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HEAVY METAL MIRACLES – PART 2 – CHAPTER 8

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

HEAVY METAL MIRACLES

PART 2

CHAPTER 8

NANCY

COME NOW, AND LET US REASON TOGETHER SAYS THE LORD (Isaiah 1:18)

            As Nancy looked at herself in the mirror, she felt a panic attack coming on. Was this dinner date with Drew an actual date? Why had she put on a dress? Had Drew ever seen her in a dress? How would he be dressed? In jeans and t-shirt? Or like she’d seen him when he was off to church, in Docker pants with a button up collar?

            Why did she feel so nervous? It was just Drew. The boy she grew up with. The boy who by times felt like a sibling. The boy she solved mysteries with. The boy who had often coaxed her out of her shell, convincing her to play hide and seek, and dodge ball with other kids. The boy who was always so kind and gentle. The boy she saw wipe a tear from his eye when he failed to save a wounded bird.

            But the boy was now a man, and she a woman. Her feelings for him had changed, and she didn’t understand them. They both intrigued and frightened her. The things that happened to her before she and her mother moved from California to Iowa had made her asexual. The things that happened to her made her skin crawl at the thought of physical intimacy.

            However, during her fifteenth year of life, Drew began to draw her out of her shell once again, but in a different way. Only this time he was unwittingly pulling her into feelings of romance. Strangely, it was peppermint gum that brought her to a fork in the road four years earlier.

            She had felt frisky with desire that day as they walked on the nature trail outside of town. Was this what normal girls felt she wondered? She both loved and loathed these feelings in the core of her being.

            Drew had been chewing a piece of peppermint Trident. She had been chewing a piece of grape Hubba Bubba. Her move had been calculated, for she had noticed that he had popped his last piece into his mouth. She said, “I don’t like this grape gum, give me a piece of yours.”

            “This was my last piece,” he replied.

            She noticed the look in his eyes. Even with something as simple as not being able to provide a piece of gum for her disappointed him. Oh how she loved him! But she also despised him for making her feel this way. She wanted to scream ‘kiss me you fool!’ Instead she substituted this desire in a very teenage manner. “Let’s just swap what we’re chewing.”

            “Huh?” he had responded confused. But then a little smile played at his lips when Nancy plucked the gum from her mouth and held it a foot’s length from his face. He mimicked her action, and they stood showing each other their ABC gum.

            “Open wide,” she instructed. She giggled as he obeyed, his action reminding her of a baby bird.

            They both stood chewing their new gum, enthralled that they were doing the equivalent of French kissing without actually touching. Yet, being teenagers, they both acted like it was no big deal. Nancy liked the fact that they were doing something kind of intimate without actually touching. One of her biggest fears was being touched by a boy in an intimate manner. Despite countless hours of psychological therapy, the idea always made her shudder. Until Drew.

            Nancy wiped off the little bit off makeup she had put on. Then she peeled the dress off and put on gray sweats. She also put on a Cedar Rapids Kernels baseball hat backwards. If she didn’t feel like herself, her nerves would never subside. And if they didn’t subside, she wouldn’t have the courage to reveal her secret to Drew.

            Was she really going to? What would he think of her? What had he always thought of her? She knew that he knew that she was odd, but how much did he ponder why? Her hand shook as she retrieved utensils for making dinner. She replaced them in the drawer and decided to order Chinese takeout instead.

            Nancy’s heart raced when she heard Drew knock on her apartment door. Then she relaxed some when she saw his easy, familiar smile. He was dressed in jeans and a light blue Carhardt t-shirt. Was the light blue to set her at ease? Did he remember light blue was her favorite color?

            Their attire signified old friends rather than a first date. This both pleased her and disappointed her. But her main goal wasn’t necessarily romantic, it was to heal. The question was, would she have the courage to confide her deep, dark secret? The only people in Iowa that knew it were her mother, and a few doctors.

            “Come in, Drew. I hope you don’t mind, time got away from me, so I ordered Chinese for dinner.”

            “No, no, I love Chinese.”

            And I love you, she thought. So much so it hurts. So much so it drove her crazy, so she had to drive you away. Now what was I doing these four years later, she wondered. Trying to reel you in once and for all, or driving you away permanently after I reveal how disgusting I am.

            They exchanged small talk throughout the meal. Nancy acknowledged that she didn’t know what she wanted to do with her life. She wavered on whether she wanted to go back to college for her sophomore year. Drew talked of his plan to work for his Uncle’s construction company as he “waited on the Lord,” to see if he was being called to full time ministry in some capacity.

            This was the perfect segway to take her in the direction of confession. She told him. “I’ve been reading the Bible quite a bit.”

            “Really!” He replied enthusiastically.

            She realized that for someone like Drew, this could be leading him on. She knew their opposing world views was an obstacle for him. She also knew he hoped to convert her. She shrugged and grinned. “I guess I’m looking for loopholes.”

            He frowned. “What do you mean by loopholes?”

            “Some of us are beyond redemption.”

            “Nobody is beyond redemption.”

            She snorted. “That’s easy for you to say.”

            “Yes it is,” he replied, surprising her with his quick agreement. “Because I’ve read the Word of God.”

            Nancy’s heart pounded as her secret was already upon her lips. She thought it would take a while to work up to it. With a quiver in her voice she began. “I see. Does this Word of God have anything to say about a little girl that… that…”

            Choking back a sob, she pushed away from her kitchen table and walked into the living room, fighting back tears. She wasn’t going to be able to tell him. He came up behind her and put gentle hands on her upper arms. She shuddered and barked, “Don’t touch me!”

            “Sorry,” he said quickly as he took a step back.

            She was breathing as though she had just finished a sprint. She had come to learn something about true believers. Not the majority of professed Christians, who wanted their worldly cake and to eat it too, but the people who you could see Jesus through. Drew’s character had been his witness, and not a set of dogmas.

            She turned, unashamed of her tear steaked face. She gasped when she noticed Drew’s calm face had two trails of tears down his cheeks. She was further surprised when she heard herself say, “I think I’m becoming a believer in Jesus.”

            “Nancy, that’s wonderful!”

            She stepped toward him and dragged her thumb over his tear streaks. “You’ve always claimed that the goodness I’ve seen in you is, how do you say it? Christ in you the hope of glory.”

            “That’s right! Colossians 1:27.”

            For some reason, Nancy now felt the courage to reveal her deep dark secret. But she also suspected that it would be the wedge keeping them from any possibility of romance. Not only because of her own hang ups, but because Drew deserved somebody that wasn’t damaged, even shattered goods. She took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s try this again.”

            “Nancy, you don’t have to do this.”

            “Yes I do,” she said quietly, and forced a smile. “You see… When I…”

            She began to tremble, then shake uncontrollably. Drew felt like someone had electrified his nerves. What had happened to Nancy that the memory of it rattled her this much? She was the strongest, feistiest female he had ever known. With maybe the exception of his own mother.

            She looked him right in the eyes. She smiled when she saw the sympathy and pure love there. “Drew, will you hold me?”

            “Of course,” he replied, and she stepped into his embrace.

            She shook as though they were standing in below zero weather without coats. He offered up a silent prayer. ‘Lord, please comfort this broken girl, and please give me wisdom on how to deal with her, what to say and what to do.’

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 20

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

HEAVY METAL MIRACLES

CHAPTER 20

PENNY

FOR WHAT IS YOUR LIFE? IT IS EVEN A VAPOR THAT APPEARS FOR A LITTLE TIME AND THEN VANISHES AWAY. (James 4:14)

            “Well, don’t you two look cozy?” I heard my sister say to Eli and Elsa with hands planted firmly on her hips.

            I had been walking behind Ariel toward the playground at Cotton Creek Cove Fellowship. Actually, at eight months pregnant, and being smaller than average, I was more likely waddling behind her. As I came up next to my sister, I witnessed Elsa jerk from being startled and then standing abruptly. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. She stumbled, winced, and caught herself on the back of the bench.

            It was then I realized just how strong and stoic Elsa had been behaving. She had not been letting on how poorly she actually felt. She had been considerably weakened by the cancer that was eating away at the insides of her body.

            This realization dawned on my sister as well as I watched her bite her lower lip, and then step quickly to Elsa, taking both of her hands in hers. Smiling, she downplayed the initial jealousy she had felt. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you two. And I was just, you know, joking by that comment.”

            “It’s okay,” Elsa returned a weak smile. Then she glanced at Eli, who was now standing with his thumbs hooked into his jeans pockets looking strangely vulnerable. “I’d like to explain. As we watched the children play I was, I don’t know, overcome with an overwhelming fear and sadness that I won’t be able to see Ivy grow up.”

            “No, no, I understand,” Ariel said as she wiped at tears coming out of her own eyes.

            I felt my eyes welling up also and noticed Mr. Cool detach a thumb from his pocket to pinch the bridge of his nose. Elsa laughed, even as more tears came. “This is so embarrassing. I normally like to have my little break downs privately after I put Ivy to sleep.”

            “Hey, what’s going on?” Arlo boomed. Then his face fell when he noticed the weeping foursome. He moseyed over to Eli. “Dude, are you crying?”

            “No,” Eli barked. “It’s allergies or something.”

            “Come on dude, don’t lie. You’re gonna be baptized tomorrow. If Jesus wept, no guy should ever be ashamed.”

            “You’re right, I’m sorry. Truth is, I guess we’re all felling emotional over Elsa’s situation.”

            “I’m  sorry,” Elsa said with a meek laugh. Her stoicism had returned with her chin lifted. “But I can’t thank you all enough for all the caring and kindness every one of you has shown me since I’ve been here.”

            I stepped toward Elsa and smiling at her, gave her hand a squeeze. She smiled back and hugged me tightly. Over the next several weeks and months, she and I developed a strong bond. I don’t mean to sound morbid or selfish, but I doubted that Arlo’s ex and myself would have become so close if it wasn’t for her deadly disease. And the mostly unspoken fact that I would one day be in the mothering role for her daughter.

            Our extra close bond was also initiated by Elsa. She sought my company more than anyone else’s. No pun intended with Elsa and Else’s. I think it was divine wisdom given to her. Mother’s intuition if you please. She already knew Arlo would love and care for their daughter, so her motherly instinct wanted to make sure the woman taking over that role for her was worthy.

            To me it was the greatest honor and responsibility that I was ever faced with. I did everything I could to reassure her that I was humbled and took the idea of Ivy becoming my daughter very, very, seriously.

            That evening there was a special prayer meeting. Before Pastor Samson, AKA Captain Kirk, closed it out, he asked if anyone else would like to be baptized the next day. I felt like it was a gentle nudge, directed at Elsa. Yet the Pastor’s clear blue eyes stared just over the top of everyone’s head. Then Elsa tentatively raised her hand.

            “Elsa, are you interested in the rite of baptism?” Captain Kirk asked happily.

            “Yes, Sir,” she replied meekly.

            “Wonderful!” he beamed.

            “I do have a question though. I believe most of what Penny and Arlo have been teaching me about the Bible. But what if I’m doing this selfishly, you know, like some sort of insurance policy because, well, obviously my time is short?”

            “Well, my Dear, I’d say Jesus is the best insurance policy one could acquire,” Captain Kirk told her. “And His salvation is free of charge. All you have to do is ask.”

            “But the truth is,” she continued as she wrung her hands. “I’m sure I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for the fact that I’m dying. I wouldn’t have contacted Arlo if I wasn’t dying. I wouldn’t have been in that Christian bookstore and saw Arlo and Eli on the cover if I wasn’t dying. So you see, in light of that, there’s an element about me getting baptized that seems disingenuous.”

            “To be honest with you, Elsa,” Captain Kirk said. “Your situation reminds me of the thief on the cross.”

            “Hopefully not the one who rejected Jesus,” Elsa said with a little smile. We all laughed.

            “No, my Dear, the other,” the Pastor replied with a chuckle. “But who’s to say facing death wasn’t part of his motivation as well? And not only did Jesus forgive him, He reassured him that he would be with Him in paradise.”

            “Yeah, I suppose so,” Elsa said, yet frowned and looked away from the Pastor’s gaze.

            “I hope this doesn’t in anyway sound insensitive, Sister Elsa,” Captain Kirk continued. “But you’re not dead yet.”

            “And we will all be praying for a miracle,” Ariel piped up. I knew my sister pretty well and could tell that she still felt guilty about confronting Elsa and Eli the previous day.

            Elsa’s smile was sad, yet peace was in her eyes. “I’ve already experienced a miracle, by finding you people before it was too late.”

            We were all somber and quiet for a moment. Then Ethan, with his rich, deep voice, began to sing. “Just as I am without one plea, but that Thy blood was shed for me. And that Thou bid’st me come to Thee. Oh Lamb of God I come, I come.”

            I got a lump in my throat, but regardless, I joined a few others in joining Ethan.

            “Just as I am, though tossed about with many a conflict many a doubt fighting with fears within and without. Oh Lamb of God I come, I come.”

            “Just as I am, Thou wilt receive, wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve. Because of thy promise I believe. Oh Lamb of God, I come, I come.”

            I had seen images of Elsa’s so called work. The sexy, devilish vixen contrasted sharply with the woman that emerged from the baptismal waters of Cotton Creek. After Captain Kirk helped her rise from the watery grave, representing newness of life, eternal life, the light of heaven seemed to shine on her face as she smiled and gazed up at the bright blue sky with a twinkle in her lovely blue eyes.

            Newness of life. Terminal illness. What an extreme contradiction.

            Although countless prayers for a miracle were offered on Elsa’s behalf, she passed away six months to the day of her baptism. My heart was never as broken as seeing Ivy sit between Arlo and me at Elsa’s funeral. Ivy’s head was bowed, and her hands were clasped between her knees. Her five month old brother was in my arms cooing after snacking at my breast.

            Ivy smiled at him, looked at me, and held out her arms. I carefully placed little Jeremiah, who we were already calling Jerry, into Ivy’s arms. When she very sweetly kissed his forehead, I almost choked on the lump in my throat. I turned my gaze onto Captain Kirk at the pulpit before I coughed out a sob. I heard Ariel sniff behind me, and knew she had witnessed the same loving gesture by the little girl who would turn five a couple weeks after her mother’s funeral.

            Pastor reassured us that although Elsa’s life was cut way too short, she had accepted Christ and eternal life just in time. He spoke of her courage and witness in her remaining months after her baptism. Then he shared 2 Corinthians 12:9 with us. But instead of hearing the Pastor, I heard Elsa asking me to read that very verse to her.

            It was the last time I saw her alive. We had set up a hospital bed in the guest room of my house. After we married, Arlo had moved out of Mrs. Mendelbright’s bed and breakfast and into my modest ranch house. Her time was now very short with a hospice nurse constantly near. Now, surrounded by those who loved her during her last minutes, she beckoned me. In an almost inaudible voice, she petitioned me to read what Captain Kirk had now quoted as well.

            “And He said to me,” I began. “My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness. Therefore most gladly will I rather boast in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.”

            She began to speak to me, but it was so soft I had to bend closer. She repeated. “Thank you for loving my little girl.”

            “It is my supreme honor,” I replied, stroking her matted blonde hair.

            “I love you like the sister I never had,” she whispered.

            “I love you too, Elsa, very much.”

            Then her face stilled. She was gone. Her eyes were still on mine, and in them was a peace I can’t explain, and will never, ever will forget.

             We are all terminal and bound by time. Some are granted long life, some short. We see through a glass darkly now (1 Corinthians 13:12). But in the scope of eternity Elsa’s thirty-eight years compared to my grandmother’s eighty-eight years is actually insignificant when the day comes when God wipes away all tears. (Revelation 21:4)

            Captain Kirk concluded with these words. “Compared to eternity with Christ and reunited with our loved ones, our time on this planet, no matter how short or long, will seem like a night in a bad hotel.”

            Amen, Pastor, and rest in peace, Elsa.

HEAVY METAL MIRACLES – CHAPTER 18

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

HEAVY METAL MIRACLES

CHAPTER 18

ARLO ALDO

RESTORE TO ME THE JOY OF YOUR SALVATION, AND UPHOLD ME BY YOUR GENEROUS SPIRIT (Psalm 51:12)

            My heart began to race as I saw the astonished look on my fiancée’s face. Her gaze kept rotating from me to my four year old daughter, and to my ex-girlfriend Elsa. We all seemed to be frozen by awkwardness. Finally Penny cleared her throat and said, “You have daughter?”

            “That’s what Elsa tells me.”

            Penny, the bluntest person I have ever met, says, “How do you know she’s telling you the truth?”

            Although I believed she was, it had crossed my mind that Elsa was mistaken, or even lying. Yet the little girl’s age would fit with the timeline of when she confronted me about the pregnancy and the desired abortion.

            I shrugged. “I don’t know, I just believe her.”

            “You had told me that you weren’t confident the child was yours when she told you she was pregnant. So what makes you so sure now?”

            “I guarantee you Arlo is Ivy’s father,” Elsa said matter of fact. “But it won’t hurt my feelings any if you want to get a paternity test.”

            Penny opened her mouth, and knowing her, I feared she was going to say I don’t care about your feelings. But then she closed it and frowned. Then she put a finger on her chin and eyed me suspiciously. Yet she was handling this situation with impressive calmness. “So when did you find out about Ivy?”

            “An hour ago.”

            Penny looked at Elsa. “Why now? Why didn’t you tell Arlo after you decided to keep the baby rather than aborting her?”

            “Not that I’m a saint by any means,” Elsa said. “But I was very uncomfortable thinking about my child’s father being part of a satanic rock group.”

            “But you were comfortable going to bed with a guy from a satanic rock group for what, eight years?”

            Elsa shrugged nonchalantly. “I was like nineteen when I started going with Arlo. People change. Like I said, I was no saint, he and I met at the Playboy mansion for goodness sake.”

            “So now you want Arlo to be a part of your daughter’s life?”

            “Yes, I do, very much so.”

            Penny crossed her arms abruptly and glared at me. “So what are you gonna do, move to California, or buy an airplane?”

            “Elsa doesn’t live in California anymore. She lives in the Chicago area with her aunt.”

            “She’s the only family I have left, and she getting up in years.”

            Penny looked stricken, and I felt my toes curl. To me Elsa made it sound like she was suggesting a menage a trois of some sort. It didn’t help as she continued.

            “If you guys are okay with it, Ivy and I could get a room right here at Mrs. Mendelbright’s for a while so you all could get acquainted with Ivy, and vice versa.”

            I opened my mouth to tell Penny the reason Elsa was extra eager for me to get to know my daughter,  but her voice won the race, and it bordered on hostility. No forget border, Penny was out right hostile.

            “Oh that would be wonderful!” Penny mocked. “I was supposed to get married the day after tomorrow, and my fiancée surprises me with his ex-girlfriend for our honeymoon!”

            It didn’t go beyond my notice that Penny said ‘was supposed to get married’ rather than ‘is going to get married’ the day after tomorrow. She stomped toward the door, and I grabbed her by the crook of her arm. “Penny, wait.”

            “Let go of me!” she said through gritted teeth as she jerked her arm free from my grasp. She slammed the door, and I cringed. Mrs. Mendelbright had about a dozen rooms in her large Victorian boarding house. Could people hear the dispute?

            I was frozen for a moment and glanced Elsa. Her eyes were wide with astonishment. “Arlo, I’m sorry I impulsively came here. I should have given you time to talk this over with Penny.”

            “It will be alright,” I reassured her. “Penny is a rather fiery person. But she’s also reasonable, compassionate, and smart. I’ll be back in a minute.”

            I burst out of Mrs. Mendelbright’s just in time to see the door of Penny’s truck slam shut. I sprinted over, reached through her open window, and shut off her truck.

            “Get away from me, Arlo,” she said as she restarted her truck. “Go make another baby with your ex-girlfriend.”

            I reached in to shut off her truck again. She grabbed my wrist and bit my hand. “Ow!”

            I jerked my hand out, and as her window went up, she barked, “The wedding’s off.”

            I made my way back to my room, grabbed my phone and told Elsa I would be a few more minutes. Once outside again, I tried to call Penny, but she didn’t answer. So I texted her. Back then we had flip phones and texting took a bit longer. And in my haste, it took even longer as I had to correct several typing mistakes.

            “Penny, please come back. I need to tell you something, and after I do I’m sure you will want to go back up and talk to Elsa. Please trust me.”

            Five minutes later I was pleased to see her drive back up. I wasn’t pleased to see the angry look on her face. Her window rolled down and she said, “This better be good.”

            Between the tension with Penny, finding out I had a daughter, and the horrible news Elsa had shared, I couldn’t control my emotions. Tears began to stream from my eyes, my lower lip quivered, and my voice cracked. “Penny, Elsa’s dying.”

            Her face looked stunned, and she softly tried, “Dying to do what?”

            “She’s dying, dying. As in she’s no longer gonna live. She has been given only a few months.”

            “I don’t understand.”

            “Not long after she had Ivy, it was discovered that she had breast cancer. It went into remission for more than a year, but just last week she found out that it had come back with a vengeance and has spread throughout her body.”

            She pressed a hand to her forehead. “Oh Arlo, I’m so sorry. I’ve never behaved like a bigger jerk in my life.”

            “That’s not true,” I said. She frowned at me, and it would have been funny if it wasn’t such a somber moment.

            She got out of her truck and gave me a quick hug. Then she made her way back to the house. She moved surprisingly quick for someone eight months pregnant. As we went through the door of my room, we discovered Elsa pacing, and Ivy still entranced by the cat.

            Elsa looked a little horror stricken as she froze and stared at Penny. But Penny displayed the intense compassion that are in spicey people that are Godly. She moved to Elsa and hugged her tightly. “I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions, Elsa. I behaved like a moron, but would you please forgive me?”

            Elsa laughed as she cried, and they separated. “No worries. It seems Arlo told you about my dilemma.”

            “Yes, and I can’t tell you how sorry I am. We will do whatever we can to help you through this ordeal.”

            “Even raise my little girl?” Elsa asked and then sobbed.

            Penny hugged her again. “Sweety, I will love her like my own, I promise.”

            When they separated, we all looked at Ivy, blissfully happy, and blissfully unaware that her whole world was soon to be turned upside down.

HEAVY METAL MIRACLES – CHAPTER 7

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

HEAVY METAL MIRACLES

CHAPTER 7

PENNY

THE HEART IS DECEITFUL ABOVE ALL THINGS, AND DESPERATELY WICKED; WHO CAN KNOW IT? (Jeremiah 17:9)

            “Hey,” my assistant Abby said with a breathless grin as she breezed into the clinic. “Did you have a good weekend?”

            “It was okay,” I replied. “I’m going to guess you had a good weekend.”

            I hadn’t seen Abby this happy in more than a year. Ever since the twenty eight year old’s fiancée ended their relationship the previous autumn, she had been depressed. He did this right after she discovered she was pregnant. I had thought him a creep, but her friendship with Arlo brought to light an interesting twist to the conception of her baby daughter Lindsey.

            She giggled. “Yeah, I had a really nice weekend.”

            “Oh yeah, what’d you do?”

            “Well, Arlo Aldo went to church with me Saturday,” she said breezily.

            I felt myself go rigid. A few nights previously, he and I had talked for a couple hours. I felt like we bonded, and I even told him as we parted that if he wanted to do something this weekend to give me a call. He very cheerfully said okay. But apparently he chose to spend time with my pretty, decade younger assistant. Was I jealous? I think I was, but why?

            “Oh yeah?” I replied, purposely appearing disinterested.

            “Yeah,” she said with more giggles. “Then yesterday he came out with my little rock climbing group. He had never done it before, but he was a natural. All those muscles aren’t just for show.”

            “That’s nice,” I said, leafing through some papers, and pretending to be looking for something as we talked. “So do you have a thing for Arlo?”

            My normally plain Jane redheaded assistant had an air of sexiness about her and looked cute as she crinkled her nose. “I think I do. He’s so handsome and rugged, yet gentle.”

            Oh well, lost at love again… What was I thinking? Lost at love? Arlo and I had one lengthy conversation with occasional, mild flirting.

            “So when are you gonna see him again?”

            “I don’t know,” she replied with a shrug. Then her bubbly demeanor dissipated. “Truth is, I think I’m more interested in him than he is me.”

            “Oh yeah, why’s that?”

            “Well, as he put it, the ink isn’t dry on his divorce yet. Plus he treated me more like we’re pals rather than, you know, mutually romantically interested.”

            “I see,” I replied, hopeful that all wasn’t lost with Arlo and me. But then something dawned on me. If Abby and I were secretly and not so secretly competing for the same guy, how would that affect our working relationship? She was the best assistant I ever had. Oh well, I’d cross that bridge later, and hope that it wasn’t rickety.

            Two days later I was invited to a small gathering at our family’s church to listen to some of the songs Eli and Ethan’s band had been practicing. Of which, Arlo played bass. I decided to do something I rarely did and wasn’t very good at. I made myself look girly.

            I didn’t want to overdo it. I didn’t want to be obvious. A little mascara to enhance my big brown eyes and a little lip gloss to sensualize my lips. I had pretty fantastic legs, if I do say so myself, so I dug out one of the two shorter skirts I owned. It was denim, and I forgot how high it was above the knee. I tugged it down, but it didn’t help much. I put brown penny loafers on my feet and wondered if anyone would comment on Penny wearing penny loafers.

            I spotted Arlo’s bass guitar in a stand down in the church basement where the band had been practicing. But I saw no Arlo. Everyone else was there. Then I heard a toilet flush behind me. Then water running in the sink. Then paper towels departing from a dispenser. Then the restroom door flung open, and the happy hulk emerged.

            “Hey, pretty Penny in penny loafers,” he grinned. I couldn’t help grinning back, even though I tried not to. So it took all of three minutes for someone to make a ‘Penny in penny loafers’ comment. I knew I should have worn pumps, or even my old cowboy boots.

             “You clean up nice,” he added.

            This is where I exposed one of my biggest flaws. That was speaking before thinking, rather than thinking before speaking. “Yeah, but do I look as good as Abby up on a rock in spandex athletic pants?”
            His grin grew bigger. “That wasn’t horrible to look at.”

            “You know, to lust after a woman is committing adultery with her already in your heart.”

            “I’m not married anymore, so I no longer have a covenant with my eyes,” he said, quoting Job 31:1.

            “Is that right?”

            “That’s right, so I’m gonna go ahead and admire your surprisingly shapely legs too.”

            “Surprisingly?”

            “Yeah. For a girl that tries to dress like a guy, I would have guessed your legs would be hairy.”

            “I don’t try to dress like a guy. I just don’t put a whole lot of effort into being feminine.”

            “Well you should. You’re lovely to behold when you do.”

            I snorted a laugh. “You call this effort? You should see me in me my blonde wig, leather skirt, and black stockings with heels.”

            “Okay,” he said eagerly.

            “Too bad, I hate heels.”

            “Hence the penny loafers,” he said, and then frowned. “Do you really have a blonde wig?”

            “I do. But it was given to me as a joke. I’ve only worn it once. Why do you prefer blondes? I don’t know that you’re even a gentleman.”

            “Actually I don’t, but you in a blonde wig would be a curious sight. You in a leather skirt and stockings would be an even curiouser site.”

            “I don’t think curiouser is a word. Besides, it’s character that counts, not appearance,” I declared, and then felt a wave of hypocrisy as the marriage I wrecked flashed into my mind.

            “Very true,” he agreed. “And to be honest, as a fairly new Christian, and a brand new single man, I’m still figuring out the boundaries of appropriateness when it comes to admiring attractive females, and admiration crossing over into lust.”

            There were around forty or fifty people milling about. Eli interrupted numerous conversations as he directed the band to assemble and begin play. They were fantastic!

            Afterward, Arlo and I went to an old fashion café. He had a piece of cherry pie with vanilla ice cream. I had a strawberry shake. With my penny loafers and white ankle socks passing as bobby socks, it seemed like we were on a fifties style date. Was it date? I certainly felt like a teeny bopper when I couldn’t help asking, “So, do you like Abby?”

            He shrugged. “She’s a nice girl.”

            “I know she has a major crush on you.”

            He stopped a fork full of pie halfway to his mouth. With raised eyebrows he replied, “She does?”

            “Can’t you tell?”

            “Well, I mean, we do get along pretty good. And she’s nice looking. But I’ve only been divorced for about two minutes, so I’m not ready for a relationship.”

            I felt both relieved as well as disappointed. Did I want a relationship? A relationship with Arlo Aldo? I do know I wanted to go to bed with him. But would he be willing? I wasn’t a committed Christian back then. When I went out on a date, which was becoming more and more infrequent, it was usually with someone I already knew. Therefore, we usually ended up in bed. But Arlo seemed to take his faith very seriously. If he kept what he referred to as the Biblical Sabbath, I highly doubted that he would be willing to fornicate.

            Arlo continued about Abby. “Besides, as you know, she has some issues. And I have enough of my own right now.”

            “By issues, do you mean her daughter Lindsey? I know with her family belonging to a conservative church and all, it was difficult for her to have a child out of wedlock.”

            “Actually, her family was pretty cool. It’s the guilt she still feels over her fiancée.”

            “Guilt over her fiancée? Don’t be ridiculous! After four years together, he knocks her up and then immediately dumps her just weeks before their wedding.”

            “He’s not the father,” Arlo blurted, and then his eyes got wide, and he put delicate fingers to his lips. I would have giggled at the sight if the subject matter wasn’t so serious.

            I felt an electric chill throughout my entire body that somebody with Abby’s character would cheat on her fiancée. Then I felt hurt that she had apparently confided in Arlo, but not in me. Abby had only worked for me not quite two years, but I felt like we were pretty close friends.

            “So Abby told you this?”

            “Nope,” he said, shaking his head. “I met her former fiancée’s brother at her church. I think he thought Abby and I were an item. He took me aside and warned me that she was a cheater. He also said her former fiancée let everyone think he was the deadbeat to save her from disgrace. He said he also left town due to his own undeserved disgrace.”

            “I don’t believe it!” I said. “Sweet little, God fearing Abby not only cheated, but let the betrayed take the fall.”

            “Please keep this between you and me,” Arlo said. His eyes looked somewhat panicked. “I promised him I wouldn’t tell, but I let slip figuring you already knew. Trust me, I can tell by things she’s told me that she plans to set the record straight. She told me she had been backslidden for years and had things she needed to own up to. I’m betting what I just told you is part of it.”

            “I’ll keep it to myself, I promise.”

            “I hope this doesn’t make you think less of her. I believe she’s repentant. I think she’s just seeking God’s grace and working up the courage to come clean.”

            “I have my own skeletons, Arlo. What you just told me only makes me feel for her.”

            We drove separately, and out in the parking lot, grinning, he stuck out his hand to shake. I opened my arms and said, “I think we can do better than that.”

            As we broke away from the hug, I went on tip toes and made to kiss his cheek. Only I missed on purpose and kissed half of his mouth. I could tell it took him by surprise, and he made a joke of it, saying, “Mmm, strawberry.”

            Aiming wide innocent looking eyes that weren’t so innocent, I invited. “If you like the taste, have some more.”

            “Don’t mind if I do,” he replied, and lowered his face to mine.

HEAVY METAL MIRACLES – CHAPTER 2

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

HEAVY METAL MIRACLES

CHAPTER 2

Eli

BE SOBER, BE VIGILANT, BECAUSE YOUR ADVERSARY THE DEVIL WALKS ABOUT LIKE A ROARING LION, SEEKING WHOM HE MAY DEVOUR (1 Peter 5:8)

            As I sat in one of Penny’s examination rooms, I felt like I should be putting on one of those gowns that leave you feeling cold and exposed as you patiently wait to get poked and prodded by medical staff. But this was a veterinarian clinic, and although many people thought of me as an animal, I was in fact human.

            My humanity also was becoming impatient when my instructions from Penny to ‘wait in here for a minute’ surpassed the twenty minute mark. When the wait hit twenty two minutes, I had entered into full impatience. I was beginning to rise when there was two raps on the door and Penny burst in. “Come on, we gotta go before Ariel gets back.”

            The white medical coat she had been wearing when I first arrived was gone. She was wearing a light blue flannel shirt, faded jeans, and cowboy boots. Her dark hair was cut into some type of pixie. About a month previously, I had cut my long black hair to something eerily similar to Penny’s. It was the first time since I was seventeen that I didn’t have hair well past my shoulders.

            Penny was as cute as I remembered, but now all grown up. Yet she still seemed every bit the Tomboy that she was as a teenager. Of course maybe that was due to finding her at work tending animals. But she wore no makeup and had no jewelry, and  her current wardrobe was more masculine than feminine.

            I followed her as she walked briskly through the clinic and out into the parking lot. She bit her thumb, looked around, and then declared, “Shoot!”

            “What?” I replied.

            “I don’t know what to do, or where to go,” she said, looking at me as if I might have an answer.

            “I don’t know what to tell you,” I said, showing her my palms. “All I know is you don’t want me to see Ariel just yet.”

            “Are you hungry?”

            “Sure.”

            “Follow me, there’s a great place just a few miles from here.”

            I got into my candy apple red 1969 Shelby Mustang convertible. She got into a gravel dust covered Toyota Tacoma. I think it was dark blue, maybe black. It didn’t occur to me to ask if we were taking a dirt road or something. Thankfully it was all highway as I followed her to a town called Shellsburg.

            We entered a cozy café that was very much country themed. Without waiting for a hostess, Penny led us to a booth. Not long after, a voluptuous blonde waitress, around fifty, and wearing a lot of makeup, put a menu in front of both of us. “Hi, Doc Penny.”

            Then she said to me, “And associate.”

            “Hey Roxy,” Penny greeted, and I smiled to myself. If ever a name fit a person’s look.

            She smirked at Penny, winked and walked away. Penny had a frozen expression for a few seconds, then groaned and put her face into her hands, saying, “What was I thinking?”

            “What’s wrong?”

            “Bringing you here.”

            “What’s wrong with me?” I asked. But I’ve traveled the world. I knew small towns. “I’m normal. I’m not decked out in leather, and wearing goth makeup.”

            “You’re anything but normal.”

            “What’s that supposed to mean?”

            “Never mind,” she said, gazed at me for a few seconds, sighed. “I don’t have much of a social life. On the rare occasion I do go on something like a date, it’s usually in Cedar Rapids.”

            “Is this a date?” I asked with an arched eyebrow.

            Her eyes widened, and she actually blushed. “No, no, no! But, you know, well, it could look like it. I thought it would just look like we were having a business meal… But then Roxy had to go and wink at me. Maybe it was just because you’re so… Never mind.”

            “Because I’m what?”

            “Never mind.”

            “Some host you are, insinuating that I’m hideous.”

            She snorted a laugh. “You were definitely hideous when you were in that creepy band.”

            “But not now?”

            “Let’s just stay away from this, okay?”

            There was a moment of awkward silence. Then I made it even worse. “So are you divorced?”

            Her reaction reminded me of the fifteen year old Penny, making me smile despite the awkward tension. She sneered and said in snotty tone. “No, I’ve never married. But why would you assume I was divorced?”

            “Well, you just said you don’t have much of a social life, and you mentioned occasionally going on dates. That coupled with your last name being Baldwin now, rather than Grobstick.”

            “Baldwin is my mother’s maiden name. I took it not long after my dad left my mother for a girl not much older than Ariel. Plus, meaning no offense to extended family, I’ve never been crazy about the name Grobstick.”

            “Are you and your date ready to order, Pen?” Roxy asked as she seemed to suddenly reappear. She looked at me and winked.

            “This isn’t a date,” Penny corrected, trying to smile with innocent looking eyes.

            I found myself gazing at Penny. She was in fact beautiful. Her Tomboy appearance couldn’t hide her large doe like eyes and sensuous lips. What made her even more stunning was how natural it was without trying at all. A boy’s haircut, no makeup or jewelry, and a flannel shirt that was at least a size too big.

            Her large round brown eyes were intense as they gazed at Roxy. Her small nose crinkled a little with what I perceived was disgust.

            I tried to help her out by explaining. “We’re old friends from high school. I used to date her sister.”

            Penny glared at me with a tight smile, then back to Roxy as she pointed out the window. “I’m looking to buy his Mustang.”

            “But she probably can’t afford it.” I replied. “It’s not only a vintage Mustang, it’s a  Shelby.”

            Roxy shrugged as her smile faded. She was just trying to be playful, teasing Penny, but I think she perceived that she was causing trouble. “So what’ll you have?”

            “The usual,” Penny suggested.  It turned out to be a grilled cheese sandwich, tomato soup, and a baked potato. I got a burger and fries.

            “Let’s cut to the chase,” Penny said. “I was out of line writing you like I did.”

            She bit her thumb and wore a concerned look as she was apparently looking for something to add.

            “What are you getting at?” I asked. “You don’t want me to meet my son and granddaughter now?”

            “No, I mean, not necessarily.”

            “Well what then?”

            “I need to feel Ariel out on the situation, and I don’t think she’ll be very happy with me.”

            “Didn’t you say my son wrote to me a few years ago?”

            She sneered. “Stop calling him your son! You didn’t raise him! You were just a sperm donor.”

            I was quite taken aback by her outburst, and it must have shown.

            “I’m sorry,” she said, touching my arm. Then she rubbed her temples and winced. “It’s just that it was already a long, stressful day; and then you just show up out of the blue.”

            “Well, I’m sorry, Penny,” I told her mildly. “Do you want me to turn around and go back to California? Cause I will, I don’t want to cause trouble.”

            “Is that what you want?” she asked with a frown.

            “No, I’m asking if that’s what you want? I was under the impression that meeting my… Ariel’s son was likely a favorable thing to be doing.”

            She sighed and looked at the table. “You see, Ethan writing to you six years ago was something I had helped him do. Ariel wasn’t happy with me then, so I suspect she would be even more unhappy now.”

            “Were you the one that told him about me in the first place?”

            “No, that’s why I figured Ariel wouldn’t mind him getting in touch with you.”

            “If she doesn’t want me in his life, then why did she even tell him about me?”

            “Her first husband wasn’t very good to Ethan… At all. As a matter of fact, verbal abuse turned into physical abuse. That was the main reason they divorced. But since she had two kids with him, the family was stuck with him in their lives. His ill treatment hurt Ethan’s self-esteem to the point that Ariel told him he wasn’t his real father, so he wanted to know who, and that’s when she reluctantly told him that you were his father.”

            “I think you mean sperm donor,” I said flatly.

            She eyed me cooly, yet a smile played at her lips. “Anyway, she regretted the cat getting out of the bag.”

            “Why?”

            “Why?” She asked with wide eyes, as if it were a stupid question. And it was, I knew what was coming next, just not word for word. “Mr. Hail Satan. Need I say anymore?”

            I waved a dismissive hand. “I didn’t take that stuff seriously.”

            “Is that right?” She asked skeptically, folding her arms as if in challenge.

            I looked out the window. I didn’t mean it to be, but my statement was a lie. True, I told myself I wasn’t serious when we ‘sold our souls for rock and roll.’ Even when we achieved success shortly after that fateful night when Izzy led us in a strange ritual. I believed our success had to do with my guitar playing, and our spooky stage gimmicks. I never would have went along with a satanic ceremony without being influenced by the other guys.

            “So everybody thought that her husband was the boy’s father?”

            “Yes, and you can call him Ethan.”

            “Even you didn’t know that… Ethan was my… biological son.”

            “I suspected, but Ariel began seeing Dan not long after you left town.”

            “Wait a minute. Dan. As in Dan Smothers?”

            Penny nodded.

            “She married Dan Smothers! That big idiot that strutted around like he was Hulk Hogan.”

            “One and the same.”

            “And she had kids with him?”

            “Two daughters that he treats like gold. Two little angels that can’t do anything wrong. Yet Ethan couldn’t do anything right in his eyes. He treated him like garbage.”

            “So what is this about some altercation between Ethan and his two stepdads. So apparently Ariel remarried?”

            “She did. To a good man, a decent man who was good to all of her kids.”

            “So what happened in this altercation?”

            “Hannah, Ariel’s oldest daughter was drunk at a bar on her twenty first birthday. One bar tender called Ethan and Doug. Doug is Ariel’s second husband. And another bar tender called Dan.”

            “Let me guess, Dan was drunk.”

            “Yes, but still coordinated enough to be violent. Hannah slid off of her barstool and tried to run. Ethan grabbed her arm to stop her. Dan yelled for him to let go of her while at the same time sucker punching him in the side of the head. The blow not only knocked him out, his head bounced off of the floor. He ended up in a coma for three days. So Doug charged Dan even though he’s easily a hundred pounds lighter. Dan flung him like a rag doll, and the corner of the bar severed his spine. He’s paralyzed from the neck down.”

            “So what happened to Dan? Is he in jail?”

            “He’s free on bond until his trial on multiple assault charges.”

            “So what’s Dan’s attitude, is he remorseful?”

            Penny shrugged and snorted sarcastically. “Oh he’s sorry all right. But how much of his repentance is regretful over the injuries he caused, and how much is sorrow for being in trouble, only God knows.”

            “That’s right, only God knows,” I said as our eyes locked.

            We stared at each other for a long moment. Then as if reading my mind, she attempted to clarify. “It’ just a figure of speech.”

            “Is that all?”

            “Yes, that’s all.”

            “You don’t believe in God?”

            She snorted a sarcastic laugh again. I got the feeling she had done this a lot throughout her life. “Do you believe in the devil?”

            “Yes I do,” I replied, looking her right in the eyes.

            She returned my gaze with a look defiance. “You just told me a minute ago that you didn’t take your band’s satanic imagery seriously.”

            “I didn’t. Some of my bandmates did, though. In the end, I saw demon possession up close and personal. It’s real, and it’s nothing to mess with.”

            Her sarcastic frivolity was gone. She eyed me carefully before asking, “Do you believe in God?”

            “Yes, I do.”

            Her sarcastic attitude began to inch back with a little smirk that played at the corner of her mouth. “So is Eli Endor, lead guitarist for ‘The Sons of Molech’ a born again Christian?”

            I wanted a smoke in the worst way as I inhaled the smell of coffee and fried foods, and I sighed. “I can’t claim that at this point. But I want to be.”

            “So what’s holding you back?”

            “It’s complicated.”

            Penny actually looked sympathetic before she said, “Faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the word of God.”

            “So you’re still a Christian then?”

            “I’m agnostic.”

            “But you grew up in a religious household.”

            “So did you.”

            “Hardly. My mother raised me. I just had to spend a little over a year with my hypocrite father until I graduated high school.”

            “What happened to your mom?”

            “She was into witchcraft and herbology. She got caught selling a plant known as marijuana. She did two years in prison, so I got sent to live with my dad. I almost dropped out of school to focus on music. But I was smart enough to realize that there were a lot of talented musicians that never made it past the club scene.”

            “A woman’s voice other than Penny’s said, “Elijah?”

            I looked into the lovely face of Ariel, formerly Grobstick, formerly Smothers. I didn’t know her current married name at that point.

            Ariel looked like she had just seen a ghost, and Penny looked like she just witnessed a bad accident.