The Door's Open ~ Part IV

            It was a hospital. Mason recognized every sensation even before his eyes opened to the monotone gray ceiling. His vision started out the size of a pinhead and slowly grew bigger. The faint light on his right shined from a window, the annoying beat of a heart monitor occupied his left. But there was a hand holding his- that was new. Mason drew it back as he turned his head on the pillow. Pam.

            Her glasses gone, there was no hiding her tired eyes. Even as they brightened on his face. “Mason. Oh, sweetie…”

            He had to blink a few times to bring her into better focus. “I… out…”

            His throat felt like sandpaper. Pam noticed this and hopped out of her chair. Mason heard water run, then she came back with a paper cup. Her hand was under Mason’s neck before he could protest, tilting him up to take the water. The liquid rushed to refresh him and Mason didn’t fight it. It took two more cups before he indicated he was done. He looked up at Pam to say ‘thanks’. Her mess of sandy curls were tangled back in a bun. Because of this, Mason spotted the bruise on her cheek, traveling back toward her ear. Who did that?

            Louis Oscar!

            “Shelby?” Mason lifted himself, only to seeth back into the bed. “George?”

            “They’re fine.” Pam’s hand moved to his shoulder. “Shelby and the others were in yesterday-"

“How long?” Mason stopped her.

“Two days.” Pam said. “You’d think it’d been a month. Brittany and Claire have been-“

Mason became aware that his right arm was slung up, holding the limb to his chest. It was stiff, a little numb. He must’ve dislocated a tendon or something. That wasn’t all that hurt though.

            “That… that guy shot me.” Mason fully realized, sensing gauze and surgical tape over his left rib cage. That and the stitches clenching his skin beneath the layers. He put his free hand over it, grunting. Pam nodded at it. “You were in surgery for over nine hours. The bullet hit a bone and broke into two pieces, so they needed to find both.”

            She was saying this so calmly. Could he be sure this was Pamela Rivers, warden of all worrywarts? Mason shook his head, letting his hand drop off his wound. “George… what’d he do to George?”

            Pam hesitated, her jaw hardening. “He shot him in his legs.”

            Mason worked his jaw. “There was… he had a chance of regaining feeling.”

            “A slim chance, Mason,” Pam’s hand was back over his. “I don’t want you to worry about that. Just get better so we can take you home. The doctor’s recommending two months of bed rest. I called your work this morning and explained things.”

            Of course you did. Mason found it impossible to look her in the eye. Brittany had probably stacked any number of books beside his bed and Claire would be out-doing herself in the kitchen, making all his favorites for the time he’d be laid up. They’re going to see me like this. Shelby, Hunter… he’ll be the only one brave enough to tell me I deserve it.

            Mason shook his head. “He wouldn’t have found Shelby. Oscar wouldn’t-“

            “Thomas Embers.” Pam spoke with a sour tone. “That’s his real name. He’s on the floor above us, but after that, it’s jail for him.”

            Mason scoffed. “Only until his lawyers come and rescue him.”

            “Not a chance.” Pam’s genteel face steeled. “After a well-versed press release, no one’s going to want his name attached to their resume.”

            A press release? Mason cocked a brow at her. Pam only smiled, her tenderness back. “One of the better speeches George has written.”

            “The department let him make a statement?” Mason thought with disbelief.

“He didn’t give the chief a choice.” Pam smoothed his hand out. “No one messes with our children, Mason.”    

            Mason looked away, toward the window. He wasn’t going to be reduced to this state. Pam persisted. “I’ve said this for years, Mason. You’re our son. George and I, we love you-“

             "Don't." Mason stopped her. “Don't try pulling that crap on me. Not after-"
             "Things are going to happen after this, Mason." Pam stopped him gently. "Things happened before this. And I know... I know it's hard to say that God's at the head of everything and maintain the belief that He is."
              "Oh, you know? You and George are so familiar with getting shuffled from one greedy hand to the next?" Mason heaved his breath through the pain clenching his chest. "You can't even know what God put Shelby through!"
              "And this is only about Shelby?" Pam's eyes narrowed. "This wall that you keep putting up, refusing the help that you know you need?" 
              "What we needed was someone to make it stop!" Mason seethed through the pain that ripped across his torso. He couldn’t finish. It hurt too much, The denial of the first time Mom had hit him. Building hope time again and again for a change in his newest foster family. And finally, the bitter cold that’d set in, when he had no more hope to build.

            “It was going to be different this time.” Mason’s chest heaved as tears were releasing. “My dad was supposed to be different.”

            Pam turned his chin, getting his tears to face her. “You’ve got plenty of problems, Mason. But there’s nothing wrong with you. You keep waiting for some catch to the way George and I work. But honey, it’s never been about us. This has always been about you. About Gideon, Claire, Shelby, every one of your brothers and sisters. George and I want you to recognize- and accept who you are.”

            “T.L.C.” Mason surprised her by remembering. “Treasured, loved, and cherished.”

            Pam nodded. “You have a father who has never given up on you. He knows your purpose, Mason. He knows your worth. He told me all about it the first night you were with us. God just wants you to know how much He loves you.”

            How many times had he heard this? Mason stared at his foster mother, even as he searched for signs of falsity. The way she always spoke about God. It was deep, it was personal. It seemed surreal at times. With George, it was like talking about a poker buddy. Pam, it was an honored grandfather who never overstayed his welcome.

            I’ve never been that personal with anybody. Mason admitted with pride. It’s been safer that way.
            "I'm not okay... with Him ignoring me when He did." Mason turned his eyes back on the ceiling. “Besides, once He takes a good look, He’ll run from me.”

            “Mason," Pam's voice grew heavy. "Have I ever run from you?”

            “No.”

            “That’s right. Because God asked me not to.”            

            Mason said nothing; he had nothing to offer to that. Pam took his silence as the end of their conversation. “Rest, Mason. And think. You’ve always been good at that.”

            She was given a prime time to point out his flaws, yet she only had praise for him. Mason didn't want to think, and he certainly didn't have to... but...

THE END

'The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears them;

    he delivers them from all their troubles.

 

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted

    and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

The righteous person may have many troubles,

    but the Lord delivers him from them all;'

~Psalm 34:17-19~

Often times it is our circumstances or the evil done against others that make us question God's presence. He created the human being as His most valued possession; priceless. In some dark places, people have corrupted this value through human trafficking and other atrocities. 

But this is a human corruption, having everything to do with our fallen world and NOTHING to do with Heaven. God's word and His promises remain iron-clad. It's something about Christianity that can be hard to explain, and yes, at times the arguments can be repetitious.

Still, it could be that extra argument, extra word, extra moment of thought, that God uses to turn another heart toward Him.