“Oh? What book was that?”
“The title was Little Rivers. It’s a book of short stories by Henry van Dyke.”
“Yes, the nineteenth century religious writer,” interjected Cal. “I’ve read his book The Story of the Other Wise Man.”
“In one of the stories, a man on a lonely moor finds a twig of white heather growing there. The beauty of the heather encourages him to focus on God, and not on the loneliness of his situation. And then the man feels glad about the day the Lord has made.”
“If I follow, you’ve discovered that you needed to focus more on the white heather and less on the lonely moor.”
“Well, I’m trying. I’m the kind of person who’s ready to solve the problem, but doesn’t know how to enjoy the solution.”
“I’d say telling jokes and laughing more is a good beginning.”
As he walked back home, Richard thoughtfully considered Cal’s request for help. By the time he’d reached his uncle’s house, he felt the Lord had led him to a decision. But he wanted his uncle’s opinion.
He found Mac in the garden weeding around his roses, sitting on his “weeding stool,” a wooden box turned upside down with a cushion on it.
Mac was singing softly to himself: “Oh my luve’s like a red, red rose, / That’s newly sprung in June; / Oh my luve’s like the melodie / That’s sweetly played in tune.” Richard stood there a few minutes, undetected. He liked listening to his uncle sing.
“It’s ye!” exclaimed the Scot, as he turned around on his box and smiled at his nephew. “I felt someone’s eyes lookin’ doon on my back. Di’ ye have a braw walk?”
Richard nodded, then told his uncle about his conversation with Cal and his decision to help. He wondered what his uncle’s response would be, since he valued his judgment.
The Scotsman’s answer was immediate. “Ye made the right decision, laddie!”
“I’m proud o’ ye, so I am. A lot o’ young men would have avoided the responsibility, but not ye,” he proclaimed as he got up and patted Richard on the back.
Even though his uncle seemed very positive about his decision, Richard himself still felt uneasy. “I wonder, Uncle, if I have time to really prepare.”
“Is it more time ye need to prepare? Or, is it more time ye need to get used to doin’ the job? People often fear anythin’ they canna completely understand, and they want all the answers before they’ll take a step o’ faith. The great Irish poet, William Butler, once said, ‘Life is a mystery to be lived, not a problem to be solved.’ Well, I have work to do. And I suppose ye do too.”
“Yes, I guess I do.” Smiling wryly, Richard looked at the folder in his hands.
6
The Beautiful Runner
A dog barked in response to the doorbell. Richard waited, but no one came to the door. He pressed the doorbell again and this time he heard voices inside the house. A moment later, Melissa stood in the open doorway. The beautiful runner looked happy to see him.
“Richard, please come in! It’s so nice to see you again. My folks are in the backyard, where we’ll be eating. Dinner should be ready in about 20 minutes.”
“I hope I’m not too early. I made better time getting to your home than I thought I would.” Richard spoke these words as he followed Melissa through the living room, into the kitchen, and out the backdoor onto the patio.
Melissa acted as if she found Richard’s words complimentary, perhaps because he suggested that he got to her home as fast as he could. She gave him a warm smile.
Richard stood on the patio, feeling a little awkward. He could see Melissa’s dad turning steaks on the grill, and her mom placing bowls of salad on a cloth-draped picnic table.
“Attention everyone! This is my rescuer, Richard Hawkins!” Melissa announced. “And Richard, these are my parents, Donald and Helen Ingram.”
Helen rushed toward Richard and hugged him. “You dear boy! We can never thank you enough for what you did for our daughter. We’re your friends, as long as God gives us life!” Helen took a tissue from her apron pocket and dabbed at her eyes.
“Oh Mom. If anyone should be crying, I should.” Melissa went over and hugged her mother.
Suddenly, Richard felt a strong hand grasping his, shaking it vigorously. Donald had followed his wife to the patio to greet Richard.
“The steaks!” exclaimed Melissa, running to the smoking grill.
Still holding Richard’s hand, Donald said, “Our home will always be open to you, Richard. I’m thankful that when my daughter called for help, a brave man was there to answer. Thank you, my boy. Now, I hope you brought an appetite. I’m not known as ‘the Picasso of the grill’ for nothing. It’s all in my barbeque sauce. I know you’ll love it!”
“My dad believes in helping people make up their minds, so they don’t have to bother doing it themselves.” Melissa said this as she turned the meat fork over to her father, and patted him affectionately on the cheek.
The meal was nearly ready when Melissa directed Richard to a wooden picnic table with built-in benches, set on freshly mown grass under the shade of a large maple tree.
Richard sat down at one end of a bench while Melissa hurried away to finish preparations.
I hate to look like I’m starving and can’t wait to eat, he thought. But I don’t want to be in the way.
He smoothed a wrinkle out of the white tablecloth, then picked up a spoon placed with other silverware. He tapped it nervously on the table. I wonder how much of my life has been spent in just waiting. If waiting patiently is a skill, it’s one I’ve yet to learn.
Richard looked up into the tree, startled by two green eyes in a furry head watching him from out of the foliage.
“I see you up there, Mr. Cat. Don’t you know it’s bad manners to stare at a guest?”
Bringing a large bowl of mashed potatoes to the table, Melissa shook her head. “I’m afraid Spooker is hopeless when it comes to manners.” She pointed at one of the lower limbs of the tree. “Spooker likes to settle down on it and poke at your head if you happen to walk beneath him. You have to watch out for him whenever you’re in our backyard,” she added with pretended seriousness.
“I’ll be on guard.” Richard gave Melissa a big smile, happy to hear he was expected to make future visits.
“If you’re going to get fed, I’d better help Mom bring the rest of the food.”
As Melissa rushed off, Richard pondered, Does Melissa really hope I’ll be here often? Or was she just being polite?
Donald put the finishing touches on the ribeyes. The women brought the rest of the meal from the kitchen—besides mashed potatoes and two kinds of salad, there was corn on the cob, buttermilk biscuits, and fresh lemonade.
Richard
