Spirit Pouch (4 page)

Chapter Three

Earrings And The Geometry Tutor

I
only live four blocks from the church, and that has advantages.  I do not have to depend on Mom for a ride.  On Mutual nights I walk, and then if the guys are playing basketball afterward, I can stay for a little while.  On Sundays Mom stays after church for choir practice.  I walk home.

Today is a beautiful Sunday morning.  It is relatively cool in the mornings, but I do not mind much.  It is always a quiet walk.  Not many people are up yet.  I can hear a dove cooing and an occasional dog bark its  recognition that I am on the street.  The sun feels warm on my back and I have a few minutes to think. 
The sprit pouch
.  It still sits on my dresser where I left it last Monday.  I puzzle over its contents. 
What was it Mom said?  The medicine man expressed his desire and it was granted?  But it had to be righteous.  And he had to be holding the spirit pouch.  She said she tried it.  It did not work.  I wonder why?  I wonder
 
…

“Jet.”  A voice pulls me back from the world of Indian lore to the present, and I freeze with my hand on the handle to the church front door, confused to see Ty standing there with a smile.

“I heard that you came to church early,” Ty greets me, “but I’m usually still asleep at 9:15 on Sundays!”

“Yeah, I would too, except I have quorum presidency meeting right now.”  I look at Ty’s eyes.  Last night at the dance he looked stressed.  This morning he looks happy and his eyes actually sparkle.  His earrings reflect the morning sun and he seems eager about something.  Usually I can figure a person out by the time they say hello, but no discernment is coming to me this morning, so I resort to asking.

“So, what gets you out of bed so early?” I ask.

“I have a proposition,” Ty replies.

“A what?”

“I want to make a mutually beneficial deal,” he says.

I am going to be late for presidency meeting, but my curiosity keeps me standing there.  “What kind of deal?” I ask hesitantly.

“I tutor you in math …” he starts slowly.

It sounds good so far and I nod my head for him to go on.

“… And you teach me how to get Sarah to like me,” he finishes.

His face is totally serious.  This is no gag.  This is sincere, and he is not simply asking.  Deep in his heart he is begging, and I can feel it.

“I don’t think you can do it,” I say shaking my head.  I start to pull the door open and he stops it with his hand.

“Why?” he says angrily.  He actually looks like he might hit me.  Raising his voice he continues, “Because I’m not Mormon?  Because I’m not cool, like you?”

“No,” I say a little ruffled by his abrupt change in attitude.  “Because
I’m
not smart, like you.  And I’ve only got four days left before our first geometry exam!  That’s why.”

“If you can do the impossible, I can,” he smiles again.  “That’s the deal.  Take it or leave it.”

I can not believe it.  I am going to pass geometry after all.  All I have to do is figure out a way to get Sarah to like Ty Smith.  That has to be easier than learning geometry!

“It’s a deal,” I say holding out my hand.

We shake on it, and I leave him smiling as I pull the door open and enter the church building.

Church is about the same as any other Sunday.  Brother and Sister Radcliff speak on the atonement of Jesus Christ.  I have heard most of what they say before, but what strikes me most is a passage from the book of Mosiah,
[2]
chapter three, verse twelve.  Christ’s blood atones for those who die not knowing the will of God concerning them. 
But wo, wo unto him who knoweth that he rebelleth against God!  For salvation cometh to none such except it be through repentance
 
…
They say that doing something that you know is wrong is rebelling against God.

After church I go home-teaching with Brother Donaldson.  Mom is home when Brother Donaldson drops me off an hour later, but she is talking on the phone, so I proceed to my room and change out of my Sunday clothes into jeans and a T-shirt.  I jump onto my bed and plan to close my eyes, but images of a medicine man holding the spirit pouch float to the front of my consciousness until they seem to push my eyelids wide open.

Sitting up, I reach over to my dresser and pick up the leather pouch.  Closing my eyes, I hold the bag at arms length with two hands.

“I wish … no, no, no.  I desire to … to instantly know how to do geometry.”  I open my eyes and then smile at my own foolishness.  I know that it never would be that easy.  I know that it would take lots of study and hard work to learn any kind of math.

Retracting the leather drawstring, I pour the contents of the spirit pouch out onto the bed.  I pick up the white stone.  It is mostly white, but it has a dark brown streak on the end which partially penetrates one side.  I set the stone down and inspect the tiny glass bottle.  The cork twists out easily.  I lift the bottle to my nose, sniffing gently.
Nothing,
I think. 
Maybe a little musky, like our basement in Salt Lake City
.  Mom says it was damp from all the snow outside.  I re-cork the tiny glass vial and slide the slender gray feather through my fingers. 
Plastic?
  I hold it close. 
Yep. Plastic.  And not a good replica of an Eagle’s feather, either!

I hear Mom’s footsteps in the hall, then she opens the door.

“I’m just checking out this spirit pouch,” I say.  “Did you know that the feather is fake?  It’s plastic.”

“Oh, that’s right.  I remember my mother saying some of the contents were missing, but she replaced them.”

“Maybe that’s why it doesn’t work?”

“You think so?”

“Who knows!”

“Listen, come help me fix lunch while you think about it.”

“Oh all right,” I say grumbling.  I feel more like taking that nap.

Monday

“You ever heard of a spirit pouch?” I ask Ty as we walk toward the seminary building for our Monday morning second-hour class.

“Does this have to do with the Mormon religion?  You know, with the temple, or something?” Ty gives me a disgusted look that translates to mean ‘Don’t try to convert me!’

“No,” I say, a little bit offended.  “It has to do with the Sioux Indians, I think.”

“Ahh, yes,” Ty smiles as his face lights up with interest.  “Do you think it was used by the medicine man in the Rite of Purification
[3]
or in the Vision Quest?”

“Maybe.  At least my mom said something about a medicine man.”  I pull the old leather bag out of my pocket and show it to Ty.  “My mom gave this to me last week.  She said it was authentic.  At least it used to belong to a Sioux medicine man.”

“Wow!”  Ty stops to look at the leather pouch.  “What’s inside?”

“A white stone, a feather, a glass vial, a bean, and an old necklace made of small beads,” I answer with a little skepticism in my voice.

“That is really awesome!” Ty says pulling the leather drawstring and looking inside.  “Totally awesome!”

“What?”  I think it is a cool gift, and I like it because it is tradition and heritage and family stuff, but I wouldn’t have said awesome.

“Don’t you see the relationship?” Ty says shaking his head at me.  “It’s just like Brother Franklin’s seminary lesson last Friday.”

Now it is my turn to shake my head.  “You’re nuts!” I say.  “How can even
your
genius brain see any relationship between a silly bag of Indian lore and last week’s seminary lesson on …”  It only takes a second to recall what the lesson was about.  Brother Franklin’s lessons are always well prepared and thought provoking.  He had taught us about John the Baptist and then about the waters of Mormon.  “… on baptism?” I finish saying.

“My genius mind, as you call it, is good at analyzing relationships,” he says.  “Just not relationships with girls, if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah.”

“Think about it,” he concludes as he opens the door to the seminary building.  Sarah is standing by the classroom door and I can see my chances for further discussion of spirit pouches dissolving into a tempest of tertiary twitterpation.

“What does the seed symbolize?” he says as he pulls up his baggy pants and adjusts his new pocket chain that hangs from his belt.

I watch while Sarah glances over at Ty as he enters the door.  Without even smiling, she turns her back, says something quickly to another girl at the door, then moves to her seat toward the front of the class.

Ty looks wistfully after her, then sits hard in his chair at the back of the classroom.

“We’ll talk tonight,” I whisper, just touching Ty’s shoulder so he knows I am talking to him.  He nods his head.

After the opening prayer Brother Franklin teaches about Elijah, and we talk about turning the hearts of the fathers to their children, and turning the hearts of the children to their fathers.  I wonder if that scripture will ever be fulfilled in
my
life.  It is a hopeless thought, since my father died when I was seven.  But still, as we read Malachi, chapter four verse six, I can not help wishing for that luxury in my life.

At the end of class, Brother Franklin gives us a homework assignment.  We are to complete a four-generation pedigree chart and bring it to class on Thursday.  Then he calls on me to offer the closing prayer.  I pray that we might all strive to fulfill scripture by turning our hearts to our fathers and that we might be blessed to have the hearts of our fathers turn to us.

After the prayer, I feel that Malachi’s promise will be fulfilled.  I do not know how, but it will be fulfilled if I do my part.

As I pick up my books, Ty turns toward me.  “I know we were going to study tonight,” he says without enthusiasm, “but there are some things I need to do.  Can we make it Tuesday, for sure?”

“Yeah,” I say with disappointment. “I’ll plan on Tuesday.”  I am a little relieved also, because I had not told Mom about my study plans, and she does not like me to make plans on Family Home Evening night.  I wonder what things Ty can possibly need to do that are more important than talking about girls or helping me study geometry.  I worry about him all the way to my next class, and I decide that I should keep him in my prayers for a while.  I know God can help him, and God might be the only one who can.

After cross-country practice, the bus drops me off about two blocks from my house.  I cut through the alley, deep in thoughts about the spirit pouch.  Ty had said that the contents were related to baptism.  Reaching into my pocket I feel the soft leather of the spirit pouch and pull it out.  I stop walking and tug on the drawstring, sliding it so I can peer inside.  My eye falls upon the pinto bean.

“Of course!” I say out loud.  “This is easy.” 
The bean represents faith.  It’s not exactly a mustard seed like Jesus spoke of in the New Testament,
[4]
but it is a seed.  And in Alma, chapter thirty two, it doesn’t say it has to be a mustard seed.
[5]

“The feather!” I say, obviously on a roll. 
Indians always used Eagle feathers.  Eagle feathers would represent strength, and flying high, so
 
… ah
 
… so your prayers would fly toward heaven.
  “Hmmm.”

I pull the feather from the pouch and examine it closely.  Not only is it plastic, but it does not even look like an Eagle feather.”

I stuff it back into the pouch and roll out the white stone.  I puzzle over the stone, turning it over and over in the palm of my hand.  It is mostly white, but has a brown streak across the back side. 
How can a rock symbolize baptism?
I think to myself. 
In the New Testament Satan tempted Jesus to turn some stones into bread.
[6]
  But Mom specifically said a white stone.  Bread is white!  So does the stone represent temptation, like when Satan tempted Jesus?  That does not make a whole lot of sense.  How can a stone be like baptism?  It will sink!

I drop the stone back into the leather pouch and walk home.

Tuesday

“Hey, Ty,” I say turning around in my seat before class starts Tuesday morning.  I know that once the bell rings I have to face forward and refrain from talking or Old Mrs. Harris will center all her hard questions on me.

“Hi, Jebt,” Ty answers, jumbling his syllables.

I see something silver-colored flash in Ty’s mouth.  “What are you eating?” I ask.  But even as I speak I am figuring it out.

Ty sticks his tongue out, revealing a silver colored bar-bell.  “I got my thung pierthes.” He says.  “Do you like it?”