Into the Fire

This is from my ebook Destination.

REMEMBERED

He hoped this hadn’t been a bad idea, but even if it was, there weren’t a lot of choices as far as he was concerned. Why not go back to his roots? He just hoped she was still here right where she’d always been. How old must she be by now? At least 80 he figured.  What if she was in some kind of facility? Not her. He couldn’t imagine it.

     He drove his black Bronco II up the long gravel drive to the house, the hot dust spinning around behind him no matter how slow he attempted to go. No rain around here in awhile. Typical hot summer day. He reached the asphalt circular drive, the irrigated summer flowers brightly surrounding it on each side. He admired the sprawling Spanish style ranch house and put the vehicle in park, shutting it off. He stayed inside it for an extra minute trying to remember why he thought he should come here, but he knew. In his heart he knew. Heaving a weary sigh, he got out and walked along the stone path leading up to the exotic design of the carved double door. He knocked, a firm knock that spoke of a confidence he didn’t feel or own.

     It took so long for her to answer he was just about to head back to his rig. He stayed put when he heard the big door open.

     There she stood, a tiny wisp of a woman leaning on a cane on her right side. Her grey hair with a few black strands remaining was cut stylishly short and held its shape on her narrow head. She wore Levis and a bright yellow western blouse with white vertical stripes and matching dainty yellow and white sandals on her small narrow feet. Her blue eyes sparkled bright as he remembered how they always seemed to look right through him . . . and still did.

     “Grams,” he greeted her quietly with the name he and many others had always known her by.

     She narrowed her gaze and cocked her head just slightly. Then she took her long thin left arm and reached up to grab his right arm and turn him just enough to where she could see his dark auburn hair pulled neatly back and tied with a leather string in a ponytail resting just below the nape of his neck. Then she pulled him back to face her.

     “Tommy, that you?” she asked matter-of-factly.

     “Yeah, Grams, it’s me,” he replied, realizing she was the only one on the face of this earth who could still get away with calling him “Tommy”.

     She turned and began talking as she walked back into the house, expecting him to follow which he did. “Hank Jr. always used to like his hair grown all long like that. You know it drove Ace crazy. I think that’s why he did it. Course by the time he went into the military, all those pretty locks ended up on the floor, but he never really minded.”

     She walked all the way into the kitchen before she turned around again and told him to have a seat at the kitchen table. The place was immaculate and it was like stepping into a fancy hacienda in Mexico—at least what he imagined one would look like.

     “Something to drink?”

     “A coke if you have it, please, Grams.”

     “Of course I have a coke. Couldn’t live without it myself. Best drink on the face of the planet,” she said adamantly as she went to the modern stainless steel refrigerator and slid a glass into the alcove that produced ice. She filled two glasses with ice and then produced two cans of coke. “Here ya go.”

     “Thanks.”

     “So how old are ya now?” she asked, calculating in her mind how long it had been since she’d seen him. “’Bout 30 or so?”

     “Yeah, 31, almost 32.”

     “Seen some trouble, huh?” Compassion evident in her voice.

     He laughed slightly. “I think you’re the only one who could ever read my mind,” he answered, solemnity taking hold.

     “Ain’t about readin’ minds, Tommy. I always thought you pretty much put everything right out there for a person to see if they’d just look, you know?”

     He smiled at the old woman, appreciation for her straightforward ways welling up inside of him. “What’s with the cane, Grams?”

     She gave the cane a horrible look of disgust. “Temporary, my boy. Hip replacement.  Won’t be long and I won’t need it anymore.” She paused. “I almost didn’t use the darn thing, but when the doctor threatened me with the alternatives should I lose my balance and yada, yada, yada, I decided I wasn’t too proud to use it. For a short season, you know.”

     He took a drink of his coke, the cold welcome burn sliding down his throat.

     “So you need a place to stay?”

     “I do, Grams. But you know I’ll work for it. Anything you want done, I’ll do.”

     She eyed him. “That bad, huh?  Well, you know there’s always plenty to do, son. I don’t run the farm anymore. Leased out the hay fields. A good family operates it like Ace would’ve done, so it’s alright.”

     “How long has it been now, Grams?”

     “Ten years.” She paused and gazed across the room. “Seems like just yesterday he’d be comin’ in from the fields for supper. Darn him. The old soldier made it to see Jesus before me. We used to argue about it, you know. He insisted he’d beat me to Him. True to his word . . .” Her voice trailed off. 

     She stood. “Let me show you to your room, Tommy.” And off she went, tapping that cane at a rapid pace.

     “I don’t expect to stay in the house, Grams,” he offered, not wanting to put his old friend to any trouble.

     That stopped her in her tracks, and she turned around abruptly. “Ha! And just where would you expect to be stayin’, Tommy? In the hen house? Heaven’s sake, boy. I don’t care if you are hired help, you’re going to have a little space to call your own in this big old lonely palace. You got a problem with that?” She confronted him with a look that reminded him of an angry little bird.

     “No, ma’am,” he replied. “Thank you.”

     “Huh. ‘I don’t expect to stay in the house, Grams,’” she imitated him. “For cryin’ out loud. Think this old lady is afraid to have a handsome young man in her house? That’ll be the day!” she muttered as they traveled down a spacious adobe-looking hallway. 

     They came to a stop outside a large room. Grams pointed with her cane. “This’ll do nicely, I think.” She walked inside. “That bed’s never been slept on to my knowledge. Ace built this end of the house for reunions with family and his Marine buddies. He put this king size bed in here just before he went on.” She plowed forward into the bathroom. “This here’s got a nice Jacuzzi. Ace put one in our room, too. It’s good for what ails ya, you know? Must be them bubbles—kinda massages away the aches and pains.”

     He smiled politely and wondered if a blush was threatening to warm his neck and face. The room and bath were like a hotel suite. 

     She went back into the main bedroom. “In here,” she said, pointing with her cane once again to some built-in cabinets, “are all the linens. Sheets, towels, blankets, the works.  You can’t find somethin’ you need, you tell me. Alright?”

     “Alright,” his voice soft.

     She turned toward the corner of the room near the multiple shuttered windows. “That there fireplace and insert will feel mighty good this winter. Ace built ‘em in most of the larger rooms. Great idea for wintertime.”

     Wow.

     “Now, you go get what stuff you got and set yourself up in here. If you’ve got anything you want stored, I’ve got the big barn and the bunkhouse. As soon as you get settled, you come on out for dinner. Alright?”

     “Alright, Grams. I don’t—”

     Grams held up her hand in a stop position. “Don’t. You know I’ll make you work for it. It’s only right. That way you don’t have to feel guilty.” She paused. “Looks like you’ve spent enough time feelin’ that way. No more.” 

     Having said that, she put her cane in motion and strutted out of the room and back down the passageway. He stood there in wonder. God, I don’t deserve this.

     He hauled in his belongings, short of some tools he left in the back of the Bronco. He needed a shower and felt privileged to take one in such elegant surroundings. He shaved only because he figured it would make him look more presentable, the menthol lather feeling good on his hot face. He slapped a bit of cologne on his jaw line and inspected himself. He decided a while back his long hair was here to stay. It made him feel new. Not so much like the uptight guy he once was with the perfectly styled hair and the expensive clothes he usually couldn’t afford. He shook his head a bit at the memory while he towel dried his thick wavy mane. A waitress in one of the small towns he’d stopped in to get a piece of pie and a glass of milk, had told him he had great hair—that normally she didn’t like long hair on a man, but that his was “plum nice, all shiny and well-groomed”. He’d thanked her with a smile and a good tip. When he was all dressed in clean jeans and a fresh T-shirt, he tied back his hair and went out to have dinner with Grams.

     She glanced up from her spot in front of the built-in grill. “No need to tie your hair back on my account, boy. You shoulda seen ol’ Hank Jr.’s when he wore it down.” She laughed out loud. “Ol’ Ace threatened to take him down, but Hank knew he’d gotten big enough to best his ol’ man. He wouldna done it, of course. I told ol’ Ace just to ignore him, and he’d probably cut it himself before the jarheads did.” She laughed a short burst at the memory and turned a large juicy steak over.

     As it sizzled profusely, two things happened. Thomas wondered how in the world Grams could read his thoughts, and his mouth watered at the wonderful aroma of that chunk of meat, the likes of which he couldn’t remember eating since . . . well, he couldn’t remember when. 

     “Pour us some milk, will ya, boy? You do still drink milk, don’t ya?”

     “Yeah, Grams. Coke and milk are pretty much all I drink, I guess.”

     “You and me both, Tommy. Yes sir. You smell good. I like a man who ain’t afraid to wear cologne. Ol’ Ace always cleaned up nice after a day in the hot fields. Put on some of that aftershave of his, and, well . . . he knew I liked it.”

     Grams attended to some other things on the stove while the occasional flames jumped up and licked the steaks on the grill. He wasn’t there too long before she shut it down, having decided the steaks were cooked to perfection. Later on when she served the meal and Thomas bit into one, he knew she was right. Medium rare, juicy, and so delicious he almost moaned with pleasure.

     “Wow, Grams. I’ve never in my life had a steak this good,” he said with complete admiration.

     “I still raise a few good beef. The feed store mixes up that grain concoction Ace made up. Just before he died, ol’ Norrie who owns the place asked if he could patent it and bag it up. Ace made a deal with him and they split the profits and called it Ace’s Beef Feed. They sell the darn stuff all over the world now, believe it or not. Keeps money in the coffers of heaven—Ace made sure all his profits on that project went to the Lord’s work. Missionaries. Generous man, that Ace.”

     “I remember,” Thomas said with genuine respect between the savored bites of his dinner. 

     “You probably don’t know this, son, but he really liked you, Tommy.”

     Thomas was quiet as he remembered the attention Ace would give him whenever he’d wander over to visit, a curious boy who loved the big ranch down the country road from his modest home. “He was always kind to me, Grams. I remember he taught me something every time I came over—either about hay, or cattle, or keeping up a ranch. He made me feel important, like I could actually be useful if I put my mind to it.”

     Grams laughed. “He told me he’d never met a kid who was so eager to learn. Our two boys, Samuel and Hank Jr., were just so used to everything, you know? They wanted to go into the military as soon as they could fight and play, I think. Be like their daddy. I think it’s a good thing when a man can die doin’ what he likes, you know?”

     Thomas almost choked on his food as the image of walking in on Will Otis having sex with his wife popped into his mind. He coughed violently and choked out an “Excuse me” before he was able to stop.

     “My land, boy.  Didn’t mean to bring up a bad memory.”

     Thomas’s eyes had filled with water and he needed to blow his nose. “Grams, is there a bathroom close or should I run to my room?” he asked hoarsely.

     “Just down that hall there on the left, son. Then get back here and finish your plate.”

     “Yes, ma’am.” 

     The main bathroom was as elegant and charming as the other rooms had been. He felt like he’d been transported to another country where he was a privileged guest. He quickly rinsed his face, blew his nose, and washed his hands. Then he tried to compose himself enough to go out and finish the fabulous meal he’d been served.

     “I’m sorry about that, Grams,” he said as he sat back down at the table.

     “You gonna tell me what happened?” she asked, sending a direct glare across the table at him.

     “Yeah, I am.” He paused. “It’s bad, Grams. And if you’re not okay with me bein’ here after you hear about it, I’ll understand.”

     “Pssht,” she uttered. “Go on now. You’ve got my attention.”

Father, you give me stories, inspiration, words, and characters. Apart from you, I can do nothing. Thank you is never enough. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

Love is the theme, and I loved this song. Still do. (Thanks for the reminder of this oldie @rickyricksmusic.)

Thank you, Lord, for great songs, groups, musicians. Music is often a salve to the turbulent soul. Apart from you, we can do nothing. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

     He was in the world, and though the world was made through Him, the world did not recognize Him. He came to that which was His own, but His own did not receive Him. Yet to all who received Him, to those who believed in His name, He gave the right to become children of God — children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband's will, but born of God.

     The Word became flesh and lived for a while among us. We have seen His glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth. 

John 1:10-14 (NIV)

As an author, sometimes it "feels like" I've got nothing to recommend concerning my novels. In fact, I have few reviews for each of my books, although I can say a lot more readers have read and enjoyed them than chose to write reviews. Irrelevant. I will not denounce my writing abilities – I savor the love stories I write. They're not for everyone because some readers of Christian Fiction don't appreciate their reality at times. So I'm careful to recommend them to those who I think would be my audience. 

As a person, I can tell you if we become friends, I'm loyal to a fault and genuinely care about you and your life circumstances. I can also say if I'm into a subject, a "thing", I am passionate about whatever-it-is or it wouldn't be in my life. I can tell you I'm terribly undisciplined about many things and slightly rebellious to being told I "have to" do something – so probably best not phrase anything like that. 

Weird things. This one is new: I'm unofficially a "crow whisperer" as of recently. I have several noisy birds who come to eat every morning now. They make me happy. I said it was weird. 

The basics. I love and am devoted to the Lord Jesus Christ. My family is precious and loved deeply. My true friends are amazing people. I treasure my country, the United States of America, One Nation under God. All beyond the adequacy of words to describe. 

Nothing to recommend? You decide. 

Father, you're the One who matters. It's really all about you. Thank you for it all. Still desperate for you. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

Many years ago in my mom's '65 LeMans yellow convertible with the black top down. I wore this hat everywhere – bought it in Denmark in a women's hat shop while on my great excursion to Europe circa 1968. Racetrackers will recognize my Longacres Barn Pass button needed for entry to the backside of the track my first year there in 1969. Way back in the day . . . 

Lord God, thank you for rescuing me eventually from myself. Thank you is never enough. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

This is from Chapter Eleven of my older novel Sweet Release.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CM was so glad to see her mother standing outside the entrance to the church. She doubted at this stage of her God investigations she could’ve attended church by herself. It was just too uncomfortable walking into a place where she assumed everyone knew what to expect except her. Her mother smiled as she approached, and it dawned on CM how pretty she looked, dressed in a maroon skirt with a black silk blouse under her black wool jacket. She had on classy looking heels which added a couple inches to her normally 5’3” height. Her medium length brown hair had a generous blonde frost on it, and the breeze wisped it around her face allowing the sun to capture all the highlights.

     “Wow, Mom, you look beautiful.”

     Her mother blushed. “Oh, honey, thank you.”

     As the two of them walked into the foyer of the church, Pastor Bill Chambers approached them with a welcoming smile and a sincere handshake for both of them. “I was praying I’d see you two today. I’m grateful you came.”

     “Thank you, Bill,” Millie said, her voice quiet.

     “Nice to see you again, Pastor,” CM said, realizing how genuine this man seemed every time she saw him.

     “If you’re not busy after the service, I’d be honored if you’d be my guests for lunch,” he offered.

     Millie looked inquisitively at CM.

     “I’d appreciate a rain check, but you can go, Mom. I’m afraid I’ve got a feature to finish.”

     “Millie?” he asked, his gaze direct.

     “Well, I suppose I could, if you’re sure, Bill.”

     “Oh, I’m positive, Millie. Great. Guess I better get my pastor hat on and get with it.  Thank you both for coming.” He shook their hands again.

     “Mom,” CM whispered.

     “What?” Millie looked puzzled at her daughter’s stealth.

     “He likes you, Mom,” her hushed tone excited.

     “Oh, CM!” she responded louder than she intended and lowered her voice. “That’s ridiculous. He knows how I felt about your dad – he feels sorry for me.”

     “Mom,” CM stifled a laugh. “I wasn’t born yesterday—I’m 28 years old now, remember? He’s interested in you. Seriously.”

     “That’s absurd, CM. Now let’s go find a seat.”

     The two ladies sat in the third row from the back on the right side near the far aisle of a nearly full sanctuary. The worship team sang several choruses and two hymns. Everyone stood and sang with them, many of them lifting their hands in the air as they sang. During the musical pauses several people said “Hallelujah!” or “Praise the Lord”.  CM remarked to her mother as they sat down after the singing was over how beautiful everyone sounded. Millie’s eyes held tears.

     “Usually I give you a summary of the information printed up in the bulletin. If you didn’t receive one, please feel free to ask an usher or pick one up out in the foyer. Today I have to tell you the Holy Spirit is urging me forward with this message before the beauty of His presence fades. So if you’ll join me in prayer, we’ll begin this part of the service.

     “Heavenly Father, no one walked into your house this morning without being drawn here by your Spirit. That’s the way it happens. Whether you’ve known the Lord for years and years or if you’ve only known Him for a matter of days or even if you have yet to surrender to His magnificent love and forgiveness, you came here today because of the sweet invitation of our God through His Holy Spirit. That’s how it all begins, isn’t it? He sends out His invitation through a friend, an event, a trauma, a circumstance, or even a curiosity He put in your heart to find out who this Creator really is. Well, Lord, whatever the case may be, I ask this morning that you would make yourself known in a specific way to each heart that has come to celebrate who you are today. Thank you, in the name and authority of Jesus Christ.

     “You may be seated.”

     CM sat down quickly, feeling hot but wielding goosebumps. She slipped her coat off and draped it over the back of the chair.

     “I have to tell you today’s message is one of urgency. So I hope you’ll listen to the cry of the Lord’s heart as I give you what He’s given me. Have you ever been promised something but failed to receive it from the one who promised it to you?” He paused and looked down for a moment. “Have you ever been lied to so cleverly that you never doubted it was the truth you were being told? Have you ever trusted someone with your whole self and been betrayed by that someone? Perhaps as I offered each one of these questions for your examination, somehow you were able to answer no to them. But I think if you really examine them further, you will inevitably have to answer yes to at least one of them. 

     “You see, there is a devil. He is the master of deception. He promises to deliver on any number of things, doesn’t he? C’mon, just one drink—it’ll be fun. Just one toke, just one snort, just one shot, just one . . . And you know what? It is fun . . . at first. C’mon, we love each other. It’ll be so beautiful if we sleep together—what could possibly be wrong with it? Now it may or may not seem beautiful to you the first time you cross that line with sex outside of marriage, but it won’t stay beautiful under the glare of the selfishness that preceded the act and demanded sexual fulfillment before the spiritual and emotional requirements were met. Selfishness is never ‘beautiful’, and it is never fulfilling, but it’s always demanding. 

     “He’s a great liar, isn’t he? Jesus called the devil the ‘father of lies’ and the ‘author of confusion’. Now tell me, have you ever been confused by your circumstances? So entangled in your situation that you couldn’t decide if there ever was a right and wrong decision to be made in that situation? You finally make a decision in desperation, and everything blows up in your face. Suddenly, you can see how wrong you were to go in that direction, and you can’t understand for the life of you how you made that decision. Ahh, the devil deceived and confused you, and you took the bait. Remember, the Bible tells us his objective is to ‘rob, kill, and destroy’ our life. Whatever works on you, he’ll figure out and apply.

     “How can he possibly be defeated? He’s smarter than we are. He’s craftier than we are. He’s a supernatural being in that he was created a spectacular angel. How can we win against such an evil foe?”

     The pastor stayed quiet as he paced back and forth on the platform. “We can’t,” he said succinctly. “Without the Lord Jesus Christ as our Savior and our Lord, we are powerless to defeat the enemy of our souls. We are absolutely useless against him. He is able to drive us in multiple directions in our lives, all of them motivated by the desire to be fulfilled, loved, respected, and admired. Some of us would settle for just being loved because some of us have never felt the blessing of having someone love us for who we are. Others of us would settle for being fulfilled – you see, we’ve perfected our craft, our skills, our business, made ourselves an outstanding career – but we’re empty, and no matter how much acclaim we receive and how much more we achieve, it feels meaningless. I know some of you men would just once like to feel the respect of your wives, if not for what you look like, at least for what you do. But somehow your wives think it’s enough to wash your clothes and tell you they love you without really conveying their respect for who you are as a man. Ladies, you wonder what it’s going to take to make that man of your dreams show his love for you. You’re mystified because it seems so obvious to you. After all, all he needs to do is learn from some romantic movie, for crying out loud.”

     Some nervous laughs flitted around the sanctuary.

     “And all the time, through all of your thoughts and imaginations, the devil is there to prod you on with your fantasies of something, someone better. Isn’t that the way it is sometimes? 

     “I stand before you today having experienced every form of the devil’s trickery in my life. Most of you know I came out of the world and was a very despicable individual when I did. But one thing I learned from my experiences in that empty place without Jesus is that I was desperate for His saving grace. I was absolutely desperate for His rescue from my sinful ways.”

     The pastor stopped mid-stride across the platform. He turned to the people and said “And you know what? I still am.”

     He dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief retrieved from inside his suit jacket.

     “You see, you all know this life is hard. The pitfalls are always there before you. You always have to make decisions based on what you know to be right and what you have learned to be wrong. Always. Don’t you?”

     Several shouted “Amen”. 

     “In the book of first John, the inspired writer tells us if we claim we are without sin, we lie. Couldn’t be more real than that, now could he? We fight our way through this world, and sometimes we fail. Some of those failures we’re able to take in stride, and others nip at our heels for the rest of our lives. 

     “By now, I’ve probably got you a little down in the mouth considering the state of our human condition, but this morning we’re not going to glorify the devil and all he’s capable of. No. Instead, we’re going to celebrate ‘Greater is He that is in you than he that is in the world.’ That’s the truth, folks.”

     “Hallelujah!” and “Amen!” all over the sanctuary.

     “The Creator of the universe has given us Jesus Christ to save us from our human stain, and He has allowed us to house the very Spirit of God within our own heart of hearts—the very place where He can establish His ways in our lives so that in spite of the trouble He warned we’d have in this sinful world, we could have His courage because He overcame the sorry condition of this evil place we call home. You know why? Because of a love so pure and so deep, we will never truly be able to experience it until we go to be with Him, but His love for us in spite of how we give in to our enemy’s tricks and travesties and chase after his tempting indulgences—in spite of all we’ve done and pursued: He loves us, folks!”

     This time the pastor wiped his brow with his handkerchief and went to lean against his podium.

     “I don’t often do this in my services—I try so hard to hear the voice of the Lord concerning this critical moment. Today, though, the Holy Spirit is telling me I need to remind anyone who has yet to receive Jesus into their lives, today is the day of salvation. You’ve tried it your way long enough. Be honest, it hasn’t worked, has it? Can you tell me without reservation from your gut you’re successful? That those dark days of confusion never pass your way and overwhelm and even frighten you sometimes? On the darkest day of my life, God came and rescued me. He’ll do the same for you, but you do have to ask Him to do it. He won’t overpower you and demand you serve Him. His love is given freely, but it’s not pushed upon you. It’s demonstrated to you by His Son on the cross, but it’s your choice whether or not to accept His sacrifice made just for you. Do you know that in the book of Isaiah it is written the names of His people are engraved in His hands? That really moves me.”

     He paused and moved up beside his podium. “If you want to know Jesus today, all you have to do is ask. Tell Him you know you’ve sinned and you need a Savior to restore you to His Father and yours. The simplest act of submission grants you a beautiful eternity and a chance at peace in your heart on earth, regardless of the things that befall you while you’re here. You will be welcomed by the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, and it won’t take you long to figure out you really are different somehow. Believe it or not, this is the answer to life’s problems. And, no, for most people it won’t be easy, and it’ll take a lot of work, but what doesn’t on this earth? Choose this day who you will serve. God or the devil. Heaven or hell. Chaos or peace.”

     The worship team assembled on the platform and sang an old chorus about deciding to follow Jesus. When they were finished, the pastor returned.

     “Father in heaven, I worship you. Thank you for getting me through your message. I hope it was pleasing to you above all. I pray, Lord, that in the name of your Son Jesus Christ, you added people to your kingdom today because I know that’s your heart’s desire. Thank you, God, for loving me. I’m still ever desperate for you. In the name of Jesus, Amen.”

Father, thank you for words and stories and inspiration. Only you give the impetus and direction for us to do what you created us to do. Above all is to share the beauty of your sacrifice and the rescue of your redemption. Thank you, Jesus, and Holy Spirit for reaching me. Thank you is never enough. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

Smooth Jazz keeping the love theme going, gorgeously played by musician Everette Harp.

Father, thank you for beautiful music and musicians and their instruments, speaking to the soul and your amazing creativity. Thank you is never enough. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.