Tag: book-review

BLACK SABBATH – CHAPTER 16

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 16

ZELLA LaSTELLA-SALLIE

IF WE CONFESS OUR SINS, HE IS FAITHFUL AND JUST TO FORGIVE US OUR SINS AND TO CLEANSE US FROM ALL UNRIGHTEOUSNESS (1 John 1:9)

            The first of the seven last plagues was beginning to fall. I had butterflies in my stomach as my husband, my cousin, and Destiny’s husband were making their way back to the relatively safe haven of the Storm’s remote acreage. There had been a dozen of us in the Storm’s living room watching my husband, Seven Sallie, debate religious freedom with Congressman Redburn. It was during their dialogue that we began to notice sores rapidly develop on most of the faces in the courtroom.

            As our minds spun, and we offered up prayers, there had been a knock at the door. It was Anna Clayton and her eight year old daughter, Brianna. We invited them in, and our body count went from twelve to fourteen. Right behind Anna was her friend Debbie Smallmon and her eight year old daughter, Saddie. Fourteen now became sixteen.

            They too had escaped the first plague and exhibited no sores. However, one of Debbie’s eyes was swollen shut. Both women wore denim skirts, and there was a huge tear in Debbie’s black pantyhose, a large enough tear to reveal coagulated blood.

            I had only met Debbie and her daughter once. Anna had brought them to church at the beginning of the loud cry. But as with Anna’s husband, Debbie’s husband was adamant about Sunday reverence and the conjoining laws. So she was one and done with our fellowship. Until now.

            It was clear that Anna and Debbie were very close friends. I had known that Anna had led Debbie to Christ four years ago. Then over the last year, both had accepted the Sabbath truth together. Although best of friends, the two couldn’t have appeared to be more opposite. Yet they shared a common bond with the aftermath of sexual sin. We would come to find out that both of their husbands held this over them after they differed on Sunday verses Sabbath.

            Anna was forty-nine, tall and gangly, her light brown hair usually in a ponytail. Her gray eyes looked out of wire rim glasses, giving her a bookworm appearance. Debbie on the other hand was thirty years old. She was blond, blue eyed and had a slightly stocky, athletic build. I guessed she had been either a cheerleader or gymnast. It turned out she had been both.

            The two women and their daughters were barely in the door when I spotted my cousin’s dark blue Crown Vic come racing up the driveway. I stepped out on the porch and witnessed Seven come out of the back door before the vehicle stopped. He did an unintentional summer sault on the Storm’s lawn.

            Patience wasn’t one of my husband’s virtues. Yet he ultimately exhibited the patience of the saints in spiritual matters. (Revelation 14:12). One virtue he did have was being positive and light hearted in the midst of stress and trial. This would prove true, even during the chaos of the seven last plagues.  

            He quickly hopped up and pranced toward me with open arms. In a voice like a British monarch, he declared, “I have returned to you, my love, safe from the coming wrath.”

            He picked me up in an embrace and spun me around once, causing me to giggle. For a few seconds the world wasn’t in turmoil. Then Seven himself almost had person turmoil after he said, “Ooh, either you’ve put on a few pounds, or I’ve gotten weaker.”

            “I assure you it’s the latter,” I said shoving him away.

            “Seven, you are so blessed to have Zella for a wife,” Destiny said. “Most women would have given you the boot by now.”

            “Don’t I know it,” he said shaking his head. “Even at our wedding I had to pull my foot out of my mouth to say, ‘I do.’ And just for the record, it is the latter, I have gotten weaker, for my bride is more lovely now than the day I married her.”

            Everyone laughed, enjoying the small window of levity in the midst of world chaos. Then after a minute we sobered and entered a group prayer session. When our thanksgivings and petitions to God our Father were complete, we rose from our knees. Then Destiny and I retired to a guest room with the two women who had shown up at her doorstep. Billy Bob Booker and his wife, Willa, along with their two children, entertained the two eight year old girls.

            “Debbie,” Destiny said gently as she stepped toward the young woman with a bottle of peroxide in one hand and bandages in the other. “May I ask how you were injured?”

            With chin lifted, she stoically answered, “My husband hit me, and I stumbled over a kitchen chair. I dropped the glass I was holding in the process. It broke, and a shard cut my leg.”

            As Destiny played nurse maid on the wounded leg, Debbie shared part of her testimony. “I met Anna four years ago at a playground when our kids began playing together. I suspected by the way Anna was dressed that she was a born again Christian. She reminded me of a preachy aunt of mine. One of those people that act all high and mighty. So I recoiled at first when she struck up a conversation.”

            “She actually thought I was Brainna’s grandmother,” Anna said chuckling.

            “I did,” Debbie admitted with a giggle. “I actually asked her how old her granddaughter was. I was so embarrassed when she goes, um, she’s my daughter. But God arranged the meeting, and she blew me away with her openness to a complete stranger. I was at the lowest point of my life, longing to die, but knowing I had to hang in there for Saddie.”

            She gazed affectionately at Anna. Her eyes welled with tears. I assume from feeling emotional, but it also could have been the peroxide bubbling on the gash on her leg.

            “So I told her that, ‘no, Brianna’s my daughter,’” Anna explained. “She apologized profusely, and I reassured her by saying, ‘no big deal, it was defiantly a late in life pregnancy, and that I had twenty-five and twenty-three year old sons.’”

            “So I said, ‘wow talk about a surprise pregnancy,’” Debbie added.

            “For some reason I felt compelled to confess my transgression to Debbie,” Anna said. Destiny and I perked up as if antennas were on our heads. What is it with human nature and our tendency to be nosy? But we still didn’t know the details from when Anna let it slip that her husband wasn’t the father of Brianna.

            At the time she dismissed it by saying, ‘it’s a long story,’ and we didn’t pry. What made it so curious was Anna didn’t seem like the adulterous type at all. She was like a wholesome Amish mom morphed into a librarian. But only God knows the secrets of the heart. (Psalm 44:21)

            “I told her that my husband had a vasectomy after our second son was born,” Anna said and then laughed. “Can you imagine? A few minutes after meeting someone, I tell them my husband had a vasectomy. Then I admitted to giving into temptation and getting pregnant by a man who wasn’t my husband. So I told her I wasn’t surprised by the pregnancy. Horrified! But not surprised.”

            Debbie and Anna glanced at each other, and then Anna bowed her head as Debbie patted her leg. Destiny and I glanced at each other, and it was as if we could read each other’s mind. We both wanted to shout, ‘Who? Why? How?’

            Anna looked up and thankfully explained. “My husband and I became quite close with our neighbors, Jill and Tim. We lived next door to them for almost twenty years. My husband and Tim weren’t overly close, typical neighbors I guess. Visit by the fence, borrow tools, help move a couch, you know. But Jill and I became best friends. Their boys were about the same age as ours, and eventually she began attending our church as well.

            “She ended up getting breast cancer, fought it and won, and then got it again and lost. She was only forty-eight. I was devastated, and naturally Tim was too. Ironically, we bonded in our grief, and our mutual love for Jill. We began walking our dogs together every day. Helped each other with our gardens. Often I would fix him lunch. You see he was older than Jill, in his sixties and retired.

            “So the first year of Jill’s passing, as we bonded, I developed a crush on Tim. I tried to push it aside, but as we got to know each other I grew to love him. I had an empty nest at that point, both boys were in college. My marriage had grown cold. Brad spent more time at his country club than he did with me. Then not long after the first anniversary of Jill’s passing, Tim began dating a woman, a widow.

            “I was surprised by how jealous I felt. He started skipping out on dog walks. He rarely came over to help with the garden. He completely stopped having lunch with me in favor of dining with the widow. This all happened over four or five months. I slowly got over him, but on his birthday I made him a cherry pie. I knew from my long time friendship with Jill that this was one of his favorite treats.

            “He seemed pretty glum. I asked him if he had the birthday blues. That’s when he said he had ended things with Roxy. Her name gagged me in my throat. She looked like a Roxy. Piles of white, blonde hair, over size chest. Happily, an oversized midriff to go with it.

            “I asked why, and that’s when we entered the danger zone. He brought out cheese and a bottle of wine to go with the cherry pie as he told me that she just wasn’t in the category of Jill… Or me.

            “I wasn’t a prohibitionist, but I rarely drank. But his not so subtle admission of feelings for me had me rattled and I took a glass. Then another and another. He and I had never expressed feelings for each other beyond a chaste hug. But with the wine lubricating our minds like toxic oil we expressed fondness, longings and then desire. Our pie and cheese was hardly touched, but we drained every drop from that bottle of wine. The next thing I knew we were kissing, then we were in his bedroom… I guess I don’t need to give any more details. I’ll just conclude by saying Brianna was conceived.”

            Anna looked at Debbie with a pensive face despite a forced grin, “Next.”

            Debbie chuckled and asked, “Do I have to?”

            “Yes,” Destiny said, then smiled and put a hand on her knee. “I’m teasing, Sweety. You don’t have to say anything.”

            “No, you gals feel like friends already,” she replied, a little choked up. “I need to get some things off my chest. Like why don’t I have sores, but my husband does? Despite what happened, he’s been a better person than me.”

            “I guess we don’t know your husband,” Destiny said. “But we do know he hit you.”

            “He’s not like that though,” she pleaded. “It’s all this, this chaos making things nuts.”

            “Just tell them you testimony, Deb,” Anna suggested, patting her knee like Destiny had just done.

            “But it’s so shameful,” she whined.

            “It’s okay, Zella was a nude model, and Destiny was a porn star,” Anna explained, then frowned. “Sorry, girls.”

            Destiny chuckled. “It’s okay, it’s not a secret. As a matter of fact, I have a ministry that specializes in helping women get out of the sex industry.”

            This seemed to free Debbie of her inhibitions about sharing her past. “So toward the end of my junior year of college I got pregnant. My boyfriend was a senior about to graduate and go into the Air Force as an officer. The pregnancy was definitely not intended, but my boyfriend accused me of trying to trap him.

            “I admit that it had been my hope that he would ask me to marry him. I even would have postponed or even skipped entirely my last year of college. Instead he proved to be anything but an officer and a gentleman. He threw some cash at me to get an abortion and dumped me like yesterday’s trash. We had been together for almost all of my college career, so it wasn’t like a brief relationship.

            “As much as I hated to, I went down to Planned Parenthood to get an abortion. Believe it or not, the same aunt that Anna initially reminded me of was there with her church group picketing. So I turned tail and fled. I also felt it was a sign, and I ended up not getting an abortion, having Saddie. Thank God I did! She’s been my world despite the difficulties. I shutter when I think back to how I almost extinguished her before she had a chance to exist.

            “So with the college year at an end, I worked full time at the grocery store I had worked part time at and quickly became an assistant manager. It wasn’t long after having my baby girl that I realized being a single mother put a damper on one’s social life. I was also bitter, and not all that interested in a relationship.

            “I was angry, rebellious, yet lacking self-esteem. I was also longing for intimacy despite not wanting a relationship. A girl I worked with turned me onto a hook up site on the internet. I was hesitant at first, but I felt like it was a way to get back at my ex. What a ridiculous notion in hindsight, but I guess I needed an excuse to behave badly.

            “So, with my sister willing to baby sit while I supposedly had a girls night out, I hooked up with a guy I met on line for the first time. Forgive me, but the illicit encounter was thrilling. It became like a drug, and I began doing it on a regular basis.

            “Another excuse was it was hardly any time away from Saddie. I used a variety of baby sitters. My mom, my sister, friends. And it only took a couple hours, and I was back with my daughter, and the baby sitter was not overly burdened. Meet online, meet for a drink, go back to their place. Sometimes dinner if they were somewhat classy. Yeah right, classy guys hooking up with broken, lonely women.”

            She did a finger in her mouth to insinuate gagging.

            “But I can’t blame them, not one of them forced me to connect with them on line or go back to their place with them after we met. But I began a cycle of hook ups, self-loathing, stop for a while, get bored, start hooking up again.”

            She shook her head and continued. “So the day before I met Anna, my gynecologist informed me that I had herpes. Self-loathing hit a new low. I truly would have committed suicide if I didn’t have Saddie. The weird thing is, I know my former boyfriend was gonna end things after he graduated regardless of whether I was pregnant. So I still could have ended up in that cycle of promiscuity. But without Saddie, what would have stopped me from suicide? So in an odd way, I saved my own life by saving hers.”

            “I didn’t know what to do at this rock bottom point in my life. So I just started this mantra. ‘God, if you’re out there, please help me, I don’t know how to go on.’ I must have said that a hundred times over the next twenty-four hours. Then low and behold I meet Anna at the playground and we, I don’t know, just ended up clicking. God answered my half-conscious  prayers by putting Anna in my path.”

            She croaked out that last sentence and began to weep. Destiny and I both put a hand on her back, and Anna knelt in front of her and took both hands in hers. Debbie laughed through her tears. “Now that’s what I call the laying on of hands.”

            “So how did you meet your husband?” I asked.

            “I met Grant on a Christian dating site,” Debbie explained. “It was kind of strange after all of the internet hook ups. This time when I met a guy, the most we would do is share a chaste kiss rather than go to bed. Another strange element is it took a couple dozen dates before I met Grant. I was about to throw in the towel. Not a lot of guys want a woman with a kid, that has a history of promiscuity, a behavior that gave ultimately gave her a permanent STD.”

            There was a knock at the bedroom door. Destiny opened it and Seven came in.

            “Hey ladies,” he said, giving everyone of us a glance. “Quite a party ya got going on here. Say, there’s a guy that showed up down stairs. Brock’s been sort of interrogating him. He doesn’t have any sores and seems like a decent enough guy. But he claims to know Anna and he desperately wants to talk to her.”

            “Who is it?” Anna asked hesitantly.

            Seven frowned. “He said your husband threatened to kill him.”

            “Did you get his name?” Anna asked impatiently.

            “Not his last, just his first,” Seven replied. Then he put his hands on his hips. “What were you gals discussing?”

            “Seven!” I said incredulously. How is it some people can be so talented and brilliant, and yet occasionally come off as completely dense. “What’s his first name?”

            “Oh right. He said his name is Tim, and he’s concerned for you and your daughter’s safety.”

BLACK SABBATH – CHAPTER 8

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 8

ZELLA LaSTELLA-SALLIE

IN ME (JESUS) YOU MAY HAVE PEACE. IN THE WORLD YOU WILL HAVE TRIBULATION, BUT BE OF GOOD CHEER, I HAVE OVERCOME THE WORLD. (John 16:33)

            As we all stared at the bedraggled, trembling man in handcuffs, Inga began to shake her head emphatically. She looked at Triple Lou. “Lieutenant, there’s no way Don killed our sister.”

            “Do you know this man then?” he asked.

            “I just know he went by Donny. We were acquainted in the homeless community. He can barely tie his shoes, let alone… Well, you know what happened. Besides, like I told you before, very few people here knew me as Inga Cognito. Just the Sallie’s and some of your officers.”

            “What’s this about Inga Cognito?” Brent asked. “You often called yourself that when we were kids.”

            The Lieutenant pulled her brother aside and spoke in a low voice so Inga wouldn’t have to hear the description of their deceased sister again. Then he explained to Brent about the words carved into Paloma’s flesh, ‘Inga Cognito is a fake.’

            Brent’s jaw clenched as he looked at his sister. His gaze was fierce but softened as he took in the sight of Inga meekly chewing her lower lip. Her arctic blue eyes were wide and frightened as she perceived what Triple Lou had told her brother.

            “I’m taking a leave of absence and staying with you, Sis,” Brent told her.

            Inga looked at me and then my husband. “But I’m living, I mean staying with the Sallies”

            “I’ll get an extended stay hotel or something,” he told her.

            “You’re welcome to stay with us,” I offered.

            “I don’t want to impose.”

            “It’s no imposition.”

            Seven stepped next to me and whispered like a ventriloquist. “Honey, he doesn’t want to impose.”

            “I insist,” I told Brent. In the Biblical parable of the two sons, Seven was very much like the son who initially said no but went. So now I whispered like a ventriloquist into my husband’s ear. “Inga’s sister was murdered; she needs her brother. She needs the stability of our home.”

            “We insist Brent,” Seven said.

            “Are you sure?” Brent asked.

            “Absolutely,” my husband reassured him. Then he spoke as if it were his own idea. “She’s been staying with us for a couple weeks, and could use the stability and familiarity she’s found in our home.”

            He grinned at me. Suspicious of possible smugness, I stepped on his foot and ground my heel in just a little. He grunted, groaned, and then frowned at me. I gave him a sweet smile. “Oops, sorry, Honey.”

            A uniformed officer entered the room escorting a fifty something year old man with a long gray beard and a long gray ponytail. His gray eyes were intense. By his side was a tall red haired young lady who appeared to be in her late teens or early twenties.

            They were an odd pair. He looked like an old hippie stoner in his faded jean jacket and jeans. She was rather goth in appearance. Two small rings adorned her lower lip. She wore a black t-shirt with little red skulls all over the front and back. Black jeans that were ripped and torn with red tights underneath, and motorcycle boots.

            “Lou,” the officer said. “This young lady and gentleman say they may have information on the murder of Paloma Likas.”

            “Little Priscilly!” Inga exclaimed as the two women embraced. “Only you’re not so little anymore.”

            Priscilly appeared to be all of six feet tall, compared to Inga’s five foot six. Then she and Brent exchanged greetings, only they shook hands rather than hugged.

            “I’m so sorry about Pal,” Priscilla Rosenwinkle told the siblings. Inga nodded, and both women wept as Brent looked solemnly at his shoes.

            Triple Lou gave them a minute and then spoke to the old stoner. “You say you have information regarding the murder of Paloma Likas?”

            “I do,” the man replied and handed the lieutenant some type of credentials.

            Triple Lou frowned as he read, then his eyebrows raised as he looked at the stoner. “Agent Jeffery Tull, FBI?”

            “At your service,” the federal agent acknowledged with a little bow.

            “Any relation to the musician Jethro Tull?” Seven asked with a little grin.

            I rolled my eyes. Why did my husband always have to think he was funny?

            “Haven’t heard that one before,” Jeffry Tull responded with a straight face. “You do know Jethro Tull is the name of a band, not a person. Well, I mean, he was person, but he was a British agriculturist or something, not the writer of ‘Locomotive Breath’.”

            “I knew that,” Seven said, waving a dismissive hand. “I was just…”

            “Thinking he was funny,” I interrupted.

            “Trying to be light hearted during a tense situation,” Seven said looking at me with such a serious expression I had to purse my lips to keep from giggling.

            Triple Lou waved a commanding hand. “Okay, enough with rock history. What’s your story, Agent Tull?”

            “I’ve been undercover at Bryson Bronx’s compound for quite some time. I can’t give any details on what for, that’s confidential. Pricilla here is an informant of mine. Long story short, one of Bronx’s hench men fancied her, so she got close to him to help me out.”

            “You could say I prostituted myself for justice,” Priscilla cut in.

            Agent Tull eyed her for several seconds. Whether his gaze held scorn or admiration, I couldn’t tell.

            “Anyway, I’ve been there for going on a year and I got nothing. But then about a month ago Priscilla was able to get a tap on her lover’s phone.”

            Priscilla scrunched up her face. “Don’t call him my lover!”

            “Sorry. He goes by the nickname Buzz. Anyway, Priscilla’s sister got word that Bryson heard that Inga was part of a homeless community here in Iowa. Then low and behold, an hour after Priscilla gets word that Bryson knows Inga’s whereabouts, Bryson gets an assignment to come to Iowa. Coincidence? I think not.”

            “But I couldn’t get a hold of Jeffery,” Priscilla cut in. “He always told me if I found something out to only go to him. But I needed to do something, I didn’t know how to get a hold of Inga. So I told Paloma, thinking she would know what to do. I didn’t realize she would come out here and get herself…”

            She looked at Inga guiltily. Inga hugged her again. “It’s not your fault.”

            “Talk about bad timing. I was on a three day retreat looking for UFO’s,” Agent Tull said with a look on his face that said he thought such a thing ridiculous. “No phones allowed, and we also fasted. Talk about a long three days. But I couldn’t say no, or my cover would have been blown.”

            “As soon as I told Jeffery, we took a red eye out here,” Priscilla said.

            “My cover is likely blown now,” Agent Tull shrugged. “But here’s the thing. They know they killed the wrong sister. They sent Bryson a picture and his reply was twofold. He told them, ‘look at the eyes you idiots! That’s Paloma, not Inga. And if Inga’s out there your phones have been bugged.’ They obviously ditched them. Before we came here to the police station, I traced Buzz’s phone to the Cedar River.”

            “So you think they’re still around?” Brent asked Agent Tull.

            “At this point I can only speculate,” he replied. “But yes, that’d be my best guess.”

            “How in the world will we find them?” Brent asked.

            Inga stared at her brother. Like me, she probably noticed he said ‘we.’ She boldly declared, “I need to be a decoy.”

            “Oh no, you’re not,” Triple Lou responded, shaking his head and waving his arms like a football official signaling no catch or missed field goal. “I can not put a citizen in harm’s way like that.”

            “You also can’t deny a citizen their freedom to walk the streets,” Inga said.

            Giving her a hard look, the Lieutenant said, “As long as the citizen abides by the law and doesn’t, say, shop lift.”

            Inga gave her brother a nervous glance and then looked away, ashamed. I stepped to her, put my arm around her shoulder, and tugged her into myself. She looked at me and I gave her a reassuring smile. My whole gesture implying the Apostle John’s beautiful words from 1 John 1:9. ‘If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.’

            She forced a smile in recognition. Then she added her own spiritual reassurance, saying, “Be still and know that I am God?” (Psalm 46:10)

            “Right,” I responded, still smiling.

            Little did I know that I would need to completely rely on her admonition in the coming days. About ten seconds after her words of encouragement, a uniformed officer burst into the room. With a voice filled with urgency, he declared, “Lou, there’s a four alarm fire! It’s Sallie’s home, Sir, and it’s fully engulfed!”

HEAVY METAL MIRACLES – PART 2 – CHAPTER 12

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

HEAVY METAL MIRACLES

PART 2

CHAPTER 12

DR. PENNY ALDO (DREW’S MOTHER)

JUDGE NOT THAT YOU BE NOT JUDGED. (Mattew 7:1)

            I never liked Nancy, and I never disliked her more than when I saw her coming from my precious son’s bedroom wearing next to nothing. Forgive me for being crude, but the too small, skimpy nightgown was so revealing, I could tell that her pubic hair matched the color of the red-gold color of the hair on her head. I was surprised I could make out the faded Tweety Bird on the front, that’s how worn and thin the garment was.

            I had never liked the sullen, know it all attitude she exhibited even as an eight or nine year old girl. As a teenager I thought of her as downright snotty. It was ironic that I felt this way because what I just described in Nancy was the overall assessment people had of me throughout most my life.

            But being judgmental can be subtle. I excused my own attitude as being a result of feeling socially inadequate, coupled with being cynical of my fellow human beings with their faults and weaknesses. Why didn’t I give her credit for the same?

            I was both relieved and angry with Nancy when she and Drew had a falling out as fifteen and sixteen year olds. I was relieved that they were no longer chums, yet on the other hand I was angry that she had hurt my darling son. When she began her freshman year of college, and Drew his senior year of high school, it looked as though the divide in their relationship was permanent, and this pleased me.

            As my son prepared to graduate high school, and enter into adult life, I was so proud of him when he became part of a news story for solving a murder. Then I was dismayed that his heroics were partnered with Nancy right after they had somehow reunited. I was then disheartened when they began to spend time together once again.

            To add salt to my wound, Nancy’s crazy friend had pointed a gun at my son’s head. Once again I was left with mixed feelings. I was pleased with his faith and courage. Yet I was concerned with what other lunatics she might be associated with if they continued to hang out.

            I surprised myself by agreeing to let her stay with us. One of my least favorite persons would be under my roof until she found a new place to live. How long would that take? Would she drag it out? Then it only took her eight or ten hours to misbehave beyond belief.

            I was confused and angry as to why she had been in in Drew’s bedroom virtually naked. Had she corrupted my virtuous son? Although he had a heart for God rarely seen in most teenagers, he was still a young healthy male, and she was a rather attractive female, albeit in an odd sort of way.

            But let me briefly be positive about the young woman. I did like her odd beauty. It was odd because it was so pure. Her typical boy’s haircut actually made her look cute. I had never seen her wear makeup, nor a dress, no piercings, even her ears, no tattoos. She typically wore t-shirts or sweatshirts, jeans, sneakers, and frequently a baseball cap. But with her flawless alabaster skin and doe eyes, you could still tell she was very much female.

            Maybe it was none of my business what Nancy and Drew were up to. After all, he was an adult now. But he will always be my baby, and whatever was happening between them was going on under my roof. So I took the privilege of knocking on his bedroom door and petitioning entrance.

            When I first stepped through the door, I didn’t see Nancy anywhere. But she had to have come back in here after she quickly retreated down the hallway. Was she hiding in the closet? Then I saw tufts of strawberry blonde hair emerge from behind Drew’s shoulder, followed by her blue-gray eyes peeking at me with arched eyebrows.

            I might have laughed under different circumstances, but I was too angry in that moment. “Come out from behind Drew, young lady,” I demanded. “Is this the thanks I get for graciously letting you stay here while you find a more permanent place to live?”

            “I’m sorry,” Nancy responded with a monotone voice as she came from behind my son. She was now wearing his robe. I didn’t know if I was glad she was covered, or more annoyed that she was wearing something of my son’s that was rather personal.

            “I should have never come here,” she said. “I’ll gather up my things and leave.”

            “That’s a good idea,” I replied stubbornly.

            Nancy began to bolt for the door when Drew barked, “No, stop! Mom you don’t understand!”
            Drew had grabbed Nancy’s hand, stopping her. She and I were both stunned, and our mouths gaped open in surprise. Drew was incredibly even keeled and calm. For him to make such a forceful command was surprising indeed.

            “You just don’t understand, Mom!” Drew repeated passionately. “Stop jumping to conclusions.”

            Nancy looked at Drew in awe. He seemed more upset than when he had a gun pointed at his head.

            “What’s not to understand?” I said with a shrug. “A naked nineteen year old girl came from your room as the sun was coming up.”

            “She wasn’t naked,” Drew responded emphatically.

            “Might as well have been.”

            “Dr. Aldo, I’m sorry,” Nancy said meekly. “I couldn’t sleep, and my mind wouldn’t shut off from what happened last night. I could hear Drew moving around, and without thinking I just went to him. As soon as I realized by the look on his face I…”

            “So Drew got the same eye full that I did,” I interrupted heatedly.

            Drew pinched the bridge of his nose and Nancy turned three shades of pink before she said, “I better go.”

            Drew took a step toward her, grabbed her hand again, stopping her, and whispered something in her ear. She glanced at me with sad, anxious eyes, then stared at the floor for about ten seconds. She looked at Drew, nodded, then yanked her hand from his, and ran down the hall.

            Alone with Drew, the tables turned on me. It was as if he were the parent and I were the child. “Mom, do you really think Nancy and I were having sex?”

            “Well, no, I don’t believe you would have premarital sex,” I told him, and almost made the mistake of saying, unlike your brother. “But on the other hand, the proof is in the pudding.”

            “What’s that supposed to mean?” he replied testily as he crossed his arms.

            Once again, hostility coming from Drew gave me pause. “Although I believe your intentions were pure, it appears to me that that wayward girl was, at a minimum, trying to seduce you. I know you are a decent young man, but you are entering your sexual peek.”

            “Mom!” Drew whined with a deep blush. Whining was another thing foreign to my son. All of these uncharacteristic mannerisms only made me more certain that something untoward was a foot.

            “Mom, just let me explain,” Drew said as he held up a hand, signifying hold on. “As soon as Nancy realized her state of dress, she put on my robe while we talked. And we conversed mostly about spiritual things.”

            He told me about his dream. He explained her embarrassment when he turned on the light. He revealed her interest in being baptized after they talked spiritual things until the sun came up, emphasizing that she wore his robe the whole time. He also informed me that he assured her that she should be able to sneak back to her room after disrobing. He also pointed out that she made him look the other way. Then he threw a verbal knockout punch.

            “Mom, there’s something you should know about Nancy. I asked her permission to tell you before she bolted away.”

            He proceeded to tell me about how her father had abused her and used her in child porn. Then explained that when her mother found out, the two fled California for Iowa. He said he always knew she was troubled, but until recently, never knew exactly why.

            It had been a long time since I had felt such overwhelming guilt. Before I became a serious follower of Christ in my late thirties, I had done many egregious things which caused me shame. The most serious was an affair with a married man. But my new feelings about Nancy had the sharpest sting of remorse.

            I had spent many years volunteering my veterinarian skills to the ministrations of abused and neglected animals. Yet for a decade I did nothing but treat a horribly abused young girl coldly. Was it a good enough excuse that I didn’t know? Hardly!

            This might have been my biggest life lesson, and it came at sixty years of age. I breathlessly told Drew, “I need to make things right.”

            “Mom, wait!” Drew petitioned, but I was already scrambling down the hall.

            As quickly as I made it downstairs to her room, I stopped, dropped to my knees ten feet from her door and offered up a quick prayer. “Father, forgive me for my treatment of Nancy tonight and all the previous years. Please give me wisdom and humility in my attempt to make things right. In Jesus name, Amen.”

            The door to Nancy’s room was cracked open. In my haste to talk to her, I knocked a little too vigorously and the door opened. Nancy was startled to suddenly have an audience as she attempted to put a bra on. Rather than continue the process of dressing, she covered her breasts with folded arms. In her state of undress, I saw numerous thin pink scars on both sides of her rib cage. She was, maybe even is, a cutter.

            “We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” I tried to joke.

            As I looked into her anguished face, I realized my comment was in poor taste. ‘Lord, what now?’

HEAVY METAL MIRACLES – PART 2 – CHAPTER 10

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

HEAVY METAL MIRACLES

PART 2

CHAPTER 10

NANCY

LOOKING STEADFASTLY AT HIM, SAW HIS FACE AS THE FACE OF AN ANGEL (Acts 6:15)

            “Addie!” Nancy barked as her heart felt like it would pound right out of her chest. “What do you think you are doing?”

            Addie had a gun pointed at Drew’s head and demanded that he renounce his faith. He refused. She touched the pistol to his forehead. “I’m not telling you again.”

            “Then I’ll say this, because I will never betray my Lord. Father forgive her for what she is about to do.”

            Nancy’s mouth fell open in disbelief. She was about to come out of her skin with adrenaline. Yet the person with a gun held to his head looked as tranquil as someone watching a beautiful sunset while he sat on his porch sipping Yogi brand Relaxed Mind herbal tea.

            Addie emitted a half screech, half groan as she dropped to her knees, clutching her head. Her gun clattered next to her and Drew casually picked it up. It was an old twenty two revolver. As Addie’s body shook with sobs, Nancy marched to the kitchen table with clenched jaw and retrieved her phone.

            “Wait, Nancy,” Drew petitioned. “Don’t call the police, it’s not loaded.”

            Once again Nancy’s mouth gaped open in disbelief. But this time her eyebrows furrowed in anger rather than arched in amazement. “She had a gun pointed at your head, Andrew Arlo Aldo… And made threats!”

            “Like I said, it wasn’t loaded,” Drew said with a little smile at her using his entire legal name.

            “That’s beside the point! Nobody can go about with a gun making threats without facing consequences.”

            “Go ahead, call the police,” Addie choked as she rolled onto her back and put an arm over her eyes. Her tone was part hostile and part desperation. “My life is over anyway.”

            “I can’t believe what you just did!” Nancy said with gritted teeth, her thumb hovering over the send button. “Tell me why, Addie, why?”

            “You know why,” Addie replied as she sat up and hugged her knees. Her face was red, her cheeks were wet with tears, her upper lip was wet with snot, and her chin was wet with saliva. “I love you.”

            “I love you too,” Nancy told her with surprising gentleness. “But not in the way you want me to.”

            “Why did you lead me on then?” Addie asked with a pleading voice.

            “I didn’t mean to. Both times when we started to take things further, I told you I just wasn’t comfortable.”

            Further from what, I wondered. Then felt my toes curl as I felt like I was eves dropping on a very personal dispute. But how could I leave until this gun issue was resolved?

            “Yeah, so I give you plenty of space and time, and you reward me by doing the tongue tango with your friend Diego.” Addie did air quotes when saying ‘your friend.’ “Do you know how much that hurt? Not only knowing about it, but walking in on it?”

            “I told you I had too much to drink, just like when you and I…” Nancy eyed me guiltily. “Look, I’m sorry I hurt you. But if that’s why you pointed the gun at Drew’s head, I’m the one you should have done it to instead.”

            “He’s the one filling your head with all of the Bible nonsense,” Addie said angrily, pointing a finger at me this time instead of a gun. “He’s the one making you all lovesick, when I had you first. I thought he was a fake, Mr. Holier than Thou, and I needed to prove it to you.”

            Nancy eyed me guiltily again, only this time a blush was added. Despite her embarrassment, she spoke with surprising tenderness. “Drew’s no fake, he’s the real deal. I guess you did prove that to me.”

            “You seem to be right,” Addie responded, glancing at me with an embarrassed look. “I’m sorry, Drew. I’ve never felt like a bigger fool in my entire life.”

            “When I said Father forgive you, I meant it,” I reassured her.

            “You asked your… God to forgive me, but do you?”

            “Absolutely,” I replied, handing her a tissue for her soggy face.

            She raised it up as if in display, I guess suggesting, ‘look he’s even handing me a tissue.’ She began to whimper as she put it to use. Nancy took a step toward her as if to provide comfort. But she stopped, pursed her lips, and crossed her arms.

            Nancy agreed to not call the authorities. Addie apologized profusely and adamantly insisted that she would never ever do something like that again under any circumstance. It seems she acquired the gun via her mother’s nightstand. She also made sure the chambers were empty and had checked it thrice to be sure.

            Although seeming a little on the reluctant side, Nancy forgave her as well. However, she insisted that she could no longer share living quarters with Addie, effective immediately. Since her mother had moved back to California after Nancy graduated from high school, I invited her to my family’s home.

            My parents lived on a forty acre ranch that had plenty of timber on rolling hills. Thus their five bedroom home was built on a hill. The unique structure’s basement was a bit deeper than your average cellar and walked out onto a sloping back yard. From the front, the home looked like a one story ranch. Whereas from the back it was three stories high.

            Since Mom and Dad already had guests, we had to put up Nancy in a small, but cozy fifth bedroom in the basement. I offered her my bedroom, but she insisted that she wanted to stay tucked away from everybody else. That was my impression, not necessarily hers.

            My bedroom was directly above the room Nancy had retired to. At around two thirty in the morning I awoke and went to the bathroom. Upon settling back into bed, I heard a low murmur of voices coming through the furnace ducts. One voice was deeper than the other. Was I hearing things? My adrenaline spiked a bit, especially with what happened the previous evening. It concerned me that someone might have broken in downstairs.

            I made my way to the basement and checked the sliding glass door. It was locked with no sign of forced entry. I eased over to the bedroom door and heard Nancy talking in low tones to someone. Was she on her phone? What was the deeper voice I heard upstairs? Although too faint to make out the words, it certainly seemed male.

            Standing outside the door, I could hear what Nancy was saying in low tones. “You wouldn’t believe it. Drew had this out of control lunatic pointing a gun at his head, but he just looked so incredibly calm.”

            I heard the deep murmur of a male voice; I was certain this time. Yet I couldn’t make out what he said. Knowing the layout of the room, the head of the bed was right by the door. I envisioned Nancy sitting cross legged and leaning against the head. The other person was obviously sitting in the chair that was against the back wall. That’s why I heard her but couldn’t make out the other person.

            But who could it possibly be? My first thought would have been my brother Jerry, but he was on a weekend camping trip fifty miles away. Could it be a deep voiced female? Was it Addie? Yet Nancy seemed very rattled by her actions; even declaring multiple times on the ride to my parent’s place that she thought she knew Addie.

            “You should have seen his face,” Nancy continued. “It was like, um, well, angelic. It was almost like he wanted to die. I never ever thought of Drew as suicidal, just the opposite. But, like, do you think he could be… Maybe just a little?”

            Low deep murmur.

            “Yeah, your right, it’s his incredibly strong faith.”

            This person knows me! My dad? Uncle Eli? Just to be clear, Eli Alderson isn’t my biological uncle, just my dad’s closest male friend. Although I had many friends, I didn’t think of any being close enough to show up in the middle of the night. Plus most of my friends didn’t like Nancy.

            Low murmur, then Nancy declaring. “I don’t understand my feelings for Drew. I mean I love him so much. And after last night there’s not a person I admire more in the whole world, but you know what’s really weird? When we kissed a couple weeks ago, it was both wonderful, and… Oh, I can’t say.”

            Low murmur, then Nancy actually giggled. She was the least giggly girl I had ever known. “Well, after we kissed for a minute, it was like… It was like… Oh, I don’t know, it was just… Like kissing my brother. But I don’t have a brother so how would I even know?”

            I felt a wave of disappointment. She didn’t like kissing me? Although I didn’t think it felt like kissing my sister, our extended lip lock did seem to lack something. But I had never kissed a girl before, in a romantic sense. Plus it seemed like finding a dead body tainted the experience somehow. Low murmur, another giggle. Nancy giggling? Do we really know anybody? Who was this making her giggle anyway?

            Low murmur.

            More giggles from Nancy. What was going on? “No kissing you was definitely not like kissing my brother.”

            Diego! It had to be Diego! But why would she invite him into my parent’s home?

            Low murmur.

            “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to, I’m not sleepy after all that happened last night.”

            Low murmur.

            “I understand. But you don’t need to apologize…. I kind of liked it.”

            Low murmur, more giggles from Nancy. “It wasn’t unpleasant, but what about Drew?”

            Low murmur.

            “You’re right. As much as I admire him and think he’s cute, we’re just not right for each other… But you and me? Come on.”

            I heard shuffling feet. Then the squeak of mattress springs. Shuffling and then the smacking shmucking sound of what? Lips on lips and then some? Then yet more giggling from Nancy. “Maybe you better go.”

            “Maybe you’re right,” my brother Jerry said.

            What!

HEAVY METAL MIRACLES – PART 2 – CHAPTER 7

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

HEAVY METAL MIRACLES

PART 2

CHAPTER 7

DREW

FOR GOD HAS NOT GIVEN US A SPIRIT OF FEAR, BUT OF POWER AND OF LOVE AND OF A SOUND MIND. (2 Timothy 1:7)

            “I don’t understand,” I told Nancy as we sat across from each other, in a booth, in Bluebird cafe. “Who are you in love with?”

            She had recently begun waitressing there. When I showed up with a young lady who wanted to discuss Biblical doctrine, Nancy waited on our table. Although there was nothing romantic with Callie, my lunch companion, Nancy had apparently become jealous and deposited the glass of water I had requested onto my lap.

            About a week earlier, Nancy and I had shared a rather passionate kiss. But in the aftermath of the lip lock, Nancy had declared the need for time and space. I figured that was code for ‘thanks but no thanks.’ So as I gazed at her in the Bluebird café that afternoon, I uttered my confusion.

            Her head had been hung as if in shame. But after my question, it popped up and she stated heatedly, “You, you idiot!”

            “Oh, I see.”

            “That’s all you have to say?”

            “What do you want me to say?” I asked stupidly.

            “What do I want you to say? I pour my heart out, and you say what do you want me to say?”

            I almost made the mistake of saying you didn’t exactly pour your heart out. You simply explained dropping water onto my lap as love makes you crazy. Instead, I said, “I love you too, Callie.”

            “Callie! I need to get back to work.”

            She arose hastily, and in a panic I grabbed her hand. “Nancy! I love you, Nancy! You said love makes you crazy, well apparently it makes me stupid. Callie was a slip of the tongue.”

            “No doubt you’d like to have a slip of the tongue with her.”

            “Hardly! We met at her sister’s funeral for Pete’s sake! I don’t even really know her.”

            “By the way you two were talking it seems like you’d like to.”

            “To be honest, our spiritual interests line up better than yours and mine.”

            “Don’t be so sure about that.”

            “What’s that mean?”

            “Never mind,” she said, spinning on her heel and walking away.

            “Nancy,” I said, grabbing her hand again.

            “Drew, I need to get back to work.”

            I let go of her hand. “Why do opposites have to attract?”

            She laughed and it made me feel better. “I’d say it’s because the world is cruel. You’d say it’s because life’s a test.”

            “I suppose so.”

            “Well, I better go,” she said, spun around, and almost ran into her boss who was carrying a plate of food in one hand and a beverage in the other. Carol Snow was around sixty and had white snow hair. “Oh sorry, Carol. I was gonna grab a cart and bus tables.”

            “No you’re not,” Carol said with a sassy smile. “You’re gonna sit and eat some lunch with this fine young man. You saved my bacon today doing the work of two. I think I can handle cleaning up three or four tables.”

            “Oh, Carol, that’s okay. Drew was just about to go,” Nancy said, and then looked at me with what seemed to be a frightened expression. Why? “It’ll only take me about ten minutes or so, and then I’ll eat in back like usual.”

            “Nothing doing,” Carol demanded. Then she whispered into Nancy’s ear. Nancy glanced at me again and her frightened countenance only intensified. Then she shyly looked away.

            What was going on? I was intrigued. It was odd to see feisty and spicey Nancy look rattled. I said, “I’m in no hurry.”

            Nancy looked at me yet again. This time she glared, and her lips were pursed. Now that was the Nancy I knew. It also made me consider saying ‘I have to leave after all.’

            We sat at the same booth as Callie and I. Nancy was having some sort big salad with a baked potato. What was it with females and salads?

            “So talk,” she said as she chewed a mouth of leafy greens.

            “How lady like,” I joked.

            She obstinately stuffed more salad into her mouth, and more muffled than before replied, “You’re the one who wanted to stay.”

            “I want us to friends again,” I told her.

            “We never stopped being friends.”

            “You know as well as I do there has been a rift between us.”

            “There was no rift between us, and you know it. I pushed away,” she said so coldly I felt a chill.

            “Why, Nancy?”

            A fork full of salad hung between the plate and her mouth as she gazed out of the window. She spoke so quietly that I almost didn’t hear her. “You scared me as we got older. I had to go back into counseling because of you.”

            I was stunned! Very carefully I asked, “What did I do? I’d never hurt you.”

            “I know, that’s the odd thing. But the truth is, I shouldn’t say you scared me. It’s more accurate to say you made me scared of myself.”

            “Do you mean like self-harm?”

            “Not in the way you probably think. There are two things that disturb me when it comes to you.”

            “Well, it’s always good to hear you disturb people,” I chuckled.

            It was a relief to see her laugh herself in response. “Not what you probably think.”

            “Please enlighten me,” I said gently. “To be honest, your pushing away from our friendship hurt me deeply.”

            She looked horrified. “I’m truly sorry, Drew. It’s just, well, there are things about me you don’t understand.”

            “I want to understand.”

            She smiled sadly, but her gaze held fondness. “How can you understand me when I don’t even understand myself?”

            “How can any of us understand ourselves?”

            “You do!” she said incredulously.

            “I do?”

            “Yes, you do. That’s one of the things that disturbs me about you. But I don’t want you to think that I think that’s bad. It’s just that you always have this calm sense of peace. Ever since we were little. I’ve always been volatile, moody. I know you will tell me it’s because of your God, but for me that’s unattainable.”

            “I have to disagree. It’s very attainable.”

            She gave me a cold blooded killer stare, as intense as I had ever seen from her, and I’d seen plenty. My return gaze was mild. I loved this broken, feisty, damaged girl. I can still remember seeing her for the first time in school, that cute little ginger haired girl. She was a bit disheveled, a lot scared, but had a look of defiance in her eyes that was like a fence around her.

            After I won her over and got to know her, I came to believe that she and her mother had fled from something. Something terrible. Something that left a little girl picking up shattered pieces of an already broken life. Her mother was a big hearted woman, hard working woman. But she often lost herself in a bottle, trying to escape further from what she and her daughter escaped from.

            She snorted a laugh and looked at the table. “You’re something else. You stand up to bullies. You discover a dead body with an eerie calm, and then a few days later her twin sister wants to get together to find out what makes you tick.”

            “Just to be clear, Callie wanted to discuss the Bible and…”

            “Yeah?” Nancy interrupted, and I detected a hint of jealousy. A side of me like that. Proof I wasn’t perfect. “Then why was she gazing more intently at you than the pages you were pointing at?”

            “How were you doing the work of two people and spying on us at the same time?”

            She shrugged with an air of something between cocky and confident. “Talent I guess. What else were you gonna say when I cut you off?”

            “Just that it’s easy to stand up to bullies when my Irish twin is Jerry.”

            My brother was three inches over six feet, compared to my three inches under. His muscular arms were as big as my thighs. It seems he took after our father, the imminent Arlo Aldo, and I more or less took after our mother, Dr. Penny Aldo DMV.

            “Jerry,” she snorted. Nancy always had mixed feelings about my older brother. They were actually in the same class, with me a year behind. Maybe I was biased, but my brother is a good guy and an honorable one. But Nancy had a distaste for macho guys, and although I didn’t like to think of Jerry as macho, he was all man.

            “You never cared for Jerry just because he’s big and an all-around jock.”

            “Guilty as charged,” she shrugged. “But now that I’m older and wiser, I see clearly I was judgmental and unfair.”

            I had to frown. One of the things I heard most from Nancy during the time she was pushing away from me was us so called religionists being judgmental. This was the first time she made such a declaration about herself in my presence. But I didn’t want to go there, so I asked, “So you’re wiser? Hopefully you don’t mean Bud.”

            “Budweiser, funny,” she responded, but didn’t laugh. “I don’t think so, I don’t want to end up like my mom.”

            “I’m sorry, that was in poor taste.”

            “You’re fine,” she said with a reassuring smile. Then her face turned serious. “I need to cut to the chase. I want what you have. That peace, that joy. But I know you’ll credit your God. But I don’t believe there is a God of love. I can’t. I’ll never get past Him not being there when… when…”

            Nancy stopped talking and I noticed her breathing became rapid.

            “When what, Nancy?” She looked around, paranoid. I took her hand and said. “It’s okay, Nancy.”

            Her face calmed. “You have always comforted me, Drew. Just being in your presence. I can’t believe I pushed you away. I also can’t believe a side of me wants to do it again.”

            “Why, Nancy? I’ve always loved you as a dear friend if anything.”

            “I know. And the feelings are mutual. That’s why I need to tell you…”

            She stopped, so I pressed. “Tell me what?”

            “What happened to me before I came to Iowa when I was eight. But not here. Can I cook you dinner tonight?”

            “Sure.”

            She smiled uneasily. “It will maybe make up for you wetting your pants.”

            “I didn’t wet my pants, you did.”

            She gave a little laugh before her face grew solemn. “I just hope when I reopen what I try to keep securely locked, I don’t wet mine for real.”

HEAVY METAL MIRACLES – PART 2 – CHAPTER 6

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

HEAVY METAL MIRACLES

PART 2

CHAPTER 6

DREW

I REMEMBER YOUR NAME IN THE NIGHT, OH LORD, AND I KEEP YOUR LAW   (Psalm 119:55)

            I jerked my hand out of Callie’s hand as if it were hot. I stood up, clearly rattled. “Nancy! What are you doing here?”

            “I give up,” she replied sarcastically as she handed Callie a menu, and then gave me one.

            I sat down, mouth agape, eyeing Nancy cautiously. Although she smiled, her return stare was with daggers. Callie proved to be quite perceptive, as she smiled sweetly. “You must be the lucky girl Drew is seeing.”

            “Well, I don’t know how lucky I am,” Nancy replied, then gave me a glance of stink eye.

            “I myself am sort of seeing someone,” Callie informed Nancy meekly. “Drew and I are just meeting for lunch because I had some questions concerning Biblical doctrine. By the way, I saw you at my sister’s funeral. I never had a chance to thank you for helping to catch the guy who did her in.”

            As if a switch had been flipped on Nancy’s countenance, she suddenly looked sad and sympathetic rather than menacing. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am for your loss.”

            “Thank you,” Callie replied with a sad smile, as her eyes became watery.

            Nancy wasn’t good with emotional things and began to stammer. “Well, let me know if you need anything else.”

            Callie glanced uncertainly at me and then back to Nancy. “You mean besides menus?”

            Nancy shook her head. “I’m sorry. What would you guys like to drink?”

            “Lemonade, please,” Callie said.

            “I’ll just have water.”

            “Hmm, big spender,” Nancy muttered.

            A minute later, Nancy returned with our beverages. A large lemonade for Callie, and a small glass of water for me. Which I was grateful for the size, because before I knew what was happening, it was on my lap. Nancy gave a fake look of astonishment. “Oh my! I’m so sorry!”

            “It’s alright,” I replied, and then wondered if I had just lied as I dashed to the bathroom.

            I knew they had an air hand drier in there, and I figured it would take care of my wet crotch in a couple minutes. But I figured wrong. A piece of paper tapped to it declared that it was out of order. The paper towels sitting on top of it didn’t absorb nearly as much moisture as the heated air would have.

            As I made my way back to Callie with my tail between my legs and my arms swinging geekily in front of my tan shorts to block the temporary dark stain on most of the front. I noticed a young man in a dark gray suit standing in front of Callie, talking to her. I figured it was a well-wisher, due to her sister’s passing. Once again I figured wrong.

            “Drew,” Callie said my name uneasily. “This is Jason, the guy I told you about. You know, the one I told you I’ve gotten together with a few times. He’s actually a youth pastor at our church. I was telling him about how you and I were getting together to discuss Biblical things, and he’s interested in what you have to say as well. Would you mind if he joined us?”

            “The more the merrier, right?” I said with a forced smile.

            I wondered if youth pastor meant his age. He looked like he was about sixteen. He also reminded me of Opie Taylor from the Andy Griffith Show. The later episodes of course.

            “I can’t stay long. I won’t be eating,” he declared as he sat next to Callie. Then he gave me a pleasant enough smile as he extended his hand to shake. “It’s nice to meet you, Drew?”

            “Likewise,” I replied, and wondered if we both were telling the truth. I was pretty sure he was more interested in putting me in my place, rather than what I had to say.

            “So Callie tells me you go to a Seventh Day Adventist church.”

            “That’s right.”

            “I’ve known a couple of Adventists.”

            “Is that right?”

            “Yeah, I don’t mean to sound judgmental, Drew, but from my understanding of Adventist doctrine, your church puts people under the law. However, we are saved by grace through faith in our Lord Jesus Christ.”

            “I couldn’t agree more!”

            “If that’s so, why do you emphasize the Sabbath so much? Especially the Jewish Sabbath?”

            “Well, to answer the first part of your question, Jesus said in John 14:15, if you love Me keep my commandments. In 1 John 2:3, the beloved disciple tells us we know Him if we keep His commandments. In verse four he says, he who says he knows Him and doesn’t keep His commandments is a liar, and the truth isn’t in him. As for the second question of the Seventh Day Sabbath being Jewish, let me ask this question. Were Adam and Eve Jewish?”

            Pastor Jason looked puzzled for second. “Well, no.”

            “When did God establish the Sabbath?”

            “After Creation.”

            “I agree. How many days did Creation take?”

            “Don’t get condescending,” he said cooly.

            I glanced at Callie as she was frowning and glancing at Jason. She asked, “What was condescending about Drew’s question?”

            Jason looked a little startled, then slightly hostile, then he turned hooded eyes on me. “Did you go to seminary?”

            “No.”

            “Well I did, yet you seem to think you can instruct me on the scriptures.”

            “No, I came here to share with Callie the reason for the hope that is in me (1 Peter 3:15). And you wanted to join us.”

            “Fair enough. As I attempt to be a good shepherd of the flock, I want to make sure you don’t brainwash Callie into getting under the bondage of the law.”

            “So… You believe the part of the Bible that God wrote with His own finger is bondage?”

            “Of course not! But you’re forgetting we’re saved by grace. You can’t just focus on the law. Remember, we’re saved by grace through faith.”

            “Paul says in Romans 3:31, do we make void the law through faith? On the contrary, we establish the law. So are you saying the Ten Commandments are actually the ten suggestions?”

            “Of course not! But you’re still missing the point of grace. It means we are not under the law anymore.”

            “So it’s okay to lie, or steal, or participate in idol worship?”

            “Obviously the Commandments are essential, but some aspects are complex. That’s why we need grace.”

            I noticed he didn’t put ten in front of Commandments. So I asked, “You just have a problem with the fourth?”

            “The Sabbath is indeed complex. Jesus said the Sabbath was made for man and not man for the Sabbath. That tells me it’s not as essential as the others.”

            “I don’t think that was what Jesus was implying at all. So let me get this straight. You’re telling me that I can forget the Sabbath, but God tells me to remember it.”

            “You know, your fanatical approach is similar to the Pharisees,” Jason accused me, with his jaw clenched.

            “What exactly about my Sabbath keeping is fanatical? Have you seen me counting steps or refraining from turning on a light?”

            “That’s not the point. The major point is you got the day wrong. We now keep the first day of the week in honor of the resurrection.”

            “I believe the rite of baptism is how we honor the resurrection,” I said. I had my Bible with me, so I slid it toward him. “Can you show me where we are to keep Sunday in honor of the resurrection?”

            He showed me a couple verses about Jesus rising on the first day, as well as the two Marys going to the tomb on the first day of the week. I showed him a couple verses in Acts chapter 16 and 17, where the Apostles were still keeping the Sabbath. He claimed by Sabbath they meant Sunday.

            I politely disagreed and showed him Malachi 3:6, where it says, ‘I am the Lord, I do not change.’

            “You know what? If you want to be under the law, more power to you. But please don’t be proselytizing our church with your legalism.”

            “He’s not proselytizing me,” Callie defended me. “I was the one that asked for this meeting.”

            “Let everyone be persuaded in his own mine, I guess,” Jason said throwing up his hands as he quoted Romans 14:5. “One person esteems one day above another; another esteems every day alike.”

            “I couldn’t agree more,” I concurred. “We all have free will. Just like you mentioned that we’re saved by grace, which I also couldn’t agree more. So I love the Lord because I am saved, therefore I keep His commandments. If I was obeying to be saved, then I have missed the boat, and that would be legalism. The law of the Lord is perfect converting the soul (Psalm 19:7). Do you believe that Jason?”

            “Of course I do!”

            “I believe the law of the Lord is perfect as well, and the Seventh Day Sabbath is right in the center of the Law the Lord wrote with His own finger.”

            Jason looked at his phone and then shot to his feet. “Shoot, I’m late.”

            I arose also and offered my hand. “It was good talking with you, Sir. Maybe we could continue sometime soon.”

            “Yes, yes, that would be good,” he replied, taking my hand with a firm grip.

            “Sorry if I was combative.”

            “No, you were fine. I apologize if I was as well,” he replied with a forced smile, then turned his gaze on Callie. “Callie, how about dinner tonight?”

            She looked hesitant, even startled. But then she smiled and said, “Sure.”

            “Very well, so long,” he said, knocked twice on the table, and walked briskly toward the door.

            “You sure have a fertile mind,” Callie complimented me.

            Nancy appeared at our table. “I’d say he has a fertilized mind. And you know what is often used as fertilizer. Sorry, did I say that?”

            “Yes you did, and thanks for your input, Nancy.”

            “Any time, Drew. By the way, all apologies for taking so long getting your order, we’re shorthanded today. What can I get you guys?”

            We actually hadn’t even looked at the menus, but we both had eaten there before. So I ordered a burrito with French fries, and Callie got something called a super salad.

            “I’m sorry about Jason,” Callie told me with serious eyes, after Nancy walked away. “I promise that wasn’t a set up. He stopped by my house to ask me to dinner tonight, and my sister told him I was here having lunch with you to discuss the Bible.”

            “It’s no problem. Like I said before, we need to be ready to give a defense to everyone who asks us a reason for the hope that is in us (1 Peter 3:15).”

            “You sure did that!” She grinned at me.

            Oh the human condition! I had to stuff down spiritual pride and be truthful. “To be honest Callie, I was pretty intimidated. That was the first time I had been questioned by a man of the cloth from a different denomination. Whatever I said that was right was due to the Holy Spirit. I just hope I didn’t get in the way to much by being, you know, rude or as he suggested, condescending.”

            “You weren’t either. If anything he was rude by horning in on our lunch da… Um, get together.”

            It didn’t go beyond my notice that she almost called our lunch a date. Did that mean anything? “I see you’re having dinner with him tonight.”

            “I told you I was sort of seeing someone. Well, now you know the someone.”

            “Are you gonna keep seeing him?”

            A little smile played at her lips. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Did she think I was jealous? Then she shrugged. “It depends on how tonight goes. I do get the feeling he’s going to try to convince me that you’re in error.”

            “How does that make you feel?”

            “To be honest, I want to see what he has to say without you there giving a wise Biblical answer.”

            As we ate our lunch, I asked how she and her family were doing dealing with their grief over her murdered sister. Maybe it was unwise to bring this up as we ate. Thankfully she didn’t seem to have a problem with my questioning, but she did keep her reply short.

            “To be honest, Channel declared our family to be dead to her more than a year ago. So I was already grieving losing her before I actually lost her.”

            She changed the subject after that, and we spent the rest of our meal getting to know a little more about each other personally. Mostly sharing our testimonies about accepting Christ as our personal Savior. When the check came, Callie and I spent a minute arguing over payment. So I guess it wasn’t a date after all. However, in the end, I did persuade her to let me pay.

            Since we drove separately, Callie left, and I waited for Nancy to collect payment. The bill came to $17.80. I gave her thirty dollars and told her to keep the change.

            She arched an eyebrow. “That’s a pretty healthy tip for a waitress that dropped a glass of water on your lap.”

            “Accidents happen,” I shrugged.

            “It was no accident,” she replied cooly.

            “I see… Why then?”

            Callie and I had arrived on the back side of Bluebird’s lunch rush, so most of the place had cleared out by now. Nancy sat opposite of me. She looked at me blankly. Then with an eerily quiet voice, she said, “I’m sorry about the water on the lap. It’s just, well, love can make a person a little crazy.”

            I didn’t know if I should feel happy or horrified.

HEAVY METAL MIRACLES – PART 2 – CHAPTER 3

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

HEAVY METAL MIRACLES

PART 2

CHAPTER 3

DREW ALDO

TO DO EVIL IS LIKE SPORT TO A FOOL, BUT A MAN OF UNDERSTANDING HAS WISDOM (Proverbs 10:23)

            “What, did you come to gloat, Nancy Drew?” Ben Weaver had asked as he glared at me from his side of the prison visitation booth.

            By calling me Nancy Drew, he was also referring to my longtime friend Nancy. It was she and I that discovered the body of the young lady he had murdered. Upon discovery, we notified the authorities, and with solid DNA evidence, Ben was charged with first degree murder, as well as kidnapping and rape.

            In upper elementary school, and then middle school, Nancy and I solved many a mystery. Most involved something like stolen lunch money, gym shoes or missing pets. Given our names, Nancy and Drew, we both got labeled with the moniker of the girl from the young adult detective series written by Carolyn Keene.

            “No, I didn’t come to gloat, Ben,” I told the twenty one year old man who was doing life without parole.

            “Why else would you come?” he glowered.

            I didn’t understand myself, other than I was prompted by the Holy Spirit for some reason I was yet to figure out. So what was I to tell him? To me, Ben Weaver was the epitome of evil. More than half a decade earlier, he had stolen and mutilated one of my mother’s cats in some type of twisted ritual. Nancy and I had enough evidence that we were sure he did it. But not enough to prove his evil deed.

            “To be honest, I don’t know, Ben,” I responded kindly. “The simple answer is, God sent me.”

            Ben often had a crazed, possessed look about his eyes. But now there was fear. “Why would God send you? To tell me I’m doomed to hell? Well, tell your God I’m already in hell!”

            “He knows,” I replied. “Maybe he sent me to tell you it’s not too late.”

            “How could it not be?” Ben choked out a sob. Then he let out a guttural groan as he wacked himself in the side of the head with the phone.

            I winced, thinking that had to hurt. Then a guard stepped up to him. “One three six, knock it off or you’re going back to your cell.”

            “Sorry, sir, I won’t do it again,” Ben told the guard. Then I noticed the number on his orange jump suit was 136.

            He looked at me with pleading in his eyes. “For real, God can forgive me?”

            “For real,” I replied.

            Then, not only did the old Ben appear, the demon or demons that possessed him showed themselves. His eyes became unhuman, he bared his teeth, and the most ghoulish laugh I had ever heard emanated from my phone receiver. By the grace of God I looked him in the eyes and quoted Romans 10:13, “Whoever calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved. Jesus loves…”

            At the name of Jesus, Ben growled and slammed his head into the partition. Two guards grabbed him. It took two more to restrain him. Before he was out of sight and out of sound, he yelled with sinister mirth, “Give Nancy a kiss for me.”

            Nancy and I had had a bit of a falling out by the time we were in high school. At the core of our disunion was my Biblical world view clashing with her secular humanist world view. She began to hang out with people with similar perspectives. She became increasingly hostile toward me due to my beliefs, despite having a bumper sticker that said “coexist.” Although I disagreed with some of her opinions, they didn’t make me feel anger toward her.

            Nancy was a year older than me. So when I was a senior in high school, she was a freshman at the same local college where Ben was a junior. After a coed at her college went missing, Nancy and I became reacquainted when I quite literally ran into her in Baylor’s Woods.

            Baylor’s Woods had over one hundred acres of hills, covered with trees. It was bordered on three sides, like a triangle, with the Cedar River to the southwest, a county park with a campground to the southeast, and a gravel road on the north side. I always had mixed feelings about Baylor’s Woods. About half of the woods were dark and spooky, even when the sun was shining, while the other half was pleasant and beautiful.

            Not only was it bordered on three sides, there were a couple different aspects to the public access forest preserve. There were the bluffs by the river, where visitors to the county park could enjoy a challenging hike and beautiful view. On the north side of the woods was a century old cemetery with dozens of unreadable tombstones.

            This cemetery was a popular spot for people into the paranormal. There had allegedly been numerous sightings of ghostly figures in or around the graveyard, as well as crossing the country road, apparently going to and from an old barn.

            I believe people have indeed seen things. But I also believe it is demonic activity, and not some hauntings of departed humans. Biblically speaking, when you die, you are simply resting in the grave and awaiting the resurrection, like a form of sleep. Ecclesiastes 9:5 is a good example.

            (For an excellent study guide on the state of the dead, with plenty of scripture proofs, you can contact Amazing Facts ministry. Ask for Lesson 10, ‘Are the Dead Really Dead?’ They are well done, illustrated, and are free.)

            The reason the subject of spiritualism is so important, is paranormal activity is only going to increase as we approach the end of time. It is going to play a key role in last day deceptions. Satan himself is transformed into an angel of light. (2 Corinthians 11:14) Also, another excellent example is 1Timothy 4:1, which warns of deceiving spirits and doctrines of demons.

            Even though I understood these truths about spiritism, it still felt a bit creepy on the darker half of Baylor’s Woods. It was on this side where Ben Weaver had a tree fort with some of his chums. This was also the area where Nancy and I found the discarded carcass of my mother’s cat.

            For some reason, I felt compelled to go by the north side of the preserve on my way to the park. This way was almost never used by those using the county park because it dead ended at a condemned bridge over back water. Thus you had to back track a mile and a half to the highway.

            So why was I making my merry way by going out of the way, I didn’t know. But God knew. Imagine my surprise when I saw parked in the tiny dirt parking lot, a baby blue Chevy Spark with a “coexist” bumper sticker adorning the back window. Nancy!

            What would she be doing on the north side of Baylor’s Woods. Who was she with? I parked my blue Ford F150 pickup next to Nancy’s Spark. I got out and made my way toward the area where we found the remains of my mother’s cat more than half a decade ago.

            About fifty yards from Ben’s tree fort was a large sandy pit. It was crater like, and maybe thirty feet across and thirty feet wide. It was ten or fifteen feet deep. After middle school, Ben and company graduated from the undersized tree fort to the sand pit with more room for beer parties.

            My run turned into more of a walk as I approached the sand pit. When I looked down I spotted a hooded figure flipping over beer cans and booze bottles with a long stick. It had to be Nancy, right? Right when I was about to call out, soft sandy soil gave way. I lost my footing and catapulted downward toward the figure.

             The collision wasn’t avoidable. But as our bodies slammed together, I was able to grab her shoulders, spin us, and have her land on top of me instead of the other way around. She let out a blood curdling scream in the process. Her stunned face was inches from mine when the dust settled. Then it relaxed into a relieved smile. “Thank God it’s you!”

            “I thought you didn’t believe in God.”

            I kicked myself for such a flippant remark. It would have been bad enough if we were still hanging out, but I hadn’t even seen her in almost a year. She squinted at me with hostility. “It’s a figure of speech.”

            “God is also a figure of creation and redemption,” I replied with a grin. I had stuck one foot in my mouth so I might as well cram the other one in as well.

            To my pleasant surprise, she smiled. “It’s good to see you, Drew. Glad you dropped in.”

            “Glad to see you, too,” I said and meant it. But then I frowned at the strange place we had crossed paths. “But what are you doing out here?”

            “I could ask the same thing.”

            “I’m looking for you.”

            “You are?” she asked, with raised eyebrows.

            “Yeah, I was on my way to the park when I noticed your car.”

            She studied me for several seconds. Her face seemed even closer, but then she said, “Oh, I suppose I should get off of you.”

            I refrained from telling her she didn’t have to. After scrambling to her feet, she reached out with her left hand to help me up, and I noticed either an engagement or promise ring. I felt a surge of disappointment. Why? Although we had made peace not long after our clash, our days of solving mysteries and hanging out had been over for almost three years.

            I always hated the oedipal theory. But I couldn’t deny that Nancy was a lot like my mom. Petite, fiery, and a tomboy. They both had similar facial features as well. Small nose, lips on the thin side. But unlike my mother’s short black hair, now sprinkled with salt, Nancy’s hair was a red gold. Ironically it was a similar color to the fictional Nancy Drew.

            “It’s creepy out here in the haunted part,” she said, looking around. “Even during the day.”

            “Don’t tell me you believe in haunts.”

            “I believe too many people have witnessed things out here.”

            “What people have witnessed is demonic activity.”

            She rolled her eyes and shook her head. How is it we got along so well as kids? But as we so called matured, things like pondering one’s existence and contemplating the origin of things, complicated our relationship due to our opposing views. Then throw in sexuality as an added complexity. More reasons why Jesus said to become like little children.

            “If you believe it’s haunted,” I asked, “Why are you out here by yourself?”

            “Determination,” she said with chin up. “Besides, it’s daylight. If you believe it’s demons, why are you out here?”

            “I’m protected by the heavenly realm.”

            I expected another eye roll, but she just gazed at me as if pondering the legitimacy of my declaration.

            “What do you mean you’re determined? Determined by what?” I asked.

            “Justice.”

            “Justice for what?”

            “For a troubled girl who went missing, and the authorities said there is nothing more they could do about it other than keep a watch. They’re assuming she just ran off, since she has a history of being a bit of a vagabond.”

            “What makes you think she’s out here?”

            “Because the last person she was spotted with was Ben Weaver.”

HEAVY METAL MIRACLES – PART 2 – CHAPTER 2

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

HEAVY METAL MIRACLES

PART 2

CHAPTER 2

DR. PENNY ALDO DVM

I SAW THAT WISDOM IS BETTER THAN FOLLY, JUST AS LIGHT IS BETTER THAN DARKNESS (Ecclesiastes 2:13)

            I didn’t mean to spy on my eighteen year old daughter. I never intended to invade Ivy’s privacy. But on a camping trip with my husband and our two boys, thirteen year old Jerry and twelve year old Drew, I got a pretty bad headache. A couple pain relievers helped, but they made me long for bed. But not in our camper.

            Maybe I shouldn’t have referred to camping as a trip. A trip sounds far away. We were on a camping outing with three other families from church, and the grounds weren’t even five miles from our house. So I bowed out just as the late July sun was setting, and I drove home to sleep in my own bed.

            Rory and Ivy had intended to go to fireworks with their boyfriends. So when I arrived home at about eight thirty, the house was locked. I slid my key into the doorknob and twisted. I was a little surprised to hear music coming from downstairs. It wasn’t blaring, but it was loud enough that Ivy and her best friend hadn’t heard me.

            Since Rory and my daughter had met three years previous, they had become inseparable. From the time she was five until she was fifteen, Ivy had been best friends with my niece, Crystal. Technically, I was Crystal’s Great Aunt, since she is my sister’s granddaughter.

            Crystal and Ivy had a major disagreement back in 2010. Ivy had been upset that Crystal began to drink socially and began to cross intimacy lines with the boy she had been seeing. Ivy had rebuked her sixteen year old cousin and hence came a falling away. Although they reconciled, their rift had caused a shift in their relationship, and they rarely hung out thereafter.

            I had mixed feelings over the whole ordeal. On one hand I was very disappointed to see the dissolving of a long friendship. On the other hand, I was pleased with Ivy for her moral stand and being courageous enough to voice her concern. But only a few months later, she brought home Rory, and her concerns about her cousin seemed a bit contradictory.

            I was confused. Ivy had chastised Crystal for risky behavior, then befriended a girl that looked multiple times more dangerous than my niece. But over the weeks and months that Ivy and Rory hung out and studied the Bible, Rory began to change.

            True religion is about relationship. Real relationship is about free will. Despite Rory’s wild appearance and sullen demeanor, most of the people in our church, and everybody in our family, accepted Rory just as she was. But it wasn’t long before the hard core rock and roll shirts disappeared as well as her black fingernails. Her dyed black hair grew out to her natural brown, matching her lovely eyes.

            Although Rory was a year older than Ivy, she was in the same grade. With all the moving and changing schools she did being a military daughter, she ended up a year behind.  I’m not gonna say brat, that would be the pot calling the kettle black.

            Over the first two years of their friendship, Rory often attended church with us and was even baptized. Eventually a couple nice young men that were a grade older began to occasionally attend with the young ladies. Before they went off to college, the boys gave the girls promise rings. That’s what made what I saw that fourth of July all the more puzzling.

            During their senior year of high school, Ivy and Rory decided to go to the same college as their boyfriends. They also subtly began to withdraw from church activities that last year of high school. By that summer we were lucky to see them once a month at a service or midweek prayer meeting.

            I followed the music downstairs. Sitting by the sliding glass doors of our walk out basement on a pillow chair was Ivy and Rory. Ivy was six inches taller than Ivy’s five foot four. She was also ten or fifteen pounds heavier than Rory’s one hundred and ten. So Rory being smaller, was leaning back into Ivy.

            I stood dumbfounded as I studied the situation. They were fully clothed, which was a plus. Also, there was only one chair pillow, so this was the best way they could share. Another thing, they had boyfriends, with whom they were supposed to be seeing the fireworks. So where were they and why weren’t they on their way to see the fireworks?

            The stairwell was behind them, and I ever so slowly began to back up. I would reenter and make enough noise for them to hear me. But before I made it back to the stairs, I saw Ivy hook Rory’s shoulder length hair behind ear. Then she gave her ear a little nibble, causing Rory to giggle, slap Ivy’s thigh, and say ‘Stop it, that tickles.’

            My heart was pounding, and my knees felt weak. I slipped on the first step of the carpeted stair, making a thump. At the same time, Rory flipped around, kneeling in front of Ivy. I thought for sure she saw me. But grinning she said, “This is better.”

            Rory closed her eyes and kissed Ivy on the mouth. I retreated as quickly and quietly as I could. Panting slightly at the front door, I opened it, and slammed it back shut. I threw my keys on the kitchen table, making a clatter. I said loudly, “Ivy, are you home?”

            The music from downstairs went silent, and my daughter petitioned me cautiously from the bottom of the stairs, “Mom?”

            “Hi honey, I thought you were going to the fireworks?”

            “Oh, well, we were, but we got into a bit of a disagreement with the guys, and, well, I guess were pouting,” she explained and then emitted a little laugh. “And I thought you were camping?”

            “I got a headache and just wanted to sleep in my own bed.”

            “The bed in your camper is your own bed,” she joked.

            I marveled at how calm she was. Maybe I was making too much out of what I thought I saw. Maybe the girls were just clowning around. Maybe I was in denial. Maybe I just didn’t want to deal with it.

            “True, it is my bed in the camper,” I told her. “But comparing that bed with my at home bed, is like comparing a Lazy boy with a fold up chair.”

            “Your bed in the camper is that bad?” She frowned.

            “No, but it’s not a Sleep Number either… So, what type of disagreement did you have with the boys?”

            She shrugged a shoulder, “They wanted to go to a party instead of fireworks.”

            “So how come you and Rory didn’t want to go to the party?”

            “Truth is, I was the party pooper. Rory was willing to go.”

            “How come you weren’t?”

            “They guys started drinking some since they’ve been in college. I’ve read my birth mom’s diaries, or journals, or whatever you want to call them. It seems adult beverages led to drugs, and drugs led to her taking off her clothes for a living.”

            “You are wise beyond your years,” I said smiling at her, and putting a gentle hand on her cheek. I was beginning to think that I was jumping to conclusions with what I thought I saw with her and Rory.

            “Oh hi, Mrs. Aldo,” Rory said meekly as she appeared in the stair well.

            I had convinced Rory to stop calling me Mrs. Aldo more than two years ago. It was now strange to hear her call me something other than Penny. Being referred to as Mrs. Aldo by her suggested guilt. And the guilty look on her face caused suspicion to resurface.

            “Hello, Aurora,” I replied.

            She frowned, then smirked with paranoia in her eyes. “You haven’t called me Aurora in a long time.”

            “You haven’t called me Mrs. Aldo in a long time.”

            “Oh, well, I just, ah, woke up from a nap.”

            “Did you?” I replied, crossing my arms, and then turned my gaze onto Ivy. I’d never known my daughter to lie. “Were you napping too?”

            She had a stunned look on her face as she stared at Rory. But then she calmly looked at me and said, “I was watching the sunset.”

            I told myself not to press it but asked, “While Rory napped?”

            Now she crossed her arms and frowned. “Mom, what’s the big deal? I just told you we didn’t go to a party because there was drinking. Now you’re giving us the third degree like we stayed here to shoot meth or something.”

            “You’re right, I’m sorry,” I said smiling and touching her arm.  “Forgive me, I’m tired and have a headache. I need to go to bed.”

            She gave me a reassuring smile and then kissed my cheek.

            The following morning, my headache was gone, but with the thermometer mercury rising on another hot day, I refrained from returning to the campground. Early in the afternoon Arlo walked into the house with a disgusted look on his face. He asked, “How’s your headache?”

            “All better.”

            “Good, do you want mine?”

            “Do you have a headache now?”

            “Yes, your son. He pushed Ben Weaver into the lake. His family happened to be camping there too.”

            Ben Weaver was a notorious bully who our son Jerry had clashed with a couple times. One of them leading to a three day school suspension.

            “Why did Drew do that?” I asked with a little smile. Ben Weaver, fifteen, was also the son of a local high school gym teacher and the head football coach.

            “You know better than that, although Drew is definitely not innocent.”

            I had in fact been joking. Our oldest son Jerry was thirteen and rapidly gaining a broad shouldered, muscular build like Arlo. He was also athletic and very coordinated. But he was quick tempered like his mother. He was loyal unto death, and fiercely loved his little brother, whom I suspected had something to do with Ben Weaver going into the drink.

            Our younger son Drew, age twelve, had the even keel demeanor of his father, but was bold in speaking truth. He also had a quick witted tongue and was on the small side physically like me. Eventually he would go on a growth spurt, but would still remain Jerry’s little brother, other than by age.

            “What Father said is true, Mother,” Drew spoke up with a James Bond type elegance. Then he sat on a kitchen chair and crossed one leg over the other. “It was I who instigated the bruhaha.”

            I put a hand over my mouth as if pondering. But I was really hiding a grin.  

            He brushed a strand of sandy blonde hair from his eyes and continued, “We had crossed paths earlier at the outing and he threatened me about staying away from his tree fort in Baylor’s woods. I saw his mom walking up behind him, and I asked why he had all those pictures of nude men hanging on the walls of his fort. He practically shouted that it was nude WOMEN he had hanging on the walls of his fort. His mother found this rather interesting and grabbed him by the ear, guiding him back to their camper to have a talk with his father.”

            “Were you really snooping around his tree fort?” The grin now having left my face.

            “I was.”

            “He did have a good reason, Mom,” Jerry defended. Then Drew defended him. I have to say, my boys were each other’s brother’s keepers.  

            “So a little while ago, Ben found me strolling by the lake,” Drew explained. “I guess he thought I needed a bath, but my dear brother helped me change the fates. He saw Ben moving rapidly in my direction and intercepted.”

            “May I ask why you were snooping around his tree fort to begin with?” I inquired with hands on hips for affect.

            “You know how your cat Buttons has been missing for four or five days,” Jerry said, and then looked at his little brother. Drew said, “I have reason to believe Ben Weaver used Buttons in some type of occult ritual.”

            My hand went to my mouth again. But this time it wasn’t hiding a grin.

HEAVY METAL MIRACLES – PART 2 – CHAPTER 1

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

HEAVY METAL MIRACLES

PART 2

CHAPTER 1

ARLO ALDO

A MAN’S STEPS ARE OF THE LORD; HOW THEN CAN A MAN UNDERSTAND HIS OWN WAY? (Proverbs 20:24)

            It’s a strange thing to see your name on a tombstone. But there it was, engraved into the silvery granite. Penny’s name was just to the right of mine. But neither she nor I were dead, otherwise I wouldn’t be looking at my gravestone. For the dead don’t know anything (Ecclesiastes 9:5, 10).

            Just to the left of our tombstone was Elsa’s, my former girlfriend and mother of my daughter, Ivy. Unfortunately, she was deceased. It had been ten years since Penny and I had purchased the two stones from Big Al, a former classmate of Penny’s.

            Despite the name, Big Al wasn’t shady. He was about six foot five inches, close to four hundred pounds, but as gentle as a lamb. He was well suited to deal with grieving people. As a matter of fact, he was so soothing to Penny as we discussed the engravings for Elsa’s stone, she spontaneously suggested that she and I get a stone as well.

            When it got the part about mother of Ivy, Penny whimpered. Big Al took one of her hands in his meaty paw, making it look like a little girl’s hand. He gently patted it with his other hand, and with eyes welling said, “There, there.”

            But it was a few minutes before that, when we overheard Big Al on the phone with a creditor that lit the fire in my fiery, compassionate wife. So when he said “There, there,” she responded, “How about Arlo and I get a stone in addition to Elsa’s?”

            He didn’t try to talk us out of it. Penny also hired him to clean and reengrave preexisting stones from both sides of our family, church family, and a few friends. But that was okay, we were far from hurting financially, and Big Al wasn’t the type to take a handout.

            I looked from my tombstone to my fifteen year-old daughter, Ivy. Joking with her, I said, “Did you bring me here so I would see where I’m gonna end up after driving with you?”

            “Not funny, Dad,” she said, despite giggling.

            Ivy had acquired a learner’s permit, and after practicing in a parking lot, we ventured to the open road. She asked where we should go, and I said wherever you want. I guess since it was Memorial Day, she chose to visit the cemetery where several family members were laid to rest. It also happened to be just a quarter of a mile down the country road from Cotton Creek Cove Fellowship.

            Ivy’s gaze went past me, and I watched the merriment evaporate from her face. I turned to look and there was a girl about thirty yards away sitting cross legged in front of a tombstone.

            “Do you know that girl?” I asked.

            “Yeah, she’s my lab partner in biology.”

            I glanced at the girl in time to watch her take a drag on a cigarette. She seemed pretty young to be smoking. I was glad that there was only one week of school left. Ivy was a good hearted young woman, but rather impressionable. “Do you like her?”

            Ivy shrugged her shoulder casually, running a hand through her hair. “Sure, she’s pretty quiet though. But I discovered we do have some things in common.”

            The girl stood, stepped on her cigarette and began to walk both toward and away from us as she angled to a patch of woods adjoining the cemetery. Being Memorial Day weekend there were enough people roaming around so she didn’t notice Ivy. But my daughter called out, “Hey Rory.”

            The dark haired, dark eyed girl with pale skin stopped. When she saw Ivy, her stony face lit up and she gave a little wave. Her large eyes were heavily mascaraed. She had multiple piercings in her ears, also one in her nose, one in her lip, and two in her left eyebrow. Her jeans were fashionably ripped and underneath a faded red flannel shirt that was unbuttoned, I noticed a black Marilyn Manson t-shirt.

            What did Ivy have in common with this combination goth and grunge girl? She was her polar opposite. Ivy had short blonde hair, blue eyes, a tan, an athletic build, and liked contemporary Christian music.

            I didn’t think of myself as judgmental, having spent many years playing in a dark heavy metal band. And after Eli and I both publicly renounced and repented of our former lifestyle, I had patiently and understandingly counseled many a misguided youth. But as I watched my daughter getting chummy with this girl Rory, who smoked cigarettes at fifteen or sixteen years of age, I felt my body tense. Was there anything else she smoked?

            They talked for ten or fifteen minutes, and I meandered from one grave to another reading the names and dates. But I was more interested in my daughter and her classmate as I gave many a sideways glance. Then they exchanged numbers, and I whispered to my myself, “Oh Lord, help her to be wise as a serpent and harmless as a dove.”

            As Ivy and I strolled toward my maroon Dodge Charger, Ivy told me in a secretive tone. “That was her mom’s grave that she was sitting in front of.”

            “Yeah?”

            “Yeah,” she repeated, and then a troubled look came onto her face before she added, “She died of drug overdose when Rory was only four.”

            “Wow, that’s a shame,” I replied, and meant it.

            “Yeah, she was pretty blown away when I told her I was four when my mom died.”

            “You were almost five,” I said, and then realized I was trying to somehow distance her from what I suspected could be a dangerous relationship. “I don’t ever remember you talking about a Rory before.”

            Ivy was a freshman at a small town high school, about ten miles outside of the thriving metropolis of Cedar Rapids. So I knew almost all of her classmates.

            “Her name is actually Aurora, but she goes by Rory. After her mom died, she lived with her dad and stepmom. Her dad is career army, so she moved around a lot. They don’t get along very well, so he sent her to live with his mother about halfway through this last school year.”

            “I see,” I replied, paused, and asked, “Did I see you two exchange numbers?”

            “Ah huh.”

            “Ya know, Ivy, I don’t think…”

            Ivy giggled and interrupted. “I wondered if you were gonna freak out. She’s not as wild as she looks though.”

            “Oh yeah? Well that wasn’t fake smoke I saw coming out of her mouth. I wasn’t even smoking at fifteen.”

            “She’s sixteen.”

            “Oh, okay, why didn’t you say so?” I replied with good natured sarcasm.

            She giggled some more. I actually took this as a good sign and was grateful we had a close enough relationship to be able to talk about some hard things. Yet her bringing Rory into our lives would eventually bring some discomfort that was awkward to discuss.

            “I’ve talked to her at school about smoking, and she said she is going to quit. She also said she’s interested in coming to church. And she has listened to your music.”

            Thinking of Rory’s t-shirt, I blurted. “That’s not good.”

            Ivy giggled yet again. “Not your first band, your second.”

            She was referring to the band Eli and I called From Baal to the Bible. Our first CD we called Psalm 51. A Psalm of repentance. The group also included Eli’s son Ethan on vocals, and Ethan’s wife Amy on drums.

            “Oh, well, my bad. But I don’t know if you noticed the t-shirt she was wearing under her flannel shirt.”

            “I noticed, but I think that’s just a left over from her rebelling against her dad.”

            “Remember what I always tell you.”

            Ivy rarely behaved like a typical teenager, but she now rolled her eyes before saying. “You are either influenced, or an influencer. Be an influencer.”

            Now I would have giggled, but being a large muscular man, I chuckled instead. “That’s right!”

            “And that’s exactly what I’m doing. I’m trying to witness Christ’s love to her.”

            “Very good, sweetheart. Now let’s get a move on cuz your brothers and Adam have baseball games at four.”

            I was referring to her two half siblings, ten year old Jeremiah, who we called Jerry and his Irish twin, nine year old Andrew, who we called Drew. Adam was my best friend Eli’s ten year old son. Since his mother was Penny’s sister Ariel, that made Adam and Ivy cousins, although not by blood. This would become a serious factor many years later.

            When I first discovered that I was going to be a father, I didn’t know then that I already was a father. My previous longtime girlfriend didn’t want me involved in Ivy’s life the first few years of her existence. But when I first knew Penny was pregnant, I thought of Jeremiah 1:5, about God knowing a person before one was even in the womb. The last part of the verse gave me an overwhelming feeling that my child was to be a person of God, possibly a prophet to the nations. So if we had a boy, I asked Penny if we could name him Jeremiah.

            She agreed, but it was our second son, Drew, who showed signs of being a man of God early on. Jerry became somewhat rebellious as he exited preteen years, even beyond typical teen angst. And Ivy, although a well behaved girl, and excellent student, had me concerned during the years that followed befriending Rory.

            During spring break there seemed to be a rift between Ivy and her best friend Crystal. She is Eli and Ariel’s granddaughter. The spat seemed to have been over a boy. At first I thought  Ivy had a crush on him herself. But my wife said Ivy was upset that Crystal was spending more time with him instead of her. So Ivy had been in a bit of a funk ever since.

            Now after her chat with Rory, even the girl’s name sounded a little wild, Ivy seemed quite bubbly. This may sound odd, but I didn’t know if that was a good thing. Relationships are complex. Teenage friendships are often volatile, especially if troubled backgrounds are involved.

            I didn’t want to be judgmental. But I am a father, and my judgment is crucial. My fifteen year old daughter was befriending a sixteen year old girl, who was in our community because of a rift between her and her father. This division with her dad was intense enough for her to move in with her grandmother. She also smokes and wears the t-shirt of a professed satanist who rips Bibles apart on stage.

            Ivy felt like you have to meet people where they are to witness. Okay, true enough. But influence can work both ways. Penny and I would intensify our prayers. We would try to chaperone this friendship as much as possible. But Ivy was rapidly becoming a woman, and with that there would be more and more independence.

            You can’t have love without free will. But free will, combined with youth and a fallen world, is a dangerous cocktail.

HEAVY METAL MIRACLES – CHAPTER 19

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

HEAVY METAL MIRACLES

CHAPTER 19

ELI

BEARING WITH ONE ANOTHER, AND FORGIVING ONE ANOTHER, IF ANYONE HAS A COMPLAINT AGAINST ANOTHER; EVEN AS CHRIST FORGAVE YOU, SO YOU ALSO MUST DO (Colossians 3:13)

            “Hey, Eli,” Elsa greeted, looking at me hesitantly as she sat next to me.

            We were on a bench that overlooked a small playground behind Cotton Creek Cove Fellowship. We had just finished a rehearsal for the small impromptu double wedding ceremony for Penny, Arlo, Ariel and myself to take place the next day. I was watching my five year old granddaughter Crystal play with Elsa’s four year old daughter Ivy.

            “Hi, Elsa,” I greeted cheerily, even as my body tensed.

            She had been my best friend’s girlfriend for eight years. Their relationship was often stormy, and I’m afraid I was the last straw. Elsa had often been flirtatious with me over the years. I’m ashamed to say that not only did I not discourage the behavior, I often flirted back.

            But then the sexual tension between us came to a boiling point for her. She not only propositioned me, she tried to seduce me. As randy as I was back then, there was no way I would actually get physical with my best friend’s girl. So I told Arlo on her. It not only caused their biggest fight to date, it was the last nail in the coffin of their dying relationship.

            Until her greeting on that sunny afternoon in late May, the year of our Lord 2000, her last words to me had still echoed in my head. With an ugly look on her pretty face, she declared, “Ya know Eli, you’re a hypocrite! All of the times you’ve undressed me with your eyes, and commented on my work, so here I was very generously trying to give you the real thing and you turn traitor on me.”

            By me commenting on her work, she was referring to her occupation as a model and actress, which mostly entailed posing nude and soft core porn. Her rebuke stung and was one hundred percent accurate. For I had, even sometimes blatantly, encouraged her behavior, yet I let her take the fall. Then to make matters worse, I smirked at her with demonic pride, not saying a word. She spit in my face, turned on her stilettos, and I didn’t see her in person again until this day at the wedding rehearsal.

            I was tongue tied for a long moment. I had always fancied Elsa. I’m ashamed to say, if she was anybody’s girl but Arlo’s, I would have bedded her in a second. I guess you could say she and I had been friends, but the only bond we had besides Arlo was a mutual attraction. Now, several years later, I find out that she has a terminal illness. She spoke first after our greeting. “Sorry about spitting in your face.”

            I chuckled and shrugged. “I deserved it.”

            “I’d like to think you did. When you aimed that cocky smile at me, I wanted to do much more than just spit in your face. I had never been turned down by a guy that gave me such clear signs he desired me.”

            “I had never turned down a woman as beautiful as you. But Arlo is like family.”

            “I know that now more than ever.”

            “I owe you an apology as well,” I told her. “I was more guilty than you over our mutual lust, but I threw you under the bus to cover my own guilt and shame.”

            She glanced at me with an arched eyebrow. “That’s big of you to say, but I’m the one that made the physical proposition.”

            “But before that, I was the one being more suggestive. It was my behavior more than yours that led to, shall we say, you showing me your goods.”

            She looked at me with an inquisitively arched eyebrow. “You seem different, Eli.”

            “Yeah?” I replied with my own arched eyebrow. “Is that good or bad?”

            “Definitely good. Do you know how I ended up in Iowa?”

            “In your car.”

            “No, silly,” she laughed and then frowned. “Well, yeah, I guess I did. Maybe I should have said do you know why I ended up in Iowa?”

            “I don’t know.”

            “A week ago I was in a Christian bookstore, and low and behold, I see you and Arlo on the cover of a magazine. I bought it and read the interview three times. I couldn’t believe it! You and Arlo renouncing your Satanic band and talking about coming to Christ.”

            “So I assume you’ve become a Christian then?”

            Her gaze was pensive. “I don’t know, Eli. I’m scared. Not just for me, but for Ivy. I guess I was there looking for hope. I had already bought a Bible when I was pregnant with Ivy. But it can be hard to understand, so I wasn’t very devout in reading it. Then my cancer came back, and I wanted some direction, some hope. I never dreamed it would come from Arlo. I didn’t want him to know about her because of your band. But after reading the article about you two, I knew I needed to contact him.”

            “That’s weird. I thought he contacted you.”

            “That’s the miracle!” she beamed. “I tried, but his number had changed. I tried calling some people we both knew, but all they could tell me was that he left California. I knew he grew up in the Midwest, but in all the years we were together, we never went to his hometown.”

            “You never met any of his family?” I asked.

            “Oh sure, but they came to us. We never went to them, not even at Christmas. Anyway, so I actually tried to pray about it, and literally a half hour later, Arlo calls me! I couldn’t believe it! At first I thought he had gotten wind that he had a daughter, but he said he called to make amends for being a less than stellar boyfriend.

            “He told me where he was, and I told him I was only about four hours away in the Chicagoland area. I told him I needed to see him. He was skeptical. I think he thought I wanted to get back together, and he told me that it wouldn’t be a good idea to see each other. He said he had a fiancée and was gonna be married this weekend. So as much as I wanted to tell him in person, I had to tell him about my illness and his daughter over the phone.

            “He said he would come to me, but I wanted to see where my daughter might be living, and with whom besides Arlo. He had called at lunch time, so I threw some things together, and spur of the moment, we made a little road trip out here.”

            “Wow,” was all I could manage to say in response. I was a guitarist, not wordsmith.

We both looked at Crystal and Ivy, and then she sighed as she watched our children. I watched her out of the corner of my eye. My heart ached for her as I groped for something to say. A weary smile spread onto her face. “They sure seem to click, just like you and Arlo. His daughter, your granddaughter.”

            “Yeah, a couple little cuties came from a couple bruties.” Maybe I was a wordsmith after all.

            “I understand you had a similar experience as Arlo.”

            “You mean finding out you have a kid years after the birth. Yeah, it is similar. But thankfully Arlo found out much sooner.”

            “So you wish you would have known Ariel was pregnant back then?”

            “Yes and no. I was a selfish pig right up through the collapse of our band. So it was probably best for Ethan that we met as adults.”

            “I have to agree that you were a selfish pig.”

            I chuckled. “Tell me what you really think.”

            “I did,” she replied with a tilt of her head and a little smile. If you hadn’t known Elsa, you wouldn’t know she had a terminal illness. But her voluptuous body was now a bit frail. Her lovely face was getting slightly hollow in her cheeks, and there were light purple circles under her eyes.

            Her little jab at me gave me a Penny moment. By that I meant that I spoke a question that was on my mind but had no intention of broaching the subject. “Are you sure Ivy is Arlo’s?”

            I instantly regretted it, but she turned sad, patient eyes on me. “You know firsthand that I was a cheater. But God as my witness, Arlo was the only man I had sex with for several months before Ivy was conceived.”

            “I don’t know why I asked that,” I replied and then sort of put my foot in my mouth again. “Arlo would raise her even if she wasn’t. You know when you, um, well…”

            “Die,” she finished with a zombie like voice as she stared at the kids. Then a tear leaked from her eye. “Arlo is such a changed man.” Then she turned her eyes on me. “I mean not that he was ever as wild as you other three, but…”

            “I was a saint compared with Kyle and Izzy,” I said, placing a hand over my heart, half mocking myself and half serious.

            “I suppose, but even Ozzy Osbourne seemed tamer then Izzy. Ozzy may have bitten the head off of a bat, but Izzy chopped off his own hand and slit his own throat. And Kyle was like a walking pharmacy and liquor store. So my old friend, being less insane than them isn’t all that impressive of an achievement.”

            I chuckled but then grew serious. “Are we old friends?”

            “I hope so,” she said eyeing me thoughtfully, as she scratched her temple daintily with her index finger. “I mean we had that last bad spat and haven’t spoken in years. But I traveled to a hundred cities with you guys. I’d like to think you and I got to know each other beyond all the partying and flirting.”

            “Yeah, me too,” I replied, and then chuckled before a little confession. “Now that I have a conscience.”

            “You’ve always had a conscience, Eli. What do you think kept you from getting as out of control as Kyle and Izzy? Or telling Arlo I tried to seduce you?”

            “Self-preservation and loyalty.”

            “Wouldn’t they be elements of a conscience?”

            “It seems you’re no longer an atheist.”

            A pained look came onto her face. “I don’t know. I guess between having Ivy, having a deadly illness, and talking to Arlo, I’ve become something between agnostic and a believer. I mean, when faced with raising a little human being, and then facing death, my search for God has consisted mostly out of fear and anger.”

            “That’s understandable,” I replied. “I’ve had a similar experience, albeit different circumstances.”

            “So what were your circumstances?”

            “Well, the fear came in through nightmares. Dabbling with Satanism and the occult is dangerous, and we did considerably more than dabble. The anger came in simply through the false doctrine of eternal hellfire, which, oddly, most of Christianity embraces. I thought, how can a God of love torture people for eternity? But Arlo set met straight. In a nutshell, he gave me a Bible study showing me that the world is destroyed by fire. Kind of like Noah and the flood, only fire instead of water. But then he recreates it after the devil and his angels are destroyed in the lake of fire. So even the supernatural forces that created evil won’t be tortured permanently. Only the result is permanent. The wages of sin is death. (Romans 6:23)

            (For more information on the topic of Hellfire, lookup Amazing Facts ministry and request their study guide, ‘Is The Devil In Charge of Hell?’ There are also a couple dozen other study guides with topics ranging from who is the Antichrist to can you rely on the Bible?)

            “Yeah, Arlo shared a bit with me about that. But I still can’t get beyond running your life by a book that was written two thousand years ago.”

            “See, another similarity with you and me. I felt the same way. But once again, after Arlo showed me through prophecy that the Bible is as relevant today as when it was written. The one that stuck with me the most profoundly was form the book of Daniel, chapter 7 and verse 25 in particular. Keep in mind this was written about six hundred years before Christ was born.

            “It says that a power would appear on the world scene that would think to change times and laws. It was referring to the Sabbath, which is both about time and is the fourth commandment in the law of God. This happened in the fourth century, when Constantine made Christianity a legal religion. To accommodate sun worshippers, the Bible Sabbath was shifted from the seventh day to the Venerable Day of the Sun, also known as Sunday. But who is man to think to change God’s Holy Law?”

            Elsa was looking at me like I had two heads. In a strange way, I sort of did. For I wasn’t the same person I was when we last spoke. Yet I was still me. Two different characters in one person. Elsa even expressed this. “Are you really the wild guy I knew as Eli Endor?”

            “I was,” I chuckled. “But now I’m simply Elijah Alderson.”

            She looked away from me and at the two girls playing happily. A wistful look grew onto her face. She smiled. “I’m so glad I came here and got to meet everyone. Even the man formerly known as Eli Endor has been a sweetheart. You all have been such a balm to my hurting soul. I’m gonna try hard to embrace the side of me that believes.”

            “I’m so glad you came here too, Elsa. And as for embracing the side of you that believes, pray for the Holy Spirit to help you. He’s also known as the Comforter  (John 14:26 KJV). By the way, I hope you stay. I’d like to truly be your friend.”

            “I’d like that,” she squeaked. Then she put her face in her hands and began to whimper.

            This took me a little by surprise. On impulse, I gently put my arm around her. Once again, to my surprise, she leaned into me and her head rested in the crook of my neck. There was nothing sexual about our togetherness, but talk about a relationship that did a one eighty.

            It felt awkward at first with my arm around her, but then shifted when she stopped crying. “I’ve been so lonely Eli. My aunt has dementia, so I can’t truly talk to her about my feelings. I was so nervous coming here, worried on how I’d be perceived, given my past and all. Especially by you and Arlo’s fiancée. The only one I’m still not sure about is your woman.”

            “Oh, no worries about Ariel, she’s a sweetheart,” I said, and then realized something. “Although, when I found out you were coming, I did tell her about our history. I didn’t want her to find out from somebody other than me.”

            “So that’s why she’s been aloof around me.”

            “She’ll come around. She’s probably just sizing you up. She’s had a tough go of it this last year.”

            I’m not gonna say speak of the devil, even though I sort of just did. But my sweet lady’s’ calm, yet menacing voice sent a jolt through me when I heard Ariel say, “Well, don’t you two look cozy?”