Hey friends! We’re driving in a new direction today. It’s time for a new adventure. ⁱ

Proverbs 1:1-2 The proverbs of Solomon, son of David, king of Israel:To know wisdom and instruction, to understand words of insight.

Isle of the Rising Star

Eleanor stood at the bow, scanning the horizon. The twelve moons rose like a choir, gently reminding her that day was almost done. The small sun cast an orange hue on the keys she maneuvered through the archipelago. Her flock of forty was settling themselves contentedly in the hull. A kid cried for a moment and stopped. Hooves shuffled.

Eleanor’s simple, red smock fluttered in the breeze as she carefully stepped back to the stern. The warm bodies of the animals and their rough wool comforted her, warmed her. She steered the “Prudence” toward a gumthum bloom ahead.

The bloom was a mass of purple luminescence in the midst of the green waters. Its glow caused more than a few of the muvvons to open their eyes for a moment. This bloom was especially large—worth a great deal. If she harvested quickly, she could be done in–

“That is quite a find.”

Eleanor’s heart skipped a beat. She turned on her heel and knelt, her face to the ground. “Your Royal Highness.”

“Rise.”

The King stood before her in his own vessel, crafted by Jorico the Great from eleeshan white wood. His royal robes, intricately woven with the webs of the golden dargofonn, glimmered in the moonlight and stretched the entire length of his vessel. The sleeves of his robes were cut to reveal his great arms. The silver collar of his robe reflected the purple light of the bloom onto his great, hairless head. His eyes flashed their own lightning. “You thought you could gather one more haul for the day. But you’re wrong.”

Eleanor’s eyes darted guiltily to the bloom. “Well, um . . . “

His eyes softened. He smiled. “It’s time for supper, Princess,” he said.

***

Eleanor’s great robes, woven from the spun wool of her muvvons, hung about her with great weight, but it was the root soup that warmed her as she sat at the small, wooden table with her father. “It’s very good,” Eleanor said, sitting straight in her chair.

“I am a rather good cook.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “But it seems disgraceful for a King to prepare his own meals.”

“I do not often have time, but there is a certain contentment in the simple act of chopping a vegetable, of adding seasoning, of smelling the aromas. And the wise ruler understands the importance of morale. When I tell Maurice I will cook the supper so that he can plan the kitchen garden, I learn something of the conditions he works in and I communicate to him something of his value and the value of his work.”

Eleanor nodded. “It would not be desirable for Maurice to become discontent.”

“No, indeed.”

“I know a certain princess who dashes about the islands in a peasant’s smock–”

“If it displeases your majesty–”

He laughed. “On the contrary, Princess. I am much pleased by your industrious spirit.”

They ate in silence for a time, listening to the cartoose in the bay laughing at one another.

“I visited your flower garden today, Princess.”

“Did you find it acceptable, O King?”

“Indeed, but one thing is lacking.”

“Yes?”

“I want you to plant lilacs.”

Wichita, KS

Eleanor blinked open her eyes, uncrossed her hands, and rose from her kneeling position beside the bed. The Kings’ words had pierced her to the core.

Wounds from a friend can be trusted, but an enemy multiplies kisses.

The proverb flashed through her mind, quick as lightning.

I suppose, she thought, but how can that wound possibly help me?

Something about it had taken her back to Seattle, back to those girls texting each other, always using the acronym “LYLAS” which she knew all to well to mean “Love Ya Like A Sis.” Something about the King’s request reeked of female friendship. He couldn’t possibly expect her to . . .

“Are you ready, sweetheart?”

Her newly-found grandmother stood at her door. She had gone to the salon that morning. Every hair was in place. Eleanor thought her grandmother was lovely all the time, but she smiled. It meant a lot that her grandmother realized how much this day meant to her. Eleanor grabbed her overstuffed backpack, full of clothes and toothpaste and every other needed thing, and her dance bag with the far more important essentials of tap and ballet shoes. She cast one last glance around this office space that had suddenly become her bedroom and was suddenly not going to be her bedroom, and they were off.

Can you believe it!?! Today is the last day of the Country Girl Drive Cattle Drive! Gather around the campfire. Roast a marshmallow. Oh! Give me a second to grab the chocolate bars from the cooler.

Okay, I think everything is perfect. Now, for the conclusion.

Matthew 7:24-27 “Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on the rock. And everyone who hears these words of mine and does not do them will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell, and great was the fall of it.”

Blaze

Aunt Min’s brow was wrinkled in concern as Blaze started his car. “Where are we going?”

“My wedding.”

They had already had this conversation, but Blaze didn’t particularly mind repeating this information.

“Did you get her a ring?”

Blaze patted his pocket where his mother’s wedding ring was wrapped in an heirloom handkerchief.
“Yes.”

“You must really love her,” she said. With a little smile, Aunt Min stretched out her hand. The gold ring sparkled on her finger. “Somebody loves me, too.”

Blaze nodded in agreement.

Io’s Journal

A March wind whipped the great tree outside the doors of the church, but inside the sanctuary, warmth and smiles and candlelight, light streaming through the stained glass windows, and baby Celeste in my arms were peaceful. So peaceful.

Mama walked down the aisle, escorted by Nia’s boss. Then Mede, carrying Ro, and little Cal followed. Then Celeste and I. A little tear nibbled at my eye. This was us now, and I was the oldest. I would miss Nia so much.

I turned and looked at her in her satin and lace, holding onto Daddy’s arm, poised at the edge of a brand new universe, pulsing with super-nova energy and the sparkles of a thousand stars.

Pastor Givens

“Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on the rock.”

Pastor Givens gently closed his Bible and looked up to address the couple before him and the crowd beyond. The smell of the unity candle burning off to his side was like the aroma of an answered prayer. “I have known this young man for much of his life. I am proud of Blaze’s decision and on-going commitment to build his life on the teachings of Jesus Christ. I see that same desire in his bride. I commend you, Nia and Blaze, to continue in an ongoing pursuit of obedience to Christ and His commandments, to put on the full armor of God, that the winds of life will not topple you, but having done all, you will stand.”

Abe

That night, “Get Ready for This” boomed over the speakers as the Wichita State cheer squad and Wushock took the floor. When Abe and Sapphire were settled in their seats, Sapphire took off her black stocking cap and smiled sheepishly at Abe.

Her hair! Black and gold stripes! Was he dreaming? Here she was beside him, at a game. He had thought he was losing her—that this would never happen again, but here they were.

“Mom and Dad enjoying a night out?” said an elderly woman in the seat next to Sapphire. A yellow scarf graced her neck. A white wool coat was still buttoned around her, up to her neck. “Left the kids with Grandma and headed out for the night, didn’t you? Freedom!”

Sapphire’s eyes flew to the cement floor between her feet. Abe’s chest contracted with pain. ‘Don’t take her away from me again,’ he thought.

“We don’t have children,” Sapphire said.

The woman’s joking smile turned into a look of concern. “I’m sorry,” she said. “You two seem like you would be very nice parents.”

The apology lacked the gravity Sapphire and Abe thought it deserved. Sapphire took the lid off her cup and took in a mouthful of ice as the team ran onto the court.

“I realize that I have said too much already,” the woman broke in. “But allow me this one question: do you often eat ice, young woman?”

Abe forced a laugh, trying to figure out a way out of this woman’s grasp. “She lives on the stuff.”

The woman nodded. “I’m not a doctor, but it has been my experience that people who like ice tend to be anemic. Child, you might find that taking a little iron each day would change your life.”

Abe stood and applauded the team.

Sapphire looked down into her cup, then squeezed the woman’s hand and jumped up to cheer on the team beside her husband.

When they sat down in their seats again, the woman was gone. Abe and Sapphire looked at each other, puzzled. But then Abe put his arm around Sapphire, breathed a prayer of thanksgiving, and settled in to watch the game.

Eleanor

Mr. West smiled widely as he and his wife and granddaughter stepped onto the grounds of North High. The trees were just starting to bud and that seemed very right.

Eleanor held hands with her grandmother. The stern Native American busts in the architecture scowled down at her, weighing her. She may have been invited to try out for a position at the prestigious art school, but would she have what it took to land a place in the incoming class?

Her dance bag suddenly felt very heavy on her shoulder.

At the doors, all three of them paused to look at the scripture on the wall there, covering two stories.

Happy is the man that findeth wisdom, and the man that getteth understanding.She is more precious than rubies: and all the things thou canst desire are not to be compared unto her. Length of days is in her right hand; and in her left hand riches and honour. Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace. Proverbs 3:13

Something in Eleanor’s gut told her that she would be needing a very large amount of wisdom once she entered these doors.

Hey Friends! Thanks for continuing the Country Girl Cattle Drive as we herd 111 verses from the pages of our Bibles to our hearts. (Matthew 5-7)

(If you are new, here’s the scoop: I write down a verse and then write a story to help us remember the verse. If you want to begin at the start of the current story, go to the post titled “Store Up.”)

Matthew 7:^21-23 “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven.  On that day many will say to me, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many mighty works in your name?’  And then will I declare to them, ‘I never knew you; depart from me, you workers of lawlessness.’

Eleanor

“Night coming tenderly, Black like me,” Eleanor whispered, walking across the snow-dusted street. She turned the corner and the street light was blocked by the LMNO Pizza building. She looked up at the now-clear sky, at the lovely blackness of all of space, at the little pinpoints of light. It made her feel like everything might turn out okay.

Then her eyes fell on Abe and Sapphire’s house. The green crossover with tinted windows was in the drive.

Maybe I should go back to the coop, she thought.

Things had been so strange over the past month at Uncle Abe’s house. Maybe she should say that Sapphire had been strange.

No, it was more than that.

The house had a different feel. And things were going missing. Abe’s pocket knife. A pair of pearl earrings that had belonged to Sapphire’s grandmother. Eleanor had started getting off the bus at the coop and then driving home with Abe. Things at the house were better if Abe was there.

And the people in the green crossover never stopped by when Abe was home.

It’s my home, she thought. I have a right to go home if I want to.

She stuck her chin up and marched down the street.

But then she stopped. Her bedroom light was on. Had she accidentally left it on that morning? But as she got closer, she saw a shadow against the curtain. As she dropped her bag at the corner of the house near the driveway, she sensed that she was being watched, but brushed off the feeling and tip-toed around the front of the house, the frozen grass crunching under her white tennis shoes.

Through the slits of the blinds in the living room window, she could see Sapphire and the freak lady with the jade necklace talking. Eleanor heard a creaking sound and tip-toed back around the house. She looked up at her window just in time to see her bedroom light shut off.

That’s when a hand grabbed her arm.

Io’s Journal

Sister Love is the best cook in the whole world. She has opened the eyes of my stomach. Mom let me stay at the mission one day, but the rule was that I had to go wherever Sister Love went. (Some of the people who come to the center have done some pretty terrible things, especially to children, so we have to be careful.) I watched her put away a truck load of donations, make a menu for the week based on the foods received, make and clean up lunch with the help of several homeless women, then start battering fish for supper.

I didn’t know I liked fish. But I do. At least if Sister Love is making it and serving it up with greens.

We had fish tonight at the center. I sat down at the table with my family (they have a table just for us now with a little sign that says ‘Reserved’). I helped Cal get the meat off the bone and then set his fish bones on my tray. It smelled so good the whole time I was helping him. The little cloud of steam was so enticing, but when I finally put a bite in my own mouth, it was hard to chew and totally and completely impossible to swallow.

I was trying so hard not to think about it, but tonight was the last performance of the Nutcracker and it just wasn’t going to work out for me to go and I just really wanted to cry.

Eleanor

Eleanor screamed, wrenched herself free, and ran. Her feet slid as she turned the corner again into the streetlight, but her shoes gripped fine from there to the coop. She stopped at the metal Cenex sign, clutching it, breathing heavily.

What should she do?

“Mom, why can’t you come home and be my mom?” she whispered.

But only the silence of the night answered. “I don’t want to live here anymore, Mom. And I don’t know where else to go.”

That’s when she remembered her father’s parents. It was hard to think of them as grandparents—she had never really known them. And why was that?

Nia’s truck was still at the coop.

Yes, she thought. She remembered something about Nia’s family moving to downtown Wichita. This was the answer.

Her face turned sadly toward Uncle Abe’s house—her dance bag was there—but then she looked back at Nia’s truck, stuck her chin in the air, and marched forward. She hoped that there was a blanket or some coats or something in the back seat of the cab of Nia’s truck.

Io’s Journal

After supper, I was better, actually. I told God in my heart that I know He has to say no sometimes. We were taking our dirty dishes to the window for a man called Red to wash when Mrs. West called my name. She was marching through the dining room and waved for me to follow her. Given a nod from mom, I fell into step with Mrs. West.

Her office smelled like pine trees. Her keys made tinkling noises as she crossed the office to the couch draped by a long, transparent bag. “These came today,” Mrs. West said. “I think there’s only one person around here they will fit.”

But Mrs. West was wrong.

Our family drove the one block home where Nia had parked the old Ford. Just after we pulled in, Uncle Cyrus pulled in beside us. Mede and Cal crawled all over me and my new dresses to scramble out the door to say hi to him. It occurred to me to be grumpy about the dresses, but, seriously, that sounded like something the snotty girls in books would do. I was still gunning for the part of mistaken-for-a-pauper-actually-a-for-real-princess-Sarah Crew. It’s a long shot, but a girl can dream.

We all tromped up the steps to our apartment.

“This place is awesome!” Cyrus declared, extending his long arms, gesturing to the apartment. Ro thought he wanted a hug and bull-dozed him. He fell back into a couch, laughing, and looked over at me. “Watcha got there, Io?”

“Dresses,” I shrugged.

“Cool.” He glanced at Mom.

“Why don’t you try one on?” Mom said.

I scrunched up my face.

“Please?”

I shrugged and headed for the bedroom I share with Nia. Just the lamp was on. Nia was sitting on our bed, brushing her wet hair.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey.”

I pulled the dresses from the bag and laid them on our bed.

“Wow,” Nia said. “Where did those come from?”

“Mrs. West. She said they were donated today.”

“Are you going to try them on?”

“Yeah.”

“Better shut the blinds first.”

I nodded and stepped over to one of the windows. I looked down into the street where the streetlights shone on the cars. There was a girl standing there, looking at her phone. She looked like she was about my age. I wondered if she lived nearby. Probably not. There aren’t many houses around here.

I twirled the plastic piece that closed the blinds and moved to the next window. The girl was still there, looking at her phone. That’s when something stabbed my heart. What had I been thinking? Why was a girl my age in this part of Wichita at night? She must be lost. “Nia,” I said. “Look.”

Nia cocked her head and joined me at the window. Suddenly, the brush fell from her hand, hitting the window. Nia ran for our door, shouting, “That’s Eleanor.”

We thundered through the apartment. Nia got out the main door to the steps, but Dad stood in front of me, blocking my way. “What’s wrong, Io?” he asked, his brow creased in concern.

“My friend is down there, in the street,” I said, looking over at mom. “It’s Eleanor. From Mount Hope.”

“That’s impossible,” Mom said.

“That’s great!” Uncle Cyrus said. I turned to follow Nia down the steps when Uncle Cyrus said, “She can go to the Nutcracker with us.”

My whole body froze.

I turned back around.

“What did you say, Uncle Cyrus?”

Uncle Cyrus just smiled.

Hey Friends! Thanks for continuing the Country Girl Cattle Drive as we herd 111 verses from the pages of our Bibles to our hearts. (Matthew 5-7)

(If you are new, here’s the scoop: I write down a verse and then write a story to help us remember the verse. If you want to begin at the start of the current story, go to the post titled “Store Up.”)

Matthew 7:15-20 “Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep’s clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves. You will recognize them by their fruits. Are grapes gathered from thornbushes, or figs from thistles?So, every healthy tree bears good fruit, but the diseased tree bears bad fruit. A healthy tree cannot bear bad fruit, nor can a diseased tree bear good fruit. Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. Thus you will recognize them by their fruits.”

Abe

The headlights of a passing truck shone on the metal Cenex sign in the parking lot of the coop. Inside, Pastor Givens wrapped his hands around his coffee and eyed the last brownie crumbs in his wife’s glass baking dish in the middle of the table where, just a few minutes earlier, a number of older men had sat, drinking coffee and talking politics.

Abe nodded. “Yeah, I would like to get better at having a scheduled time of prayer and Bible reading. Sapphire is really good about that. Now, she’s got her own style. I’m pretty sure the Pope is not going about his devotional time in the same way as Sapphire.”

“What does she do?” Nia asked from the counter.

“I didn’t know you were listening.”

Nia laughed. “I’m always listening.”

Abe smiled and leaned back against the door post between the office area and the product area. “You know Sapphire—she can’t sit still. So she paces our room. She’ll start to read the Bible out loud and then what she reads make her think of something, so she just starts talking to Jesus. Then she’ll remember that she wrote something on the church bulletin to pray about or some Scripture from the sermon she wanted to pray for somebody, so she’ll rummage through the papers on her little table, talking the whole time. And then she’ll remember that she wanted to read a certain amount so she’ll pick up her Bible again and it’s just all a happy circle.”

Pastor Givens grinned and took a drink. Nia stood, grabbed her coat, and clocked out. Moments later, the three of them walked out of the coop into a light, blowing snow.

***

When Abe walked in the house, there was no food on the stove top, no food on the table, and nobody anywhere. In fact, the house was dark. He turned on his phone’s flashlight function and climbed the stairs. He noted the slit of light under Evelyn’s door, then opened the usually open door to the master bedroom.

His phone’s light fell on Sapphire, curled up next to the bed, her hands bound by a necklace, her eyes looking wide, tears streaking her cheeks. Abe turned on the main light of the room and ran to her. “Are you okay?”

She nodded. “I’m just not good enough.”

Abe pulled his red Swiss Army knife from his pocket and cut the string. The pebble-like beads slid off the string, onto the floor.

“No! Don’t!”

He cradled one of her wrists, streaked with red indentations. “Look. You’re hurting yourself. Why are you hurting yourself?”

“That lady—she told me I had to be still and know that God is God. She said I’m not being still enough. She gave me this necklace from one of the most peaceful places on earth and told me it would help me be still.”

Rage thundered through Abe’s entire body. He backed away from Sapphire for fear of what he might do in this moment. What had that monster woman and that monster church done to his beautiful wife? He stumbled backward into the overstuffed chair in the corner, covered in laundry. He tried to compose himself, sitting adrift the crazy waves of clothes.

He wanted to tell her never to see those people again, but something in him said not to.

“Baby, if you want to go see a doctor, we can. You know I would go with you.”

Sapphire nodded, looking down at the ground, whispering, “I know.”

“Sapphire,” he said. She looked up sadly as he continued. “The way you worship God is perfect. It’s absolutely perfect.” In his heart he whispered, Please don’t change.

Hey Friends! Thanks for continuing the Country Girl Cattle Drive as we herd 111 verses from the pages of our Bibles to our hearts. (Matthew 5-7)

(If you are new, here’s the scoop: I write down a verse and then write a story to help us remember the verse. If you want to begin at the start of the current story, go to the post titled “Store Up.”)

Matthew 7:13-14 “Enter by the narrow gate. For the gate is wide and the way is easy that leads to destruction, and those who enter by it are many.  For the gate is narrow and the way is hard that leads to life, and those who find it are few.

Pastor Givens

Pastor Givens had just locked his office door when he heard the side door creak open, a narrow wooden door in the original part of the church.

Blaze, he thought, and smiled.

It had to be Blaze because Blaze was the only person, aside of himself, who had a key to that particular door. Years ago the pastor had given Blaze that key because he was going out of town and had given the child the responsibility of taking care of his fish. They were dead when he returned, but that was only because the child had tried to change the water.

What were the odds that he would go above and beyond the call of duty?

As he listened to Blaze’s steps come closer in the dark church, it occurred to him that Blaze’s whole life had been a series of narrow doors and impossible odds. Minnie Mae and her father had lived here for many years. Pastor Givens had assumed they were alone in the world. It was a surprise to him when Minnie Mae’s niece and great-nephew appeared with her at church one evening and announced that she and her son had come to live with Minnie Mae. The Givens had the bright, forties-something woman into their home that week and listened to her story.

“I’m forty-five,” she announced.

“You don’t look it,” Sister Givens had laughed.

Blaze’s mother lifted an eyebrow. “I dye my hair.” She smoothed out the table cloth with one perfectly manicured hand. “But I think I’m about to lose it all.”

Sister Givens fell silent.

“Blaze and I have come to live with Aunt Min because I have cancer. Aunt Min is our only living relative. Blaze’s father passed two years ago due to complications from Lyme Disease.” There was a short pause and she sucked in her breath. “I’m a pretty tough little woman, really. I don’t mind the thought of dying. I can sit here with a straight face and tell you I have cancer, but there are things that knock my feet out from under me. Like, why did God wait until I was forty to give us Blaze? My husband and I had twenty beautiful years of marriage, longing for children, and then he gave us this perfect child, only to take my husband and then me.”

Her eyes welled up with tears. Sister Givens passed her a tissue and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “Maybe I shouldn’t accuse God. I don’t mean it to sound that way.” She touched the corner of her eye. “I really am a rich woman and grateful for the blessings I’ve been granted.” She looked out the sliding glass door, into the green grass of the Givens backyard where Blaze was kneeling with their boxer, laughing as the dog licked him.

A year later, Pastor Givens had preached at her funeral. His heart ached for the boy, but he was thankful that the boy’s mother had had the good sense to bring him to Mount Hope. The whole town had loved him and looked out for him. And Blaze and Aunt Min had looked out for each other. But Pastor Givens had felt a special tie to the boy and was so proud of him for making it—for little things like learning to swim and big things like graduating from high school. But the greatest joy in Pastor Givens life, outside of his immediate family, had been watching Blaze choose to follow Christ. The boy had become a man, physically, mentally, emotionally, and, praise God, spiritually. He knew God’s Word, not just in his head but in his obedience. He avoided the parties in high school, he had deftly maneuvered around the girls, and he drove the speed limit. Well, most of the time.

When Blaze came around the corner, his eyes widened and he jumped back. Quickly recovering himself, he laughed, putting out a hand to steady himself against he cement block wall. “Woo! Pastor Givens. I was not expecting to see you right there.”

Pastor Givens laughed. “Sorry, man.”

“You headed home? I thought I saw the light on.”

“I’ve got time. What’s going on? You feeling all right?”

Blaze looked at him quizzically. “Oh, you mean the whole thing with elevator. Yeah, I’m fine. Nightmares, yeah. But I feel fine. I was gonna run something past you, but it can wait. You better get home while the food’s hot.”

Pastor Givens leaned back against the wall. “She’s nice.”

Blaze stood up straight. “What?”

“The girl you brought to church Sunday night.”

Blaze nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I was gonna run past you.”

“Is she a believer?”

Blaze nodded. “Yeah. A lot of people, it’s like they wear Christ’s name like one of those sticker-name-tag-things, sticking it on when it works something out for them, throwing it away when it ain’t handy. But I’ve been watching this girl. She’s changes her mind on things that I think can only be God.”

“Thinking about dating her?”

Blaze let out a deep breath. “Thinking about marrying her. What do you think?”

Hey Friends! Thanks for continuing the Country Girl Cattle Drive as we herd 111 verses from the pages of our Bibles to our hearts. (Matthew 5-7)

(If you are new, here’s the scoop: I write down a verse and then write a story to help us remember the verse. If you want to begin at the start of the current story, go to the post entitled “Store Up.”)

Matthew 7:12 “So whatever you wish that others would do to you, do also to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets.

Pastor Givens

Pastor Givens was seated on the couch in his office. A precarious tower of books wound its way almost to the padded elbow of his tweed coat from the floor. One of his wife’s carrot muffins rested in one hand, forgotten.

The phone rang. The pastor jumped, looked around to remind himself of where he was, and then looked strangely at the muffin in his hand. The phone rang again and he turned his attention to it.

“Why did I sit down so far from the phone?” he murmured before popping the rest of the muffin in his mouth. After three attempts, he rose from the couch and lumbered over to the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey. I was calling to see if you have any food? My EBT card didn’t work when I went to the store. My neighbor said I should call you.”

“Yes, I believe we have some things. Can you come by the church now?”

“Yeah.”

Click.

Pastor Givens cast a sad little glance at the little book on the little couch and then let himself out of his office.

He helped the little mother and her little boy load food into their little car and then he returned to the little couch and the little book . . .

“In a little office in a little town,” he finished. He picked up the book and laid it back down. “You know, Lord,” he said, “When I was a young man, I imagined a large congregation and my own TV show.”

He laughed. “I thought I was the next T.D. Jakes.” After three tries, he stood again, and walked over to the window. He looked out on the town and quoted Dickinson. “There’s a certain Slant of light,/ Winter Afternoons –That oppresses, like the Heft/ Of Cathedral Tunes –Heavenly Hurt, it gives us . . . “

The town turned gold before him and his heart hurt terribly. “What would I want this small town pastor to do if I were the people of this town? What will they say, Lord, when we are all standing before you? Lord, strengthen these hands to meet their physical needs and touch my lips to persuade them to consider the condition of their souls.”

He walked back over to the little couch, gently shut the little book, locked up the church, and headed home.

Hey Friends! Thanks for continuing the Country Girl Cattle Drive as we herd 111 verses from the pages of our Bibles to our hearts. (Matthew 5-7)

(If you are new, here’s the scoop: I write down a verse and then write a story to help us remember the verse. If you want to begin at the start of the current story, go to the post entitled “Store Up.”)

Matthew 7:7-11 “Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks it will be opened. Or which one of you, if his son asks him for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a serpent? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him!

Io’s Journal

First intelligible thought this morning: “I will never want anything again. I have everything.”

I felt like Sarah Crew waking up in the magically transformed attic—the fluffy bed, the warmth, and my sister there. I mean, her alarm (which is the quiet baa-ing of a sheep) didn’t exactly fit the whole 19^th Century London era theme, but I can pretend. And I did pretend, closing my eyes, breathing in the last whiffs of Wyoming air and sagebrush left in the fibers of our comforter, imagining that there was a shimmering robe left to me by the magic.

I meant to eat breakfast with Nia before she left for work, but the next thing I knew, Cal was jumping on my bed, smelling like pancake syrup (and feeling like pancake syrup, apparently, since my comforter was a little sticky after he scampered away, back to the kitchen).

Later in the morning, Mom drove us a few blocks to Uncle Cyrus’ office where we boxed up our school things and then went for a walk. I used to love Kansas City and all the people going everywhere and the offices and the stores and stadiums. Then we moved to Wyoming and I loved it so much that I wasn’t sure I could love a city again, but I really love Wichita. I love the river winding through the city and the happy metal statues downtown. Today I asked if we could go to the big round building.

“Century II?” Uncle Cyrus asked. “Let’s go.”

The wind has a bite to it now and the trees are embarrassingly naked. But it just seemed like something slightly annoying—like a fly I could just flick. “I can just go inside and get away from you,” I tell it in my head. A few days ago, the cold had felt like an enemy stalking my family. It’s amazing that things can change so quickly.

I knew we couldn’t go inside; Century II is an events center and no events seemed to be going on on. Even if there had been an event going on, it would probably would have been something like “Aglet Enthusiasts of America” or “Paper Towel Manufacturing of the Future.” You know, not exactly my scene. But the building is cool and I was curious.

While the little guys threw pennies in the fountains out front, I asked if I could look at the posters in the windows. “I’ll go with you,” Uncle Cyrus said.

And that’s when I discovered an uncomfortable truth about life.

Hanging in one of the windows was a huge poster of a girl near my age in a glittering tutu, holding up a nutcracker. Smaller images of the ballet danced around the central image in fuzzy dream-bubble things. The dates for the performances were written in a silvery, swirling script.

“I want something again,” I murmured, turning away from the poster.

“What?” Uncle Cyrus asked, looking down at me, his brown fedora cocked to one side.

“Uncle Cyrus, do you think it’s a sin to ask God for something if you actually have everything you need?”

I chewed on my lip, walking back toward Mom and the others.

“No, I think you’re good.”

I was expecting a theological thesis, but this was good enough for me. I trusted my uncle.

As Ro ran into my arms and her cold cheek pressed against mine, I said a prayer: “God, could you work it out for Eleanor and I to go to the Nutcracker together?”

Hey Friends! Thanks for continuing the Country Girl Cattle Drive as we herd 111 verses from the pages of our Bibles to our hearts. (Matthew 5-7)

(If you are new, here’s the scoop: I write down a verse and then write a story to help us remember the verse. If you want to begin at the start of the current story, go to the post entitled “Store Up.”)

Matthew 7:6 “Do not give dogs what is holy, and do not throw your pearls before pigs, lest they trample them underfoot and turn to attack you.”

Abe

Abe ground his teeth as he parked behind a dark house and an empty drive. Eleanor hopped out of the car and bounded into the house, her dance bag bouncing against her. It seemed like everyone at church that night had asked where Sapphire was. “She’ll be along,” he had said. But she hadn’t been.

He grabbed a basketball from along the house and started firing shots into the basket. Eleanor turned on the back porch light. It was a kind gesture that would have caused him to ponder on a normal night, but this was not a normal night. The basketball hit the back board hard. He missed most shots.

Finally, Sapphire pulled in the drive in her little black smart car. He grabbed the ball and held it against his side as she got out, her Adidas jacket reflecting the street light.

“Hey honey,” she said, smiling. Her mascara had run. This alarmed him.

“Are you okay?”

“Oh yeah,” she said. “It was incredible.”

“You left at three in the afternoon.”

She nodded, still smiling. “The spirit was just there. We just kept singing and people kept getting up and prophesying and . . . “

“Well, it’s probably time for us to turn in.”

“No, wait,” she said, gently touching his arm. “I asked for prayer. I told them how long we’ve been trying and–”

Abe unknowingly lowered his arm, moving it away from her. “That’s some pretty personal information to divulge to complete strangers.”

“But I think they’ve got a line in. This lady anointed me with oil and prophesied and said–”

“Sapphire,” Abe said, his blood boiling, his hand squeezing the basketball. “I love you, but I’m not down with this. If you’re calling our church–”

“I’m not calling them anything, this was just–”

“Emotional. It was really emotional, Sapphire.”

She pressed her lips together, slipped her hand into her pocket, and walked ahead of him into the house, clutching a necklace there with a dangerous determination.

Hey Friends! Thanks for continuing the Country Girl Cattle Drive as we herd 111 verses from the pages of our Bibles to our hearts. (Matthew 5-7)

(If you are new, here’s the scoop: I write down a verse and then write a story to help us remember the verse. If you want to begin at the start of the current story, go to the post entitled “Store Up.”)

Matthew 7:4-5 Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when there is the log in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother’s eye.

Blaze

The printer whispered in the corner as Blaze put the final round of black olives on his bean dip supremo. He looked over at the picture of his mother on the desk. “Nia has a point. I’ve spent thirteen years living in this town, feeling ashamed of this house. Maybe the house is actually okay.”

He felt like his mother was nodding. “Don’t agree with her,” he said, raising his hand to point a finger at his mother. She smiled back innocently. Blaze turned away, continuing his rant. “She’s infuriating. She’s unpredictable.”

He was pretty sure he heard his father say, “But she’s pretty.”

Blaze washed his hands, dried them and looked down between the desk and the wall where his father’s picture would always end up falling when the printer started shaking the desk. He slowly picked it up out of the narrow slot, rubbed it with his shirt sleeve, and set it back on the desk again. It was a picture of his father at the Sedgwick County Zoo. Their family had gone on a boat ride to watch monkeys on small islands and a monkey had actually dropped onto their boat. Blaze was too small to have any memory of the event, but his mother had taken this picture of his father, looking surprised and happy. The gray at his temples and the wrinkles at his eyes said something of his age.

“Did you have to go and get Lyme disease?” Blaze said the words half-jokingly. His dad had died when he was four—too young to have any memories of him, unless the sort-of-memories attached to video clips counted. “It would have been nice to have had some memories of all of us together, of a house full of laughter.”

“Well, son,” his father said. “Maybe it’s time to start your own family, to start filling these walls with laughter.”

Blaze wrapped the plate of bean dip in plastic wrap and then commenced the work of placing the printed sheet into a picture frame.

“Yeah, well, they just grow ‘em psychopathic around here.”

There was a knock at the door.

Blaze eyed the door suspiciously, piled the dip, frame, and a bag of chips on one arm, shut out the lights, and opened the door.

Nia. Marshmallow stocking hat. Deer hide coat with white trim. Eyes looking down.

Blaze grunted.

She looked up. The storm was gone out of her eyes. An apology had taken its place. And then her eyes looked over the contents in his arms. “You were headed out.”

“Yeah.”

Her eyes looked across the darkened room. “Were you talking to someone?”

Blaze shifted his weight to his other leg. “What do you want, Nia?”

She sighed, stepped backwards into the snow-crusted grass, and looked away. “I just came by to say that I’m sorry. If you have a minute to talk sometime, I would like to talk, but–”

“I’m just headed to church. You could come.”

She was quiet for a moment. “You sure?” Her eyes met his again.

Moments later, they were driving to the church in Blaze’s car. Nia pulled a gold ring from her pocket and held it out in the palm of her hand. Blaze swerved toward LMNO Pizza, curb-checking his tires and scaring the snot out of a ten-year-old boy on a mountain bike.

“He asked you to marry him?!?” Blaze yelled, righting the car back into his lane.

“Who?” Nia asked, wide-eyed.

“The pretty boy in Dunkin’ Donuts.”

Nia’s face split into a smile and she covered her face with her hands. “No.” She shook her head back and forth. “Ha. No. Um, wow.” She explained to Blaze how she had ended up volunteering to be the cook for the group of girls on a little mission trip. “At least, I thought I was going to be cooking for the girls. I did cook their breakfast, but the real reason they needed a cook was to cook a meal for the entire congregation to eat after the Sunday morning service. That was a little more than I had bargained for.

“The church was composed of homeless women and, what was the term Pastor Adele used? At-risk. Yeah, at-risk women and children. Pastor Adele talked to the girls when we got there last night. She told them that she meets slaves everyday. and asked them what they were slaves to. I realized that I was a slave to this thing.” Nia picked up the ring with her thumb and index finger. “And I’ve been a jerk to you because if it.

“I mean, not to blame it on a ring. Let me explain.” She pulled off her white hat. Her normally orderly red hair stuck up in funny places. As she continued to talk, she ran her right hand over her hair, trying to tame it down. “When I was fourteen, I fell in love with a boy at church. He was seventeen. He took me to his prom. We hung out at church camp. We would sit in church together and hold hands. Before he left for college, he asked me to marry him. I said yes. He gave me this ring. I was fifteen.”

Blaze felt like a hot frying pan tossed into a sink full of cold water—sizzling, sinking, cooling. His fingers, wrapped so tightly around the steering wheel, relaxed. “What happened?”

Tears filled her eyes. “I’m not really sure. He called for awhile. Wrote to me sometimes. Talked a lot about a little tech business he started. Told me it was taking up a lot of his time. His family moved. I know this will sound weird, but the last time I saw him, I was at a Royals game with my family, looking for our seats, stepping on popcorn and spilled pop, and there he was, with his arm around this amazingly beautiful blonde, talking on his phone, watching the game in one of the nice seats. My dad turned to me just about then and asked me to hold Cal’s hand so he wouldn’t fall down the cement stairs. It was all so weird.”

“And you’ve carried the ring around with you ever since.”

Nia shrugged her shoulders and then nodded.

“What are you going to do with it?”

“I was thinking about something involving heavy metal music and a hammer. Do you have a hammer?”

Blaze smiled. “Would you let me buy it from you?”

Nia nodded. “Um, yeah. You can have it. But I owe you a lot of money.”

Blaze cocked his head.

“Red corvette.”

His fingers tightened around the steering wheel again.

“I was thinking,” Nia said, “Could I pay for the damages out of pocket rather than it having to go through insurance?”

Blaze sighed. “Nia, we’re talking about thousands of dollars.”

She winced. “That’s okay. I have some savings.”

“We can figure all of this out later. Maybe we should head on into church.”

“Blaze,” Nia said. She reached over, almost to his hand, but rested her hand on the steering wheel instead. “When you wanted to take over Patterson, I felt like jerk-boy was leaving me to go to college again. I’m sorry that I judged you like that. You’re a completely different person. Will you please forgive me?”

Blaze reached over to the hand holding the ring and took it in his own. “Debt paid.”

That night, after church, Blaze stopped by the Mt. Hope Nursing Center and walked the long, white hall to Aunt Min’s room. The lights were out, but there was enough light pouring in from the hallway that he could make out her dresser. He set the picture frame there. It held a photo of himself, his mother, and Min when he was six years old. He was wearing a red silk shirt. Aunt Min and his mother were wearing matching dresses—black with red roses. The photographer at the church valentines banquet had made them laugh with a stupid joke about a frog leaving his harp at Sam Fran’s Disco and clicked the camera at just the right time.

When Blaze turned to look at Aunt Min, he was glad to see her resting easily. The moonlight was shining on her white hair. He took the ring out of his pocket and slipped it on her pinky finger.

As he got in his car to head home, he looked down toward the window he knew to be Aunt Min’s. He wished he could be there to see her expression when she woke up in the morning and saw the ring, but he would be heaving open the load-out door at Patterson elevator. There was a lot of work to be done.

He had a future to build.

Hey Friends! Thanks for continuing the Country Girl Cattle Drive as we herd 111 verses from the pages of our Bibles to our hearts. (Matthew 5-7)

(If you are new, here’s the scoop: I write down a verse and then write a story to help us remember the verse. If you want to begin at the start of the current story, go to the post entitled “Store Up.”)

Matthew 7:3 Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye?

Nia

A tornado of activity catapulted Nia into a van full of teenagers, driven by a middle-aged man, who, though well-dressed and styled, looked like he had screamed his last scream. He crouched over the steering wheel, straining to hear talk radio above the din. The dash cast a green pallor on his face.

As it turned out, the good-looking youth pastor had just been at the Dunkin Donuts to pick up the sick volunteer cook. A set of parents was sponsoring this mission trip to an inner city Kansas City church.

The woman in the passenger’s seat, her hair piled high on her head, turned her face slightly back. “Welcome, Nia. I’m Maud. Tell us about yourself.”

Nia shifted uncomfortably on the little corner of the front seat she was occupying. “I’m an administrative assistant at the Mt. Hope Coop. I grew up in the Kansas City area and was headed that direction to see an old friend.”

The van reeked of Corn Nuts and Mrs. Maud Frankenstein’s perfume and Mountain Dew and Starburst candy–lemon flavored. Nia leaned toward the leak between the double doors where a slight breeze wheezed in.

“I am also from the Kansas City area. What high school did you graduate from?”

Nia shifted again. “I was homeschooled.”

Maud nodded. “Anitvaxxer,” she hissed under her breath.

Nia was reasonably certain that Mrs. Frankenstein only intended for her husband to hear the term, but it stung Nia. She ran her tongue along the backs of her teeth, trying to decide if she should press the issue. “Don’t judge me like that,” she thought. And Blaze’s face loomed before her minds’ eye. She dismissed the image, wanting to suck on this sour bit of candy she had suddenly discovered.

The truth was that Nia had received all recommended immunizations, but after a family friend was permanently disabled by a vaccine, her parents had decided not to immunize her siblings—a stand Nia fully supported. She wanted to fight this woman and her ridiculous stereotype, but Mrs. Frankenstein’s phone illuminated and she answered a call. Nia was left to her own thoughts, and the smells of the others, for the remainder of the trip.

***

Three police cars screamed past the fifteen passenger van as they pulled into a gravel parking lot in downtown Kansas City, Missouri. An unlit sign on the rectangular building read “The Unshackled Sisters of the Glorious Emancipator Church.” When the door of the van opened, the interior light illuminated, and the cold air whooshed in, Nia noted that it was only girls who were on this trip. Seats abandoned, the girls threaded themselves through the dangling seat belts, bumping and shoving, until they made the final leap from the step into freedom.

One young woman wearing a pant suit, her small head adorned with lavish, large glasses and artfully applied eyeliner stumbled on a rock as she disembarked. Mrs. Frankenstein grabbed her arm and righted her.

“Mom,” the girl choked out quietly. “Don’t leave me here.” Her eyes followed a hooded character across the street, crouching in a doorway.

“Pen, you know you need this for your academic resume. No arguments.”

There was a small light near the church door with metal bars running vertically along it. It opened and a smiling woman in her seventies waved them inside.

While hushed words passes between the Frankensteins and the woman with the keys still shining in her right hand, Nia followed behind the crowd of now-quiet teenage girls as they filed into a large, carpeted room illuminated by street lights shining through narrow windows. Rows of plastic chairs faced a small stage. The girls unrolled sleeping bags

Soon, Nia heard the front door lock. The white-headed woman waved the girls toward the middle of the room.

“Have a seat,” she invited. “I want to thank you for coming. My congregation is so happy that you are going to join us for church in the morning. I am Adele and this is The Unshackled Sisters of the Glorious Emancipator Church.”

The were snickers that made Nia cringe, but Adele also laughed a rich, deep laugh. “It’s a funny name. A wonderful name. Did you know that slavery is a real thing? I see slaves every day.”

The girls grew utterly quiet. Nia looked around at them, some with drooping eyelids, others with their knees tucked to their chests.

“It’s true. They are hopelessly shackled. You can’t see their chains, but they are there. But there is One person who can set them free—Jesus Christ of Nazareth. What about you, young woman?” Adele paused and looked around the circle of girls with her wide, green eyes. “What are you a slave to? What shape do your chains come in? I want you to know that There is a Beautiful Liberator, a Glorious Emancipator. He wants to set you free. Will you let him?”

Nia watched little Pen take off her heavy glasses and start to cry. Nia patted her pocket, felt the gold ring burn against her leg, and met Adele’s eyes. She thought she had come to be a help to these girls, but as the girls settled into their sleeping bags and the lights were turned off, it dawned on her that God’s plan was reaching much farther. It was reaching in to her.