Revival Call

By Melissa Pierce

Sacrificial Lambs

There’s a Sound going out,

A Voice on the wind,

It’s stirring my soul,

Calling me back again,

Return to me.

Tides crashed on to the shore while two figures sat under an over-sized beach umbrella. One looked

forward unblinking as the sun dipped to the horizon over the blue-green water. The other spoke softly about the

bayside town where he grew up. His voice raised a few decibels and quickened as he thought back on the

waterfront house of his childhood. The corners of his mouth tightened into a slight smile as he reminisced. It

was thirty minutes west from where the two sat on this hot and humid afternoon. He wiped at his brow with the

back of his hand. Sweat was beginning to form on the young man, despite the approaching autumn season.

“I don’t want to go there, though. There are just too many reasons to stay away. I can’t seem to shake it.

I’m supposed to go back for some reason.” The young man slurred the last sentence as he lost the thought. He

picked up his bottle and took another long drink, letting its intoxicating liquid flow down his throat. The

burning sensation accompanying the cheap liquor was long lost.

“Many times you find what you’re looking for when you return to the place where you left most of

yourself.” The older man was unusually tall and wore white linen pants and a matching tunic. The more the

younger man looked at him the more confused he became. This guy looked unreal – like a guy from the cover

of a magazine. He was perfectly tan with blinding white teeth. Things weren’t adding up at all for the young

man. He was sitting out on the beach with a perfect stranger sharing his deepest thoughts and feelings. Is he a

mirage? Am I imagining this whole conversation?

“What did you say your name is?” The young man closed one eye hoping to get his boozed head in

focus. He noticed the guy was not sweating and was quite overdressed to be sitting on a beach. This guy was

odd, but something was very compelling about him.

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“It sounds like your hometown is important to you. A good and sweet land has a way of calling you

back. I’d like to visit there one day, if the Lord wills.” The tall man smiled while still looking forward.

“More like bittersweet…” The young man said this more to himself than to his companion. He lowered

his head and studied his bare feet covered with sugary-white sand. He buried his toes and looked back up

slowly.

Two kids were playing about twenty feet down by the shore. They took turns carrying buckets of ocean

water to the sandy bank. A couple of bathing suit clad adults were sitting in bright beach chairs facing the

children. Other than the family and the two men under the umbrella, everyone else had abandoned the beach

area earlier that day.

“It seems the sun is setting and night is coming. Do you know what you’re going to do tonight?” The

man in white cocked his head to one side. His face was shining and reflecting the setting sun, as he looked

onward.

“You know… I think I’ll go to Bayport, and maybe visit my Gran’s grave. I don’t even know why I

started talking about this, but I think I should go there.” The young man shook his head, willing his thoughts to

clear. “I guess it’s time to go. It’s getting late… See you around?” The two men rose and shook hands.

“It is time to go home. Sounds like a good plan to return. Enjoy your journey, Heartline.” The tall man

turned and faced the younger man as he replaced his intense expression with a wide smile.

I’m not just imagining this guy. His hand is definitely real. The young man staggered back from the

man and bobbed his head up and down in a final gesture. He then turned and walked toward a parking lot

behind the beach houses and boardwalks. He paused before ascending the wooden stairs and retrieved his

shoes.

As he turned and looked back, he expected to see the guy still seated at the umbrella, but to his surprise

he had vanished. He strained to look both ways down the beach, and to several wooden stairs leading into the

parking area, but there was still no sign of him or the footprints he would have left behind. He shuddered a little

and wondered about the man. His thinking was so garbled from the alcohol that he couldn’t recall when the

man had showed up beside him under the umbrella. What did he say his name was? He shook his head again 3

while pushing the thought aside. In less than a minute, he made his way back across the street to his friend’s

house where he had been spending the last few nights.

It was time to leave. Heartline had used this place to crash just like the other ones. His friend was ready

to resume his life and didn’t need the constant party atmosphere now that summer was ending. Heartline would

hitch a ride to his hometown of Bayport and try his luck there for a while. He sobered slightly and felt the

familiar weight of loneliness before opening the sliding-glass door. He packed light and remembered his booze

and a change of clothes. His whole life was now fitting in his worn leather backpack. It was comforting

somehow to live so simply. It made him feel free. But now, since the beach conversation with the strange man,

there was a stirring. The unsettled rumbling was making its way from his stomach to his head. He felt

compelled to go home for the first time in years. I’m going back. It’s time to return.

In the town of Bayport, a bright heart cried out in a stately church by the bay. A mid-week prayer

meeting was underway and a deep voice reverberated throughout beautifully paneled walls and floors. The old

and thoroughly prayer-soaked church had been home to several congregations over the last hundred years. Bill

Glen knelt, as was his custom. He asked God for an awakening of hearts and for grace to be poured out on his

community. A special prayer rose to the rafters. There was a confident release from the tall-steepled church

that rivaled the stateliest prayers. Bill stood slowly and remembered a phrase from the deep recesses of his

mind. It was a phrase he had read about years ago from the Moravian Christian missionaries of Germany. May

the Lamb that was slain receive the reward of His sufferings. He remembered a story of two young men in the

eighteenth century. They agreed to sell themselves into slavery. They did this incredible deed to reach the

African slaves on the Caribbean islands. They were stirred by the needs of these slaves, and in much the same

way a stirring for souls was also happening for Bill. This Wednesday night ritual was to have eternal

implications for many souls in the bay community of South Alabama. An awakening was not just hoped for by

the aging congregation; it had become absolutely necessary. The crumbling of morals and the lost condition of

a generation of people was rising steadily in the Bible belt.

Bill could not truly understand the impact his prayers would have on his community. He meditated on

the scripture: God’s ways are higher than man’s ways, and God’s thoughts are higher than man’s thoughts. As 4

was his habit after prayer, Bill began to thank God. He raised his hands as tears streamed. They were tears of

joy mixed with tears of relief.

I’ve touched God’s heart and I know He has plans for this community. Bill smiled and reached for the

tissue box standing like a soldier on the altar steps. Realizing how much he was crying, he figured he would

take the whole box just in case.

As he walked down the long middle aisle, his attention went to the small group letting out into the foyer.

Fresh faces with the light of God emerged, laughing and talking about the Lord as they exited. We are about to

experience something new. Bill became keenly aware of the church people at that moment and imagined how

God might use them in the community. Now, they were about to help many people. Bill’s young pastor peeked

in from a side door and saw him.

“Who is still here?” Reverend Cameron Shivers questioned. He was the new pastor from a sister church

who had moved up the ranks to senior pastor.

He ambled around a little overwhelmed and seemed to show his youthfulness at every turn. Known as

Pastor Cam, he kept an informal tone with his congregation. Within a week of turning twenty-seven he had

committed to Bayport Community Church and suffered the break-up of a long engagement with his previous

pastor’s daughter.

The beautiful Cierra Caldwell deserted him and stopped all wedding preparations. He realized the

church expected he was going to be married soon, but for a myriad of reasons, mostly involving the meager

lifestyle pastoring provided, he was still a bachelor. His charming way and good looks attracted the ladies,

however, his lack of income didn’t seem keep them.

“I’m just leaving and I believe that the others are gone.” Bill informed the young man. He smiled and

blew his nose in a couple of tissues before tossing the tissue box Cam’s way. He dutifully took the box and

turned toward the altar. As he stacked the box on the last step he turned quickly to ask Bill a question that had

been lingering for the past month. Where were all the youth? It was too late. Bill had exited and the only sound

Cam heard was the whistling of an air vent above his head.

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The young pastor was feeling low and vulnerable. He fidgeted with his cell phone realizing that Cierra

was only one text or phone call away. It was tempting to reconcile, although it would only prolong the

inevitable—they were not meant for each other. He could probably rekindle the spark and have a few more

good times, since she was constantly on the move and finding exciting things to do and see. This had been

enough to keep them steadily dating for years. But they did not value the same things, and he supposed she

would never be happy with him. Cam missed the fun times as well as the companionship they had when he was

younger and not responsible for much. It was not unusual for her to just leave for a week to go snow skiing or

fly to New York to check out a Broadway show. She could travel on a moment’s notice because she had money,

plenty of it. Not only was her father a pastor, but he also had a sizeable income from beachfront rental property

left to him by his family. As if on cue, Cam’s phone vibrated with a text from Cierra. It was short and sweet, but

had plenty of meaning. I miss you. Let’s get together and talk.

Cam’s heart skipped a beat. A flood of desire hit hard and was threatening to overtake him. He knew he

had already chosen his path, and Cierra would never fit on his journey. He kidded himself for so long that she

would change and adjust to life as a pastor’s wife, but in his heart of hearts, he knew the truth. Cam turned his

phone off and struggled to ignore the text. It was a fight he had to win. The future was ahead, not behind.

Bill made his way out to the palm trees clustered at the edge of the parking lot. His white Ford truck sat

surrounded by various SUVs and sedans. The truck, by far, was the most used and dented. Laughter came at this

point when he thought about what had been accomplished with this truck. The antique vehicle reminded him of

his own life. He had built a business, raised a son, was raising a grandson, prayed for revival for over twenty

years and now…he knew God had heard and was answering the prayer soon. I probably have about as many

dents as my old truck, he thought. Just then Bill turned back to the church and began praying for Cam Shivers.

He felt a heavy burden for the young man. At that moment, Cam exited with his shoulders slumped. Lord, I

really need to check up on him more often.

Up from the bay another prayer warrior was on her knees crying out to the Lord. As her heart cried out,

prayers were being answered. The theme this very night was for one thing, awakening. The prayers rose up

heavenward as a fragrance to the Lord.6

“Oh, Lord Jesus, I humbly ask for you to change the atmosphere here. We need breakthrough.” Mary

Jolly lifted her eyes as tears streaked her cheeks. Her time with the Lord had been especially sweet this night.

The beautiful full moon shone through the storefront theater building where the brethren met each week for

service. She felt an unprecedented newness of spirit as her singsong prayers rose to a crescendo. Something

happened in the heavens that left her mind at ease and heart overflowing. This was a breakthrough.

Mary lifted up from her tired knees and walked out the double glass doors into the chilly night air. Her

beautiful ebony face didn’t show the years she had lived. And now a glow adorned that same face and

illuminated her with even more vibrancy. She pulled her coat a little tighter over her full figure and turned the

corner leading downhill toward the city. She felt such confidence tonight that her prayers were accompanied

with a bright, big smile. She knew that things were changing. The atmosphere around her was electrified by a

Presence she knew well.

“Thank you, Jesus!” she shouted to the night air. Mary turned uphill and walked back to her parked car.

It glistened under the bright streetlight acting as a beacon of warmth awaiting its passenger. She slipped in and

cranked the heater high on her aching feet. The contented smile remained as she nestled into the large leather

seats. She turned left heading away from the bay and drove the thirty-minute route from work to home.

Mary pulled into the double car driveway and clicked the button for the huge white garage door. The

house alarm welcomed her as she crossed beautiful cherry wood floors leading into a great room. She passed

pictures of her mom and dad who had died five years ago. First her dad passed away and then her sweet mother

three months later. It had been hard and the family business had fallen to her. Mary was fifty at the time and

already knew everything necessary to grow the business into a million dollar enterprise.

The Jolly family had gotten great at selling ocean front real estate and was known far and wide for their

knack to put their prestigious clients into the perfect property. Mary was a single mother since her divorce ten

years earlier. Her husband left and gave full custody of their son to her. He was ready to move on with his new

girlfriend and crushed Mary in so many ways. She threw herself into her work and didn’t look back until both

of her parents passed away. At this point she had to face the feelings she had been avoiding for years.

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Mary now smiled for another reason. Her parents could not have imagined what their only child was

going to do when they were gone. In fact, she had no idea the journey she would embark on only five months

after her parents were gone. The real estate company had been a family venture, and all she knew growing up.

She was great at the business and taking the CEO role was second nature to her.

The stately portraits hung over the massive fireplace. The house and the beauty of a car in the garage

were the only residue leftover from those days. Well almost all…there was also the rehabilitation center she

bought one year after her mother’s passing. The company was left to her only child, Bernard. He graduated that

same year with his business degree from Georgia Southern and was itching to get started. Mary was itching to

make sense of her life and continuing the business didn’t hold the same charm as before. She opted out and

went into depression until hearing from the Lord one night. The company had sold an old theatre to a local

congregation and she thought about visiting. She felt like shaking it up a bit and getting out of her pajamas.

Mary went to a lively Sunday night service and every service since then. It was her church now, and it

changed so many things for her. That’s where she decided to use the rest of her money and buy some pricey

property to open a rehabilitation clinic. Her heart went out to the addicted souls from the shelter where she

volunteered. So she decided to do something about it; she never looked back and began serving. Depression

could not find a way back to her since that day. A lightness and joy propelled her into the future.

Mary made her nightly phone call to Bernard. He was recently married to a nice young woman, Tia,

who was finishing her teaching degree. Many prayerful days and nights brought Tia to Bernard and Mary was

overjoyed that he was not alone. There were a couple close calls when he dated a string of socialites in the

Atlanta scene. None of them seemed to care much for Mary or her morals.

“Hey, baby are you making it a late night tonight?”

“Hi Mama, I’m putting in some extra hours since Tia has a night class. I’ve almost completed the

Singleton sale. We’ll be set with this one…” Bernard could hardly contain his excitement.

“I’m so proud of you…it took me a whole lot longer than that to land anything close to that deal. You’re

a natural.” Mary smiled as she held the phone to her shoulder and rubbed her tired feet.

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Bernard laughed at the remark and said a quick goodbye. Mary looked out of her large bay windows at

the full moon. Her muscles were getting stiff as she sat there, but the mesmerizing night view was worth the

sacrifice. The moon was shining brightly and only a desk lamp was needed to help illuminate the room. The

Tiffany lamp revealed a smattering of papers strewn about the mahogany desk. Mary had been avoiding them

for some time now. One in particular kept getting buried under the others; however, she knew it was there. The

orange and green glass created a soft glow over the desktop.

There at the bottom of the pile was a neatly addressed envelope from a commercial real estate agency

with the deal of a lifetime. It was just sitting there on her desk and had been there for the last six months. The

agency was offering a sizeable amount for the clinic property she had purchased. The old Mary would find this

deal irresistible. No one except for Bernard was even aware of the offer, and he left it entirely in his mother’s

hands. But he did have an opinion and it was not reflective of his mother’s.

Mary’s eyes darted to the desk as she walked by to her bedroom. God, You make a way of escape with

every temptation. As the scripture came to her mind, she saw several faces from the clinic and smiled to

herself. A peace settled into her mind, and her heart felt the calm as she read her devotional before bed.

That same peace was desperately needed for another soul in the Bayport community. A week later to the

day, on a typical Wednesday afternoon, Cam Shivers locked the double wooden doors painted deep red. He was

proud of himself for making it through the day without being tempted to text Cierra, and he had navigated

another day as senior pastor of Bayport Community Church. The exhaustion he felt from the various mind-

numbing tasks left him defeated in so many ways. He had come to the conclusion that he was completely and

utterly lonely. He pulled his jacket a little closer trying to shut out the chilly night air. He was not used to the

weather, since he had spent the last five years living in Vero Beach, Florida. It was almost comical that he was

asked to pastor a church close to the ocean. He felt like the beach bum pastor from the tropics. However,

Bayport was a little farther north and had some chilly nights in the autumn and winter months.

He graduated with honors in a North Carolina high school and his parents still lived in the same

community. Except for the occasional visit home, Cam stayed south. In fact, his parents preferred to visit him in

the milder climate for the holidays. He was an only child of older parents and he grew up under their watchful 9

eyes. It was close to a miracle when they decided to let him go to Clearwater Christian College in Florida. It

was difficult for them to let him go so far away, but in the end the calling of the Lord prevailed.

Cam made good time walking the four blocks to his tiny loft apartment above the consignment shop

with the pink and green ornamental sign. Twice Blessed was the inscription prominently displayed and hanging

street-side. He absently tagged it with his left hand as he walked below. The sign creaked back and forth as he

ascended the stairs, unlocked his door, and pulled the hanging cord in the middle of the quaint room. His cell

phone rang as he shed his jacket and tossed it on the tattered brown loveseat he brought from his last apartment.

It was such a reminder of his current single state. Cierra had dragged him all over Vero Beach looking for the

boutique furniture they would share together once they were married. He was slightly amused at the whole

prospect of setting up house with someone. It had ended in annoyance when she settled on an over-priced, floral

patterned, small couch and chairs. He tried to dissuade her, but to no avail. He made payments for six months

before the break up. I think I’d die in that small town. Our lives are here at Daddy’s church. The words from

Cierra kept rolling over in Cam’s mind.

The betraying young woman had the furniture delivered to her address in Vero Beach. It was a stinging

blow to Cam, but he quelled his temper enough to let it go. He decided to let her have the impractical furniture

and was thankful later that he had not insisted on keeping it. It would not have fit in the cramped two-room loft

apartment and would have only reminded him of the ridiculous relationship he had endured for far too long. He

had given up the parsonage because his fiancé had insisted that they should get their own place together. With

both of their incomes it would have worked, but now…he was stuck at this place.

The apartment was found hastily by the church, and had not even been occupied by anyone but its

owner’s mother-in-law for the last three years. She moved in with her children and left the vacancy. Cam was

the second occupant and realized that the owner was probably just doing the church a favor by letting him stay

there. He never met the owner, and gave a meager amount for rent to the sweet manager downstairs. The rent

was half of the going rate in Bayport, and he was lucky to even have a place.

“Hi, Pops,” Cam mustered as much bravado as possible.

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“Hey, how’re the palm trees swaying?” Sam Shivers was a true optimist from the word go. His light

tone and easy manner were contagious. Cam’s mood lightened a bit and he felt a smile forming in the corners of

his mouth.

“Well, I haven’t noticed any palms lately since the only ones I ever see are straight bars planted at the

edge of the parking lot of Community Church.” They are like prison guards standing over me. He thought.

“I’ve been praying for you. I hope you’re getting more adjusted since we last talked. Made any friends?

Met anyone special?” The last statement was filled with hope and desire. Sam worried about his son since the

nasty break-up and thwarted future. He was somewhat relieved that the last relationship didn’t progress, but he

knew that Cam was alone in a strange place. It didn’t help that he was finally fulfilling his dream, but had the

heavy cloud of loneliness chasing away the chance for joy.

“Well, I’m dotting all the I’s and crossing all the T’s. That’s about all I’ve accomplished since we talked

last week.” Cam allowed the annoyance to show. It was just too painful to hold up a tough front any longer. The

last few weeks were finally settling on his shoulders as he slumped into the loveseat. He massaged his temples

and felt a few tears of exasperation collecting in the lower lid of each eye. He pressed his thumbs into the corner

of his eyes and released the salty tears collected there.

“While I was praying I felt for the first time that all of the terrible things you’ve endured have a reason. I

know it sounds cliché, Cam, but I really think God was talking. He’s got this.” Sam withdrew a long breath and

waited for Cam. There was a long silence and then he heard Cam clear his throat and sigh.

“There is this one guy, he’s kind of old and doesn’t say much. He’s always around helping me. It’s like

he has some kind of radar that alerts him every time I’m in a bind. I thought for a few days that he was an angel,

until he brought his family the first Sunday I was to preach. Don’t get me wrong; this isn’t the kind of angel that

you’d imagine. He’s old and drives a truck older than me.” Cam looked out the blinds just as the sun set behind

the storefronts. A pretty glow lit the streets as soft lights came on in succession. His mood took an upswing, and

for the first time in several weeks, he decided to go out to eat. He heard his dad talking and tried to recall what

he just heard.

“That’s great, Son. Folks like him make things bearable when we’re overwhelmed. Stay close to him.”11

“Thanks, Dad. I think I may go grab a bite to eat, so I’ll call you later this week.” Cam reached for his

heavier jacket hanging from a peg on the adjacent wall. He could literally reach from the loveseat and touch the

sleeve of the jacket in the small room. A kitchenette was on other wall across from the front door. The rectangle

opened to the bedroom that could hold a full size bed and one four-drawer dresser. Ironically, Cam’s bachelor

furniture he brought from his last apartment fit perfectly in the tiny living quarters.

“That’s the ticket. Get out of that cramped room of yours and go live a little. I’ve heard Bayport is really

beautiful this time of year. Enjoy that mild weather. It’s been close to freezing all day today here.”

“Bye, Dad.”

“Talk to you soon.”

Cam walked a half-mile west from his loft apartment looking for a restaurant that didn’t close with the

sunset. He almost gave up his search, until he came upon a large building with a faux wood front. Two large

brick columns protruded from the top. The sign at the edge of the parking lot shined with large letters embossed

in a large water drop. The Teardrop. Inside this aging establishment a small town chef was busily readying

southern cuisine and a few other culinary dishes as well.

The chef’s name was Annie Westin. She had given up on the small town years ago, but her sickly

mother had no intention of letting her go anywhere else. Annie dreamed of going to college in Tuscaloosa. The

University of Alabama had been her strongest pick in colleges since she could remember. Now at the ripe old

age of twenty-six she still had not made it out of Bayport. She participated in dual-enrollment from high school

to a local junior college and had two years under her belt for culinary arts. The only problem for her was that

she was allergic to shellfish. All of the fine restaurants within a fifty-mile radius needed a chef that was talented

with seafood. This left her few choices for employment. This fine two-year degree had landed her a job at The

Teardrop.

The irony of her landing into the professional world at a place so named, did not escape Annie. She

joked with her best friend, Ms. Mary Jolly, that she dried her eyes coming and going from each long hour shift.

The restaurant was well known for its southern cuisine; it consisted mostly of heavy, blue-plate specials and old

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recipes handed down from decades past. Annie lowered her fresh cuisine standards, since she lived in a town

where most folks traveled to get a taste of the bay, not to enjoy culinary beauty without seafood.

Mary Jolly was sitting at her usual table waiting to order her favorite. She understood that the restaurant

was not known for its culinary refinement, but instead offered hearty southern food. That did not deter her from

weekly visits. Mary was drawn each week by one exception that sneaked its way onto the menu after Annie was

hired two summers ago. The menu item was exquisite and not ordered much, since it was at the very bottom

right above the children’s menu section. Mary knew it by number, name, and could describe it in great detail to

any patron who asked. Her steady diet of exotic salads on Mondays and the exceptional menu item on

Wednesdays kept both on the menu for almost a year.

“I need number 27 and a tall glass of spiced tea.” Mary spoke to the shy server, Trina, without even

looking up from her tablet. She was combing through resumes of several local certified counselors. They were

impressive, but she was not interested in being impressed. One of the most important things her former knack

for business had offered the clinic was a keen sense of people. She knew the ones who were sincere and more

importantly she really knew the ones who were lying. She stopped on one in particular close to the end of the

page. Jeremy Clay. Something about his smiling face and glowing references caught her attention. The

references said more about his “steady compassionate” listening than any of the many accomplishments

bulleted above.

“That’s the one!” Mary yelled a little louder than she intended. A young man sitting alone at a table

beside her jumped and looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Sorry, I got a little excited. I’ve been looking for

two weeks and finally God’s given me the go ahead.” She said the last part like everyone knows what it’s like to

wait a long time on God’s reply. So matter of fact and with so much confidence it was contagious.

“It’s always nice when you finally get His answer,” Cam Shivers said with a tinge of longing that did

not escape Mary’s attentive scrutiny of him.

“What’s a handsome young man like you eating alone on a beaut of a night like this one?” Mary

motioned him over to her corner table, and he found himself moving at her command without even thinking. He

extended his hand and exchanged names with her. 13

“Cam Shivers. I just started pastoring Bayport Community Church two months ago.”

“Mary Jolly. Glad to meet you, Pastor Cam Shivers. Now sit down and get ready for some great food

and company.” She pointed at the chair opposite her own. Cam sat down as the young waitress appeared.

“What’re you having?” Trina asked Cam. Cam wrinkled his forehead and pointed to a greasy plate of

wings and fries.

“Oh no!” Mary said a little too loudly. Trina startled and looked at Mary to give Cam’s order for him.

“He’ll have number 27 and whatever he wants to drink,” Mary said decidedly and handed the menus to

Trina.

“You’ll thank me later,” she turned to Cam and gave a big confident smile that showed most of her

startling white teeth. The bright shimmering lipstick and glittering jeweled fingers were lively and mesmerizing.

Cam did not know why he felt compelled to obey this loud woman, but he figured most people did. He was

really relieved to have someone to talk to who was not wondering what his next move was going to be at the

church. Most looked at him skeptically and even some with disdain. He reminded them of changing times and

the inevitable differences that were to come with a young pastor. He found himself pouring out his heart to the

woman and he could not imagine why he felt so comfortable to do this with a complete stranger. She just kept

listening and nodding. She would add in a few, “The Lord only knows,” here and there as he explained his

circumstances with her.

When the entrée arrived Cam understood the wait-time. There before him was a meat pie steaming and

aromatic. It was made with fresh homemade Phyllo dough so flaky that he thought about just pinching some off

and popping it in his mouth. On the side was roasted broccoli with Parmesan sprinkles. He bit into the pie

before even blessing his food and exhaled while chewing the meaty, flaky morsels.

“I think I’m in love,” he mouthed with a full forkful poised and ready for his next bite.

“The quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” Mary said softly and knowingly.

“Huh,” said Cam between bites.

“Nothing, son, just enjoy your food,” Mary’s heart was filling and she knew that God was at work here

too. This young man was sent to their small town for more reasons than one. Then she thought of her sad little 14

friend who had just baked a masterpiece being consumed by another new friend she had just met. The Lord

works in mysterious ways. While she ate she thought of inviting Cam back next week. He needed some

companionship and she liked his appetite for Annie’s beautiful food. Annie needed more people to enjoy what

she created. Mary would build her a fine fan club and possibly something even more. She looked over at Cam

and thought of Annie too. Well, well, Lord. Looks like You got something up your sleeve. I pray I don’t mess it

up. Keep me in line and don’t let me start something You don’t intend.

“Same time, same place, next week?” Mary said this while she rose and put on her coat. Cam looked up

curiously and down at his empty plate a little sad to see it’s contents gone so soon.

“It’s a date,” he said decidedly. He needed the meat pie and this crazy lady to break up his week. He felt

like he had made a trip home to see his family. He was warm inside and almost wished he could stay at the

corner table all night.

“See you then,” Mary smiled a giant of a smile and walked away from the table. Cam looked on after

her for a while and followed her path to the register to pay and out the door. The brisk night reminded him of

why he brought his heavy jacket. He pulled it tight, but still felt warmer inside from the hearty food and

companionship than from the polar fleece jacket. He smiled for the first time in weeks and looked up to God. I

see You’re still there. His thoughts were more settled for the walk back to his loft.

Two nights later after a Friday night high school game, two people were destined to meet and things

were beginning to come together. Many people waiting for God to move would expect to see grand displays of

thunder and lightning both literally and metaphorically. Bill Glenn was very practical, though. He was the kind

of guy who knew the Lord worked things together, and helping souls in need could be the start to a great

revival. He thought of his young pastor and chuckled. He doesn’t even know what he’s in for. Bill smiled from

ear to ear as he watched the football game below. His smile did not reflect the scoreboard at all. The hometown

boys were down by three scores, and there was less than five minutes left.

Casey Glenn looked over at his grandfather and did a double take. I’ll never figure out how he stays so

happy, even when we’re losing miserably. He walked down to the bleachers and waited out the remaining time

of the game in the cold. He wanted to rally for the team, but he couldn’t find the smile when play after play 15

ended with no first downs and little hope to even kick a field goal. The night air was dropping and so were the

fans. By the time the game ended, only the faithful family and a few die-hard fans waited for the players to

emerge from the locker room. Casey walked to a friend’s waiting car and waved good-bye to his grandfather.

Bill was glad to see Casey got a ride back with a neighbor family and didn’t have to wait on him to close

everything down. The weather sneaked up on everyone, and neither of them had brought a jacket.

The team and coach left to grab a bite to eat and lick their wounds from the game. Everyone else cut out

early since the mild day turned into a much colder night. He went through the routine of shutting off the lights,

taking out the over-flowing trash, and making sure each door and gate was locked securely. He had volunteered

to close things up and do the final counts of the money collected.

Thirty minutes later that same night the smell of freshly mowed grass filled a young man’s nostrils at the

same time his face met the ground. The bottle in his right hand fell with a thud as he went down. Where is it?

With one eye open, he tried to take in his surroundings. He landed midfield and the thought hardly had time to

register before large rectangular lights glared down on him.

“What are you doing?” a strong male voice asked.

He snapped his head sharply to the left, and then realized that the voice was all around him. It echoed

across the stadium seating.

“I… I can show you better than I can tell you,” He mustered the words as a figure stepped between him

and the blinding light. He attempted to get into his offensive line position. He had been a receiver ten years

earlier. His jumbled thoughts and swaying head were not cooperating. Bill watched as the very inebriated young

man repeatedly attempted to steady his legs. He lunged with his right foot forward and put his left foot

awkwardly behind. He must be trying to get into some sort of football position.

“Heartline? Harold Heartline? Is that you?”

“Yesirrr... Just Heartline…not Harrrrrold,” He said this while attempting to stand and shake hands with

Bill.

16

You’re drunk and you need a bath.” Bill could smell a mix of strong alcohol and body odor. The

pungent odor made him back up at first. Then he moved toward Heartline. Come on son.” Heartline felt the

strong hands and then nothing else.

Bill Glen did not expect to find Heartline on the football field. He hadn’t seen him in many years and

was perplexed to find him here well after the game was over. What could have possessed him to show up here

sloppy drunk?

Now Bill’s routine had turned into a lot more than he had expected. He shivered and felt a chill. The

temperature was dropping quickly, which was making him worried about leaving Heartline passed out on the

forty-yard line. The forty-yard line, that’s just about right—that’s the same place Heartline was the last time Bill

remembered seeing him. He looked rough though, like whatever force took him away ten years ago had

dropped him off twenty years older.

“Come on, you’re going to have to help me get you to the truck.” Bill pulled on Heartline’s shirt until he

got a response. Heartline rose, and stumbled forward enough for Bill to put an arm around him. I guess he’ll

need a place to sleep it off. I can’t just leave him here.

“You’re Bill Glenn? I remember you…you’re such a nice guy. Or are you an angel? I’ve been seeing a

lot of them lately,” Heartline slurred a few incoherent sentences before Bill shook his head and tightened his

grip on the young man.

“I bet you’ve been seeing more than angels in the state you’re in tonight.”

He half dragged, half carried him to the paved parking behind the press box. Once seated, the two men

rode the few miles to Bill’s house. Heartline would be warm tonight.

Sitting in a driveway across town was a young woman in a dilemma of her own. “I’ve had it with him,

Jill. It’s been a long week and all he’s done is dangle carrots in front of my face. He’s got me covering the new

construction’s choice of sea green instead of blue coral.” Caroline Clay chewed on her lip and shifted her cell

phone. She barely listened to Jill’s reply. This conversation had occurred so many times in the last year that she

could almost quote it verbatim. Both sides of the conversation, in fact, were quite familiar. Jill was Caroline’s

17

best friend, confidant, and the only babysitter that Caroline trusted. It was amazing to have all three in one great

person.

The money she paid Jill was good and helped her make ends meet since Jill came home to be a full-time

homemaker. She left the professional world and relished her time at home. Her husband appreciated her choice,

and it had been nice for her to have a little extra spending money from babysitting her favorite baby in the

world. She would have kept Madeline for free if Caroline hadn’t insisted on paying her. In the end it worked

beautifully for both of them.

“You’ve tried…” The rest of Jill’s sentence and the following ones fell on deaf ears as Caroline pulled

into her tiny garage and shut off the engine. Disappointed, she looked at the door, realizing that she and

Madeline were home alone again.

“I’ll let you go… We’re home now… Call me later if you need anything.” Jill was a good friend and

understood Caroline’s dilemma. Caroline was so pulled between work and home.

Caroline dropped her phone in her purse and turned to the backseat.

“Maddy, it’s just you and me kid.” Caroline unlatched the child seat and balanced her laptop bag on her

back. She lifted her little daughter with her free arm and held her house key out in front of them. The weight of

the toddler felt like dead weight as she slept against her shoulder.

“Dangit! I can’t carry everything at once,” Caroline snapped. She opened the door, dropped the bags,

and keys on the counter. Cake, cake...think about cake. Caroline’s eyes went to the sad creation she had

finished. It sat leaning to the left on the glass pedestal. Well number thirteen… you failed me. You were going

to be my claim to homemaker fame. You’d think after thirteen tries I’d toss Betty Crocker and run down to the

bakery. God, why’d you make me so talentless?

After shedding her work attire, she pulled on her sweat pants and old college t-shirt, she started

unwinding for the first time all day. She placed Madeline on the couch with extra cushions on the floor in case

she rolled while she slept. After laying the little bundle down, Caroline’s hand went straight for her shoulders

and she worked on the knot that had formed around midday. She spent over three hours just trying to find a way

to twist her latest story into a newsworthy piece. It was hopeless. There’s just so much juice to squeeze from 18

color choices for the newest condominiums. Caroline wilted into the plush living room carpet and stared at her

sleeping child. Madeline’s eyes fluttered and opened a fraction.

“Mom-maa?” Her dreamy eyes and sweet voice grabbed Caroline’s heart every time.

“Hey, little Maddy bug. You hungry?” Caroline helped Madeline sit up and pulled her the rest of the

way to her tiny feet. Madeline followed closely into the kitchen and watched as Caroline dropped angel hair

pasta into the waiting water. She dropped bell peppers, carrots, and broccoli into the steamer with fresh basil,

salt and pepper. The kitchen started smelling earthy and rich. The light olive oil and grated Parmesan cheese

was the finishing touch.

It was almost eight-thirty and Jill had already fed Madeline her dinner, but there was always room for

this Friday night ritual. As they sat in the kitchenette slurping noodles and watching toddler T.V., a peace came

over Caroline. This made up for all the drama and frustration of the day. After the late night second dinner,

Caroline got Madeline ready for bed. It was great to know that tomorrow was Saturday and that they could all

sleep in.

Caroline ran a hot bath and sat in the small tub listening to the drip-drip of the faucet when she heard the

garage door open. The footsteps lingered slightly in the kitchen before clicking down the hallway. Jeremy Clay

had been married to Caroline for five years and knew the two most likely places to find his wife…the kitchen or

bath. He felt a little guilty about his twelve-hour shifts. Maddy was already asleep in her bed and he could tell

from the running dishwasher that his family had eaten dinner without him again. He rubbed the back of his neck

and braced to get an ear full. He just didn’t ever get around to asking for a lighter shift at the hospital.

“Hi.” Jeremy said as he poked his head in to the bathroom, “I see cake.”

“Hi, yourself. Number thirteen’s ready for icing.”

“Yeah, I think it’ll need a little extra on the left side.”

She reached for the wet loofa and tossed it at him. He smiled and dodged it looking shocked and pleased

she had missed. “You’re getting so aggressive lately.”

“You’re getting so insensitive lately.” He dodged that statement and hoped her frustration would

dissipate while she soaked.19

Later at the table Jeremy scrolled through the text messages on his phone, erasing each old message until

he came upon one particular small phrase. Tomorrow… 7:30.

The next morning dawned bright and cloudless, the promise of new beginnings was appearing for

Jeremy Clay and Heartline for different reasons. A new day full of fresh starts and finding real purpose seemed

to be materializing. Jeremy’s nice, newer model silver car sat in a parking lot. He, though fidgety, was resolved

to go through with a life-changing interview and Heartline was waking to a future he could have never

imagined. This Saturday morning would change him in so many ways.

“Heartline? Your name is Heartline?” Splitting through his foggy senses and the will to sleep, he heard

the chirpy voice.

“Yeah, Yeah…Yes…Who’s banging in my head?”

“That’d be our drummer extraordinaire. We’re so proud of our little prodigy.” Heartline realized Bill

Glenn had brought him to his home and must have dropped him smack in the middle of a family room of sorts.

The very same Bill Glenn whose son had cost him the game…back when he had had a reason for living. Every

surface was covered with books, papers, and a very odd assortment of household items. Red nail polish, a

screwdriver, and several sacks filled with old magazines were scattered about the room.

“You’re the stinkiest critter Billy’s ever brought home. Do you have a first name?” Bill’s housecoat clad

wife stood over Heartline with a quirky half-smile.

“Uh… sorry ma’am…I’ve been out and about for a while and everyone’s called me by my last name as

long as I can remember. The only person who called me anything different is dead and gone. I dropped the

name, Harold, for several reasons.”

“I’d say you’ve been out for weeks. Peel those clothes off in the bathroom and run some water and soap

through that head of yours… and don’t stop there neither.” Mrs. Glenn didn’t probe any further. She wasn’t

known as a nosy person and liked to leave people to their own pasts. She figured everyone had a past and the

right to share it in their own time.

20

Heartline wished desperately that the little prodigy extraordinaire would stop his incessant beat. It only

caused the pounding in his head to keep time. He rubbed at the mirror with the rose pink towel and saw for the

first time in weeks how badly he needed a haircut and shave.

A light rap, rap sounded at the door and he heard Bill say, “Razor and some clothes hanging on the door.

The clothes will be a little big on your skinny behind, but its clothes.”

“Yes sir th-thanks.” Heartline opened the door and retrieved the plastic grocery bag. He carefully

extracted its contents. After his shave and tucking his hair behind his ears, he felt semi-human again. Cinching

the belt and making a new hole helped to keep the size 38’s from dropping to his knees. On a good day ten

years ago Heartline had worn a 34 waist. Now he only guessed at how much smaller he was now.

Re-entering the disheveled room gave him a little more perspective about his surroundings. Off to the

right was a door that he assumed led to the garage and on the far wall was a doorway that led to the percussion

torturing his full-blown headache. Finally, he heard silence and a young boy around twelve or thirteen emerged.

“Hey stinky man. It’s about time for breakfast. Follow me; I’m Casey.”

Heartline let the stinky man comment go and followed the boy. Maybe this meal would help calm some

of the pounding in his head and the shaking of his hands. He knew the best cure would be liquids—lots of

liquids, and maybe a couple aspirin. He never believed that stuff about “a little hair of the dog that bit you.” At

least that had never worked for him.

In a parking lot across town, that very same morning, Jeremy checked his phone six or seven times

before finally putting it in his pocket. I can’t call her, he reasoned. The clock on the dash blinked 7:20. Here

goes. He crossed the pot-holed parking lot and opened the door to the Bayport Rehabilitation Clinic. He felt

God leading him about the same moment his eyes caught the tortured guy in the overstuffed brown chair. The

haunted look pulled at his heart and he felt compelled to try to help. Jeremy had never gone through drug

addiction or any addiction for that matter. After watching his older brother suffer, he had vowed to never touch

anything addictive.

He walked to the desk announcing his arrival to the receptionist. He prayed that God would lead him to

the right choice about the job. It was a considerable cut in pay, and he was up for a promotion at the hospital. 21

But, how could he walk away from his calling? His father’s disapproving face flashed before him, and he could

almost hear the words, “I didn’t pay for your counseling degree for you to squander it like this.” Then he

thought of Caroline.

Caroline looked out the picture window as beautiful warming light poured in from the morning sun. She

felt conflicted about something. She was familiar with the constant barrage of thoughts that plagued her,

however, something else was creeping into her mind. Her mind was definitely overactive most of the time.

Caroline knew Jeremy would be home late tonight and that bothered her more than usual. He said something

about a meeting at a clinic somewhere.

She guessed he was doing some pro-bono work there. He was really great as a counselor and did well at

the hospital. As she thought of Jeremy’s caring ways a smile crossed her lips. She twisted her wedding ring and

hummed a sweet tune. His supervisor called him promising and dedicated. Her Jeremy was so patient and kind.

How did he end up with someone as impatient and flawed as her?

Caroline looked over at Madeline. She was a conglomeration of the two, a mix of both her father and

mother. Some days Caroline would think that she saw her twin in the bright green eyes and then at other times

she would catch a glimpse of Jeremy in her facial expressions; especially when she was quiet and reflective.

She played contentedly in the corner with her little kitchen set, while her wispy dark blond hair was forever

falling in her lively emerald eyes.

There was so much life about her. She was brave and reflective at the same time. She would fearlessly

climb the tall ladder leading to the neighborhood slide and then sit and contemplate before she decided to take

the plunge down the slippery surface. She would laugh all the way down and then decide to join a quiet friend

in the sandbox. All the while using a steady level tone to interact with the peaceful child she had just engaged.

Madeline successfully packed and unpacked the little drawer with plastic fruit four or five times. The

only problem for her was that the little drawer couldn’t hold all the toys. Finally, when her patience was

exhausted she bellowed out, “Dangit!”

“Where’d you hear that word?” Caroline demanded. Then remembered her frustrating moment at the

kitchen door.22

“Oh honey, we don’t say that. Don’t let Daddy hear that, Maddy.” Caroline picked up Madeline and the

toddler shook her head, no. Madeline squeezed Caroline’s cheeks and said, “Down, Mommy.”

“Yes ma’am,” laughed Caroline.

Providence was leading her and her small family to places she could never even imagine. As she sipped

the last of her coffee, Caroline felt restless and unanchored. Something was brewing, unbeknownst to her,

which would have very lasting implications.

23