. What an odd thing to tell a cat? Yet, it felt like someone else was talking to her instead. There was only a moment of hesitation, unclear if it was her or the cats, but she felt the wet soft fur in her hand. She held it tightly and brought it slowly, carefully up. As if a great treasure had been given, she grasped it near her heart and held it, making soft sounds of comfort to the small life.
A car rolled by. It was Linda from church. Was that woman following her? Martha wanted to laugh. She had not felt like that since she could remember. The car turned around and came back. It slowed and stopped. The younger woman rolled down the window. Is that your car? Come on get in. I will give you a lift.” She motioned as if they had been friends for years.
Martha was unsure of everything. The kitten made a soft sound. It brought her to the here and now alert. The storm was still pouring on their heads, and the lightning although less, was still all around in places.
“Come on Martha, get in.” She motioned more insistently.
Martha moved forward. She was going to comply. Then she noticed the bright funny umbrella on the ground with the wild yellow flowers. She went to the car window, and gazed in at Linda. “Please hold this.” and gave her the tiny treasure. Then she chased the lost umbrella a little way. It made her laugh out loud. What a sight she must be. Martha picked it up and made it small again. Went back to her car and grabbed her big purse. Then, swiftly she went on to Linda’s car. At the last minute she opened the door and put her things inside, but did not hop in. Instead, she returned to the grate and pulled it tightly closed. Not good to leave things undone, or so her father always said. Then back to the waiting car.
“So where did you find this?” Linda handed Martha the soaked ball of fur.
“In trouble. I prayed and He answered.” The woman was crying. “I was not even in church and he heard me.”
“Are you okay?” Linda pulled some tissue from a box she kept under the seat. She handed it to Martha. “We are just friends here. Everything is going to be okay.”.
“I am sorry I had to leave,” Martha wanted to say, “run out” “of the office earlier.” Tears filled her eyes.
“We can always set another day to meet. We will face things together. We are friends.” The younger woman smiled.
Martha continued to cry softly and stroke the kitten. It purred happily.
Amen.
Red
Her crown of glory, laid there at His feet,
to wash His body with her tears,
and know what it is to… truly weep.
“You are free.”
If I had only one thing to give, I would give to you, my small soul.
If I had two things to give, I would give to you, my whole heart.
If I had three things to give, my cup would be overflowing, and
I would give to you, my entire life.
As You are everything to me.
You set me free.
Jesus…! Jesus…! Jesus…! (Chorus…)
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