ANSWERED

“The child has not shed a tear!”

“I realize that Sis, but he is probably cried out from years of pain.”

“So you think he helped her die?”

“Okay Sister, let’s go outside and have a glass of Vino.”

Peggy followed her brother, Phil, down the porch steps and across the back yard to the gazebo.  She balanced a pair of wine glasses, cutting board, cheese and bread in her hands while Phil carefully carried a bottle of Merlot under his left arm with a knife in his left hand and a corkscrew between his right thumb and ring finger.  He shifted the corkscrew to his left hand and using his pocket handkerchief dusted the pollen from the table and two chairs. Peggy placed the light fare on the marble table top and soon they were seated with filled glasses.

“My dear, sister, Peggy how can you believe a grieving twelve-year old child would assist his Mother’s death?”

“I don’t know really, but Phil, he doesn’t seem to be grieving.  He isn’t even unhappy.”

“Remembering his life I think he isn’t sure if he was a science experiment from a test tube or an accident of human lust.”

“Phil that is ridiculous!  They came from a Christian family even though they did not seem to be Christian!”

“Look Sis, I coached his soccer team and he bragged that they did not attend any church, nor did his Mother believe in God.  He and I talked about this many times.  That still doesn’t mean he assisted his Mother’s death.  Perhaps he is relieved that it’s over.  She has been ill for several years.”

“If they did not believe in God that could mean life was not valuable to them. Think about that Phil.”

Phil picked up his cell phone and then laid it back on the table.  “He will be here soon.”

They ceased conversation and sat quietly waiting for Claude Goodal to join them.

“Hey Coach,” the youngster said as he closed the gate behind him. He walked to the porch and dropped a ragged duffle bag on the porch.

“Hey Claude, how’re you holding up?”

Peggy stood and hugged the young boy, picked up her glass, looked at Phil until their eyes locked, then she dropped her gaze, turned and returned to the house.

Claude sat down and accepted the cheese on a slice of bread but before he could lift it to his lips, they trembled, and his quivering lips, with flowing tears spoke the truth Phil had prayed for daily.

They stood, walked to the back porch where Phil had soccer balls stored.  They each chose a ball and Peggy stood watching from the dining room window as they dribbled the soccer balls up the street toward the park.

It was Tuesday afternoon and dusk began to settle around them as they took turns shooting goals at the old, worn goal and just as worn, sagging net.

“It will be dark soon and no lights,” Coach remarked.

They each tucked a soccer ball under an arm and turned to walk back to Coach Phil’s house.

“Coach I know you believe in God and heaven so do you think my Mom is in heaven,” Claude asked?

Coach Phil placed his empty arm around Claude’s shoulder and led him to the stone bench at the edge of the park.  After sitting Coach searched Claude’s eyes and felt an indescribable heartache.

“God,” Coach began. “Is always with us and he is always using ways to show his love to us.  It is his desire that we all should be saved and when our body dies, our spiritual-self returns to him.  Because he doesn’t always show his ways to others when he is wooing us, unless we tell them they cannot know, since they did not see our salvation during that moment we gave our life to him.  If we are very ill we may not talk of it.   You and I have talked about the three facts of life.  Do you remember Claude?”

Claude shook his head up and down and stared at his shoes, while gripping the soccer ball so tightly his knuckles were white.

“First we are asked by God to believe that God created us and he gives us a measure of faith to help us believe.  Secondly we are asked to believe that we are his children and he is our father and the measure of faith stretches to believe this.  Thirdly, we are asked to believe that our body will die at the appointed time God chooses and that measure of faith stretches yet again. Claude he further explained and showed us how much he loves us by sending his one and only begotten son to earth in an earthly body with all of the pain, joy and judgements that we humans experience.  This same son became our sacrifice for sin when he died a natural, human death on the cross.  The great joy is that he arose as a spiritual man showing us God’s power to resurrect the spirit after the body dies.  We are three persons really, all in one package because he also gave us a mind of our own decision making.  This is our promise from God.  We are so loved by him that we are allowed the choice of believing which is a true gift since his love asked only that we believe that he is God. 

God shared time with your Mom before her body died of an earthly disease, cancer.  Claude I believe that your Mom understood because her Mom and your grandfather taught her about God before the other people told her that God was not real.  See, he promised that our children would believe and know this truth even when they were older.  So, you see Claude, she was given a long enough time for God to commune, or talk to her spirit.  Yes I believe she is in Heaven.”

“Thanks Coach.  Can we go to my house now?  I just need to go to my house.”

“Of course we can.”

“Coach thanks for coming to my house this morning.”

“You are very welcome Claude.  Do you need your duffle bag from the porch?”

“Yes sir.” 

The Wednesday morning was clear and cool as a spring morning usually is.  Peggy parked in the front of the funeral home and got out of the car.  Claude got out and walked around to meet her, and then he looked at her and asked, “May I go in by myself?”

 Peggy nodded yes and smiled since she knew Coach Phil was already there.

The funeral director, James Snowden, shook the hand of the lone survivor of Miss Jane Goodal, a twelve-year-old, sandy-colored hair, boy, lovingly named Claude after his grandfather. He had his grandfather’s ruddy complexion and build of body, standing 5’6” even at this early age.  His mother, Miss Goodal had succumbed to colon cancer and her thin, lifeless body was delivered to the funeral home by ambulance on Tuesday morning after seven.

Mr. Snowden first learned of the death Tuesday morning at approximately eight.  He sighed, said a prayer for her son and called Coach Phil on his cell phone.  There was not an answer so he left a message.  Coach Phil was already at the Goodal house.

Coach Phil arrived earlier this Wednesday morning to finalize the funeral and financial arrangements. He had visited with the Director of the Department of Child Services earlier and signed all necessary paperwork to serve as a foster parent to Claude Goodal.

Mr. Snowden placed a hand on Coach Phil’s shoulder.  “He is in parlor B Coach.”

“Thanks James,” he muttered, “Just finished.”  He stood and went to parlor B to be with Claude.

The heavy curtain began to open and the two stood. Coach put his arm around Claude and led him to the casket to see his Mother’s last remains of her earthly body.  The boy leaned into his mentor, friend, and coach and cried very quietly.

At ten that morning people from school and community began to come into Parlor B to shake the hands of Claude and his friend, Coach Phil.  Claude remained somber, yet smiled each time someone approached him. The service was kind, generously encouraging and the graveside was a continuance of the same.  The last act of courage the young boy performed was when he placed a red rose together with a white rose on his Mom’s casket and whispered, “God take care of her please and tell her I will see her again one day.  I believe God.”

Coach Phil wept with Claude after everyone had left the cemetery except the workers, who respectfully waited at a distance.  He thanked God for teaching and showing Claude His Amazing Love.  He also thanked God for bringing him the son he could never father himself.