Jim Helgessen sat in his executive chair in his study, his feet propped up on his desk and his hands clasped behind his head. He stared at the ceiling, pondering the changes Rita’s illness had precipitated. He sighed. Cancer certainly was a “dis-ease.” Of course, life was never predictable, but for the past few years there had been enough constants to render it very comfortable for the most part. That had all changed now.
The problem wasn’t the monetary debts or all the time consumed by doctor and hospital visits. No, it was the shadow of loss. Jim had had to ignore his own fear to be strong for Rita. That was, up until a few days ago. He crossed his feet. Last Saturday, things had changed when Rita had dropped the bombshell that had pretty much decimated his world. Being a pastor of a mainline denomination with a congregation of predominantly liberal-minded people, how could he allow his wife a platform to announce her conversion from a far-left pro-choice Christian to a far-right pro-life Bible thumper? That’s what she’d become, he was convinced, whether or not she admitted it. And she wanted a platform—needed it, she’d told him—to move through and beyond her cancer.
Jim knew that giving his wife the podium would within just a few moments undoubtedly unravel the comfortable unity of his congregation that had counted on him for the past six years. On the other hand, he also knew he didn’t have it in him to squelch the undeniable energy and zest for life so obvious now in Rita. His heart-felt allegiance was certainly to her, but what about his congregation—his job?
He sighed, sitting up again. What to do? Reaching down into his briefcase on the floor, he pulled out what should have been his own Bible, but it wasn’t. It was a King James Version. He flipped through the pages and saw numerous highlights. He shook his head, wondering again at the change in his wife, who had obviously purposely exchanged the books. He turned to the page with a marker in it. Psalm 107:32 had been highlighted. “Let them exalt Him also in the congregation of the people, and praise Him in the assembly of the elders.”
Jim found himself chuckling, in spite of his irritation. His Rita was a determined one. But his countenance sobered immediately. What to do?
Jim had never given into remorse after the abortion of their first child. Rita certainly had—now, but he didn’t remember her ever giving the slightest clue that she’d been remorseful in the past. Quite the opposite, in fact. Jim opened his drawer to get some aspirin for his headache, swallowing it with a few sips from his water bottle.
He picked up Rita’s Bible and let it drop with a thud on his desk, shaking his head, amazed—for the hundredth time—that Rita seemed to get so much from it. He picked it up again, and this time it fell open to her red underlining, catching his attention. He began reading the highlighted and underlined verses, all in the Old Testament, in succession, beginning in II Kings. There were more than twenty, and it took a while to read them in their contexts. Defensively at first, he began studying them from the viewpoint of their historical chronology, on which he had a pretty good handle from seminary classes years ago. It proved interesting, actually, and Jim ended up spending the rest of the morning studying what Rita had highlighted, as well as the multitude of passages his cross-referencing introduced to him. Were it not for his desire to see Rita get past this cancer, he would have discounted almost every verse that challenged the status-quo of his current beliefs. Under the circumstances, however, he allowed himself to entertain the challenges, temporarily at least.
That evening, when he entered the house, Jim handed Rita’s Bible to her. “I read all the highlighted stuff.”
“And?” Rita looked at him eagerly.
“And I’m not convinced.”
Rita pulled her husband out the back door for privacy from the children. She spoke in a loud whisper. “Nothing will convince you but God Himself, Jim. I’m sure of that. But I know that He entrusted to me five children, not three. I’ve shut my heart on the first two for all these years, and I’ve repented of that, and God has forgiven me. If they’re in heaven, I’ll meet them one day—with a heart of love, because God’s given me His grace to embrace them.” She looked at her husband with gripping sincerity. “You and I are the parents of four children, Jim—not three. Just remember that. You can ignore your oldest child now, but what are you going to do when you get to heaven—if you get to heaven without repenting?”
Jim’s ire was up, and he turned without a word, teeth gritted, and got back into his car, despite feeling guilty about his cold reaction to Rita’s words: he knew stress was his wife’s particular enemy these days.
A few minutes later, he re-entered the house. Rita wasn’t very talkative through dinner, and neither was Jim. Preoccupied with his thoughts, Jim didn’t notice until halfway through the meal that there were six chairs at the table instead of the usual five. He thought it was just incidental, until he saw the noticeable gap between Kara’s place setting and his own. He wanted to call Rita on it then and there, but with the kids it wasn’t feasible.
“Kara, what are you doing way over there? Move closer to your dad,” he said. He stood up to remove the chair.
Rita quickly responded. “Could we maybe just leave the chairs where they are for now, and eat while the food’s hot?”
Jim grabbed the chair, saying as he moved it, “It’ll only take a minute.”
He sat back down. “That’s better.” He stole a glance at Rita who was looking very directly back at him, but nothing more was said.
Jim’s sleep was restless that night, and he awakened in the morning with an uncanny desire to read the first chapters of Luke. It had always been his favorite Gospel, and he determined to start his study today with it.
When he arrived at Waverly, sitting at his desk, Jim reached for his Bible and turned to Luke, but before he began reading, he followed an urge to pray. “God, I’m in a predicament, and I need help. Could You help me, please?” The words were simple, but sincere. Then he began reading. At the end of the first and second chapters, he felt compelled to read them again, seriously studying each verse. He read them a third time, but this time he underlined several verses and parts of verses. God seemed to be speaking to him in a way Jim wasn’t used to. Almost as strangely, he was open to this…this influence, as novel as it was.
The fourth time through, he pondered the several verses he’d underlined. Two verses, Luke 1:17 and 2: 23, kept drawing his attention. Jim read them through several times, and then aloud:
“…and he will go before him in the spirit and power of Elijah, to turn the hearts of the fathers to the children, and the disobedient to the wisdom of the just, to make ready for the Lord a people prepared.”
“…as it is written in the law of the Lord, ‘Every male that opens the womb shall be called holy to the Lord.’”
Jim felt a humbling in his spirit that was very strange—but very real. He read the scriptures aloud again, slowly, concentrating on each word as it burned into his soul. Suddenly, he dropped to his knees, praying more fervently than he ever had in his life. “God, it looks like I’ve missed it. Forgive me. Rita’s right. You gave me four children.” Already kneeling by his chair, he now lay his head on his arms, feeling a love so overwhelming that it was almost crushing. “Thank you for turning my heart to all my children. I’ve just finished reading how you answer prayers—that you are the God of the impossible. Rita and I need your help—for her healing. No, not just for her healing—for our healing. I’m a pastor, God. Help me to lead my wife and our children, and whatever congregation you place before me, in such a way that our hearts are prepared for you.”
……….
Spring was more beautiful than ever for Rita that year, as she and her husband cultivated a rich, bonding love, far beyond the renewed appreciation for each other which the battle against cancer had already given them. Somehow, each new day found them more aware, bit by inexorable bit, of not just their need, but their desire for God’s presence in their decision making. Together they committed to ask very purposely for the guidance of the Holy Spirit in their lives every morning before they got out of bed. And the sincerity of their desire to follow God’s leading had wonderfully resulted in a “perk” they hadn’t counted on: an ardent love for each other that they had never even dreamed of in all their years together.
……….
“Hey! Isn’t our supper club this week?”
Recognizing Rita’s voice, Carla looked up to see both Rita and Nancy in the doorway. Rita had been back to work now for almost two weeks.
“Hey yourselves!” she said, smiling broadly. “It is. At my place, right?”
Rita and Nancy looked at each other and then, like twins, nodded simultaneously. “Mmhmm.”
“What shall we bring?” Nancy asked.
“Hmm. Can you have pizza, Rita?”
“I can have anything!” Rita quipped in exaggerated confidence. “But let me bring a salad to counteract all that delicious cheese and sausage.”
The other two laughed.
“How about if I pick up the pizza on the way over and get some sorbet, and you and I can split the cost?” Nancy addressed Carla.
“Ooh! You’re making an offer I can’t refuse. Are you sure?”
“Good by me, girl.”
“Do you guys want to watch a movie or just chat?”
“How about if we leave it to Patrice this time?” Rita suggested. “If she wants a movie, we’ll let her choose it.”
“Ah. Good idea.” Carla yawned. “I’m going to bed early tonight. I’m exhausted.” She smiled, looking up at Rita. “And you look like you’re feeling great!”
“That’s because I am. If Patrice doesn’t bring a movie, I’ve got lots to tell you!” She beamed as she spoke, so that both Carla and Nancy couldn’t help but smile.
“It’s so good to have you back, Rita!” Nancy said, putting her arm around Rita’s shoulders.
“It sure is!” Carla agreed enthusiastically. Then her face sobered. “How is Patrice, Rita?”
“Ah… She’s coming along. We’ll just keep that gal in our prayers! You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink.” Rita’s voice had lowered to a whisper as Marc walked past them and into his office. “I know she really enjoys this supper club, though.”
Carla sighed, smiling and nodding. “Well, back to my little duties.”
The others left, and Carla went back to work with a thankful heart for what God had done in her life. Her brother was married to such a wonderful girl, her antagonist at work had become a good friend who seemed to be making an amazing comeback from her bout with cancer, and it seemed like Patrice was gradually softening and becoming friendlier with each get-together. She was actually quite a good friend of Rita’s already.
“It’s nice having Rita back, isn’t it?”
Carla looked up to see Marc, leaning on the doorway to his office.
“It is,” Carla said emphatically with a friendly smile on her face.
“You still get together for your supper club?”
Carla nodded. “Mmhmm.” There was openness in her voice as she added, “Patrice comes, too. It’s pizza at my place this time.”
Marc nodded, a half grin of approval on his face, then switched gears. “I’ve got a couple letters for you.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Garman.”
“What?” Marc turned around to face Carla again.
“Oh, I’m just playing with you.” She lowered her head, shaking it as she got up and added, teasingly, “I’m just in too good a mood today.”
“I can tell.”
Carla followed Marc into his office and sat down while Marc shut the door.
“I do have a couple of letters, Carla, but I also have sad news. Brad’s son overdosed last night.” Marc’s face was somber.
Carla’s hand flew to her mouth as she gasped. “Brad Nickson’s?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” She shook her head. “How old was he?”
“I don’t know. He was in college.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Life can be difficult.”
“Yeah.” Carla’s voice was a pensive whisper.
“Would you please order flowers—some really nice ones, and write a note to Brad and his family?”
“Sure. Of course.” Carla’s face was full of compassion as she looked at her boss, and he turned away; but Carla intuitively knew Marc understood that her sympathy was directed to him as well as the Nicksons and that Marc had not rejected it. She sighed as she walked back to her desk. In spite of her wanting to keep it in check, her love for this man was undeniable.
……….
When the supper club met the following evening, Rita and Patrice arrived in time to get Rita’s salad on the table, along with the dressings Patrice had brought, before Nancy arrived with the pizza and sorbet. When they sat down to eat, Rita spoke up. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to pray for the food. I’m into asking God’s blessing on what I eat these days,” she explained.
“Dear God,” she prayed, “I thank You for these dear friends. Please bless this food and cause it to be nourishment for our bodies. Be with Brad and Jean Nickson, too, Lord. Strengthen them and let them feel Your presence and respond to Your love in this sad time. And I ask this in the name of Your son, Jesus Christ.”
It was Patrice who broke the silence after a moment. “Who are Brad and Jean, and what’s wrong?” she asked bluntly.
Carla and Nancy both looked at Rita.
“He’s a man we work with—one of my engineer bosses. He’s brilliant but not very talkative. I’ve gotten to know him a little because we’ve always identified on social issues—that is until a few weeks ago.” She smiled an apologetic smile identifying with Carla and Nancy while maintaining sensitivity to Patrice’s opposing feelings. “I don’t think he’s ever darkened the door of a church. He has four children—had four children.”
“Have you met his wife, Rita?” Carla was curious.
“Once. They both came to the Christmas party about four years ago. She seemed nice. I think they’ve been married a long time.”
“So what happened?” Patrice pressed Rita.
“Well,” Rita said quietly, “one of their sons overdosed last Sunday.”
“Ooh.” Patrice exclaimed quietly.
“You ordered flowers for the family, didn’t you?” Rita asked, looking at Carla.
“Yes. It was a gorgeous bouquet. Marc wanted to send a really nice one.”
“I’m glad.” Rita went on to explain that she didn’t think the Nicksons were very socially oriented and that a beautiful bouquet from work would be highly appreciated by Brad and his family.
“But,” she continued, “On a lighter note and a different subject, I do have some good news. Dr. Benesta says he’s quite certain the cancer—the cancer, Carla—not mine,” Rita smiled as she qualified her words, “…the cancer is in remission—and chances are good it will stay in remission.”
“Yes! Thank You, God!” Nancy exclaimed. Patrice enthusiastically offered her own congratulations, and Carla added, “Amen!”
“And here’s what else. I told you guys that a lot of people left the church when Jim announced that he wanted to put up a Wall of Remembrance for the babies of any parents who have experienced grief and remorse following an abortion.
“We weren’t surprised, because there was audible fallout after I gave a little talk in church with Jim’s permission—actually at Jim’s request—about my own experience with the abortions of two of my children. It was such a freeing revelation that the goodness of God had brought me to repentance, and I just wanted to share it. But a lot of people were offended rather than happy for me.”
Carla carefully stole a glance at Patrice and saw her toying with her food, avoiding eye contact with anyone. Carla wanted to soften the conversation but remained quiet, confidant in Rita’s knowing Patrice better than she, and believing that Rita was well aware of the impact of her words on the young woman she always accompanied to the supper meetings.
“When we brought the idea of the Wall to the congregation, we knew Jim might lose his job—and he still might. The hierarchy will end up making the final call.” She stopped suddenly, as though a light bulb turned on in her head. “Wait a minute,” she smiled, holding up open hands, “what am I saying? They don’t have the final word—God does! He’s the ultimate hierarchy.” She hesitated, as if musing, a satisfied look on her face. “Hmmm. I forgot about that.” Her smile was energizing. “Well, anyway, what’s happened is that the church has actually grown. There seem to be a lot of Christians in our city who are excited about the Wall project, and the word has spread fast.
“But you know what the really beautiful thing is? Twenty-six people—twelve from our own church and fourteen newcomers—have approached us, saying they want to help in tangible ways, because they identify with Jim and me. Most of them are couples, but there are a few single women and even three single men.” She looked exultant. “Isn’t that amazing?”
“Yes,” Carla and Nancy responded, almost simultaneously.
Patrice was still looking down at her food. She reached for her glass of water, still not making eye contact with anyone. “So… the people who left the church—are they going somewhere else?”
Startled by the question, Rita replied, “I don’t know.”
“Maybe you should call them to see what they have to say.”
Rita dropped her hands into her lap and sat looking at Patrice until the latter looked up at her. “You know, you’re right. I should—we should, Jim and I together. Who knows what God will do?”
Carla nodded thoughtfully.
“That’s a great suggestion,” Nancy said.
Rita looked across the table directly at Patrice and said simply, “Thank you.” Patrice smiled, but it was mechanical. She was obviously caught off guard by the positive impact her comment had had, as well as by the heartfelt reception of it by her three companions.