| Author | Message | ||
| Jude the Obscure |
OUR ONLY HOPE By Jude the Obscure Just as Mother opened her mouth to say the words, Jeb woke up thrashing around in a cold sweat. He peered through the dim 5:00 AM light at his wife. She still slept peacefully. Good. He hadnít disturbed her, not this time at least. He hated it, but he couldnít keep Mother from invading his dreams night after night. Heíd call her, this morning, confront her, let the chips fall where they may, and maybe that would end the flashbacks. Maybe. # # # The troubling incident had occurred on a Saturday night fifteen years ago. The sky was moonless ink bespattered with stars. He was driving Kay and Larry -- a couple of college freshmen heíd just met at university summer school -- around in Dadís new powder blue Oldsmobile hardtop breaking the speed limit with all the windows down. He pulled off the highway onto a farm lane that ran through a field of head-tall milkweed oozing sap. He inhaled the raw, rank odor. It fed his feeling of breaking out, of stealing freedom, of going just as wild as the weeds were. As soon as the car was stopped Larry started mixing vodka and beer into a large paper cup half full of Coca-Cola and ice from MacDonaldís. ìHere, try it, itís chug-a-lug,î he said, shoving it under Jebís nose. Jeb took a sip -- it had a bitter, wicked, wonderful taste ñ and passed it back to Larry who took a gulp and passed it on to Kay who took a sip and passed it back to Jeb. Then she fished a pack of Benson and Hedges out of her purse, lit three cigarettes at once and gave one each to Jeb and Larry. While his new friends were dragging greedily on theirs, Jeb took two or three tiny puffs on his and tried to keep from coughing in front of them. They talked about what summer school classes they were taking and where they would be heading in the fall before Jeb dropped them off and drove back into town and home. It was well past midnight when he eased the big car up the slight incline to the garage door. The headlamps made two bright splotches on it. He left the engine running while he got out and opened the door as quietly as he could, then drove the Olds in, shut everything down, unlocked the chain-link gate and walked through the garden path to the large brick house. The great violet lilacs were blooming and giving off their sticky sweet odor. In the hot, silent night all the windows were open. Jeb decided the massive, squeaky front door would make too much noise, especially since it had to be slammed to get it to shut. So he walked around to the back door. With a strong dad and three athletic college boys in the fenced-in house in the quiet suburban neighborhood ñ the back door was always kept open on hot nights. And Jeb found it was wide open, but the aluminum screen door was shut. He tried it. It was locked. Sweat broke out on his forehead as he realized heíd either have to go back around to front door and wake everybody, or knock and wake everybody. He decided to knock. Mother came down the stairs immediately, making it all too obvious that sheíd been waiting up for him. She snapped on the porch light, and unlocked the door for him. In the light he could see she was wearing her blue chenille housecoat clutched up tight around her throat in the stifling heat. She didnít step aside when he tried to enter, but put her hand on his chest, stopping him. She sniffed and wrinkled her nose. ìJeb! Youíve been smoking!î Sniff, sniff. ìAnd drinking!î Her shrill voice reverberated out into the quiet neighborhood. Jeb cringed and said nothing. ìYouíre rotten! Rotten to the core!" she shrieked. "Iíve always known it!î Then, bursting into tears she turned, ran sobbing upstairs and threw herself down on the coverless double bad where Dadís massive frame was also shaking in sobs. Jeb sneaked into his room and slunk into bed, thankful for the numb feeling of alcohol in his joints and muscles and brain. His two brothers, Alan and Paul, remained motionless. They had to be awake too, though. He knew. Even in the utter darkness he could feel their prying ears, their glistening eyeballs, their sly grins. # # # And now, fifteen years later, he was married with two small children of his own. And yet he still feared this woman, this Mother, this ministerís wife -- the same woman who for years when he was little had come quietly into his room for their nightly ìinspections,î just to make sure he wasnít doing anything naughty. And then would come that stuff he couldn't fully remember but had always left him feeling icky and shamed. And all the while his father just kept pretending that nothing was going on. But even at a young age Jeb had known better. Dad's jealous remarks -- "you were her favorite," "she always liked you best" -- kept giving him away. And Jeb had believed him as he had believed Mother: It was his fault and his alone that shame reigned in the pastor's household. Even after all the intervening years he still felt as though it were all his fault, that he had become shame itself. Because he was rotten. Rotten to the core. Mother had always known it. Dad had always known it. And so had he. Some day heíd confront them about that too, but not now. He didn't yet have the courage. One thing at a time. Back east it was three hours later when he dialed, knowing sheíd be up and about. Ever alert, she answered on the first ring. ìMother, remember when I was going to university summer school and came home late on a Saturday night?î No response on the other end of line. ìYou said, ëYouíre rotten, rotten to the core! Iíve always known it!'î Deathly silence. ìMother, why did you say that?î At length the voice came back over the three-thousand-mile telephone line, not shrill this time, but crisp and clear, like the very diction of doom in the final judgment itself. ìBecause weíd already given up on Alan and Paul," she said. "You were our only hope.î | ||
| Colleentinker |
Jude, your fiction is compelling. It brought to mind vividly a born-again social worker that I used to know. She had an amazing thing that she'd do. If a person were feeling deeply upset about something, more upset than the circumstances would warrant, she'd say, "When do you remember feeling that way as a child? How old are you? Where are you? Who is with you? What has just happened? How are you feeling?" Then she would say, "Imagine Jesus walking into the room with you and (your mother, your father, whoever is hurting you). Picture him saying to (your mother, etc.), 'I will take over being (let's say Jeb, since that's the name in the story) Jeb's mother. You no longer have the right to act as his mother. I will now do the job.' " Then she'd say, "Picture (your mother, father, whoever) leaving the room. Imagine what (she, he) would say as she left. Now picture Jesus walking over to you. He touches you face and gently wipes away all the tarry blotches of shame that have covered you. He looks into your eyes and says, 'I will be your mother now. I love you, and I will protect you. You will always be safe with me. Your mother (or father, etc.) can no longer hurt you, because I am now your parent.' " Then she's say, "Do you want to have that (seven-year-old, fourteen-year-old, etc.) child be part of you now? It's been at arms length from you because it's been protecting itself. But you've missed its joy and spontenaity. If you want to have that seven-year old be part of yourself, ask that child to come and join you." I realize that this may all sound odd, but I am absolutely convinced that we can't overcome the hurts of our childhood by understanding them. We must actually allow Jesus to specifically heal them. They keep us from being integrated if he doesn't heal them. But Jesus wastes nothing, and he redeems everything. When Jesus broke the power of sin and saved us, that wasn't just a cosmic theory like black holes and quarcks that we know exist but which don't have direct effects on us. Jesus saving us is more than a promise of a future; it's a promise of tangible redmeption in our present lives. His victory is not only over conceptual sin; his victory redeems even the abuse and the deep bruises of our psyches. All of us Jebs (and we are all Jebs) need Jesus to tell us we are treasures in the heart of God and to heal our hearts so we can live life more abundantly now! |
