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TITLE: He Held My Hand By DeBorah Sutton 04/12/06 |
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He Held My Hand
By: DeBorah Sutton
Vicky’s stomach was growling. No need to look at her watch; her hunger confirmed that Charlotte was late. Ordinarily lateness wouldn’t matter but her morning had been rush...rush...rush and no food.
She turned to signal the waiter but noticed a smiling Charlotte, her long-time friend, walking in.
“My goodness, Charlotte, you look fabulous! “
Charlotte took her seat apologizing for the hour.
“Don’t worry about that! Just tell me, is the divorce final yet? Well is it?” Information now...food later, thought Vicky.
“Yes, as of 3 weeks ago.”
“Two weeks ago? Are you kidding? I can’t get over how you look!”
“How’s that?” asked Charlotte, trying to read the menu and Vicky too.
“Refreshed! Truly Char, you’re glowing.”
Bewildered, Vicky asked, “What happened? Two months ago you were a wreck! Did you get counseling?”
“Heavens no! I didn’t need it. Besides, I couldn’t afford it anyway.”
“What then? Medication?”
“No. Nothing like that. Charlotte smiled, “Quite simply, He held my hand.
“Who held your hand?”
“Jesus.”
“Jesus who?”
“Jesus Christ.”
“You mean like in the Bible?”
“Yep, like in the Bible.”
“Wait a minute Char - you’re telling me that – your EX beat you . . . cheated on you . . . ran off with only God knows who . . . and the only help you had . . . was Jesus?” Puhleeeeeeeze!
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you. He pulled me through.”
Vicky’s thoughts were showing, how could someone you can’t see...don’t hear....and can’t talk to -- help you get over anything; especially a marriage to an abusive, unfaithful man.
Charlotte sipped her iced tea. “This is a nice place Vicky. Thanks for taking me to lunch.”
“It’s the least I could do. You’ve always been there for me, Char. Besides I just got my tax return. Now . . . back to this Jesus thing.”
I only go to church -- three . . . maybe four times a year; but like you, my mother’s always saying, “the Lord this...the Lord that. Is He the same person as Jesus?”
“The very same one.”
“But what’s so special about him? My mother told me once,” Take your problems to Jesus. He’ll work them out.”
Well did you?” Charlotte asked.
“No. How you can take problems to someone you don’t see, can’t hear, and can’t touch. What are you talking too, Air?”
“Come with me to Bible study tomorrow night, Vicky. It’s very short – only one hour. If you don’t want to stay I won’t force you. And . . . Guess who we’ll be talking about?
“Don’t tell me, Jesus. Right?”
A voice interrupted their laughter, “Ladies, here’s your lunch.”
On the way home Vicky’s feelings of discontentment resurfaced why wasn’t she happy? She had a great job, a fabulous home she shared with her mother; and unlike most of her friends, she was happily single. But something gnawed at her insides, and at 33, she still hadn’t figured it out.
“It’s 6:30! I’d better call Vicky.” Charlotte’s call was brief and to the point. “Vicky, running late. Be there in 15 minutes. Bye.” After a last check for necessary items (Bible, cell phone, keys, compact) she dashed out the door. Vicky was out front talking to a neighbor. She looks so cute, thought Charlotte... but so overdressed. Vicky’s Sunday hat, Sunday dress, Sunday shoes, and Sunday bag made her look like a contestant in the Easter Parade. Charlotte could tell by her clothes that her friend had never . . . if ever . . . been to a Bible Study.
Beep...Beep.
“Vicky you look lovely, but it’s a very casual atmosphere.”
Vicky hesitated before closing the car door, “Darn it, I knew I overdressed. I wore this outfit to my cousin’s wedding. If I change we’ll really be late!”
“Then don’t. Consider this as your coming-out party and you’ve dressed for the occasion.” Charlotte could always turn lemons into lemonade. This was one of those times.
The small classroom was packed. Vicky had to ask, “Do this many people usually come to Bible study to hear about Jesus?”
“Usually.”
“There must be something really special about him.”
Vicky listened attentively as Pastor Jerome began to talk. She wanted to ask questions but felt a little timid; not wanting to call attention to herself or to her Easter outfit.
“Charlotte. Pssst. . . Charlotte. Will people look at me like I’m stupid if I ask a question?”
“Of course not, that’s why we’re all here; to ask questions and learn the Bible.”
Vicky was reticent to raise her hand. First up then down . . . Then down and up.... Finally, “Pastor, may I ask a few questions?”
Pastor: “By all means.”
Vicky: “Where did Jesus come from?”
Pastor: “From Heaven.”
Vicky: “How do you know?”
Pastor: “Scripture tells us.”
Vicky: “What Scripture?”
Pastor: “1 John 4:9 and 1 John 4:14 – read it.”
Vicky: “ 9In this was manifested the love of God toward us, because that God sent his only begotten Son into the world, that we might live through him. 10Herein is love, not that we loved God, but that he loved us, and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins. 14And we have seen and do testify that the Father sent the Son to be the Saviour of the world.”
Vicky: “If Jesus was God – how could he be man?”
Pastor: “Good question. Turn to John 1:14. What does it say?”
Vicky: “It says. . . And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, (and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father,) full of grace and truth.”
Vicky: “Well . . . what exactly does that mean?”
Vicky had a million questions, “Pastor this.... Pastor that....When did He? . . . How did that?” Even her classmates enjoyed her exuberance. Charlotte told Pastor he should change the name from Bible Study to Vicky’s Study. He didn’t say it aloud, but Pastor Jerome felt blessed. He knew another soul was about to be saved.
“Mom. You’ll never believe where I just came from!”
“Where honey?”
“Bible Study!”
“Bible Study?” Vicky’s mother had been after her for years.
“Yes. I went with Charlotte. We had lunch yesterday. She looks so happy mom. I couldn’t believe it! I asked how she dealt with her divorce and she told me Jesus. I had no idea what she was talking about.
Vicky knelt down beside her mother’s bed and hugged her. Mrs. Parris repositioned herself to get comfortable; sometimes she ached so badly. This was one of her mother’s bad nights. Vicky watched grimaces of pain come and go.
“Are you feeling bad mom?”
“No more than usual honey. These old bones are tired. They need rest. But hearing your wonderful news makes me feel much better.
“Vicky at Bible Study, my Lord....my Lord. Remember what I told you last year?”
“No. What mom?”
“Jesus answers prayers.”
“Is that what you prayed for, that I’d go to Bible Study?”
“No honey that you’d go to Jesus.”
They talked into the night. Vicky fell asleep on her mother’s bed. Mrs. Parris lovingly stroked her hair. “Thank you Lord. For her to know you before I left this earth has been my prayer. You’re answering it now. Whenever you call – I’ll come. Thank you.”
Vicky made her biweekly visit to Bartman’s Book Barn. “Hi Mr. Bartman, someone called me, is my book in?”
“Yes. Let me get it for you.”
Vicky gawked at the assortment of books and wondered if Mr. Bartman shelved them all himself. There were so many of them: Suspense, Fiction, Horror, Comedy, Classics, Education, Science, Children’s. Biblical. Hummmmm, she thought, this is a section that I’m unfamiliar with. Let me see . . . Relationships, Marriage, Doing it God’s Way, Children’s Bible stories. Bibles. . .King James Version, NIV Version, New English Translation, Children’s Bible, New Living Translation.... My goodness, there must be fifty different Bibles.
“Here’s your book, Vicky. You’re looking for a Bible, I see.”
“I’ve never owned one before; I’ve only used the ones at church.”
“Then pick one that’s easy to read and understand.”
After about 40 minutes Vicky approached the counter with one of the newer translations.
“This is it, Mr. Bartman. It looks good and reads well. I have a little difficulty with Thou’s and Thine, Wilt and Shalt’s. This one is good for starters.”
“Good choice Vicky; cash or charge?”
Vicky attended Bible Study faithfully never wanting to miss a session. She even asked Pastor Jerome for previous lessons just to catch up. She was changing. Old feelings of unfulfillment were disappearing and life was taking a new turn. She was happy.
Later that year her mother died. It was a hard time. She thought back to Charlotte’s words “He Held my Hand;” she finally knew what it meant, because He was holding hers now. At the funeral, Vicky publicly quoted Scripture for the first time. “Mother suffered for almost two years with cancer. We were very close and I miss her. But I feel happy this day because: 2 Corinthians 5:8: tells us: 8We are confident, I say, and willing rather to be absent from the body, and to be present with the Lord. So this day, I know my mother is at home with the Lord.”
Charlotte smiled at her friend; and her new husband, Pastor Jerome smiled at her.
“Vicky...Vicky! Over here! Vicky. . .”
Vicky’s eyes scanned the block to connect with the voice. Seconds later she saw Jesse, her neighbor waving from across the street.
“Hi, Vicky, it’s so good to see you. How have you been?”
“Fine Jesse. Just fine.”
I’m sorry about your mother. I know how close you were. Are you back to yourself yet?”
“Almost.”
“Did you get counseling or attend Bereavement groups?”
“No. I didn’t.”
“Were you on medication for depression?”
“No. Nothing like that!”
“How did you get through it? How did you cope?”
“Very simply,” she said, “He Held My Hand.”
Who held your hand?
BIG GRIN........
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