To read from the beginning, click the photos on the right.
Chapter XXXIII pgs. 211-213
Like the fires of Pentecost, God’s spirit shook Holy Final Words Church. You could feel it - driving hard as a blast of sleet, but also gentle like a lover’s kiss, or a baby’s soft skin. Power, but so much more! God’s love, and with it healing and redemption. And as the prodigal walked back to his seat, he stood a little taller, and marched with stronger step. And, his face, oh his face! You couldn’t exactly say what it was that had changed. The features were the same; the lines were still there. But it shone with God’s mercy and there wasn’t a soul in the church that didn’t see Christ in the man’s eyes.
Alex saw it too, and was shaken. The urge to stand grew stronger now - like a flying cannonball - and he was holding it back with just his little finger. To do this thing, Alex would have to sacrifice his whole life. Not only his house and money and friends - and Vivian. But he would have to destroy his very essence, and, woven into this essence, was pride. Without it he was nothing. Mighty, God-like, victorious, and proud, the son his father always wanted – this was Alex Lidecker. Alex slumped in his seat, unable to destroy the colossus.
Next to come up was a woman in her twenties. Her platinum-streaked hair was curled in wide ringlets that bounced around her shoulders as she walked, and she wore a beige suit smartly trimmed with a camel’s hair collar and cuffs. A topaz poodle brooch sat on her right lapel.
“I’ve slept with eleven different men during the last year,” she said, “while Eugene was stationed in Baghdad. I tried to be faithful to him. I waited. Occupied myself with everything I could think of. But months went by, and well…. I’d look at myself in the mirror, and I’d brush my hair, and do my make up… all the while asking myself just who was I trying to please. What was the use? My man should be in my bed next to me, not playing soldier some thousands of miles away. I know it’s not his fault that he’s over there, and I’m over here. But there wasn’t anyone else to blame. And I did blame him. Sometimes I think it would be easier if I were the one over there.”
She tried to go on, but the words stuck in her throat, and tears threatened just behind the long, black lashes. As if protecting herself, she wrapped her arms around her shoulders, and dropped her gaze to the floor. “I could stay busy during the day and it was okay. But then night came, and that empty nothing just crashed all around me. It’s funny how nothing sometimes seems more powerful that all the woes on earth. Anyway, I tried to ignore the quiet, and the aching, but in the end, I couldn’t stand it. It was going to be just a drink with an old friend, someone to talk to – to laugh with, to commiserate with. But in the end, he was in my bed, and when the sun came up I said it was over, and that I’d never do it again. But the nights after that were still too quiet, and - I don’t know what it is about getting into a bed by myself - but I hate doing it. And sometimes, when it was just too quiet, I’d go down to this hang-out a few blocks away, just for a drink and someone to laugh with, and sometimes it would be just that, but also sometimes I’d end up with someone sleeping with me. Each time I told myself that this was the last time.
“So today, I had to do this. And now, after my confession, I need forgiveness, but mostly I need strength, because Eugene’s not back yet, and there are going to be a lot of cold and lonely nights between now and when he comes home. And I don’t know if I have the strength to make it through them, but I’ve got to try to be faithful. If he can go over there and risk his life, I can stay true to him. Or at least I have to try.”
She began to shake and sob. “And I hope Eugene can forgive me, but first I have to forgive myself.” Her sobbing grew harder. The preacher held her shoulders between his hands, then, laying both his hands on her forehead, he prayed with closed eyes. Alex couldn’t hear the words, but he witnessed the power; he felt spirit in the air as the preacher whispered.
Hearing the story, Alex felt pierced as if by shards of glass. He’d slept with her once. He thought her name was Crystal. And he hadn’t connected with her in her bed the way he did now, twenty feet away from her, as she spoke and cried. God stabbed him. Alex saw. Life was meant to feel like this.
Alex Lidecker, the political savant, dressed in Armani, but underneath it, the real Alex, the man, wore the tattered mantle of a penitent sinner. Without noticing it, he rose from his seat preparing to discard his riches like rotting trash. He’d risk it all - respect, wealth, power, and that wild giddiness – flying on meth-like enthusiasm, he called it – that comes from cheating and winning. And now he was about to sacrifice everything in exchange for the peace that comes from an honest relationship with God and man.
But in those moments before Alex reached the aisle, his father’s image flashed in his mind. And he could feel the words inside his bones. “I’m very disappointed in you.” Alex paused. Remordia, he thought. He wanted God’s peace, and he needed his father’s respect – that and the demi-god life he’d built. Save me from this craziness, he thought. He was Alex Lidecker. He could have anything he wanted. Well, he wanted it all.
Chapter XXXIII pgs. 211-213
Like the fires of Pentecost, God’s spirit shook Holy Final Words Church. You could feel it - driving hard as a blast of sleet, but also gentle like a lover’s kiss, or a baby’s soft skin. Power, but so much more! God’s love, and with it healing and redemption. And as the prodigal walked back to his seat, he stood a little taller, and marched with stronger step. And, his face, oh his face! You couldn’t exactly say what it was that had changed. The features were the same; the lines were still there. But it shone with God’s mercy and there wasn’t a soul in the church that didn’t see Christ in the man’s eyes.
Alex saw it too, and was shaken. The urge to stand grew stronger now - like a flying cannonball - and he was holding it back with just his little finger. To do this thing, Alex would have to sacrifice his whole life. Not only his house and money and friends - and Vivian. But he would have to destroy his very essence, and, woven into this essence, was pride. Without it he was nothing. Mighty, God-like, victorious, and proud, the son his father always wanted – this was Alex Lidecker. Alex slumped in his seat, unable to destroy the colossus.
Next to come up was a woman in her twenties. Her platinum-streaked hair was curled in wide ringlets that bounced around her shoulders as she walked, and she wore a beige suit smartly trimmed with a camel’s hair collar and cuffs. A topaz poodle brooch sat on her right lapel.
“I’ve slept with eleven different men during the last year,” she said, “while Eugene was stationed in Baghdad. I tried to be faithful to him. I waited. Occupied myself with everything I could think of. But months went by, and well…. I’d look at myself in the mirror, and I’d brush my hair, and do my make up… all the while asking myself just who was I trying to please. What was the use? My man should be in my bed next to me, not playing soldier some thousands of miles away. I know it’s not his fault that he’s over there, and I’m over here. But there wasn’t anyone else to blame. And I did blame him. Sometimes I think it would be easier if I were the one over there.”
She tried to go on, but the words stuck in her throat, and tears threatened just behind the long, black lashes. As if protecting herself, she wrapped her arms around her shoulders, and dropped her gaze to the floor. “I could stay busy during the day and it was okay. But then night came, and that empty nothing just crashed all around me. It’s funny how nothing sometimes seems more powerful that all the woes on earth. Anyway, I tried to ignore the quiet, and the aching, but in the end, I couldn’t stand it. It was going to be just a drink with an old friend, someone to talk to – to laugh with, to commiserate with. But in the end, he was in my bed, and when the sun came up I said it was over, and that I’d never do it again. But the nights after that were still too quiet, and - I don’t know what it is about getting into a bed by myself - but I hate doing it. And sometimes, when it was just too quiet, I’d go down to this hang-out a few blocks away, just for a drink and someone to laugh with, and sometimes it would be just that, but also sometimes I’d end up with someone sleeping with me. Each time I told myself that this was the last time.
“So today, I had to do this. And now, after my confession, I need forgiveness, but mostly I need strength, because Eugene’s not back yet, and there are going to be a lot of cold and lonely nights between now and when he comes home. And I don’t know if I have the strength to make it through them, but I’ve got to try to be faithful. If he can go over there and risk his life, I can stay true to him. Or at least I have to try.”
She began to shake and sob. “And I hope Eugene can forgive me, but first I have to forgive myself.” Her sobbing grew harder. The preacher held her shoulders between his hands, then, laying both his hands on her forehead, he prayed with closed eyes. Alex couldn’t hear the words, but he witnessed the power; he felt spirit in the air as the preacher whispered.
Hearing the story, Alex felt pierced as if by shards of glass. He’d slept with her once. He thought her name was Crystal. And he hadn’t connected with her in her bed the way he did now, twenty feet away from her, as she spoke and cried. God stabbed him. Alex saw. Life was meant to feel like this.
Alex Lidecker, the political savant, dressed in Armani, but underneath it, the real Alex, the man, wore the tattered mantle of a penitent sinner. Without noticing it, he rose from his seat preparing to discard his riches like rotting trash. He’d risk it all - respect, wealth, power, and that wild giddiness – flying on meth-like enthusiasm, he called it – that comes from cheating and winning. And now he was about to sacrifice everything in exchange for the peace that comes from an honest relationship with God and man.
But in those moments before Alex reached the aisle, his father’s image flashed in his mind. And he could feel the words inside his bones. “I’m very disappointed in you.” Alex paused. Remordia, he thought. He wanted God’s peace, and he needed his father’s respect – that and the demi-god life he’d built. Save me from this craziness, he thought. He was Alex Lidecker. He could have anything he wanted. Well, he wanted it all.
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