Missionary Daddy (8 page)

A
week later the memory of that near-kiss still lingered in Eric’s mind. He’d wanted to be irked at Scott Crosby for the interruption, but the new assistant pastor couldn’t help it if his tire was flat and he didn’t have a jack. So, like a Good Samaritan, Eric had waved goodbye to Sam when he’d really wanted to kiss her, and then gone to help Scott with his car.

Unfortunately, the moment was lost and in the week since the picnic no other opportunity had come his way. He was pretty disappointed about that, though he knew better than to get too involved with a woman of Sam’s caliber. Even though he now knew her to be a terrific person, she was still far out of his league. He didn’t even know where she stood on the crucial issue of adoption.

Yet, Gina’s problem had thrown them together once again, and this morning he was glad to have Sam by his side at church.

He glanced at her, sitting in the corner of his Sunday school classroom, hands gripped tightly in her lap. He’d known she was nervous as she’d spoken with his students, but the teenagers hadn’t appeared to notice. Some of the kids hadn’t met her before and they’d been awed to have a successful model as their key speaker. Even now, after he’d taken over, the class was quieter and listening with more intensity than usual. Sam’s talk about eating disorders and peer pressure had gotten to them.

“Being a teenager today is tough,” he said to the rows of faces. “Other than the pressure for girls to be thin and guys to be buff, where do you personally feel pressured?”

“Making good grades,” someone said.

“Being cool. In the right crowd at school,” said another. “Sometimes other kids think I’m a dweeb because I don’t party.”

“Yeah, but they respect you, too,” Nikki said. “You can be cool and be a Christian.”

The other kids chuckled. Individualist Nikki demanded respect from everyone. He doubted anyone had dared criticize the black stripe running down the center her hair.

“Good point.” Eric looked around at the group of sixteen teens, each one as different as Africa from Virginia. “Any others?”

“Drinking.”

“Excellent. Others. Come on, what’s the biggie?”

“Sex?” one of the girls murmured and then glanced down at her Bible, face flushing bright red. The rest of the class tittered.

“Yeah. Big-time.” Eric nodded. In a mixed group, he didn’t want to go too deep into the subject but the kids needed to hear God’s directive in every area of their lives. “And yet, if you give in, your self-esteem tumbles lower. The cool news is this—you don’t have to handle any issue alone. God says to trust and rely on him, not on yourself. Letting anything control you or pressure you for long is not only counterproductive, it’s sin. Even God isn’t trying to control you. He wants what’s best for you. He loves who you are, the way you are.”

“Okay,” one of the girls said, “but you feel pretty worthless when you’re the only fat kid in class or you don’t make the basketball team. It’s hard to remember that God thinks you’re okay the way you are.”

“I know that, guys.” Eric stepped from behind his teaching podium, his thoughts drifting to Sam, though he trained his gaze on the teens. “Even adults face times when their self-worth plummets. Remember that when you feel worthless like Sam said, God doesn’t feel that way about you. Think about it. He loved you enough to send his only son to die in your place. You are worth everything to God. When the worthless thoughts come, replace them with that thought. You were worth God’s son. Read the Bible. Find out what God has to say about you. You’ll be surprised to discover just how truly special you are. Then when you’re feeling down or stressed out, when something comes along that you can’t handle, meditate on the things you’ve learned. God’s word is truth. Anything contradictory is a lie. God will give you the tools to not only face life’s challenges, but to feel good about who you are and what your purpose in life is all about.”

He felt Sam staring at him, soaking in every word. He’d planned this message as much for her as for the kids because she needed to understand how special she was in God’s eyes.

He glanced at his watch. “We have about a minute. Anybody have a question or a last quick comment?”

“Can we talk about this again next week?” Tiffany asked. “Especially about the whole self-esteem, body-image thing? And how God is supposed to help us deal with that stuff?”

“Sure. I’ll bring in more scripture references, and we’ll dig into the Bible and find out exactly what God has to say about it.” He looked at Sam. “Can you be here?”

Every teenage head swiveled in her direction. Sam nodded and stood, pulling a handful of business cards from a fancy-looking purse, her wide-belted skirt swishing around her knees.

“If any of you need to talk, if you have a problem, especially about your weight or fitness, call me. I brought cards with my cell number. Please don’t share them with the world. They’re only for you. But if I can help, give me a call.”

As the kids crowded around Samantha, Eric smiled to himself. Good thing he didn’t have an enormous ego. Otherwise, he’d feel like a leftover sandwich. The kids had all but ignored him in their quest for one of Sam’s personal cards.

The dismissal bell chimed and in a rush of scraping chairs and noisy kids, the room emptied.

“You were great. Absolutely terrific,” he told Sam.

“So were you.”

Eric offered his elbow and was gratified when Sam slid her hand into the crook. “We’re a good team. I think you may get some phone calls.”

She gnawed at that full lower lip, a habit he’d noted when she was concerned about something. “I hope Gina will be one of them.”

“Maybe things will work out with her parents.”

“I hope so. I took her to lunch last week with Nikki and another of their friends. Gina ordered a salad, no dressing and a cup of black coffee. Coffee was one of my fillers. It gives you energy that you don’t really have, a false sense of being functional. If she gets any thinner, she’s going to do some serious damage to herself.”

“If she hasn’t already.”

“Exactly,” Sam said grimly.

He’d asked the Sharpes, Gina’s parents, for a short meeting today after church. He prayed they would be receptive.

Sam’s hand still tucked into his elbow, he led the way into the sanctuary. Eric couldn’t believe how good and right that simple action felt.

A few friends glanced their way, smiled and nodded. Anne Williams elbowed her husband, Caleb, who turned in his pew and grinned at them.

Eric resisted the temptation to scowl back.

He and Sam were friends. They’d grown to like each other. Maybe a lot. But she was an extremely successful model, and he was a lowly missionary turned adoption specialist trying to adopt two African boys. Sam was so far out of his league, it wasn’t even funny.

Not funny at all.

Sam settled into the pew beside Eric, surprisingly comfortable in the beautiful old church. Three rows up, she spotted her parents and sister with little Gabriel. Her nephew spotted her, too, and grinned, a simple act that felt like a long-distance hug. Loving her sister’s baby had become the most meaningful thing in her life.

She scanned around to catch sight of Gina, finally noticing her sandwiched in between Jeremy and Nikki to the far right. The girl had been extremely quiet during Sunday school this morning, and Sam was afraid for her. Nothing she or Eric said seemed to penetrate the wall of denial Gina had built around her illness. Their last best hope was Gina’s parents. Surely, they could see how thin and pale their daughter had become. Even her dark brown hair was dull and lifeless.

Eric reached for a hymnal and opened to a page apparently announced while she’d been wool gathering. The movement stirred his morning shower-and-shave lotion, though Sam tried not to notice. This was church, after all, and she felt ashamed to be thinking how good Eric looked and smelled. But they were, by nature of the crowded church, squeezed in close to one another. And Sam wasn’t a bit sorry about that.

The music began, filling the sanctuary with a joyful noise. She felt good about this morning’s talk in Sunday school. Maybe she’d needed to speak about her experience as much as Gina had needed to hear it. As nervous as she’d been beforehand, she was glad Eric had talked her into speaking.

His arm brushed hers and she tried to focus on the words of the song. But again her mind strayed to something Eric had said. He claimed God loved people exactly the way they were. She had a hard time understanding what that meant. Did God love the perfectionism that drove her? Did He love the mess she’d made of her life? Or did He love her in spite of those things? From her experience, looking perfect was the only reason people cared about her. Would God be any different?

Eric said He was. Since the picnic she and the former missionary had talked by phone and had lunch a couple of times. She’d felt like the Serengeti during the rainy season as she’d soaked in his friendship and Godly counsel. They’d talked in depth about eating disorders in preparation for church today, and Eric’s Christian perspective was helping change the way she thought about everything.

Even her negative thoughts had grown quieter this week. They weren’t gone, but they hadn’t been a constant source of torment, either.

According to Eric, forgiveness was possible for everyone. But Sam hadn’t asked if forgiveness extended to someone who’d stupidly and intentionally damaged her own body. The questions played over and over inside her head as the music ended and Reverend Fraser began the sermon.

The title of the message grabbed her attention: God Uses Broken Vessels. Then the minister went on to tell story after story of people in the Bible who were terribly weak, sometimes sinful, and yet God forgave them and used them to do amazing things. Abraham lied to protect his own skin. King David murdered to hide his adultery. On and on the stories went while Sam listened in growing amazement. She’d thought the Bible characters were all perfect holy people. That Christians must be perfect, too, or lose God’s love. But according to the pastor and today’s scriptures, neither appeared to be true.

Like a delicate rose, hope budded.

She’d tried a lot of things in her pursuit of happiness and perfection. None of them had satisfied for long. Would religion be any different?

The answer came on swift wings as she noted the glow on her sister’s young face, a joy that was repeated on many of the worshippers. Many of them had something she didn’t. Something she wanted.

The minister closed the sermon and asked if anyone needed prayer.

Sam could hardly contain her nervous anticipation. She wanted prayer, but she wanted it from someone she knew and trusted.

Fingers trembling, her mouth dry, she touched Eric’s arm. He leaned sideways so she could whisper in his ear. “I want Christ in my life. What do I do?”

The smile on Eric’s face would stay with her forever. As if they were the only two people in the church, he turned to face her, took her hand in both of his and gazed deeply into her eyes.

And then he led her through a simple prayer to Jesus.

Eric could hardly contain the thrill running through his veins. Leading someone to the Lord was always exciting, but this was Sam. Her fingers trembled in his, and when the prayer ended, tears slipped over her perfect cheekbones. Eric understood completely.

“Thank you,” she whispered, smile tremulous.

“No thanks needed. It was a privilege.” He wanted to say more, to encourage her and give her time to debrief what had just occurred, but the pastor dismissed the service and people began to move around. He didn’t want to embarrass her, but he was so thrilled he wanted to take the minister’s microphone and share the news. He wouldn’t, though. It was hers to share.

Her sister, Ashley, came toward them, her little boy at her side. When he spotted his aunt Sam, the toddler pumped his short legs up and down in an excited stationary jig. Giving a mighty tug on his mother’s hand, he pulled loose and rushed through the crowd.

“Tham, Tham.”

Sam scooped him up for a big hug. “Hi, Gabriel.”

“I think he likes you,” Eric said.

“You think?” Sam’s face, already glowing, beamed.

Her nephew noticed the residual tears and patted at her cheeks, expression puzzled and concerned. About that time, Ashley arrived to claim her son.

“I have news, Ash,” Sam said as she handed the child to his mother. “I accepted the Lord today.”

Ashley looked from Sam to Eric and back again. “No kidding?” And then, baby and all, she grabbed her sister in a big hug. “I’m so glad.”

“Me, too.”

“Let’s go to lunch and celebrate. Mom and Dad wanted to take us out anyway. How about it, Eric? Can you come with the notorious Harcourts?”

She was teasing but Eric detected the embarrassment behind the comment. Barnaby Harcourt had hurt his own family as well as many others.

With regret, he shook his head. “Wish I could. But I have a meeting in five minutes.”

Sam said, “Me, too, Ashley. In fact, the meeting was my idea and it’s really important.”

Ashley looked more curious than disappointed. “Well, okay. I’ll meet you back at the house later. We’ll talk then. Promise?”

“Absolutely.” The sisters exchanged another quick hug. After Ashley left, Sam asked, “Where are we meeting the Sharpes?”

“Caleb said we could use his office.” He took her elbow and guided her up the side aisle.

“Did you tell him what’s going on?”

“Not in detail. Only that we suspected a problem and wanted to apprise the parents. Don’t worry. Caleb is discreet. Ministers have to be or no one will talk to them.”

They made their way through the departing congregation stopping here and there to say hello. By the time they reached the church offices, the Sharpes were coming down the opposite hall.

In their forties, both Ed and Janet Sharpe were tall like their daughter, though Eric was certain he’d heard Gina was adopted. A curly redhead, Janet carried a few extra pounds and wore bifocals. Ed was a slender man with receding brown hair.

After greeting the pair, Eric opened Caleb’s office door and allowed the others to go inside first. He was glad to see Caleb had made sure there were enough chairs. “Everyone, have a seat.”