Monday, April 14, 2014

ESCAPE - Chapter 14

   Out in Montana, Dr. Matthew Sterner,M.D. came into the house after dark that Saturday evening. His clothes were caked with snow.
   Molly said, “Hi honey, the children have already eaten and are watching a DVD upstairs. The snow sure has been blowing out there. Come on into the dining room and get some hot coffee and some hot food into you.”
   “It surely will be welcome. I drove out in the country to a cabin to deliver a baby. After I had driven as far as the Jeep would go in four wheel drive, I still had about a half mile more to mush through that snow in order to reach the cabin. The delivery went well. It was a little boy. He was small, but healthy. He came out fighting and complaining.
   (He smiled remembering the baby.)
   “That woman got pregnant in the dead of winter, worked in the garden all summer, did the canning and preserving in the fall, and then delivered her baby in the first big snow storm of the winter.”
   “She is fortunate to have you as her doctor. I don’t think there are many doctors in America who would have walked through snow for a half mile to deliver a baby. I am proud of you.
   “Have you given any thought to where your Dad could rent a room?”
   “Not until now.”
   “The two possibilities I thought of are the Presbyterian Church manse or Mrs. Crenshaw.”
   “Two excellent ideas. I’ll inquire into the possibility of him renting the manse. You talk to Mrs. Crenshaw and see how she reacts. It has been over a year since her husband died. I would guess that she could use the extra money.”
**********
   Sunday morning the crowd was average in size. In Sunday School Jimmy Fox and Nancy Friborg tried to organize a farewell luncheon or reception for Reverend Sterner the following Sunday, his final Sunday. There was no outward objection by anyone. Neither was there any interest in having such an occasion. Nancy had tears in her eyes and Johnny set his jaw when they sat down.
   My sermon “Soli Deo Gloria” (only to God be the glory) was appropriate I thought. J.S. Bach put the initials S.D.G. at the end of each of his musical works. In fact he carved soli Deo Gloria on the side of his organ. I will sign and carve into the last ten years of my life, the time spent in this church “to God alone be glory”.
   I went home, ate a light lunch, and lay down. I was really discouraged. I had given myself wholeheartedly to the work and yet here again, as in previous pastorates, I had to leave because the people no longer wanted me. Like Paul, I am “ambitious to be well-pleasing to God” (2 Corinthians 5:9). Can I even hold on to the belief that at least God was pleased with my work? I had filled out a data form and sent it in, but do I have it in me to start over again in a new place? I’m sixty years old and I have been a minister for twenty-five years. Am I burned out?
   Nathaniel called that evening.
   “Dad, I am at Camp Dawson near Kingwood, West Virginia. I’ll be here several weeks. I am going to give you Joy’s phone number and address. Even if I’m not able to be there, please go by and see her. I really need to sit down and talk with you sometime soon – a good long talk. I’ll have to go. I love you, Dad.”
   That apparently means that I will not get to see Nathaniel when I go to Texas. I wonder what he wants to talk about. He really sounds distressed.
   Wednesday would be the last time Mrs. Hammaker would come to clean. I told her to make a list of any furniture that she could use. She asked for the dining room table and the two chairs that went with it. (It was just a small table.) She also asked for the bed and mattress and the dresser. I told her that she and her boy could come for those things on Tuesday morning, November 30. After I had her list, I went to the used furniture store. Mr. Buford Zwiggert ran the store.
   “I have some items of furniture. I’d like you to take a look at them and tell me what you will pay me for them. You can pick them up on the morning of Tuesday, November 30.”
   “When do you want me to look at them?”
   “The next couple hours.”
   “What if I’m too busy today to come look at them?”   
   “Then we won’t do business with each other.”
   “Where do you live?”
   I gave him the address.
   When Mr. Zwiggert came I showed him the wardrobe and vanity in the bedroom. He asked about the bed, mattress, and dresser.
   “I’m going to take those,” said Mrs. Hammaker.
   I showed him the refrigerator, washer, dryer, sofa, and television set.
   “I’ll give you five hundred dollars for the lot.”
   “All right, but you have to be here first thing in the morning on Tuesday, November 30. If not I’ll sell them to the first person who comes along. Be sure you have five hundred dollars in cash. I won’t accept a check.”
   The rest of the week went by quickly. In the Sunday service Nancy Friborg and Johnny Fox came forward during Announcements. Nancy was carrying a bouquet of flowers like they sometimes give a performer at the end of a concert.
   “I wanted to say a proper goodbye, but I can’t….” She choked back her tears.
   Johnny Friborg stepped forward.
   “Reverend Sterner, we wanted to give you something to remember us by. You have served us faithfully. You have fed us the Bread of Life. You have stood by our side and prayed us through the storms of life.” He then presented me with a gold watch inscribed, “Pastor, First Presbyterian Church, Prattsville, Arkansas 2000-2010”.
   I thanked the congregation for its generosity, but I know in my heart of hearts that it was Nancy Friborg and Johnny Fox who bought the flowers and the watch and that they were the only ones who paid for them.
   My final sermon was on Paul’s farewell to the elders of the Ephesian Church (Acts 20:17-38) “NONE OF YOU WILL EVER SEE ME AGAIN”. Paul couldn’t be absolutely sure of that and neither could I, but that was certainly what I wanted.
   Presbytery had specified in their dissolution of the pastoral relationship that I was to receive the month of December as vacation since I had not taken vacation this year and that I was to have the use of the manse during December. I had asked for the use of the manse when I thought that I was going to have to be here for the trial. Since the trial had been dropped, I was leaving town on November 30. After the service I asked Mr. Bigelow,
   “Mister Bigelow, would you please bring my check for December to the Church office on Monday.”
   “Why should we pay you for December if you are leaving?”
   “Because the Presbytery specified as part of their agreement to dissolve pastoral relations that I should receive December as paid vacation.”
   “Then let them pay you.”
   “If you want to get another minister, it would not be wise to get on the wrong side of Presbytery.”
   He stormed off. I knew that he would bring the check, but he had to blow off steam first.
Next, I looked for Mr. Homer Witte, the Chairman of the Board of Deacons.
   “Mr. Witte, I intend to leave town Tuesday morning as soon as Mrs. Hammaker and her son pick up some furniture they want and when Mr. Buford Zwiggert gets the rest of the furniture and appliances removed. I would like to have a member of the Deacons go through the house after it is empty, inspect it, and if it is all right to give me a receipt of sorts saying that I left the manse in satisfactory condition.”
   “That’s a good idea, Pastor. That way no one can say otherwise sometime in the future. I’ll ask Harriet Stakes. She doesn’t work outside the home. The rest of us have jobs.”
   On Monday I cleared out what remained in my office and either threw it away, gave it to Diane to keep, or took it out to the car. Mr. Bigelow brought my check and tried to make me feel like he was doing me a big favor. I gave Diane the address of Philip in Montana and also his telephone number. I told her to use her judgment about what mail addressed to me should go to the Presbytery, what should be kept for the Session to handle, and what should be forwarded to me at Philip’s home.
   I went to the bank and cashed the December check. Then I went to the trust officer.
   “I didn’t think of this the other day, but my wife’s engagement ring is in the lock box. I guess it is legally part of her estate, but I would like to have it. I will buy it back if I must, but I paid for it once thirty-five years ago.”
   “Reverend Sterner, I haven’t sent the jewelry to be appraised yet. In fact I haven’t even inventoried the lock box yet. Just give me a few minutes.”
   He went back to the vault. When he returned, he was smiling.
   “Here it is. It is rightfully yours. Just don’t ever tell anyone that it was in the lock box.”
   I left the bank feeling happy.
   At home I went through the pantry and took out everything except what I would need for supper or breakfast. I did the same in the refrigerator. The rest of the food I put into bags or else threw into the trash. The food in unopened cans, boxes or bottles I took to the community food pantry.
I went to the post office and gave them Philip’s address as a forwarding address for me. I called the newspaper and told them to stop delivery. Then I went to the Church office and went on MapQuest to get routing directions to Joy’s address. It looked like Tyler, Texas might be a midway point. I looked up motels in Tyler, Texas and made a reservation for the following night. I made a reservation for two nights in Pecos, Texas.
   The next day things went smoothly. Mrs. Hammaker and her son worked quickly and I gave them a helping hand. I stayed out of the way of Mr. Zwiggert and his helper. They were experienced and worked quickly. Mr. Zwiggert gave me $500 in cash as I had requested. Both parties of movers had gone, but Mrs. Stakes had still not come. I grabbed a broom and swept up some dirt and debris uncovered by the moving. I was sweeping it out of the house when Mrs. Stakes walked up the steps. In fact I almost swept the dirt on her. I saw her at the last minute.
   Mrs. Stakes was dressed in a red suit and was wearing shoes and lipstick the exact same shade as her suit. She was wearing a white silky blouse with ruffles. In her hair was a white flower and on top of her hair was a red and white pillbox hat. She looked like she was dressed to run for president of a civic club or some women’s organization instead of coming to inspect the house. When she came into the house I could smell the perfume she had liberally applied.     When her hands fluttered about, I saw that her nails were the same shade of red. She almost looked like a fire engine.
   “Reverend Sterner, I thought that you might have made some coffee for us.”
   “Mrs. Stakes, there are no dishes or pots and pans in the house, no place to sit down, and I am anxious to be in my car and on the road. If you will please inspect the house and then sign this statement that Diane typed up for me, I would certainly appreciate it.”
   “My, my, you aren’t a bit friendly are you?”
   “No, I’m not what you mean by friendly.”
   She was irritated and stomped around the house. I don’t know why they sent her. She probably would not have seen it, if there were something wrong.
   “Give me that certificate.”
   She angrily signed it and gave it back to me. I handed her the house keys.
   “What am I supposed to do with these?”
   “You could give them to the Chairman of the Board of Deacons when you report to him about the condition of the manse.”
   “Oh. Well, you have a good trip. We could have been friends if you know what I mean,”
   “I’m afraid that I do.”


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