Part 29 (1/2)

C'mon, Trav, two more stalls to go.

G.o.d was in control. He knew what he was doing, and he knew what I needed.

Then my heart sank and my arms went limp. I'd failed again. I'd married the most beautiful woman in the world, given her high hopes, and let her down. She was the one supporting us, not me. I thought I was going to take the city for Christ, and now here I was, alone and scrubbing toilets in the middle of the night.

My ”position” at Northwest Pentecostal Mission remained undefined by the pastor or the board. I wasn't a.s.sociate pastor or youth pastor, I didn't preach on Sunday nights, and Lucy Moore still had charge of the youth Sunday school cla.s.s. I did whatever was left to do-it was up to me to think of what that was-and I got paid fifty dollars a month plus a gas allowance to do it. I think Pastor Marvin tried to apologize once, but his expression of regret quickly s.h.i.+fted into a short homily about the Lord using all this to show me the importance of sacrifice. It seemed rather convenient for him to find a lofty, inscrutable purpose of G.o.d in his foul-up, but I held my peace.

The church in Pocatello, Idaho, had found someone else for that position. I checked.

17.

IT WAS MARIAN, G.o.d bless her, who helped me turn it around-or rather, turn myself around. I still remember the evening I lay on the couch with my head in her lap. I had tears in my eyes, but she just stroked my hair and told me, ”Travis, you're a man of G.o.d and this is your calling. Don't worry about me having to work. Just be faithful. Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might. G.o.d will do the rest.” She tilted my head toward her and I looked up into her eyes. ”And I will always love you, T. J. You're my man, and don't you forget it.”

I called Lucy Moore and apologized for all the misunderstanding. I didn't want to take over, I told her. I just wanted to help. Could I? She said sure.

At work that night I finished up each rest room in less than an hour.

Wednesday evening, one of my nights off, Marian and I showed up to help Lucy with the youth meeting. I played guitar and helped lead the singing. We goaded and challenged the kids during discussion times. We did anything we could to help while letting Lucy be the boss. It clicked. Before long we were all team teaching the Sunday school cla.s.s. We worked together planning a camping trip to Corral Pa.s.s, and it came off without a hitch.

After I'd been on the job two months, the boss let me try my hand at the big mall sweeper. Now that was fun, driving that thing up and down the vast floor, buzzing past all the store windows and around the big central pillars, singing praise songs only the Lord could hear. How many shoppers ever got a chance to visit the mall as I did?

For the first month I took care of mowing the church lawn, and then Lucy, Marian, and I organized a work day for the youth group to mow, weed, and fix up the church grounds. The kids did a great job, and we were proud of them. I rewarded them by taking them all swimming.

Sister Marvin heard that some of the girls wore two-piece swimsuits and walked right by the groomed lawn to give me a stern rebuke. It was the first feedback I'd gotten from her.

THE SUNDAY SCHOOL CLa.s.s was perking up. We got into heavy discussions about morality, s.e.x, authority, respect for others, honesty, and what the Scriptures had to say about it all. The kids opened up about school, friends, parents, hopes and fears, what was cool and what wasn't. We talked about Bible prophecy and how it could apply to happenings in the Middle East. Even Trevor and the Outsiders got wrapped up in it. They talked about inviting their friends.

When they didn't invite their friends, I asked them why not.

They said they didn't want their friends to have to sing ”Deep and Wide” and ”Climb, Climb Up Suns.h.i.+ne Mountain” and march up front to put money in Barney Barrel.

Well, that seemed an easy enough problem to overcome. I told Lucy, ”Hey, why don't we just have them come straight to cla.s.s and not sit through the opening exercises? They never get anything out of them anyway.”

Lucy balked. ”Um, we'll have to talk to Sister Dwight. She's the Sunday school superintendent.”

Sister Dwight didn't jump at the idea either. ”You'll have to bring it up at the next Sunday school teachers' meeting.”

The meeting was after church the first Sunday of the month. We were there and we brought it up.

And that's how I got to know Sister Rogenbeck.

She was an ancient lady who taught the primary cla.s.s, and by the look on her face you'd think we suggested denying the virgin birth and the resurrection. She scolded me as she answered, ”The children are to be together for the morning exercises!”

Being young and inexperienced, I tried to reason with her. ”Well, that's okay for the little kids, but the teenagers don't have any interest in that stuff.”

”Then they can learn to have interest.”

”You think kids who listen to the Rolling Stones and Led Zeppelin are going to want to come here to sing *Deep and Wide'?”

She crossed her arms and looked toward the front of the sanctuary. ”They belong in the morning exercises with everyone else!”

From her body language I gathered she thought the discussion was over.

It wasn't.

”Do you agree with her?” I asked Sister Dwight.

Sister Dwight gave me a deep, slow nod as if the Word of the Lord had come down from Mt. Sinai.

”But aren't you the Sunday School superintendent?”

She was mildly offended. ”Of course I am.”

I turned to Sister Rogenbeck. ”So what are you?”

She didn't answer but just kept looking forward, her arms crossed.

”Look at me.” Marian tugged at my arm but I ignored it and demanded, ”Look at me!”

Sister Dwight became indignant. ”Travis, I don't think this is appropriate!”

Sister Rogenbeck's head and eyes turned toward me only as much as necessary.

”Are you the Sunday school superintendent?” I asked her.

Sister Marvin's indignity surpa.s.sed that of Sister Dwight. ”Travis Jordan, that will be quite enough!”

”Are you?”

”No.”

”Do you hold any elected office whatsoever in this church?”

”No.”

”Then who are you to sit there and dictate policy to the rest of us?”

”Trav . . .” Marian whispered, tugging at me.

”My question was addressed to the Sunday school superintendent, and I expect the decision to rest with her.” I looked straight at Sister Dwight. ”It is your decision, isn't it?”

”Well-”

Sister Rogenbeck huffed rather loudly, ”They belong in the morning exercises!”

”I was asking Sister Dwight,” I said.