Truth and Consequences
dragon_art (freeimages.com)
How long had I been here? It was still raining, a drizzling misty rain that closed in around my thoughts and made everything a blur. I came to myself sitting with my knees pulled up to my chin. Above, the constant creaking drone of traffic and rubber tires slapping the metal abutments between the dividers of a heavily used interstate overpass. Below me, down the steep incline was a dark two lane road that connected the citie's Southern subdivisions with it's outlying rural neighbors. A blaring horn from above brought rushing memories of the crash, the trip in the ambulance to the hospital, of Lilly screaming and of the words that my mother spoke when I picked the kids up after work, "have you been drinking?" Just a beer with lunch mom I lied, no big deal I had said, and the pain of that now singular memory was again driving me down the rabbit hole towards someplace, anything but reality.
I'm not sure how far I had walked, and now crawled, but I was well out of the city and there was now something blocking my way. A chain link fence! I drew back, suddenly alert, there was a memory of a dog and a fight. I remembered dropping over a fence and being attacked, I had been in someones yard. I felt of my left calf, it was sore and oozed a mixture of old and fresh blood. My arm was bruised and my back ached, I had been hit with a bat or club and had ran, jumping, falling back over the fence and away into the night. The dog had bit me at the fence and tried to drag me back toward another blow from its master, but my pants and flesh had ripped away and I had limped on into the night and the rain.
There were no dogs visible here, no sounds, the residents must be away or asleep. Crawling under some bushes I curled up and shivered, it was not a cold night, in fact it was a typical muggy late Summer evening on the outskirts of Atlanta, Georgia, but I was soaked to the bone. And then there was the shock, I thought of Jenny, her body eaten away by cancer, "take care of our children Johnny, I will be there in spirit," were her last words to me. Was she looking down on me now with scorn, was she standing before God accusing me of all of the evil that I had become. Guilty is the verdict, murderer, he murdered my little boy! The image of Jonathan’s small limp and lifeless body being loaded up and whisked away, and of poor Lilly, screaming in pain for a mother that had already been gone for over a year. It was unbearable, the grief, the pain, the guilt. I had an urge to curl up and cry like a baby left all alone in the dark, but instead I pulled myself up and stumbled on.
Everything was hurting now, every joint and down deep in my bones, I must will each step, something inside is driving me onward, and I have no idea where I am at or where I’m going. How bad was the crash? Bad enough that my five year old son is gone, and I have a daughter, does she yet live? It was my fault, I did go to lunch with friends but I didn’t return to the office with them. I stayed to talk to that brunette and have a couple of more beers. She had a smile that reminded me of Jenny, that’s all it took. Of course she was nothing like my Jenny, no one was and no one could fill the void that Jen’s death had left in my heart. I was lonely, why had God let her die? Why would He allow such grief? Lilly is the oldest child by almost two years and she often cries herself to sleep. I hear her at night from down the hall but I have no words of comfort for her, how can I give what I don’t have myself? I too had done my share of crying, but in the end I stopped crying and started drinking.
What day is this? Tuesday? No it’s Wednesday, check your watch. Yes this is Wednesday and it is almost 8 PM, how long have I been walking? No luck with that woman so I left the bar and grill at 2:15 PM, too late to go back to the office so I stopped by the liquor store and then picked up the kids. The booze, what did I do with it? It’s in the trunk, I’m okay. The hell I am, how many beers did I have with her? Three, no four, maybe five I don’t remember. It’s my fault that Jonathan is dead. Suddenly a self loathing groan started from somewhere in the depths of my being and spread into a guttural wail. I was no longer in control of myself, all of that grief just boiled up in a giant wave of primal sound that overpowered me and took control as my body convulsed in spiritual agony! I just needed to die, I would wait for a fast moving vehicle and at the last second step out in front of it and finish the job that began hours ago.
Trudging now head down, arms dangling loosely at my side, like something out of a horror movie and I’m the villain. Any moment now a random vehicle, maybe a big truck, and it will all be over. But whats that sound, the voices of Angels? Am I dead, have I already done the deed and don’t remember? No, it would not be Angels singing for me, I’m going to get what I deserve and that doesn’t include anything that beautiful. But it is singing, singing like I’ve never heard before. It sounds vaguely like church music but nothing like from our church. Our church, I would laugh if I could. When was the last time that I attended? Jenny insisted, that’s right, she put her foot down because Jonathan was in a skit with his Sunday School class. What kind of dad sends his wife and kids off to church but rarely goes himself? The kind who drinks and drives and kills his own son that’s what kind. ARE THERE NO CARS ON THIS STUPID ROAD…!
The rain has stopped now and around me the remnants are dripping off of the leaves as tree boughs gently sway in the breeze to the music coming from just around the curve. A few steps and I now stand and gaze mouth agape, a small chapel, multi-colored light streaming from the small stained glass windows. But not electric light, a candle in each window flickering and dancing. The power must be out! The singing has been replaced by a booming deep bass voice, a Preacher's voice. And it was at that moment when a hook jabbed into my heart and I was compelled to follow the sound of that call, judgment day had arrived for me.
Bible words echoed in my conscience, that booming voice preached on, undaunted by rain or storms or things like power outages. The doors had been blocked open to let air in to the small sanctuary and the sound floated across the humid night air like the drifting seeds from a mystical dandelion spire. Come ye weary hearted, every sentence started with “come.” Come and be healed, come to redemption, come to the Lord, and I stumbled up the steps and stood in the door… Come ye sinners and repent before it’s too late… And I, falling into the narrow isle, crawled toward the voice, toward the alter, toward... gasps and then silence. Stronge arms and hands turned me over and I gazed up at a large rounded black face, into penetrating black eyes, eyes that recognized the wounded and dying spirit within my soul. The booming bass was gone, and in its place a gentle healing baritone fell on my ears and sank into my very soul, “have you come to the Lord to confess your sins and be healed?” he said.
As I looked up into those eyes and tried to form the words in my mouth, I saw a vision of a future not yet lived. A future where I, as an alcoholic, had led my son down the path of alcohol and drug abuse. I saw Jonathan as a grown man in prison, his life wasted and lost in hopelessness. I saw Lilly also, living in a trailer park with an abusive husband. My baby girl used and sold on the streets for the price of the next fix. This was my direction, this was what I was headed for. They knew about the drinking and the women, they knew what I stayed up and did late at night, in the vision my kids knew of all my sins. This is the life that God had saved them from, this was the answer to Jenny’s prayer for protection over her children. Jonathan was innocent and he was now with her in heaven, but Lilly, Lilly... on my knees now my head to the carpet I began to confess my sins in tears and with great remorse I cried and pounded the floor with my fists as I poured it all out before both God and man. Broken and sobbing I felt a hand on my shoulder, then another, and now many hands, praying hands, holy hands. The congregation had gathered round about in prayer for this broken soul, a lost man who was soaking wet, muddy, tattered and bloody. Strangers held me and wept for me and with me, unknown brothers and sisters that were sharing my pain and sorrows.
We were all there at the alter of that church together, one tattered and broken white man surrounded and held by a concerned body of African Americans who together cried out to their Creator God for help and redemption. The moment was broken by blue lights that began to whirl around the room. A police car had pulled up outside and an officer approached. Excuse me he intoned, but I’m looking for a man named John Calhoun that was seen recently in this vicinity, he has been in an accident and we are concerned that he may need medical attention. As the crowd stood and parted some men helped me to my feet and steadied me there before the officer. I’m John Calhoun I said, does my daughter live? “Come with me sir” he said, “ I will take you back to the hospital and you can check on her there.”
On the way to the hospital the officer filled me in on the accident, two teenagers, brothers, had stolen a car and were being pursued by police at high speed. They had ran a stop sign and hit my car on the passenger side right over the rear door where my son had been seated. One of the boys, the youngest, was a passenger in the other car and had not been wearing a seat belt and had died instantly on impact. The older brother was driving and had suffered some pretty severe injuries but was expected to live.
So I had not caused the accident, or had I? Who can tell the mind and the righteous judgments of God? Come and obtain mercy said the Preacher, Come and find peace, come and…
Two days had passed, it turned out that Lilly had broken an arm and she had some cuts and bruises. She would need some therapy but otherwise she was going to be just fine. We were going to be just fine. I inquired at the hospital about the young boy that had been driving the stolen car. He was out of ICU and was in a room on the orthopedic ward. I asked if they would call and see if it was all right if I came to visit. I was told that his mother would meet me in the waiting room. I was not sure what I would say but I just felt the need to do this, so I headed for the elevator and not a little bit apprehensive.
I came face to face with a young black woman who was standing just inside the door of the waiting room, eyes down and with fresh tears pooling underneath, please don’t hate my boys Mr. Calhoun, they’re not bad like you probably think. They ain’t never had no daddy and I tried to raise’em good. But Shaun done got with a bad crowd and he was showing off with his little brother when they stole that car. A shudder came over her, Tobi, Tobi wouldn’t have done nothing wrong, now he’s dead and your son is dead an I don’t know what’s going to become of...of, Shaun she stammered. They’re going to charge him with manslaughter, but that ain’t the worst of it. He done killed two people and he got to live with that somehow. And the voice of the Preacher said again, come and obtain mercy…come.
Without a word I opened up my arms, and this poor woman that had just lost a son and was in jeopardy of losing another stepped forward and met me in a compassionate embrace. We cried there together and then talked for over an hour. In the end we agreed that we would stay in touch and that after all the physical wounds were sufficiently healed we would meet again with our children at an old country church just outside of town. There is a Preacher there with words of life that we all need to hear.
Isaiah 46:9-10
9 Remember the former things of old: for I am God, and there is none else; I am God, and there is none like me, 10 Declaring the end from the beginning, and from ancient times the things that are not yet done, saying, My counsel shall stand, and I will do all my pleasure:
Proverbs 3:5
Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.