'My soul clings to you, your right hand upholds me.'
~Psalm 63:8~
Being a
bachelor went one of two ways; having take-out on speed dial or learning a
recipe harder then cereal. Donna’s cookbooks had become a nice filler for Bran on
the lonely nights after her and Zach’s funerals. Now, his mom often hounded him
to audition for the Food Network.
Bran, feeling a bit lighter compared
to last night, carried the skillet to Paula’s bedroom. He let the cinnamon
scent of pancake waft through her cracked door. “Who wants to flip the first
dollar?”
He backed up as feet pattered and
Paula swung her door open and followed him to the kitchen. Bran helped her
balance the skillet, applying the wrist motion he had taught her. Soon they had
a golden stack on each of their plates, a cup of amber maple syrup in the
center of the table.
“Uhuh,” Bran stopped Paula from
slicing her fluffy layers. “Prayers first, you know that.”
Her face got uncomfortable. “Do we
have to?”
“You want this food to start an
unholy infection in your stomach?”
Paula shook her head. “I don’t want
to, Uncle Bran.”
Bran considered her for a minute.
“Alright… I’m going to pray, and then ask why.”
She shrugged and went back to
cutting. Bran cleared his throat and bowed his head. After his ‘amen’, he
started cutting his own pancakes. Not missing Paula’s low brow and jerky
motions as she ate. She was mad.
“Why didn’t you feel like praying?”
Bran asked after they had each taken a bite.
Paula licked syrup up with a finger.
“Mad, I guess.”
“Why?”
Paula picked up her fork and
continued to mess with the syrup. “Because you’re being so thankful… and you
shouldn’t be.”
He saw where she was going with
this. Bran took another bite to get his thoughts grounded. “We’ve had a lot of
crap dumped on us, haven’t we.”
Seriously!?
Paula’s look told him.
“I know this is cliché, but that’s
kind of life.” Bran said. “But you know what our devotions and Sunday school
say-“
“About trusting God.” Paula put in
and he could taste her bitterness. “I know, I’ve heard you pray about it. You
also pray for God to make it stop. But this ‘crap’ just keeps coming.”
She shoveled an angry bite into her
mouth. “I’m not going to ask Him for stuff if He won’t give me anything back.”
Bran thought about what she’d said
last night. “You never prayed to live with me instead of your dad?”
Paula’s chewing slowed, her wary
eyes showing the apprehensiveness she’d had since first going to church. With
Kate, Paula had seemed a bit more receptive. Now… Bran didn’t know what was
going to become of her, anymore then what would become of himself. Was that why
his answers felt so vital?
“You remember Shadrach, Meshach, and
Abednego?” Bran crossed his arms, hoping this came out right. Paula nodded.
“Yes. They were arrested for…”
“Not bowing to the king’s statue.”
Bran recapped for her. “It went against God’s command of no idols. Now, they
were following God’s commands, loving Him with all their hearts…” he shrugged.
“And they were still arrested. They were going to be burned to death, if they
didn’t bow to this statue. They were trusting God in spite of a burning death.”
“But God saved them.” Paula pointed
out.
“They didn’t know that. They just
knew God loved them and had their backs.”
“And was going to let them burn to
death.” Paula raised her brows.
Ok, maybe that backfired. Bran
racked his brain for another way to put it. “What if… what if someone asks you
to jump off a cliff. Do you do it?”
Paula rolled her eyes. “Duh, no.”
“What if I ask you to jump off of a cliff?” Bran rephrased, watching Paula’s
eyes widen in shock. “You- you wouldn’t.”
“If I did,” Bran leaned in. “Would
you?”
Paula looked down at her plate,
catching some of her hair from sticking in the syrup. “I guess I would.”
Bran nodded her on. “Why?”
“I…” Paula fidgeted. “I trust you.
You know what’s good for me- even when it’s lame.”
Bran let out a low chuckle. “I’m
hoping you can see God that way, Paula. That you can see He loves you even more
then I do.”
Paula shook her head. “Even-“
“Even in the midst
of all this crap.” Bran told her firmly. “Because God- the one who loves us so
much- is also the one in control of everything. Even Magnus and his goons.”
Paula’s shoulders pulled in at that. “You don’t know what
they’re capable of, Uncle Bran.”
“They’re not capable of being stronger then God.” Bran took
another bite of pancake, disheartened. He let Paula finish her pancakes,
knowing that they couldn’t end the conversation that way and ruin the rest of a
perfectly good Saturday. Then it came to him as he was putting the plates in
the dishwasher. He looked up as Paula gave him another plate. “I’m going to
give you a verse. Something I want you to remember when you’re thinking you can’t
trust God.”
Paula stared at him suspiciously. “What’s the verse?”
≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈
Be
strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the
Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Paula’s brain mumbled, side stepping the
mass of her classmates. The name of the book was lost to her and she felt bad;
sort of.
Uncle Bran had written the verse on
an index card and made it her personal homework. How did he remember where all
these sentences were? Paula had held a Bible and it wasn’t a slim volume. He
said he’d been reading it since he was a kid… she wondered if he had the whole
thing memorized.
He
sure cares a lot about You, God. Paula’s eyes drifted upward, nearing the
stairwell for the third floor of her school. Can’t You care about him back?
She wasn’t dumb. She saw how sad
Uncle Bran’s eyes had been since Kate had given him the ring back. It was the
ring that Aunt Donna had worn, so why wouldn’t it make him sad. Paula knew he
was focusing all of his energy on her in an effort not to be sad. He was
failing; but Paula wouldn’t tell him that. She’d just… have to keep praying.
Not for herself, but for Uncle Bran. He’ll
like that.
Paula started up the steps, but was
jerked to the left, hitting the radiator with her ribs. She looked down at the
hand on her, attached to the arm of a teacher. At least, she was wearing a
school staff badge-
“Paula, how are you?” the woman
leaned down, brown and gray curls falling across her face. “I hear you and your
family have been stressed lately.”
Oh man, was this a guidance
counselor?
“We’re fine.” Paula tried to wriggle
her arm free. But the woman’s grip was solid-tight. “You need to calm down,
young lady.”
Paula looked the woman in the face,
growing uneasy. “What’s your problem?”
“You don’t want to do anything
foolish.” The woman continued, adjusting thick glasses. Green eyes glared
through the lens, like an alley cat. “You don’t want your uncle to be buried
next to your father, do you?”
At that, Paula screamed.
~To Be Continued~
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