Definition

Church - a building for public Christian worship

We hear the word so much, so often in the passing by of conversation, like every other word in the English language. Have we heard it so often that we've forgotten what it means, bouncing off our ears like an empty plastic water bottle?

When we learn to speak, we also learn context (even if we never learn what 'context' actually means). And there's a confidence that comes in saying a word while knowing what it means. Yet, becoming comfortable and confident in the words that we speak, I wonder if we lose some of their essence. The more times we use a word, the broader its definition becomes. Double and triple meanings are true for several words... run, break, bark, nails, etc. But then there are words that carry a singular impact.

Opening a present on Christmas morning, you get that ten-speed bike you've wanted all year. You talk all day about it, brag about it to your friends when you get back to school. Bike, bike, bike, bike... until the word 'bike' goes from something spectacular to just another syllable in your vocabulary. It loses' its special hype.

Doesn't the same happen with love, hope, faith... church?

The Old English definition of church (circa 1100s) is a public place of worship. And since 300, the Greek word that's been used is kȳri(a)kón or 'a place of the Lord'. Nowadays, in the 2010s, the definition most often implied is that 'church' is the biblical word for assembly. Even more so however, what picture does the word church conjure up for some people? A place where love and hope are preached and you're surrounded by godly fellowship? Or something far less then its intended purpose?

Why is this so important to even consider? Because we've taught- religion or not- to think before we speak. I think that applies to the definition of our words as well. Our definition- personal or otherwise- can effect our demeanor and demonstration when we say them. 

Another reason I find myself dwelling on this is because Easter is fast approaching. Easter. You'll walk into a church building on Easter morning... what definition will that hold for you?

Blueberry Afternoon

The sun dodges the fluffy clouds

rising high across the aqua sky

Below rows of bushes behind the barn,

stand sweltered and dry

Their simple length of shade

the only cool place to lay

Thousands of polished berries

the leaves attempt to shield

Ripe and plump they wait, speckled

throughout the farmer’s field

Where greedy little hands are sent

to stealthily pluck and steal away

To brim straw baskets

with their next sweet meal of the day

Only when the fleet of gatherers finally

retreat from the fierce closing heat

All that can be found are frost-blue lips

hiding the juice-stained teeth

Signs that tell Grandpa

there's none for him to eat

Thrill Me

        ‘My Interesting Life’

         Daphne Crier could think of ten better-sounding titles then that for her essay. Maybe fifteen if she felt like giving it that much of her time. But for the life of her, she couldn’t begin to conceive one solid thing to write down. And the paper had to be three pages long!

         No one’s life can possibly be three pages worth of interesting. Daphne huffed. And especially not mine! I’m fourteen; my life hasn’t had time to be interesting.

         Interesting… She was really starting to hate that word. And the paper was due on Friday; typed, double-spaced, and whole freakin’ nine yards…. she needed Pepsi! Scooting back from the dining room table, Daphne bee-lined for the refrigerator. Grinning as she reached for the handle, something long and slinky slivered from underneath the appliance. Daphne leapt back and up onto the counter, watching it dart for cover by the dishwasher. Waldo!

         “Lee!” Daphne shouted from her bird’s eye view. The snake recoiled at her voice, cowering against the wood. Daphne just glared at him. “Lee, get down here!”

         “What?” a voice followed quick footsteps and her 11-year-old brother entered the kitchen. His round brown eyes found her innocently, but Daphne looked past them and pointed furiously. “That’s what! Put Waldo back in his cage!”

         “How does he keep getting out?” Lee pondered, walking over and scooping Waldo up fearlessly. The snake really was harmless. Daphne even held him sometimes. But she had never liked the way the reptile looked at her. She lowered herself off of the countertop. “How’s he get out? Simple, you keep letting him out!”

         “He likes to roam around.” Lee shrugged. “That’s not my fault. His cage is so small…”

         “It’s a cage for a reason!” Daphne shuttered at Waldo. “Keep him in it or I’ll stuff you inside.”

         Lee thought on that for a moment, only to shrug again. “Better then you threatening to stuff Carter in the blender.”

         “That was Noah,” Daphne corrected him, eyes flaring. “Carter’s the one I would stuff in the oven.”

         “You’re a terrible sister.” Lee assessed, leaving the kitchen with Waldo exploring his shoulder.

         “It’s the only defense I have against three rotten brothers.” Daphne called after him. Shuttering one last time, she made for the fridge and her Pepsi. She had the door open and a chilled can in sight when…

         “Dapphhnnee!”

         C’mon! Her fingers were less then an inch from the can!

         “Daphie!” Noah, the Blender Boy himself, tore into the kitchen, knocking the fridge door closed. “Why’d you have the fridge open? It’ll make the house cold. I saw Lee walk by with Waldo…”

         “This had better be good.” Daphne stared down at Noah as he stood between her and the fridge. “I’ve got a paper to finish and I need pop to do it.”

         “Did you ask Dad?” Noah checked. “He’s been wanting us to eat healthier…”

         “Noah,” Daphne held up a hand to block the rambling. “Is there some reason you needed to see me?”

         “Oh!” Noah’s eyes went wide. “Carter needs your make-up. He came home with a black eye.”

         The paper joyfully forgotten, Daphne let Noah lead her up into the upstairs bathroom. It was the bathroom that she and her siblings were forced to share and Carter was rummaging through her blush and eyeliner as they walked in. Daphne shot forward, slapping his hand away. “Do you mind? I’ve got these things color-coded, Carter.”

         “Well I don’t have time to abide by your perfect princess system, Daph.” Carter picked up a pink blush cluelessly. “I need to cover this up before Dad gets home.”

         Daphne spied his left eye. The skin around it was going blue and green. She sighed heavily and began shuffling through her drawer. “Noah, go watch TV.”

         “No!” Noah crowded in between them. “I wanna hear this. Is it the same one you’ve fought before?”

         “Go be a lookout, Squirt.” Carter suggested. “Yell, ‘Hey Dad’ when you see Dad getting in the driveway.”

         Noah’s eyes lit up at the prospect of helping his eldest brother. He hurried out and back down the stairs as Daphne finally found her container of foundation.  She could spread some of the cream and follow up with the powder. Good thing she and Carter had the same skin tone. They both had dark roots, but his hair was more blond and more freckles tended to show on his nose. Also, he was taller then her by four inches… the kind of height that had him on the basketball team at the high school. Which was probably the reason behind the shiner and Carter’s cracked lip last month.

         “At least this will be easier then covering up the lip.” Daphne muttered, letting him know that she had made the connection. She unscrewed the foundation. “What happened?”

         “Don’t start.” Carter growled, posing his face for her.

         “Apparently that’s your job.” Daphne tilted his chin. “C’mon Carter. Is it the same guy that gave you the lip? Or someone new decided to pick your brain?”

         “Yeah, sure.”

         “Thanks for clearing that up.”

         “Look, will you just butt out and help me?” Carter watched her work in the mirror.

         There’s the oxymoron of my life. Daphne sulked, dabbing foundation under her brother’s eye. She was the only girl in the house and all of the men - even Dad- often pushed her out of their problems. Yet, if something was getting out of hand, who did they come running to? Her.

         Lucky me. Daphne picked up the powder brush. Doing all the saving and receiving none of the thanks…

         “Daphne!” Carter grabbed her wrist holding the powder brush. She rolled her eyes at his disgusted face. “It’ll help to cover the foundation and keep it on longer.”

         “It’s got glitter in it!” Carter protested.

         “So only show the right side of the your face at dinner tonight.” Daphne suggested, pouring on the sarcasm. Carter muttered something under his breath and Daphne punched his shoulder. “What you pull at school is your business, but not in the house.”

         Carter rubbed his shoulder, annoyed. “What’s the big deal?”

         “Our bodies being God’s temple for one.” Daphne said. “Would you bring curse words into a temple?”

         “You’re such a church girl.”

         “You’re such a heathen." Daphne pinched his chin between her fingers.

         “What’s that smell?” Carter stopped her and they both sniffed. Daphne smelled the funny-tinted burn of the air and whipped around to beat Carter out of the door. They thundered down the stairs and Daphne's pulse quickened at the smokey haze coming from the kitchen. They found Noah on his tip-toes in front of the microwave, pulling his pizza out of the smoking hole. “Noah, wait…”

         Too late! Like a slow-motion cartoon, the plate toppled and sent the pizza smacking into the floor. Its impact lined up with the fire alarm sounding off above them.

         “Ugh!” Daphne rushed over, taking the plate off, revealing the nuked pizza slice. “What did you do that for?”
         "What happened?!" Lee cried, bumping into them as he elbowed through to catch the show.

         Noah cried, angry at his spoiled pizza. “My pizza…”

         “We know.” Carter grabbed several paper towels from the roll.

         “No!” Noah huffed. “My pizza had my lizard on it.”

         Daphne wrinkled her nose as she spotted the rubber toy that had melted into the cheese and sauce.

         “Get the alarm.” Carter pleaded. Daphne sighed heavily, pushed past him, and grabbed one of the chairs out of the dining room.

         “Let me do it!” Lee said excitedly, grabbing the other side. Daphne pushed him away. “No! Go open the windows and let the smoke out.”

         Lee hurried away, happy to be given any assignment. Daphne placed the chair under the blaring alarm. It was a stretch to turn it off, but she did; only to have it replaced by the ringing of the phone.

         “I got it.” Carter said and Daphne hailed him for a rare moment as she got off the chair.

         “I’ll put that back.” Noah offered innocently. He yanked it back, hitting Daphne in the shin. Daphne bit her lip, holding the words back. My body is a temple, my body is a temple…

         “No, Chief Harmon.” Carter spoke into the phone. “Just some burnt pizza… with a nuked lizard on top. The windows are already open…”

         Lee came back into the kitchen. “Windows are open.”

         Daphne grabbed the paper towels out of Carter's hand and mopped up the gooey pizza. Carter tried to lighten the mood as he hung up the phone. "The chief won't send anybody... if he had, do you think they'd notice my eye?"

         “And you think Dad won’t.” Lee laughed, poking at his brother’s touched up eye. Carter pushed him off, straightening. “Oh man, he’ll be home any minute!” He darted for the stairs. “Quick Daphne! Get this glittery gunk off of me!”

         Daphne only considered dumping the whole container over him. Dad really needed to know about his growing track record of injuries. They obviously happened off of the school grounds, otherwise Dad would’ve received a call from the principal by now. She ordered Noah to finish with the pizza and headed back up to the bathroom. And loudly hummed ‘I Feel Pretty’ as she re-did Carter’s eye.

         “You’re such a jerk.” Carter snapped at her. Daphne smiled at him in the mirror. “And at no extra charge. You’re welcome, by the way.”

         Carter looked back at her, not fully meeting her gaze. “Don’t dwell on it, Daph.”

         “Me?” Daphne put the cream down. “Dwell?”

         “Yes, you!” Carter pointed emphatically. “Dad's... Dad's got enough to think about."

         “Mom stopped paying child support.”

         “What?” Carter looked at her, his eye forgotten. “How…”

         “Maybe I eavesdrop.” Daphne admitted with a shrug. “It’s the only way I learn anything around here."

         Carter forced her hand down. “Whatever. He only mentioned it to me because I'm the oldest. But, what's he expect me to do? I’ve got my own problems.”

         And like that, the magic spell was broken. Daphne left Carter to put the make-up away himself, stomping down the stairs. She heard the TV as she came down and felt the cold breeze drafting in from the living room. There was still the smell of smoke, but she couldn’t let her younger brothers catch a cold or worse. Slamming the sills down turned out to be therapeutic and the frosty air sweeping over her when she opened the fridge afterwards, was even more so.

         In triumph, Daphne finally reached for her Pepsi. She clenched the can tightly, popping the metal mouth open. The hiss and fizzle was music to her ears! She moved back to her homework, working on her second gulp, when she was hit from behind. Daphne was lurched against the table, the can spilling over her shirt and notebook. Her mouth fell open in horror. Then her face flamed and she whipped around to face the culprit. “Noah!!!”

         He peeked around her at the soda dripping over the table’s edge and onto the floor. “Sorry, like reallyreally sorry! I’m hungry, Daphne. That was the last slice of pizza."

         “Make a peanut butter and banana sandwich.” Daphne highlighted his favorite food, reaching for the napkin holder.

         “I had that for lunch.” Noah said.

         “Not my problem.”

         “You’re the one who made it.” Noah pointed out innocently. “I want something different. Could you make your chocolate and butterscotch cookies?”

         Daphne seethed, blotting her notebook with a fistful of napkins. “No.”

         “Macaroni and cheese?”

         “No!” Daphne grabbed more napkins. “Noah, I’m too busy. Can’t you see I’ve got homework?”

         Noah spied her notebook for the first time, then looked back up at her, puzzled. “But it’s blank.”

         His ignorant remarks couldn’t be wearing her nerves any thinner. But Daphne was only fourteen; too young to have nerves for anything beyond school cliques and zits. So why did God feel the need to dump all this on her?

         “Get some pretzels.” she ordered Noah, mopping the last of the Pepsi off of the floor. “Watch some shows with Lee. Dad’ll be home soon and then we’ll figure it out.”

         She kept her voice low, but when the napkins were thrown away, she only stared angrily at the brown stain covering her clean paper. She wasn’t going to ask Dad to buy her a new one! She’d have to turn her ‘interesting life’ essay in with the stain. Because that was the only thing her life had to offer! She picked up her pencil and found a clear white spot. Furiously, she wrote…

I HAVE THREE BROTHERS!

         And left it at that.

THE END

Good Courage ~ Part V

           “There’re almost two hundred unsolved murders in New York City every year.” Paula mentioned.            

            Bran started with Officer Carver in the front of the squad car. Officer Carver looked at him like oh boy! Bran turned around to look Paula in the eye. “I don’t want you thinking about things like that.”

            “Kinda hard not to.” Paula stared back at him, arms wrapped tight around herself, even with her jean jacket on. Bran had made her bring a book, but it was doubtful she’d start reading it now. Nor was her phone distracting her. He was meeting Magnus in twenty minutes, a listening device pinned in the shoulder seam of his shirt. He’d been given a crash course on sting operation protocol, and a ‘go word’ he was to utter when he was ready for Sam and the others to move in. Was he really doing this? What had been his motivation in doing this again?

            Paula’s hand came up, getting Bran to look at her again. “I… I need you to not become one of those murders, Uncle Bran.”

            Yeah, that was why. For a girl who was shy, but eager to complete her first full year of school and make her first real friendships. Because he wanted to set the right example for this pre-teen who was cynical, yet hopeful. Paula deserved the chance to become the person God meant for her to be. If Bran could help her have that chance, then everything he was about to do would be worth it.

            Bran fully turned in the front seat to get Paula’s full attention. “Who do we trust?”

            Paula’s eyes fought tears, but Bran didn’t waver. “Who, Paula?”

            “God.” She said robotically. Bran nodded. “Why?”

            “You’re going to need to get going.” Officer Carver said.

            Paula wiped her tears away and forced a steady breath. “We trust Him because He never leaves and always loves.”

            Bran pulled her in and kissed her forehead. “I know you don’t believe it yet. Still, I don’t want you to forget it. Okay?”

            Paula wrapped her arms around his neck. “Okay.”

            Bran breathed deep, taking in the young scent of her. “I’ll be back soon.”

            He got out of the car and closed the door swiftly, walking up the avenue before he could change his mind. He had three blocks to clear before he reached the edge of Times Square. Bran had had to haggle with Magnus, who had wanted the meeting at his apartment. Out of the question. So was any place that was isolated. A more common occurrence then people thought in the city that never sleeps.

            Magnus, however, was too smart to stroll out onto the most recorded block in the New York. But if the device hidden on Bran’s shirt worked, then it wouldn’t matter.

            “I will praise your name Lord, for it is good,” Bran recited the verses that Dad had given him as he closed the gap between him and the square. At some point, he thought about Kate and what she might be doing; how he wanted her to be there with them at the end. A comfort to him, an extra lend of strength… he felt like a failure to Paula, unable to secure a mother figure for her.

That, and he struggled to hold down the fear of what he was walking into tonight. He hadn’t lied to Sam; he was ready to end this. But he wasn’t ready to stop being a father to Paula, or a son to his parents. Bran was running with the strange calm that he wasn’t done living tonight. It didn’t snuff out the fear. But it helped Bran move forward, even as he spotted Magnus and three others waiting for him. They lingered on a sparse spot on the sidewalk near a deli. Between the streetlamps and well in the shadows of the night.

“It’s gotta come from them.” Sam had coached him while they picked a shirt that’d hide the wire. “It’s too easy nowadays for a lawyer to cry ‘leading the witness’ or entrapment’. The less talking you do, the better.”

He worked in insurance; he knew about turning a conversation to his advantage.

“There’s the man of the hour.” Magnus spread his arms as though welcoming a long-lost family member. Bran shoved him back with one hand, bulking himself up another inch. “What’s it gonna take, huh?”

Magnus smoothed out invisible wrinkles on his coat. “For what?”

“I’m not in the mood for dumbs, Magnus.” Bran moved toward him again. Only to have the cronies descend and knock him into the wall. The streetlight kept many things in shadow, but the glow off of Times Square helped Bran to recognize Lance and Shrimpy as the third patted him down for weapons. Magnus watched, cool as a cucumber. He felt in control, safe. That was where people usually started talking too much.

“He’s clean.” The third guy said and they backed off; except for Lance who kept a hand on Bran’s wired shoulder.

“Course he is.” Magnus smiled. “He’s one of the smart ones.”

Oh Lord. Was all Bran could think. Magnus walked up to him, popping a piece of gum in his cheek. “To answer your question Bran, don’t think I’d let a restraining order get in the way of my investments.”

Bran knocked Lance’s hand off. “You call stalking an investment? Or just another hobby; among your many others.”

“Boy, you’re brazen tonight.” Shrimp whistled.

“I’m tired.” Bran spat at him, making him flinch. “Sue me.”

“Moving on,” Magnus sighed, a hand in his pocket. “You call it stalking Bran, we call it protection.” He shared a smirk with Lance. “Something Simon was good at. You knew that, right? He knew what kind of people he was dealing with, and didn’t operate on your normal level of stupid.”

“Cept for when he needed a fix.” Lance snorted. Bran just prayed his mother would never have to hear this.

“He was flawed.” Magnus agreed, tsking. “He got greedy. Took me eleven months to figure out he was skimming.”

Aw, Simon. Bran closed his eyes, the dark being an ironic steadying point. What retreated to the darkness will be brought to the light, Lord. Let it be.

“We settled this in court.” Bran steered himself back into the conversation. “So why are you still bothering us?”

“Notice how he won’t say his niece’s name.” Magnus ribbed Shrimpy. “Like she’s not a part of this. That’s how you find their weaknesses, in what they don’t say.”

Bran clenched his fist. Paula was in a squad car, three blocks away, with a police officer. With God. She was safe.

“What do you have to gain?” Bran pushed Magnus’ attention back on him. “Wasting men and gang money to follow us around?”

Magnus grinned. “You never asked how much was in the duffel.”

Again with the duffel!

“My parents took your settlement.” Bran stressed at Magnus. “And I’m not interested in anymore of your blood money.”

“Now there’s an ironic statement,” Magnus laughed, getting chuckles out of Lance and the others. “When your little girl’s sitting on a mountain of it.”

“What?”

More chuckles. Bran moved off the wall, only to be pushed back by Lance.

“I’m talking about every last dollar that your brother cheated me out of.” Magnus’ face showed the first lines of agitation. “See, real crimes- for those who wish to commit them- are the ones the cops don’t know a thing about.”

He got up close to Bran’s face, gum popping again. “Detective Lument and all those boys in blue think this is about keeping you and Paula quiet. If that were the case, you’d already be buried.”

His throat was so close… Bran thought of the little effort needed to squeeze it.

“I thought maybe Paula might know about it, but she hasn’t given any signs.” Magnus shrugged. “Either way, I’m gonna need my money back.”

Simon’s bootlegged drug money? Bran’s brain was racing to transmit the thoughts that he wasn’t comprehending. Did Paula know? Would any of this be useful to a judge? Bran swallowed. “And if I don’t know where it is?”

Magnus’ sucker punch to his gut answered him. Bran doubled over, seething. Magnus bent down close to his ear. “Think really hard about who you’re talking to, Bran. You called me so we could fix this little problem. Killing your brother was effortless- you won’t be much harder.”

There is was!

Bran knocked his head into Magnus’ chin, giving him enough room to throw Lance back into the pole. Shrimpy shrank back as Bran then grabbed Magnus by the collar. “Darkest before dawn, Magnus. Remember that.”

Magnus looked at him like he was crazy, throwing him back into the wall. Bran stopped the mobster’s fist, gutting him with his knee as sirens scared off the shadows and brought their figures to light. Bran sidestepped as Sam and several others ordered Magnus and his company against the brick.

“What is this?” Magnus chuckled. “It against the law to talk now?”

“Magnus Healy.” Sam ignored him, snapping Magnus’ wrists into cuffs. “You’re under arrest for violating your restraining order-“

“He invited me here.” Magnus looked back at Bran, eyes uncertain.

“And the murder of Simon Robins-“

“That again?”

Sam jerked him off the wall and started toward one of the flashing squad cars. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say-“

Bran stepped off the sidewalk, holding his stomach, watching his brother’s killer finally in handcuffs. His chest heaved, catching tears on his breath. Is it ending? God, please tell me it’s ending.

Would he start sleeping through the night now? Would he be able to go an hour without praying for Paula’s safety? Paula!

“Mr. Robins.” An officer laid a hand on his shoulder, but Bran waved it off. “I need to see my niece.”

He started walking back the way he’d come, the drone of Times Square behind him. He’d forgotten it existed.

“I can call the car to bring her over.” The officer was saying.

No need. The car was already parking at the corner across the street. Bran darted over as Paula flew out of the back seat. He caught her and held her tight, relief and thanksgiving shaking him- physically and emotionally. It took a minute before he could form words, speaking into Paula’s hair. “Who do we trust?”

Paula looked up to show they were both crying. “God.”

‘Though you have made me see troubles, many and bitter,

you will restore my life again; from the depths of the earth you will bring me up.

You will increase my honor and comfort me once again.’

~Psalm 71:20-21~

THE END