Ch. 5 What’s in a Name

“I am glad you are home. I missed you Connie,” Scott supported his wife’s arm as she stepped out of his truck

“I’m glad to be home,” Constance responded with a slight cringe. She forced her body to relax, but in her mind she silently told her husband to “Stop calling me Connie! I hate that nickname!”

“I will get you a drink. Lay down and rest while I make Lily something to eat,” Scott stated as he kissed her on the head. Then patted Lily on her head as he walked toward the kitchen, then turned to give them one more smile.

“Why can’t it be like this?” Constance asked faintly as she helped Lily set up her tv tray. If Scott could be that caring man all the time then life would be simple. She could feel loved and safe. But she knew that it was only a matter of time. Scott’s gentleman act would disappear with the next sip of whiskey. If he was not a drunk then maybe they could live happily ever after, but as she listened to Scott pour himself a drink she knew her living nightmare had to end.

Scott had talked her into moving to the small town he grew up in so she and Lily would be surrounded by family and friends, but turned out to be an isolated prison. That is when she learned that he had not told her the truth about his life or family. He was very well known in the small town. To them he was a perfect family man who gave his wife everything she wanted. They lived a little outside of town, so when he did have fits of rage then he would not be heard by neighbors. He had total control over her. She was not on the back account so she couldn’t just go into town and get money and escape. She tried once with some very scary consequences.

“Do you think you can just take my money and leave?” Scott spit out with venom as he yanked Constance out of the car but then pinned her body between the frame and the car door. As he pressed , Constance could not move as the edge of the door felt like it would slice her in half. She could feel her cheekbone being crushed as she tried to fight with one arm to get Scott to release the pressure, but her strength was no match to his. When he finally released the door, Constance fell to the ground. The earth seemed to spin, as she tried to stand; dizziness overtook and she reached her hands out just trying to gain her balance. She could hear Lily crying in the background as Scott yelled “Shut Up” then the sound of him smacking her resounded in her ears.

“Look what you made me do,” Scott grabbed Constance’s hair and dragged her toward the house, “You won’t need to drive anymore either,” he seethed as he grabbed a pipe and proceeded to break every window of her car. All she could do was hold Lilywho was sobbing and watch her only sense of freedom be torn apart. It was later in the week when the pain would not go away that Scott took her to the hospital to fix her fractured cheekbone. She didn’t open her mouth when asked about her face, but allowed Scott to talk for her. Her spirit seemed to die that day.

“What are we going to name the baby,” Scott’s whiskey breath took her off guard.

“I was thinking of another type of flower,”

“I am tired of you always talking about flowers,” Scott stood and began to pace. This was a pivotal moment. What she said next would either allow him to calm down or get intensely angry. She sat quiet for a moment because she had no idea what would set him off anymore. At one time, she could tell, but with each day it was harder to read him.

“Dumb flowers,” Scott suddenly started to laugh, “remember the time I pulled up your flower garden and you thought you were going to win that rose contest,” he laughed harder as if he enjoyed destroying anything she loved. His seething anger burned at its highest when she did not seek his permission. So as her punishment, she came home to Scott pulling up her prized rose bush. She tearfully begged him to leave at least one flower in her garden, but he shoved her to the ground. “Shut Up! or you may find yourself under this cement,” Scott shouted as he pointed toward the bag of cement, turned, leaving Constance sobbing on the ground.

“Whatever you want is fine with me,” Constance almost whispered as she placed her hand onto Lily”s hand. The touch of her daughter’s hand helped her to stay calm and relieve that feeling of totally breaking down.

Scott stopped his laughing fit and for some reason he just stood there looking at the wall as if in a trance. He then turned toward his family and stated, “Aster is a good name That is what I want. You chose last time and it is my turn.”

“Yes, that is a great name Scott. Thank you,” Constance answered bewildered because Aster is a type of flower. It is a bright flower with a lot of petals which turn into itself which makes it look circular in shape. Aster means patience, so how did he just come up with that name? She gazed out the window where her garden once was, “I may not have my garden, but my Lily makes up for the loss,” Constance thought to herself. She had chosen the name Lily because it means majesty, which fit her first daughter perfectly. From the moment Constance looked at Lily she knew she was special with her delicate hands and already apparent beauty. Now both girls were part of her living flower garden.

Cn. 6 Not Just Another Sunday

“Good morning,” Helen greeted a new member of the church and pinned a carnation on her sweater.

“Good morning, thanks,” the shy woman responded as Helen led her to an empty seat and then sat next to her.

“I have not been to church in years,” she admitted and then fidgeted in her seat.

“Don’t worry about it. When I invited you I told you that God knows your heart and he is a forgiving God. Cast all your cares on him and just take in the beauty of the music and sermon.”

No sooner did she say “sermon,” when the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. An uneasy feeling came over her as she watched Pastor Marc take the podium. “Where was the music?” She thought to herself.

“This is a new day and as I know change makes people uneasy, I have to address you on what God has to say about change!” Pastor Mark slapped his hand down on the podium which made several people jump.

Helen felt her body stiffen as she tried to push her anger aside and listen to the rest of the sermon. Pastor Marc continued with how tithings, volunteering, building use, and philosophy of the church needed changing. His sermons would only reflectthe literal interpretation of the bible instead of figuratively.

“We need to stay grounded. Imaginative thoughts are good, but can cloud what the word says,” Pastor Marc stated as he held up his bible.

“Next service we will begin with music, so hope to see you for our study nights. Grab a brochure as you leave to read the programs being offered. May God Bless you this week.” Pastor Marc said before he bowed his head to pray with the congregation.

As he walked off the stage, the silence seemed to hang in the air.

“Well, I wonder if he expected a standing ovation,” Helen snapped as she stood to face the poor young woman still seated staring forward.

“That was different. I am not sure if I am coming back. He seemed like he was very angry with the congregation. Was is just me?”

“No I felt that too Please don’t let one sermon change your mind about God. He is adjusting to us as we are adjusting to him. He is feeling a lot of pressure, so that sermon was his way to express his frustration. Next time I am sure he will be more himself. Why don’t you come over Tuesday and we will have some tea and talk,” Helen coaxed.

“I will think about it, but I will take you up on that tea,” she smiled and turned to get into her car.

Helen thanked God and then with determination turned on her heels and headed to the pastor’s office.

Helen walked into Pastor Marc’s office without knocking.

“Of course, just walk right in. I actually thought you would get here  sooner,” he smirked.

“I was trying to explain to my guest why you came off so angry. Do you think lecturing everyone will get people’s respect? Changing what has been routine will drive members away. No music and let’s all be logical and literal.What kind of sermon was that?”

“It was a necessary sermon. This congregation needs leadership. I have been trying to make changes without any support, especially  from you. I had to assert the changes or they never would have and I am the pastor of this church. What we used to do is no more.” Pastor Marc’s voice almost screeched.

Helen stood soaking up his words trying to think of a response as he paced in front of her, then suddenly he stood in front of her. “By the way, this is not the church of Helen,” he stated defensively.

“Oh, I see this is not a church of God either as long as you are here,” Helen snapped, but as soon as the words came out; regret filled her heart.

Pastor Marc dropped into his chair behind his desk leaving Helen standing there with nothing else to say, so she turned, opened the door, almost turned to apologize, but instead closed the door behind her in silence.

As she stepped into the hallway, Pastor Marc’s wife Tracey was turning the corner and they almost ran into each other

“Oh, hi Helen so how are you today?” Tracey’s hazel eyes lit up at the sight of the old woman she had come to admire.

“Good morning,” Helen almost grumbled.

“Are you okay? Would like to get a cup of tea?” Tracey’s soft-spoken questions pulled Helen out of her bad mood and a smile came over her face as she watched Tracey rub her bulging belly. Nothing more beautiful than the glow of a pregnant woman and Tracy was no exception. She was a petite woman with a gift of designing and making clothes. Her maternity dress showed off her roundness, but the pattern was so flattering.

“You look very stylish,” Helen complimented.

“You think so, I just finished this dress yesterday. I was so excited to wear it today,” Tracey squealed.

“I would love some tea with such a beautiful soon to be mommy. May I?” Helen asked before putting her hand on Tracey’s belly.

“Of course,” as Helen’s hand touched Tracey’s belly she jumped.

“Wow, that felt like the baby just did a flip,” Tracey said as she wrapped her arms around her belly.

“So, what has you so upset? Was it the sermon?” Tracey asked as she set a cup of tea in front of Helen.

“Oh, I don’t want to stress you out over my own issues,” Helen tried to change the subject.

“Please tell me, I tried to talk to Marc, but he just doesn’t want to listen to me. I told him not to be so rough because he was the new guy on the block. Everyone needs to adjust to his style. I heard you tell him a couple of things. I was wondering about the gift you have. Do you think I have a gift?” Tracey seemed to ramble out a lot of questions and then smiled as she realized she had not given Helen time to answer just one of her questions.

“Well, yes I don’t care for Pastor Marc’s messages at times, but he seems like a good guy. We will all have to adjust to each other. We are family and I consider you both  part of our family.” Helen responded first and laid her hand on Tracey’s hand.

“As for gifts, yes, I do believe we all have a special gift given by God and mine is prayer. When I pray I can see many things. Your husband is practical man and we disagree on how God uses people. He is a concrete type of person, but someday I am sure that God will reveal to him a deeper sense of the spiritual realm. I know he believes in prayer, but not in the same way I do. When he experiences my type of prayer then he will become a  great pastor. I believe it will happen.” Helen’s smile seemed to soften just thinking about God.

“I hope to have that kind of faith that you have. I tried to talk to Marc about your gift, but so far no luck,” Tracey shrugged her shoulders and gave a little laugh, “he can be very stubborn.”

“Aren’t most men? And women for that matter?” Helen joked and they both laughed.

That one cup of tea lead to a very strong relationship between Helen and Tracey. She had lost both her parents and looked at Helen as a mother figure in her life. Tracey being an overly shy person had a hard time being a Pastor’s wife. Every time they moved to a different church usually stressed her out, but from the moment she met Helen she was drawn to her. It started with the spark that ran from her hand and up to her shoulder when she shook Helen’s hand for the first time.

“Well, congratulations,” Helen smiled warmly at Tracey.

“Thank you , we are happy to be here,” Tracey responded.

“Yes, glad to have you, but I mean about the baby,” Helen glanced down at Tracey’s stomach.

“What? No,” Tracey felt faint because the doctors had told them that adoption would be there only option.

“Oh, I am sorry. You look white as a sheet. Do you want to sit down?” Helen asked.

“I don’t know your history, but you may want to see a doctor because there is a baby on the way.” Helen reassured Tracey with a pat on her back.

Now six months later, Tracey couldn’t help but smile as she looked down at her belly and felt her baby move. Even after that little prediction, Tracey didn’t understand why Marc refused to believe that Helen had a gift. Tracey prayed for her husband and for Helen as she drove home. She knew big things were in store for all of them.