Times and Seasons (29 page)

Cathy
and Steve spent the first day of their honeymoon lounging around the condo in Gatlinburg, and the next day they went rock climbing in Pigeon Forge. The day after that they traveled to North Carolina to a place called Horse Pasture Creek and spent the day playing in waterfalls that took their breath away.

Each night they ate in charming little restaurants and had romantic evenings in their condo. Cathy couldn’t believe how blessed she was, how covered with God’s grace, as she got used to Steve being her husband.

Steve and Tracy moved into the house the day they arrived back in Breezewood. Tracy seemed a little moody and emotional about all the changes in their life. Steve’s parents helped them move in, and Cathy allowed his mother to help Tracy organize her room.

That night, when everything was in the house but not yet put away, and the grandparents had gone home, and everyone
was exhausted, Cathy went to put Tracy to bed. She found her curled up on her new bedspread, leaned back against the wall, with tears rolling down her face.

“Oh, honey,” Cathy said, and sat next to her on the bed. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”

“Have we been ignoring you?”

“No, ma’am,” she said.

“Then what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.”

She looked at the little girl and realized that, for the past few days, she’d been without her father. That, in itself, could have been slightly traumatic, especially since she anticipated so many changes coming upon their lives. Even though Tracy had wanted it, had looked forward to moving into her new room and having Cathy as her new mother, the whole thing was probably a little overwhelming.

“Do you want me to put you to bed?” she asked.

Tracy shrugged. “Where’s Daddy?”

Cathy started to tell her that Daddy was busy hanging pictures in their room. But then she realized that Tracy wasn’t ready to switch gears on her parent just yet.

“I’ll go get him,” she said. “Maybe you and Daddy need to spend a little time together, just the two of you. What do you think?”

Tracy’s eyes lit up. Cathy reached down and hugged the little girl, then went back out and found Steve in the new master bedroom.

“How do you like this picture here?” he asked with a nail between his teeth.

She smiled. “It’s perfect. But why don’t you do it later?”

He turned back to her and grinned. “What have you got in mind?”

“Tracy,” she said. “She needs a little time alone with her daddy. I think all the moving and all the changes are getting to her, and she’s sitting in there in a new room feeling a little overwhelmed.”

Concern instantly filled his eyes, and he took the nail out of his mouth. “Well, thanks,” he said. “I needed to know that. I’ve been so busy I haven’t paid attention.”

“Just go in there and read her a story or something, lie down with her until she goes to sleep. I can take it from here.”

He gave Cathy a sweet kiss, then headed back to the bedroom to be with his daughter. Cathy had plenty to keep her busy.

After a while, Cathy drifted back to Tracy’s bedroom and saw the father and child lying together on the bed. He was reading to her from
The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe,
making funny voices and talking in a British accent.

Tracy’s tears had dried and all was well. Her eyes followed the words as he read. Cathy wished she had a camera ready to take a picture of that, but she wouldn’t have interrupted it for the world. Her heart swelled to the point of bursting at the love that had been brought into this home.

If they were careful, if they nurtured it, if they did things right and didn’t push too hard, some day the family would be one instead of two fractured pieces. Some day, with God’s help, maybe they would all be comfortable and used to each other and think of each other as siblings and parents instead of steps. But she didn’t want to hope for too much too soon. There were limitations, and she had to be aware of them and work around them. But those limitations weren’t as great as the potential benefits. She couldn’t be more thrilled with the new arrangement.

She only wished her children could have grown up with a father like Steve instead of a father like Jerry, but she supposed there was nothing she could do about it now. All they could do was pick up from this point and move on the best way they could.

By
the grace of God, Mark’s incarceration went by more quickly than they could have expected. Though Jerry still kept his distance from Mark, Steve continued to disciple Mark through the mail and in his visits to River Ranch. As Cathy and Steve settled into their marriage, they saw a genuine maturity developing in Mark. Winter passed, then spring. As summer approached, Cathy began to look forward to Mark’s homecoming with joy and almost painful anticipation. By the time June came and his sentence had ended, she had come to see the year of his incarceration as a blessing instead of a crisis. Never before had Mark been such a willing subject, listening to the things she wanted to teach him, puzzling over them, studying them, digging for them, and understanding.

Just last week, he had sent her a letter with a Scripture passage in it, and she had wept at the depth of his understanding. It was Proverbs 2:1-5. Mark had written, “Mom, look what the Lord showed me today.” Then he’d quoted the verses: “My son,
if you accept my words and store up my commands within you, turning your ear to wisdom and applying your heart to understanding, and if you call out for insight and cry aloud for understanding, and if you look for it as for silver and search for it as for hidden treasure, then you will understand the fear of the L
ORD
and find the knowledge of God.”

“It works, Mom,” he wrote. “I tried to tell Lazzo. I think he’s listening lately.”

Just weeks before his release date, Steve had come up with an idea. “You remember the first letter I sent Mark with the Bible study in it, the one about the Prodigal Son?”

“How could I forget?” Cathy asked. “It wound up making such a difference in his life.”

“Well, when he called me that night to tell me that he’d accepted Christ, he talked about the robe and ring. And I’ve just been thinking. What if we threw him a celebration when he gets out? We could do it here, in the house, and invite everybody we know, show him that we’re not disgraced, that we’re as proud of him as we can be.”

Cathy threw her hands over her heart. “Oh, Steve, that’s a fabulous idea. We could have a sport coat made for him, sort of like the robe the father gave to his son. And we could make him a ring.”

“And that picture he drew for you. The one with the father’s head and the son’s head inside it? Maybe we could have it duplicated for some kind of insignia to put on the pocket and on the ring. He’d always remember what it meant.”

“Yes! It could be even bigger than Annie’s party. We could call it his Prodigal Son Celebration.”

She threw her arms around her husband and almost danced a jig. “I’ll get started on it right away. Boy, is Mark going to have something to come home to.”

Not
everyone was as excited about the Prodigal Son Celebration as Cathy was. A phone call from Jerry the night before Mark’s release told her that
he
was anything but thrilled.

“What’s this Rick tells me about some big party you’re having?” he asked.

Cathy’s hackles came up as she got ready to defend herself. “I’m throwing my son a party to welcome him home. We’re calling it our Prodigal Son Celebration. Do you have a problem with that, Jerry?”

“Well, I have a problem with Steve doing it. He’s not his father.”

“And neither are you, last I heard,” she threw back. “You haven’t visited Mark one time in a year. He’s given up looking for you. Steve has been there at least once a week, sometimes twice. He’s discipled him with Bible studies and patience. He’s taught him things that will benefit him in life. What have you done, Jerry?” The passion in her words surprised her, and she
realized that she hadn’t dealt very well with the anger she had toward him.

“I don’t care what you say,” he told her. “I am still Mark’s father, and I’m not going to have a party thrown where Steve steps into my shoes and pretends he’s the conquering dad.”

“Well, would you like to do it, instead?” she asked.

“No, I don’t think we should throw a party for a kid who’s spent the last year in prison. Welcome him home, Cathy, but for Pete’s sake, he doesn’t deserve a party.”

“Well, he’s changed, Jerry. You’d know that if you had visited him. And I’m throwing the party whether you like it or not. You’re welcome to come if you want, but I’m not going to tell Steve to stay away from him. He’s been too big a part of Mark’s life in the last year. He’s made a difference, and I’m grateful to him. Mark needed a positive male role model.”

“Oh, thanks a lot,” Jerry said. “Like I’m not one?”

“Figure it out for yourself, Jerry,” she said. “Positive role models are there where people can look at them and imitate them. There’s nothing that Mark’s been able to imitate in you.”

“I’m just saying that I don’t think we should call more attention to the fact that he’s been in prison. It just disgraces the family more.”

“Not
my
family,” Cathy said. “I’m proud of Mark. I’m proud of how far he’s come. And you’re missing it all, Jerry, every bit of it. Your occasional weekends with Rick aren’t making up for what you’re missing in their lives. They’re all changing and growing and becoming adults. If you want to be part of their lives, if you want a say in what goes on around them, then you have to be there.”

She hung up the phone and sat there beside it, realizing that forgiveness was much harder than she thought. How did one forgive someone who was so unrepentant? Still, she got down on her knees and turned it over to God, asking him to work in Jerry’s heart for the good of her children. And she begged him to work in her own heart to help her forgive.

The
long year was nearing its end, and Annie knew that it was time for her to go home. She had known it as soon as her mother told her about the Prodigal Son Celebration. But it would not be easy to leave the children she had come to think of as her own family.

Sylvia hadn’t been feeling well and had been growing tired a lot more quickly than before. Dr. Harry was worried about her, Annie could tell, and arranged for Sylvia to accompany Annie home so that she could see a doctor in the States. Annie worried too, but Sylvia didn’t have time to worry. She just tried to work around the fatigue and her limitations.

The day they were to head to the airport in Managua, Annie wept her heart out and said good-bye to each child individually, both the ones in the orphanage and the ones from the community who hung around waiting for handouts. She would come back and visit them someday, she promised, and when she did, she would bring them goodies from America. She would also
see to it that others from Breezewood kept sending money so that the work could continue.

She wept throughout the flight home, but just as the plane landed in Houston, her heart began to lift. It was time to move ahead with her life, to make plans for her own future. Her time with Sylvia and Harry had given her a hunger for the Word, and now she realized that she wanted to major in Bible at a Christian college, then head to seminary. Someday, she hoped to return to the mission field. Whatever God’s plan for her was, she wanted to make a difference. She didn’t think she could ever return to a mundane, fruitless lifestyle again.

As they boarded the plane from Houston to Breezewood, Sylvia grew faint and had to sit down in the jet bridge. She lowered her head, and a flight attendant got her some water. Annie tried to fan her off.

After a moment, Sylvia had gotten slowly back to her feet and boarded the plane. Annie prayed all the way home that the doctors would be able to quickly find whatever was wrong with Sylvia and cure it. There was so much work to be done. Maybe Sylvia just needed a rest. In a way, Annie was thankful that their house hadn’t sold yet. Sylvia would be able to sleep in her own bedroom on her own mattress with her own linens, surrounded by her own things, with her neighbors fussing over her. Maybe within a week she’d be back to normal.

It had been good of Sylvia to come home to celebrate with Mark. Annie hoped that, when she got married and had a family of her own, she’d live in a neighborhood with friends who loved her and cared for her and celebrated her triumphs with her.

Yes, life held so much. Annie couldn’t wait for whatever came next.

Mark
woke up on the day of his release and realized that everything was different. Even before he climbed out of his bunk, he already felt free—and with a sudden grin he remembered how much he had to look forward to. When he’d first been told of the Prodigal Son party that his family had planned for him, he’d had to go into the bathroom to hide his weeping. He had immediately begun working on the speech his mother had asked him to give. He must have written it a hundred times in the days since then, adding things, deleting those things that sounded lame. He’d tried to organize it the way Brenda had taught him to write papers. He wanted everyone at the party to see that he had changed, that the experience of being in jail had not hardened him. Instead, he was a stronger person for it, a man of integrity and purpose.

But as he dressed that morning, Mark felt a sharp regret for leaving his prison friends behind. He went around to each of them, shaking hands and saying good-bye. He saved Lazzo till
last. The boy couldn’t meet his eyes as Mark shook his hand, and Mark knew that Lazzo was sorry to see him go.

“You’ll come back and visit once in a while, won’t you, man?” Lazzo asked, picking at a piece of lint on his blanket.

“Sure I will,” Mark said.

Lazzo shook his head. “People say that all the time. They say they’ll do it and then they don’t.”

“No, man. I’ll really do it. And I was thinking I might write to you.”

“Write to me?” Lazzo asked. “Yeah, right, like you’re going to have time to sit around writing letters to your old pals in jail.”

“No kidding. I will.” He went to his locker, opened it, and pulled out all the papers Steve had sent him, with all the Bible studies and all of Mark’s notes. He handed them to Lazzo. “You can have these, if you want them. They’re pretty cool, if you do them.”

“That Bible study?” Lazzo asked.

“Yeah. If you don’t want to do them, I’ll take them, but if you want them—”

Lazzo took them out of his hands. “I’ll take ‘em,” he said. “Might fill up some time.”

“Worked for me.” He cleared his throat and took in a deep breath. “You know, if you ever wanted to do more, well, uh…I could send you stuff…or bring it by.”

“Yeah, man. Thanks.”

He packed the few things that he had been allowed to keep and dressed in a new pair of khakis and a button-down shirt that his mother had brought him. Then he met her in the visitation room where they’d talked across the table so many times before. She wept as soon as she saw him come through the door.

Though he had seen her twice a week for the past year, he held her in a crushing embrace, a hello hug. But he couldn’t help looking over her shoulder to see if his father had come. There was no one there, but Mark wasn’t surprised. He had grown numb to that kind of disappointment months ago. At least, he told himself he had.

“So what time does the party start?” he asked his mother.

She wiped her face. “We’re going straight there,” she said. “I hope you’re ready.”

He nodded. “So who’s going to be there?”

“Everybody.”

She smiled and began to roll his suitcase toward the front door. He took it out of her hands and carried it as he walked out the door, an inmate no longer.

“Just brace yourself,” she said as they drove home. “You’re not going to believe this party.”

When they pulled into the driveway, the house looked exactly the same from the outside as it had when he left, except for the cars parked along the cul de sac and pulled up into the empty lot between the Dodds and the Sullivans. He got out and dusted off his pants and realized he was pretty nervous. He wondered if he would remember his speech and if he would embarrass anybody.

But as his mother walked him into the room, his breath caught in his throat. The room was full of friends, old and new, kids he’d gone to junior high school with, kids from the youth group, relatives from his mother’s side of the family, some of Steve’s relatives he’d met briefly, and the chaplains he’d worked with at River Ranch.

His mouth shook with the emotion rising up inside him, and he told himself that he had to be a man, had to keep his eyes dry and his hands steady, at least until he was alone in his own room tonight.

“Mark?”

He heard his mother’s voice at the front of the room. She was holding a navy blue sport coat with an insignia on the lapel. He studied it—the insignia was the picture he had drawn months ago of the father and his son. He had almost forgotten it, though it was packed with meaning for him—about his new heavenly father, and the fact that Mark was growing in his image, and was always on his mind.

“Come on,” she said. “Put it on.”

It was the robe, he realized. The robe from the Prodigal Son. He wove through the crowd to the front of the room and slipped his arms into the sleeves of the new coat. It fit him perfectly.

Everyone got quiet. His mother turned to the crowd, her eyes full of tears. “This coat represents something really special,” she said. “It represents Mark putting on Christ and the life that comes with that choice. And it represents his right standing in our family. In the parable of the Prodigal Son, the father brought out a robe and put it on his son so that everyone would know that he was an heir.”

She smiled. “I don’t have much of an inheritance to leave.” Everyone chuckled. “But I have a family to give Mark, and he’s one of us. And I just wanted him to know that he’s welcome back.”

And then she pulled out the ring that she had had carefully made for him with the same emblem carved in gold. “And I had this made for Mark, too,” she said. “Whenever he wears it, he can look down at it and remember how much his Father in heaven loves him, how much he searched the horizon waiting for him to come home, and how clean his slate is.”

Mark burst into tears, in spite of himself.

“Mark, you have so much ahead of you,” she said, as she slipped the ring onto his shaking finger.

The crowd parted, and Annie pushed through. She looked thinner, taller, healthier than she had before. Her face was more mature, more full of purpose. He’d never seen her more beautiful.

He met her halfway, and she threw her arms around him and began to cry. He buried his face in Annie’s neck. Then Rick came up behind her, and he hugged his brother with the same crushing strength.

Then Sylvia came up, and Brenda and Tory, and their husbands, Barry and David. One by one, he hugged Daniel and Joseph and Leah and Rachel, Spencer and Brittany. Even the baby Hannah, who was walking with the help of her parents, who each held a hand. He hugged Tracy, who was jumping up and down with excitement.

And then he came to Steve. He looked at him awkwardly. He had thanked him before, but he wanted to do it again. He just didn’t know how. Steve shook his hand, then pulled him into a rough hug.

The moment was broken when someone began tinkling a bell to get their attention. It was Rick, standing on the hearth.

“We have a few people who want to say some things,” Rick said. “The first one is from Dr. Harry. He sent it with Sylvia from Nicaragua. If everybody would listen, Mark, you especially…You need to hear what Dr. Harry has to say.”

They turned on the video, and Mark listened as Dr. Harry gave him a blessing such as he’d never received before. And then Rick got up to speak and said things about Mark’s childhood, how he used to skip and make everyone laugh. No one who spoke seemed to recall that Mark had once been arrested for stealing a car, for vandalism, for drugs, for distribution. No one seemed to remember his spending the past year in jail. Instead, you would have thought he was getting an award for feeding the homeless or saving souls.

He couldn’t believe the grace of it all.

Steve hadn’t yet spoken, but Cathy felt moved to say a few more words before he addressed the crowd.

“One more person has a few things to say,” she called out, quieting the crowd. “But before he comes up, I just want to say how proud I am of my son.” She met Mark’s eyes. “I know that what you’ve been through in the last year has been really hard, Mark. And at the beginning, I was ashamed and upset, but today I couldn’t be prouder of you if you had cured cancer or invented some kind of modern gadget that changes the whole world. I love you.” She kissed her fingertips and blew it to Mark.

The door from the kitchen to the garage opened, and she glanced over to see who was coming in. She saw Jerry sticking his head slightly in, looking around with purpose…and anger.

Her heart crashed. How could he come here and make a scene, on Mark’s day? How could he ignore the joy and dig up
only the things that affected him? Was he going to heckle Steve’s speech? Challenge his right to stand in the place of father?

Their friends and neighbors kept their eyes on her, as Mark did, so no one else saw Jerry. He backed out and closed the door. Great, Cathy thought—now he was out there like a ticking bomb, volatile and waiting to explode. Something was about to happen, and she couldn’t predict what it was. Her eyes met Sylvia’s in a moment of panic.

“But before we hear from Steve,” she said, “I want Sylvia to come up and say a few words. Ladies and gentlemen, our resident missionary who’s been mentoring my daughter for the last year—Sylvia Bryan.”

Sylvia looked surprised, but she rose to the occasion and came forward, weak and pale. As the crowd applauded, Cathy whispered to Sylvia, “Jerry’s in the garage. Stall while I calm him down.” Sylvia nodded and started to speak. Cathy hurried through the crowd, grabbed Steve’s hand, and pulled him toward the door.

“Jerry’s here,” she whispered. “He’s going to ruin your speech. Come with me to talk to him.”

They hurried out the side door.

Jerry was waiting in the garage, leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets. “What are you doing here?” Cathy asked.

Jerry stiffened. “I’m his father.”

“So what are you going to do? Just come in here and tell everybody not to welcome Mark home, that he’s an ex-con and he doesn’t deserve any of this?”

The anger was clear on Jerry’s face, and he took a step toward Cathy.

Steve stepped between them. “Cathy, let me handle it, okay? You go on back in. Mark’s going to come looking for you, and we don’t want to upset him.”

Cathy drew in a deep breath, then lifted her chin. “All right,” she said, “but so help me, Jerry, if you mess any of this up, you’re going to pay. None of your children will ever forgive you.” With that, she went back into the house.

She tried to act as if nothing was wrong, but her hands trembled. Sylvia’s speech was heartfelt and spontaneous, and she realized that it was a God thing that she had let her friend get up. Sylvia kept talking until Steve stepped back in alone. Then she shot Cathy a questioning look. Cathy nodded grimly and started back to the front.

As Sylvia turned it back over to her, Cathy tried to swallow the tension in her throat. She drew in a deep breath, afraid of what was about to happen.

“There’s one other person who’d like to speak,” she said in a shaky voice. Everyone looked at Steve expectantly. He only looked down at the floor.

“He’s someone who’s had a huge impact in Mark’s life, someone who’s loved him and grieved over every step of this process. Someone who’s celebrating now, just like God is in heaven.”

She looked across the room at Steve and saw him shaking his head. She frowned and started to urge him to come on, when the door opened and Jerry stepped inside. He took a look around at the crowd, his face reddening.

She started to launch toward him, but Steve held up a hand to stop her. He nodded that it was okay.

Slowly, Jerry pushed through the crowd.