Mr. Johnson said good night and walked out the door. Marcus slowly closed it behind him. He stood at the door for a moment, looking at the doorknob, thinking. He heard junebugs buzzing outside. He turned off the porch light. He thought, “What have I gotten us into?” He took a deep breath and turned around and walked back to the kitchen table.
Lauren was leaning back, eyes closed, feet propped up on a chair. Marcus took hold of her right foot and gently pressed around her ankle. A little swollen. He sat down and said, “Well, that was interesting.” Keeping her eyes closed, Lauren said knowingly, “You’re not talking about my ankles, are you?”
She opened her eyes. She sat up and looked at Marcus. “What do you think about what he said about giving us the ranch?” Her tone sounded desperate. “I’m thinking about it.” Marcus saw a difficult conversation coming. Lauren went on, “This is a problem Marcus. He told us this ranch could be ours. I mean, that’s nice and I understand about Grandpa Sam and all that, but he doesn’t know us! We don’t know him! We don’t know if this is even going to work out for even a little while! I thought this was going to be a job, a place for us to get started, but he wants us to be the heirs to his kingdom. I don’t know about raising a family out here. There are no neighbors, the church is small, I might be able to handle the books and all that, but you’ve got the hard job working outside all the time. I don’t know about this.”
By now tears welled up in her eyes. She went on, “Look at my ankles. Look at my belly. Look at these boxes. I am due in less than two weeks, we haven’t hardly got settled, and now Mr. Johnson wants us to be 21st century Jolly Ranchers...I don’t want to be trapped out here.” Now she started sobbing. “Oh boy,” thought Marcus, “now what do I say?” He looked at Lauren: red eyes, round belly, swollen ankles, TJC employee identification card still hung around her neck, shaking with her sobs.
Security. That one word came to his mind. That’s what she needs. Then he thought of Ephesians 5:25, “Husbands, love your wives.” So he stood up and walked to the couch and removed the six boxes that had been stacked there. He found a pillow. He walked back to the kitchen table and took Lauren’s hand. “What are you doing?” she said between sobs. “Come here,” he said, and he pulled her up and led her to the couch. He sat down at one end and put the pillow in his lap. “Lay down,” he said. “What are you doing?” she said, wiping her eyes. “Just lay down.” She sat on the edge of the couch and slowly swung her legs around and laid her head down on the pillow on his lap. He kissed her forehead and ran his finger through her long black hair and they stayed like that for several minutes. Just quiet. No sound except for junebugs and a sniffle or two.
“Lauren.” He just said her name. “What?” she said. And for a fleeting moment she looked up at him like a little girl who needed reassurance. Lauren, who was always confident, always reassuring others. “We are going to be fine. We are going to be just fine. And as far as Mr. Johnson goes…he’s an old sentimental man. He loves this place and doesn’t want to see it split up and sold off. Don’t worry about that. I don’t think he’ll pressure us into it. If he does, I’ll talk to him. Let’s take it one step at a time and see what happens. And these boxes, I’ll ask Mr. Johnson if I can take some time to unpack so you don’t have to. We’ll work it out. One step at a time. We’ll be okay. The Lord has taken care of us up to now, he won’t let us down.”
Lauren took a deep breath. “Okay, I know. You are right. I just want the best for this baby. And for us.” She was quiet for a while, then she looked back up at Marcus. “You know how we haven’t been able to come up with a name? I found one. It’s in 2 Samuel
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
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