Monday, April 15, 2019

* The Bicycle

It was a beautiful, bright Spring morning in Texas when Ben Benson, looking across the busy intersection of 7th Street and Crockett, saw it. He wasted no time crossing to get a better look. Never mind the normal way of crossing two streets at right angles to get to the opposite corner. Ben cut diagonally across this main intersection in town. He was headed straight for Elmer Manning’s City Service gas station which was opposite his own Sinclair station at the intersection.

Ben was always a simple, “direct route” kind of guy. And besides, he had grown up in his beloved Silver Springs. But, Ben’s attitude was not exactly “I own this place.” It was more like, “It doesn't really matter who owns this place. It's up to me to run it.” And he was just that intimate with his small hometown. He simply moved through his days, and the lives that attended them, in the easy comfort which comes from a perfect familiarity with your community and your neighbors.

In his confidence, Ben never met a stranger. And he didn’t have a pretentious bone in his body, nor an inhibited one. So, what you saw, was what you got - where ever that might happen to be. And most of the time the encounter was attractively colored with his perfect sense of humor. Always Ben was a bright spot in this little east Texas town that was simple and thriving in the late 1950’s.

The bicycle was sitting in front of Mr. Manning’s station office with a “For Sale” sign on the handle bars. “Mornin,’ Elmer. How ya doin’ this morning,’ came Ben’s greeting.

Doin’ fine, Ben. How ‘bout you?” came the bright return from Elmer, ten years Ben's senior, as he handed the younger man a cup of coffee.

“Ah, if I was any better, Elmer, I’d have to take a pill to get over it,” Ben said with a broad grin that revealed his gold tooth off to one side of his smile.

Though he chose not to advertise them outside his small inner circle, Ben actually did have his own tough issues, too. All this year, for example, it had been a struggle just to make ends meet. His station was new. And it was a daylight to well past dark job to make it go. And lately, the task kept this normally energetic young man drained, most all the time.

But this morning he was on a mission that entirely animated him. He was looking at this beautiful, two wheeled possibility for his son, Jimmy. It had been a constant source of sorrow in his heart for months that he was simply unable to buy his son a bicycle. But, the money just wasn’t there.

Ben and his family rented a small house in Rose Hill, the middle income neighborhood that sprawled directly behind the station. They actually only lived about five blocks from the business. And Jimmy would come every day, sometimes several times a day to see his dad, who was his best friend. At times Jim would simply walk to the station. But, as often as not, he would also show on the pumper seat of a friend’s bike.

Jimmy and his friends were just happy, uncomplicated kids. And often, Ben would join seamlessly into their silliness. On more than one afternoon, for example, a water fight had erupted using the water hoses that were located around the drive way of the station.

Ben was often the instigator of these escapades with the kids. But, in any case, he could never resist being part of them. And, whatever the nature of the fun on any given day, it usually ended up with everyone sitting around drinking soft drinks and laughing together when it was all over.

But for all of that fun, still, each time Jimmy would show up walking or riding on the back of a friends bike, it would elicit a painful reminder in Ben’s heart of his inability to buy his son the bike the boy longed for, and which he so desperately wanted him to have. And, this morning, it seemed that might all change.

Elmer Manning explained that his son, Mickey, had gotten a new bike; and this was his old one. “So, how much do you want for the bike, Elmer?” Ben asked. And with that, the negotiations were on.

“Well, I’m asking five dollars, but since it’s you, I’ll take ten,” Elmer said with a big smile, “you bein’ my direct competition right across the street n' all.” The bike actually had fifteen dollars on the for sale sign.

“Well, I was prepared to offer you twenty,” Ben shot back without missing a beat. “But since it’s you,” he said, with a wrinkled nose, “I’ll just take it off your hands for ten.”

“Sold!” Elmer said, auctioneer style. The two men shook on the accord.

"I’m gonna’ go call Jimmy right now and tell him, Elmer. We’ll be over to get it this afternoon.”

Elmer smiled, “It’ll be here.” The two friends parted; and Ben headed back across the intersection, waving to two people he knew who were stopped at the red light. He was already anticipating his son’s excitement as he picked up the phone to call home and tell him.

Then he thought, “No, maybe I’ll just wait until he gets here, later." He hung up the phone. But, then he thought, "No, I’m calling now."

Ben could not have been more excited if he, himself, had received such a wonderful gift. Nothing made Ben happier than blessing other people; and that was doubly true for his son.

He knew that Jim would know the bike, because he and Mickey were in the same class at school. And he and Jimmy paled around together a good bit. Mickey had come along late in Elmer’s marriage.

Ben grabbed the phone and called Jimmy at home. “Hello,” came the ten year old’s breathless voice, obviously having run to beat his mother and sister to the phone, as ususal.

“Hey, ‘Big Boy,’ I’ve got some good news for you,” Jimmy’s dad said happily.

“What is it?”

“I found you a bicycle!” Ben said with great happiness in his voice.

“Really!?” Jimmy yelled.

“Yeah! really!” Ben returned, smiling broadly as he talked. “Mickey’s dad had it for sale at his station this morning; and I bought it for you.”

“At the station? Is it new?”

“Well no, it’s not new. But it’s in pretty good shape; and it works fine. It’s Mickey’s old bicycle. He got a new one.”

“Oh, I thought it was new,” came the reply, in a much less excited voice.

Jimmy’s new tone was like an arrow through his dad’s heart as he realized that his son was taken away with what the bike wasn’t, instead of what it was. “Is something wrong, son?” Ben asked, trying not to let his own disappointment come through his voice.

“Well, Mickey’s fenders are pretty bent up, Daddy. And I was kinda’ wantin’ a new bike.”

Ben’s heart sank; and he flushed with anger all at the same time. His mind was telling him that his son was just a child. And he knew that the boy simply did not yet understand his own ingratitude, much less the pain that it was inflicting on the heart of his father.

But Ben's emotions were cancelling out all of that reason. He was that deeply hurt by his son’s callused response to his gesture of love. The anticipation of his son’s happiness at the news of the bicycle was now completely squashed.

Though he tried with all of his might, Ben could not keep his voice from hardening a bit. “Well son, you’ll just have to decide whether you want the bike or not. But you know that I just can’t afford a new one, right now.”

The youngster paused for a long few seconds, sensing that he had disappointed his dad.

“Well, you gotta’ tell me something, Jim, so I can tell Mr. Manning what to do.”

Still the boy hesitated. He was now deeply conflicted between his own disappointment, and what he was, indeed, beginning to understand to be a disappointment to his father. So, unable to come up with a response in his childish mind, he simply remained silent for a few more seconds.

Finally, after those few awkward seconds of emotional agony on both ends of the phone, Ben said, “Well, never mind, son. We’ll just let this one go, and see what we can do later.”

Tears had begun to flow down Jimmy’s face as he said in a weak voice, “OK, Daddy. I’ll see you later.”

“OK, son. I’ll see you,” came dad’s quiet response. Then, they hung up.

Ben immediately called Elmer and explained the situation. Elmer easily sympathized with the process that was on going. He told Ben that another man, a regular customer, had already asked about the bike. Elmer assured Ben that it was not a problem to simply sell the bike to him. And he did.

After these events, Ben began going about his day at the station, but with a much heavier heart. About thirty minutes passed. He was lubricating a car on the grease rack when the phone rang.

“Hello,” Ben said, with a feigned cheerfulness, as he answered the phone.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Jimmy started with a quivering voice. "I’d like to have that bike. I’m sorry for what I said a while ago.”

Dad paused for a second. Then he said, from the depths of his own remorse, “Well Jimmy, I’m sorry too, son. But Mr. Manning has already sold the bike.”

There was another pause on the other end of the line. Finally, Ben said, “Son, are you OK.”

With a slight whimper in his voice, Jimmy said, “I’m OK, Daddy. But I’m still sorry. I’m sorry I made you sorry.”

Immediately, in Dad’s heart, the disposition of the bike ceased to be the sorrowful issue that it had been only one minute before. As he realized his son’s feelings were now much more about Dad’s hurt than the loss of the bike, Ben’s heart filled with emotion. He said, “Hey, ‘Big Boy’, thanks for worrying about Dad. That means more to me than anything. But, we’re OK. And we’ll find another bike, or maybe we’ll be able to get a new one soon.”

Jimmy said, in a more sure voice now, “Next time, I won’t care if it’s new or not, Daddy, I promise.”

Tears welled in Ben’s eyes, now. “Well that is a great attitude ‘Bud.’ I’m really proud of you for that. And we’ll just do the best we can, either way. OK?”

“OK,” came Jimmy’s reply from an obviously lighter heart now.

“Say ‘Man’, I’ve got a couple of cars to wash this afternoon. You want to come and help me?” Ben asked, struggling to keep his voice from breaking with emotion.

“Yeah! Can I bring Frank with me!?”

“Bring him on, ‘Dude’. We’ll have a great time, Ben confirmed.”

And just like that, joy returned to father and son; and the binding love between them found a new width and maturity in its expression.

                                     The End

Love is seldom non-expectant. In truth, Love often holds treasured visions of response. There is such a thing as unconditional love, of course; but it only ever exists, even in God's case, in a very limited circumstance. The reality is, most days, love anticipates a response.

And to fail loves anticipations is, indeed, heart wrenching on both ends. Perhaps it is inevitable that we will occasionally do so as we move toward personal maturity. But Jimmy's innocence certainly shows us the remedy for these momentary failures: True love always "calls back."

Tuesday, April 2, 2019

April's Voice

 
         The snow covered campus, in the dusk's low light, looked like a soulful painting.  Margie sipped her coffee as she drank in the details through the second floor window of the student lounge complex.  The campus was all but deserted as this midwinter finals week neared completion.  And now, the day's gray light was giving way to the glow of the path way lighting along the sidewalks -  which lay like dark ribbons on the snowy landscape. 

            Other than those cleared walkways, there were no sharp features on the ground, anywhere.  There was only softly rounded whiteness.  And, standing above it all, giant old oaks stood leafless and silent like pouting sentinels, waiting for spring.

             Margie peered through the window waiting for her daughter, April, to grace this scene.  The joy of her life was the opportunity to be with her daughter.   But, as usual where April was concerned, other deeper emotions were always attempting to contradict the joy. 

            "There she is!" Margie whispered in her mind as she watched her daughter bouncing along the sidewalk clutching the envelope in her gloved hand. 

            In a short time, April was through the serving line and at the top of the stairs.  She had a hot chocolate in one hand as she excitedly waved the envelope at her mother with the other. 

            "Hi momma,” she said with a broad smile as she sat the cup down and gave her mom a long hug.   " I'm so excited," she squealed quietly through her broad smile.  Then, as she scooted in  close beside her mother on the same side of the booth, they hugged again. 
 
            "I know you are Sweetheart.  And I'm so excited for you."

            "For us, mom."

            "Absolutely,  for us,"  Margie corrected.  "OK, so - are you ready to open the envelope, sweetheart?"

            "Now that you're here, I think I can, yes."

            "It will be fine, April.  Johns Hopkins is not going to let you get away."

            "Well, we’ll see.  April handed her mother the envelope.  “You do it, mom."

            Margie took the envelope.  She stared at it for a moment.  In the corner it read, Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine.  She tried to control them, but her hands were shaking.  Tears began to slide down Margie’s cheeks and dropped to the table as she was, indeed, now freshly realizing just how far she and April had come together.
             April was taken back by the depth of her mother's emotion.  " Are you OK Mom?" she asked with audible concern. 

            "Yes Sweetheart.  I'm OK.  Now, lets do the deed, here." she said, with a quick smile.
            April gripped her mother's arm tightly, and they snuggled in closer, like two best friends sharing the most intimate secret.  April put her hands, on stilled gloved and one bare, over her eyes as her mom read silently.

            "IT'S A YES!" came the mouse like verbal spurt from Margie.

            Instantly, both women embraced, yet again, in a desperate moment of profound wordless celebration.  Then,  as if cued, both leaned back a little to accommodate an exuberant high five and a loud "Yes !" from April.  Laughter erupted, amidst the tears of joy.  

            But, as April was beginning to gain some composure, she realized that her mother was not.  She continued to sob.  After a moment, April felt once again prompted to ask her mother if she was all right. 

            Margie was unable to answer.  She continued to weep a quiet but irresistible torrent of tears that had been waiting years to be released.  Even without explanation, April realized that these tears were somehow disconnected from the present moment.  She just quietly embraced her mother until this flood tide of emotion began to subside. 

            "Mom, what's wrong?  You're not sick?"

            "No, April, its nothing like that," she said, still half choking with emotion."  Move around to the other side of the booth so I can look at you.  I have something that I have to share with you.  This is probably the worst possible time, but I just have to get this out, now."

            "It's fine mom.  Just say what you need to. You know we have to share everything.  So, just tell me," April said with a slight smile, trying to lighten her mother's emotional load.

            "That has been our way hasn’t it, Honey.  The Two Musketeers, sharing almost everything since you were old enough to talk.  But there is one thing that I have never shared with you.  But, I need to do that now."  Margie began to tear again.

            April took her mother's hands in her own, on the table top.  "Anything mom, you know that."

            After a moment, with her head lowered, Margie began.  "Last night I had a dream, April.  I was walking in a cemetery, and it was snowing.  The wind was blowing, and it was bitterly cold; and, I was struggling against the wind. 

After a while, I found myself peering down at a small granite headstone.  It had no inscription on it, no words at all."  April started to interrupt, but Margie insisted, with a raised hand, on finishing.

            "As I stared at the headstone, the grave that it marked, became like glass, and I could see a baby in the grave.  And, the baby was talking.  In the most pleading voice, the baby said, 'Mommy please.'  That was all, just 'Mommy please.'  Over and over again the baby kept begging me in that tiny desperate voice, 'Mommy please.'"

            As April began to understand her mother's emotional agony, her heart broke for her mother.  "Mom, I understand how a dream like that would make you feel, but I am right here. I'm not a baby.  And, I'm perfectly OK."

            Margie touched April's cheek with her fingertips, and looked at her as if peering into her child's very soul.  "I know, Sweetheart, but there’s more.  You see, I had exactly that same dream, in every detail, one other time, 22 years ago, just before you were born."

            "Oh mom," April sympathized.

            "April, we have never talked much about your dad.  The little that I have told you is true.  We were never married.  And, he did choose to be out of our lives before you were born. But, I haven't really told you the whole story.

            “I wish I could say we were in love, but we really weren't.  I guess we called it love at the time.  But I've learned since, that true love has a view beyond itself, and we really didn't. 

            “We were in high school.  We were part of the fast crowd. And we did what the fast crowd was doing.  We made love; but we were not in love, not the kind of love that is made for a lifetime and for a family. 

            “So, long story short, I became pregnant with you.  I was eighteen years old with most of my last year of high school still in front of me. And now, I am going to have a baby.

             “I was so scared, April.  And Josh was so very immature.  We both were.  And, we certainly knew nothing of God's values at the time.  So, almost immediately Josh began to pressure me to get an abortion.  I resisted his pleadings and threats for two or three weeks.  And, I spent every private moments crying.   But, eventually, I just became so very desperate.”

            Both women fell silent momentarily, Margie from grief, and April from shock.  After a long moment Margie continued with some difficulty. "And, I was beginning to slightly show; so I," Margie choked on her emotions, but eventually managed to finish, "I, ah, I decided to go through with it."

            Tears now streamed down April's face.  Margie was forced to look away from her daughter, out the window, to be able to continue.  "Josh and I had enough money between us, so I went to the Planned Parenthood clinic in Newton.  John didn't think it was a good idea for us to be seen together there, so he was going to come back and pick me up."

            "Well, wasn't that big of him," came April's sarcastic and tearful interjection.

            "This visit was supposed to be just a counseling session.  As I sat in the waiting area, I was able to faintly hear the counselor's conversation with the young lady who went in ahead of me.  The counselor echoed the line of the day about a woman's right to have control over her body.  No mention was made of the baby.

            “Most of the session was just talking about the costs and how the young lady would pay.  As I listened from outside the door, the manipulation just became so clear.  This insanity wasn't about rights or personal freedom.  That was all just a line.  This was simply about money for the doctors and convenience for the girls - for me. 

            “All I could think of was,” Margie dropped her head into her hands, obviously reliving the moment fully, "I've come here to kill my baby." 

            “Then I became suddenly enraged at their intentional dismissal of that horrible fact.  That idea, in that moment, became the absolute focal point of all of my fear, and anguish of the previous weeks.   And, just at that moment, you kicked me."  An sudden involuntary and awkward smile flash across the face of both women. 

            "I guess you must have been wearing spurs, because when you did that, I bolted out of that waiting room, without even a thought of what I would do next.  The receptionist came running after me, and pleaded with me to come back to the clinic.  But I had not one thought of stopping my flight. 

            “Right then, all I wanted to do was go.  I just wanted to be somewhere, any where else. So, I just started running down that snowy sidewalk until she stopped calling after me.
 
            “I didn't know anyone in Newton.  And, it  was, indeed, a day about like today, bitterly cold, and snowy, and blustery with dark, low hanging clouds.  Eventually, I found myself just walking and crying. 

            "I came to a cemetery with a broken down iron gate.  I remember it was anchored in what looked like an ancient red brick column that was beginning to lean badly.  I don't know what made me even go in there.  Maybe because I knew it was deserted, and I wouldn't have to face anyone.

            “As I entered the cemetery, it was as if I were enveloped in a dream.  Nothing seemed quite real, and yet the headstones impacted on my mind with unusual importance.   I was in that cemetery wandering around for a long time in the deepest emotional agony that I have ever known. 

            “Eventually, somehow, Josh spotted me there as he was driving around looking for me.  He took me home.  I really don't remember much about the rest of that day and evening.  It just seemed to wash away in large waves of fear, and depression, and desperation. 

            “It was that night that I had the dream for the first time.  I saw you in that glassy grave," Margie paused briefly, as another torrent of tears streamed down and covered her lips and chin.  Then, she continued, "But, even as I listened to you pleading with me in the dream, 'Mommy please', I remember being so painfully aware that you would not even have the dignity of a grave.  The whole time, I knew that you would be ..."   Margie put her face in her hands and broke into quiet, but otherwise, unbridled sobbing.  She simply could not continue with those thoughts.  They were just too horrible.
 
            After a long moment, she continued, "When I awoke the next morning, I knew God had helped me hear the pleading of the child within me - my child.  I told Josh to forget it.  I was keeping the baby. 

            He was angry and upset, but, at that point, I simply no longer cared what he thought.  I knew I was right.  No way was I going to ignore the pleading voice of my precious child anymore.  I already loved you, and my dream allowed me to come to grips with that reality.  And, with grandma and grandpa's help, you and I made it through just fine.  And, the rest, you pretty much know.

            “But what you have never known is that all these years, the thought of what I almost did, how close I came, has tortured me.  But, it was so horrifying,  I've just tried to mentally bury it.  The problem was, the more my love grew for you on so many different levels, the more trouble I had doing that.

            “Then yesterday, when you told me about the answer to your application, somehow the whole issue was reawakened.  It was like I just could no longer bear it.  Then, last night, when the dream came again,  I knew I had to get this out of me, and out from between us.
 
             “I  know my timing is lousy.  But, this just had to be done, and now.  I don't know what more to say to you except that I am so ashamed, and so very sorry."   Margie looked away, out the window again, unable to confront what she might find in April's eyes.

            After a moment April spoke softly, "Momma."  Margie steeled herself, and turned to look into the eyes of her daughter.  "All of my life, I have sensed that there was something there that you so desperately needed.  But, I could never understand what it was.  Now, I do."  April paused for a second, and then continued softly,  "Momma, I forgive you."

            Margie looked stunned for a moment.  She just sat there under the shock wave of those words.  Then she burst into laughter and tears all at the same time.  It was as if the bright rays of  a brand new morning had just flooded into her soul. 

            Both women rose from the booth and embraced.  As they hugged each other tightly, in the deep love of mother and daughter, Margie whispered to April, "Thank you so much, Sweetheart.  Thank you.  Thank you.  You have set me free."

            “Without releasing her embrace, April whispered, "No Mom, thank you for courageously loving me through your fear and desperation." 

            Margie buried her face into April's coat.  April could only faintly hear her mother's prayer, "Thank you Lord for loving us both."

The End



Where Sleep Our Children

A lament of the infamous abortion industry in the United States which entirely devalues the life of the unborn - purely in the interest of profits.


Where sleep our children in these troubled days
            when their laughter we long to hear?
Where are those flashing, excited eyes
            and their tiny contented sighs?

Where are those moments when we're first aware,
            somehow through the peek a boos,
And the rhythm and rhyme of our giggling time,
            that our love is returned in kind.

Where are the memories of growing up,
            those times of joy and pain,
All cherished alike, because they're shared,
            all counted by love as gain.

Where sleep our children? Oh no! Oh God!
            They're victims of our own moral sleep.
For our children sleep in the grave of convenience
            unmourned in the graveyard of greed.

And still we sleep while our children die,
            the victims of darkened minds
That speak in a way that - "It seems OK,"
            So on we sleep as they cry.      

Where sleep our children in these troubled days
            They sleep in the grave of convenience,
                unmourned in the graveyard of greed,

Because we have not awakened ourselves,
            To protect as true Love would decree.