As her mind slowly waded toward consciousness, it was almost as if she was hearing an Ice Cream truck traveling down some distant street, when she suddenly realized that it was the ring-tone from her cell phone. She fumbled blindly along the bedside table before finding it and bringing it close to her face to check the caller ID.
“Oh crap!” she exclaimed, as she sprang into a sitting position, clutching the bed sheet over her bare chest.
A sleepy male voice from the other side of the bed said, “Who is it?”
“It’s my mother and it’s already almost 10:00 a.m.” she moaned, as she punched the ignore button on her phone; “I can’t believe I’m gonna miss class again”.
“So blow it off and let’s just stay in bed all day” he suggested.
“Yeah, you’d like that” she said as she gathered her clothes from the floor and headed toward the bathroom.
“Come on, you can just take that class over again next quarter” he called after her.
“Oh yeah, I want to explain that one to my parents. This is the only class I was taking this quarter and the only required course I have left for my degree. I’m already five years into a four year program and I can tell they’re about ready to cut me off. Besides, some of us actually have to work for a living” she responded through the cracked bathroom door.
“Hey now, I’m working on my Masters Degree; can I help it that my parents feel that education is the most important thing?” he retorted sarcastically.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re working real hard” she said, as she emerged from the bathroom, pulling her hair into a ponytail.
“Well if you change your mind, you know where to find me” he said slyly.
“Yeah, in bed no doubt” she said, as she pulled her bag over her shoulder.
“Hey, I need my beauty sleep” he said with a smile.
As she reached the door, she looked back at him and playfully asked, “If I did come back, how could I be sure that my spot wasn’t taken?”
He smiled back at her and said, “No worries baby, even if it was, we could always make room for you too.”
As she closed the door behind her, she mumbled to herself, “In your dreams bud”.
Stepping out of the temperature controlled building into the warm humid air felt like walking into a wall, both physically and emotionally. She knew that by the time she got back to the dorm, showered and got ready, she’d probably be late for work again; and she also knew that she was pretty much out of second chances with her manager. She briefly considered skipping the shower, but after the night she’d had, she felt dirty and couldn’t stand the thought of that guys smell being on her. She hated that she’d slept with him and wondered at why she’d given into it when she’d been able to ignore his come-ons for the last few years. He was exactly what he appeared to be and she felt stupid for allowing herself to become one of his conquests. She couldn’t stand the thought that he would now act as though she was one of his concubines. As she made her way across campus, a sense of abandonment washed over her, as she thought about all her friends who had graduated and moved on with their lives. The familiar surroundings that for so long had been a source of comfort now seemed to almost mock her. Here she was, a year past graduation, still without a degree and going nowhere fast. Her head began to throb, as her brain seemed to be pounding against her temples, reminding her of how much she’d had to drink last night and of how little she’d eaten in the past twenty-four hours. Just when she thought she couldn’t feel any lower, her phone buzzed with a text message. When she opened it, she could see it was from her mother; it said, “I hate when you ignore my calls! We need to talk! Call me! Today!” Now a fresh sense of dread mixed in with her simmering stew of emotions, as she considered how she was going to explain to her parents that she probably wasn’t going to be able to graduate again this quarter. She fought off the guilt of having wasted their money with resentment at having to explain herself to them. After all, she reasoned, “I’m a grown woman”.
By the time she got to her dorm room, beads of sweat were crawling past her ears and down the sides of her neck; as dizziness and nausea threatened to overtake her. She collapsed in a heap on her unmade bed and felt like crying, but the tears just wouldn’t come. She had the sense that she was somehow sinking and it reminded her of the feeling she’d get by diving to the bottom of the pool and looking up through the water. She could feel the pressure all around her, as sounds and images became muted and murky. She knew that she had to get going or she would lose her job; but she felt too sick to move. Like an egg in a hot, well oiled skillet, she laid motionless except for the molten roiling within her, until she eventually faded from consciousness.
It was once again the sound of her cell phone that ultimately pulled her back and when she looked at the alarm clock, she was amazed to see that it was already past 4 p.m. She didn’t need to check the caller ID to know that it was her mother and she knew that she still wasn’t ready for that conversation; so she let the call rollover to voicemail. After a few minutes, she decided to check her messages and saw that she’d missed seven calls and had three new texts. Three of the voicemails were from work, with the last one letting her know that she was fired; while all of the other messages were from her mother. Apparently when she wasn’t able to get a hold of her daughter by phone, she had called the place that she worked. Needless to say, that conversation had thrown her mother into a state of panic and in the last voicemail she was talking about notifying the campus police. She knew the longer she waited the worse it was going to be, so even though she didn’t feel ready, she dialed her parent’s number.
She told her mother that the reason she hadn’t returned her calls or gone to work was because she was sick and had been sleeping, which seemed to calm things down for the moment. But as the conversation went on, things went from bad to worse; as her mother explained that they were no longer willing to pay for her to stay in college. She told her that if she wanted continued support from them, she’d have to be willing to move back home and to let them help her make better decisions. This infuriated her and for the first time in her life, she was openly disrespectful to her mother, cursing at her and telling her that they’d never really supported her anyway. Though her mother tried to respond, she hung up on her and turned off her phone. In her anger, she grabbed her bag, which was lying on the bed and threw it at her dresser; spraying makeup bottles, earrings, papers and pictures onto the floor. In her frustration, she let out a scream, as the dam of emotion within her finally broke loose; sending her tumbling back onto the bed in heaving sobs. It seemed to her that everything she cared about was being taken away and she suddenly found herself completely devoid of hope. She wept bitterly for what seemed to be hours before once again succumbing to exhaustion.
The next time her eyes opened, she saw that it was a little after 3:00 a.m. and she felt like a dishrag that had been wrung completely dry. She grabbed a half full bottle of Mountain Dew from her bedside table and poured it down her throat. She had to swallow hard to keep it from coming right back up and she could feel it burn everything it touched. She felt weak and sick, but she knew that she’d better find something to eat or things would get much worse. She thought about getting some change off her dresser for the vending machine, but she quickly remembered that she’d probably have to search the floor for it. As she pulled herself off the bed and viewed the carnage in her dorm room, she knew that she just needed to get away from this place. She spent a few minutes stumbling around the room, stuffing some things into a duffle bag and then she headed for the parking lot. She didn’t know where to go, but anything had to be better than this.
She normally would have gone to the all-night diner, but she didn’t want to bump into anyone she knew, so she decided to go to the mini-mart by the interstate. She got a 24 oz. cappuccino; a 12 pack of Mountain Dew, a ham and cheese Hot Pocket and a big bag of Doritos. She sat in her car for 15 minutes while she finished the Hot Pocket and gulped down most of the cappuccino. As she pulled out of the parking lot, she saw the sign for the interstate and without hesitation, she headed for it. Since there’s nothing south of Florida, she decided to go north. She turned the music up loud, hoping to drown out any thoughts that might want to crowd in and she set the cruise control at 70 mph, hoping to put some distance between her and this place that suddenly felt like a dead end.
For the first couple of hours the trip was almost enjoyable. She had slept a lot that day and the caffeine was beginning to kick in, so she wasn’t having any trouble staying awake. It felt good to be on the road, but as the sun came up, the reality of her situation began to push against her. Pretty much all of her family lived in Ohio and she didn’t want any part of them or that place right now. She did have an estranged aunt, who lived in the Charlotte area, though she hadn’t spoken to her in years and wasn’t really sure how to get a hold of her. But since she was short on options, she decided to head in that direction.
Her Aunt Susan was her mother’s only sister, though it was hard to tell they were even related. Her mom (Ellen) was the quintessential straight arrow, who married her high school sweetheart, had two kids and who wouldn’t dream of missing church on Sunday; while Susan was the wild child; who never married, had no kids and who didn’t seem to care that she’d essentially been disowned by her family. The one thing she remembered about her aunt was how much she laughed and how that seemed to irritate her mother. Though she grew up with the idea that her family’s life was normal and that her aunt’s life was a little crazy, her years in college had made her wonder if that wasn’t backwards. At this point in her life, she saw her parent’s ideas about things like God, sex, marriage, politics… as antiquated and completely unrealistic. As she thought about it, she could see that she had a lot more in common with her aunt. They were both the younger of two daughters; both had older sisters who seemed to be perfect little wives and mothers; and neither of them showed any interest in the religion they’d been raised with. The more she thought about it, the more she was sure that her Aunt Susan might actually be the only one who could truly relate to what she was feeling.
Later that morning, she sent a text message to her older sister (LeAnn), who was able to respond with their aunt’s home phone number. That afternoon, when she called the number, a man answered, explained that her aunt wasn’t able to come to the phone, but said that he was willing to relay a message. When she explained that she was Susan’s niece and that she’d hoped to come by for a visit, the man, who said his name was Bob, seemed sure that Susan would be excited and gave her directions to the house. A couple of hours later, as she turned onto their street, she found herself hoping that Bob was right and that her aunt really would be excited about her just showing up this way. The neighborhood and the house weren’t as nice as she had imagined they would be, but the thought of getting out of the car was enough to make her dismiss any concerns about the quality of the accommodations. When she pulled in front of the house, she could see that it was in even worse shape than most of the others on the street; and she began to realize that she clearly had some misconceptions about the kind of lifestyle her aunt lived. When she flipped the visor down to see what she looked like in the mirror, she could barely recognize the face staring back at her. The image was startling enough that she decided to drive back into town to find a bathroom to clean up in; but before she was able to restart the car, a man walked out the front door with a big smile on his face and made his way to her door. Knowing it was too late; she opened the door and prepared herself to be pleasant.
“You must be Sarah” he said.
“Yes and you must be Bob”, she replied.
“Yes, that’s right. I’m your aunt’s, uh… friend” he stammered, as his face turned a little red.
“Well it’s good to meet you Bob; where is Aunt Susan?” she asked.
“Well, she’s not feeling very well, so we’ll have to go in to see her” he said.
“Oh, you should have told me she wasn’t feeling well; I could come back another time if you want” she offered.
“No, no, I think now is a good time” he said sheepishly.
Sarah could tell by the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice that there was more going on than what he was saying, but she figured that her aunt would probably explain it to her. As they came to the front door, Bob turned and said, “Please don’t mind the mess; things are a little hectic right now.”
Considering Bob’s warning and given the outward appearance of the house, the inside was much nicer than she expected. It was small, dark and a little cluttered with furniture and knick-knacks, but it seemed pretty clean and kind of cozy. As they stepped into the living room, she could see that there was a woman propped up on the couch, with pillows behind her and a blanket pulled over her; but Sarah couldn’t tell if it was her aunt. The woman seemed to be staring intently at the television and didn’t seem to notice them.
Bob said, “Susan, there’s someone here to see you.”
Susan looked horrified when she saw Sarah standing next to Bob and said, “Oh God Bob, I don’t want anyone to see me like this! Who is this girl?”
Sarah understood how her aunt might not recognize her, but her words still made Sarah feel awkward and out of place. She could feel herself shaking and her voice cracked, as she said, “Aunt Susan, it’s me – Sarah”.
Susan squinted for a moment before blurting, “Oh my God! Is that my little Sarah? Come over here and give me a hug baby!
Sarah moved quickly to her and knelt down next to the couch. Her Aunt Susan wrapped her arms around her and gave her a warm squeeze. As they separated, Sarah could see tears in her aunt’s eyes, as she said, “God! You are the picture of your father aren’t you? Look at you – all grown up. I think you were ten or eleven the last time I saw you and now you’re a woman.. God, am I old or what?”
Sarah didn’t know how to respond to anything her aunt had said, so she simply smiled, nodded and marveled at how different she looked. She realized that she must have been staring, as Susan said, “I know – I look like hell”. Sarah shook her head no, but Susan said, “You’re an even worse liar than your mother – I’m a mess baby!”
Sarah didn’t much like being compared to her mother, but she had to smile at her aunt’s bluntness. As she got back on her feet, Aunt Susan said, “Here baby, pull that chair over here and sit next to me.”
Susan then called out to Bob, who reappeared in the doorway. “Why didn’t you tell me this girl was coming for a visit?” she asked in mock indignation.
“Because, you’d have said no.” he replied with a knowing smile.
She smiled back at him and said, “You’re probably right. Can you get her something to drink and click that television off for me? I think the batteries in this remote are dead.” As Bob disappeared back into the kitchen, she added, “He’s not much to look at but he’s a good guy to have around.”
Again, Sarah thought she could see tears in her aunt’s eyes and again she wondered what was going on. Just as she was sensing the magnitude of her aunt’s condition, her aunt was sensing that the exhaustion she could see in Sarah’s face was from more than just the long drive. Though they both yearned to speak openly about what was going on in their lives at that moment, they instead spent the next 45 minutes catching up on news about various family members and events of the last dozen years. Just as the conversation was ready to turn to the present, Bob stuck his head in the door and said, “Nancy’s here”.
Her aunt explained that Nancy was her nurse and she suggested that Sarah use the break to get a nice hot shower. As much as Sarah wanted to continue their conversation, she was even more grateful for the chance to clean up. The events of the last twenty-four hours had made Sarah feel like a miner who was covered in coal dust; so she turned up the hot water as high as she could stand it and let it run for as long as it would last. Though the surroundings were unfamiliar, her aunt’s warm welcome had managed to calm her and she emerged from the shower feeling a lot better. By the time she made it back to the living room, the nurse was gone and her aunt appeared to have dozed off. She tried to be quiet, but when the floorboard squeaked beneath her feet, her aunt’s eyes popped back open.
“If you need to rest, I can leave you alone for awhile” Sarah said.
“No, no, honey. I can always rest later; I don’t want to miss the chance to talk with you. Bob is getting us some food, so let’s get back to our conversation” she replied.
As Sarah settled back into the chair, her aunt asked, “So what’s brought you to Charlotte?”
“You” Sarah replied with a smile.
Susan smiled back at her and said, “OK, let me re-phrase the question. What caused you to suddenly come and visit your old aunt, who you haven’t talked to in almost a dozen years?”
Sarah’s face became flushed with embarrassment, as she replied, “I’m not sure really. Things aren’t good at school right now and I didn’t want to go home either; so when I thought of you, I figured that this might be a good time to visit. Of course, I had no way of knowing that you were sick and if I need to go, I completely understand. I can always come back some other time.”
“No, no honey. Now is definitely the time to visit” she said with a sigh; and as her face grew more serious, she added, “I’m pretty sure that there won’t be ‘some other time’.”
“What is it Aunt Susan?” Sarah asked quietly.
“Cancer” she replied, as her eyes once again seemed filled with tears.
“Is there anything they can do?” Sarah pleaded.
“Not really; I’ve been battling for the last couple of years, but it’s all through my system at this point” she said.
“How much time are they giving you?” Sarah asked
“No one talks about an amount of time anymore, but I can tell you that Nancy is a Hospice nurse, so you can probably fill in the blanks” she replied, as a tear escaped down the side of her face.
“I’m so sorry” Sarah said breathlessly, as she once again knelt beside the couch and embraced her aunt. They held each other tightly for a few minutes, as they both grieved over the years that they’d lost. It seemed somehow unfair to Sarah that she’d finally rediscover her aunt, only to lose her a short time later; and as Susan held her tearful niece, she wondered if this is what it would have felt like had she become a mother. These thoughts drove both of them deeper into their sorrow and more firmly into each others embrace. It was finally Aunt Susan who broke the moment.
“Look at us, a couple of blubbering idiots. You didn’t come all this way for this. I’m not dead yet; we can do this at the funeral; let’s talk about what’s going on with you” she said, as she handed Sarah the tissues.
As Sarah wiped the tears from her cheeks, she sheepishly said “There’s really not a lot to talk about”
Susan rolled her eyes as she quipped, “C’mon honey, I may have retained much of my youthful beauty, but I wasn’t born yesterday. I could tell from the moment I saw you that you’re tied in knots – what’s really going on?”
Sarah started slowly at first, talking about her unfinished degree and the loss of her job; but the more she opened up, the more foundational the issues became. She spoke of how her sister LeAnn was the “perfect” child and how she never really felt like her parents were as supportive of her; she also admitted that in the years she’d been away from home, she’d really come to question a lot of the things they’d taught her. Susan listened intently and Sarah sensed that she truly understood and empathized with her. Just as she was confessing that she was at a loss as to what her next move should be, Bob walked in with a big box of Chinese food. After they sorted through the Sweet & Sour Chicken, the Moo Goo Gai Pan and the Lo Mein, Susan picked the conversation back up.
“So OK, I get that you’re feeling pretty alienated from your folks, but what about your sister?” she asked.
“I don’t know, I think she wants us to be close, but I have a hard time dealing with her. She’s always talking about her husband and their baby; it’s like she thinks that she’s got it all figured out and that I’m just the clueless kid sister. I guess I feel like she’s always judging me” Sarah replied.
Susan’s expression grew pained and her voice seemed low, as she asked, “Is that what she’s really doing or is that just how you’re feeling?”
Sarah was surprised and a little confused by the question, as she replied, “I guess I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”
“Look Sarah, you know that your mother and I haven’t spoken in years; do you know why that is?” she asked.
“No; mom would never talk about it and even though LeAnn always seemed to keep in touch with you, she never seemed to know anything either” she replied.
“The truth is that I felt pretty much the same way you do. I felt like my parents always favored Ellen and that I never measured up in their eyes. Just like LeAnn, your mother married her high school sweetheart and had her little family, which only made the comparisons seem worse. Everyone went on and on about Ellen and her perfect little life; and even though I never heard anything negative said about me, I always felt as though I was some kind of disappointment. I hated that feeling, so I stayed away from my family for the most part. When my mom died, I showed up at the funeral with a Bloody Mary in my hand, trying to drink my way out of a hangover. Your mother tried to keep me from making a big scene, but I resented what I saw as her interference and in the course of less than a day, I managed to pretty much alienate everyone in the family. The crazy thing is that it was the first time that your mother and I exchanged some truly hateful words and I never dreamed that those would be last words we ever spoke to each other.” Tears streamed down Susan’s face, as she stopped to regain her composure.
Though Sarah was gripped by her aunt’s story and empathized with her sorrow, she was still struggling to make the connection between that story and her relationship with LeAnn. After all, they never fought and she would never dream of drinking in front of her family. In a feeble attempt to comfort her aunt, Sarah assured her, “I can’t imagine LeAnn ever really saying anything hateful to me.”
Her aunt seemed to understand that Sarah was implying that something like this probably wouldn’t happen to her and with a new edge in her tone she replied, “The truth is Sarah that LeAnn doesn’t need to say something hateful. For years I told people that your mother called me a whore and a drunk; and you know what, I really believed that was true. But about a year ago, when I first realized that I wasn’t going to survive this cancer, I had an incredibly vivid recollection of our conversation that day and I realized that what she’d really said was ‘you don’t want people to think that you’re a whore and a drunk’. As I thought back on it, I realized that she was just trying to keep me from embarrassing myself and our family; but because I’d already concluded that I was being judged, all I heard were the words ‘drunk’ and ‘whore’. Now it seems to me that you’re in right about the same spot as I was and that it may not take much to get you over the edge. It sounds like you’re already wanting to distance yourself from your family and I’m sure that you can think of at least one instance where your hurt or frustration pushed you into saying something that you later regretted.”
Sarah’s mind immediately shot back to the last conversation she’d had with her mother and to the surprisingly harsh words that had come from her mouth.
“You see, when you get a chance to sit around day after day, pondering the reality of your impending death; you start to see your life through different eyes. You start to realize the difference between what was real and what was simply perception, or maybe even imagination. You know, when my dad left my mom, it felt like he was rejecting me too. The truth is that he never did reject me, but because I felt rejected, I rejected him. When your mom left for college and I had to live alone with our mother, who was in the midst of having a nervous breakdown, I felt as though she had abandoned me. The truth is that she’s always been there when I needed her, but because I felt abandoned, I’ve let myself be angry at her for all these years. When your mother first got with your dad, I laughed at her, because he was a nobody and I felt like she could do much better. But the truth is that your father is a great guy and I now realize how lucky she was to find someone who loved her like that. I remember when she got pregnant and how crazy I thought it was that she’d forfeit her whole life just to have a kid; but now I see that the truth is that you guys have been her greatest joy and that I was the one who really forfeited my whole life. I’ve rationalized every hedonistic urge with the idea that I wanted to have ‘no regrets’ at the end of my life and now as I face that moment, I find that I have nothing but regrets. I’ve been from here to Paris, to the Great Wall of China and back again; I’ve smoked, snorted and injected all the best drugs; I’ve had sex in elevators, on airplanes and on the beach; I’ve skydived, white water rafted and bungee jumped; I’ve pretty much tried everything that the world said is truly living and now I realize that I somehow managed to miss what life is really all about. I’ve scoffed at religion and thumbed my nose at God, because I felt like it was nothing but a crutch for weak minded people, but now as I face my mortality, I find myself praying that there is something more out there and if there is a God, that He can forgive me for denying that He was real. If you would have only come a few years ago, we could have cracked a beer together and I’d have told you ‘to hell with college and with a family who doesn’t really understand you’; but you came today and now I know better. When I look at you, I see me twenty-five years ago and it scares the hell out of me. For God sakes Sarah – don’t be like me! Don’t throw away the things that really matter because it’s too hard or because it doesn’t ‘feel’ good.”
Sarah sat in stunned silence; overwhelmed by the sheer breadth of what her aunt had said. Somehow it felt like an indictment and as though a glass of cold water had been thrown in her face. It wasn’t at all what she’d expected and yet everything her aunt said seemed undeniable to her. Somehow the moment reminded her of the scene in the Wizard of Oz, where the curtain is pulled aside and the illusion of the ‘Great and Powerful Oz’ is dispelled. That moment always seemed bittersweet to Sarah, because while the illusion of the ferocious Oz was broken, so was the illusion that he could somehow get her home to Kansas. Again, she realized that she must have been staring at her aunt, as Susan said, “I’m sorry honey; I didn’t mean to preach at you. I guess I’m kind of losing it.”
“No” Sarah interjected, “I think that I probably needed to hear that.”
“Well, maybe you did” she chuckled, “But don’t kid yourself, I really am losing it. The other day I was watching the ‘Beverly Hillbillies’ and they were eating at the ‘fancy eatin’ table’; you know, the one with the nice green tablecloth and the built in cup holders. I was laughing at the absurdity of the idea that they would mistake this billiard table for a dining room table, when it hit me that this was like an analogy for my life. Here I spent all this time trying to make it work one way, only to find in the end that it was designed to be something totally different. I remember being in college and feeling sorry for my friends who were ‘stuck’ in relationships, while I was ‘free’ to live the ‘good life’. To my way of thinking, I was getting fresh hot meals, while they were stuck trying to warm up leftovers; but now I look at their lives and realize that I was the one who was missing it. I was snatching up all of the forbidden fruit, thinking that it was passion fruit – but now I see that none of that passion was really for me, it was just for the momentary thrill of the ride. A few months ago, I realized that all I really wanted was for someone to love me; and the crazy thing is that I’m the one who kept that from ever happening. Whenever anyone got too close, I’d run them off. You know what else; I realized that every time I had sex with a guy and he’d leave, I’d experience that same sense of rejection I felt when my father left. Is that insane! I mean this is the most painful moment of my life and yet somehow I find a way to re-live it over and over again. And as if all that isn’t twisted enough, here’s another crazy idea – it occurred to me one day that Bob might actually love me. I mean, we’ve been living together for about five years and he’s really been nothing but good to me. For a long time I figured that I was just someone to split the bills with and a steady source of sex; but I haven’t worked in the last couple of years and since they chopped my breasts off, I really don’t like to be touched; and yet here he is, still taking great care of me.”
“So what’s so crazy about that?” Sarah asked.
Tears once again began to pour from Susan’s eyes as she said, “The crazy thing is that I can’t seem to love him back. It’s like all my circuits are fried. I’m so grateful for him and all that he does for me. I’m so touched by how he cares for me and yet somehow my heart is completely numb. It makes me feel ashamed, because he deserves someone who will love him back and I want to be that person, but its like my heart is already dead. God Sarah, don’t let this happen to you; don’t live the life I did. I’ve missed it, but there’s still time for you!”
Again, Sarah fell into Susan’s embrace, as some emotional pocket within the both of them seemed to burst open. Sarah could feel Susan’s great love for her and the deep love that she had for her aunt; and as they wept together, years of pent up hurt and frustration seemed to pour out of them. After several minutes, Sarah pulled her head off Susan’s shoulder and cupped Susan’s face in her hands; and as she looked deeply into her eyes, she said, “I love you Aunt Susan”. Susan beamed back at her and said, “I love you too baby”. Sarah passed Susan a handful of tissues and grabbed another bunch for herself, as they both tried to regain their composure.
After a few minutes of them both being lost in their thoughts, Sarah broke the silence. “You know how you talked about the difference between how things feel and how they really are?”
“Yes” she replied.
“Well, it may ‘feel’ like it’s too late, but the truth is that it’s not too late” Sarah said as she picked up her cell phone.
“What are you doing?” asked Susan.
“I’m taking care of what really matters” she replied, as she pressed the speed dial and handed the phone to Susan.
A look of panic flashed across Susan’s face as she tentatively put the phone to her ear.
“Hello… Ellen”
“Yes…it’s me…Susan”
“Yes, she’s here with me and she’s fine”
“Amen…I love her too”
“Yeah, I’m OK…Well, I guess the truth is I’m pretty sick, but I’m glad that Sarah is here.”
(through tearful eyes & with a cracking voice) “Yes, I’d love for you to come!”
“Please hurry Ellie!”
Bjcorbin's Blog 
Palm Sunday
March 29, 2010 by bjcorbin
As we approach what is arguably the most significant week on the Christian calendar, I find myself drawn to the scene known to Christians as “The Triumphal Entry”. As Jesus heads toward Jerusalem for the Passover, He is met by crowds of people, who hail Him as King; laying down their cloaks and palm branches along the road. The scene is filled with symbolic images that would be obvious to those immersed within the Jewish culture and it would seem to be a fitting response to the short, but amazing ministry of Jesus. Unfortunately, just a few short days later, there would be crowds yelling, “Crucify Him!” in the heart of Jerusalem. Years ago, I caught myself wondering how the people had managed to get from the elation of the Triumphal Entry to the scorn of the crucifixion; and as I was praying, I felt as though the Lord began to give me some insight.
The first realization was that the voices hailing Him as King on the road to Jerusalem were likely not the same voices shouting “Crucify Him!” in the center of town. Luke’s gospel characterizes the people who met Him on the road as disciples, and John’s gospel explains that these were people who’d been touched by Jesus’ ministry; much of which had occurred outside of Jerusalem. While there were a few amongst this crowd who weren’t supportive (i.e. Pharisee’s), these people were essentially His followers.
I also sensed that the location was significant; as these people met Him outside of town, on the road coming from the Mount of Olives. While Jerusalem represented the center (i.e. the mainstream, the establishment…) of Jewish culture, this coronation took place on the outskirts of the city and ultimately of the culture. These people were not necessarily the elite, the powerful, or the influential; they were just people who’d encountered Jesus and who had some sense of His significance. Jesus Himself seems to make the distinction between these followers who were praising Him, and the mainstream of the culture, as He stops in the midst of this atmosphere and weeps for Jerusalem; stating that they did not understand the time of God’s coming to them.
Within the city the atmosphere was very different; with the most powerful and influential elements of the culture at least wary of Jesus, while most were deeply threatened by Him. Jesus did not enter the city meekly, as He proceeded to the temple and immediately began to turn over the tables of the money changers. The authority with which He spoke, and the influence He seemed to be having with the people were something that the (self-appointed) guardians of the culture could not tolerate. While those who met Him on the road may have been totally sincere in their declarations, they were not powerful enough to stand against the mainstream of the culture. The scripture doesn’t record any cries of rebuttal to the shouts for His crucifixion, nor any uprising amongst the people to come to His defense.
As I pondered the jubilant atmosphere of our Palm Sunday services, I realize that the followers of Jesus Christ in America are in much the same situation today. The church in America has been relegated to the fringe of the culture, where our declarations of Christ’s kingship will not reach the ears of those in the mainstream. Our gatherings are tolerated, as long as they remain on the outskirts of the national psyche. Within the elements that mold and shape our culture (e.g. media, government, education…) there is no longer a tolerance for the name of Jesus. While we as His people may be sincere in our convictions, we’ve been largely silenced within the mainstream of our society.
As I pondered all of this, I was reminded of Peter speaking to the people of Jerusalem on the day of Pentecost. Just days before Peter had been afraid to even admit that he knew Jesus; yet after being empowered by the Holy Spirit, he stood boldly before the very people who demanded the crucifixion, declaring their need to repent of killing the Messiah. Isn’t it interesting that the Lord instructed the Apostles not to leave Jerusalem; after all the Holy Spirit could have come to wherever they were, but God wanted this to take place in Jerusalem.
What began on that day was not natural; the Apostles didn’t run for election to the city council, they didn’t circulate petitions around Jerusalem protesting the unfair treatment of Jesus; they didn’t buy up businesses within the city to gain influence over the people; they tapped into the promised, supernatural power of God. While the Apostles position within the culture didn’t change, their influence can still be felt today.
As the followers of Jesus Christ in America plot to regain influence within our culture, I’d suggest that we too need to tap into the supernatural power of the Holy Spirit before we attempt to engage the culture. While gaining positions of influence within the culture can certainly help to effect change, without the power of God, we risk being more influenced by the culture than being an influence for Christ. Unless the Lord builds the house, we labor in vain; apart from Him we can do nothing, but through Him all things are possible.
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Posted in Commentaries, Opinions, Social / Political | Tagged Christ's kingship, guardians of culture, killing the Messiah, Palm Sunday, Triumphal Entry | 1 Comment »