“That’s my story, Joe,” Mike
concluded. “It needs some work, but what
do you think?”
“I really liked it. What a twist.
You sure took me back to my high school days.”
“Well, I taught high school for a
time. I kind of tapped into that resource.”
“Can I ask you a personal question,
Mike?”
“Sure.”
“Are you a believer?”
“I am, Joe, though I’m not very
traditional. I meet with a small group, but it’s not like a typical church. We meet
in people’s homes and other places.”
“Like what?” Joe asked.
“Oh, a park when the weather’s nice.
We met in a bar for a while. No alcohol. But then the bar closed down and we
started meeting in a funeral home. Now we kind of take turns meeting in each
other’s homes.”
“That sounds pretty cool, Mike. I
don’t have a church group, but I’m going to reconnect with some friends when I
get back to the city. We’ll see what happens then.”
Just then the train started slowing
down. “Well, this is my stop coming up, Joe. Here’s my address. If you are ever
back up this way, drop in.”
“I will, Mike. Nice talking to you.
Thanks for the story. It’s just what I needed right now.”
When Mike got off the train Joe
made his way to the club car. It was dinner time and even though he’d eaten
earlier, he decided to get something. He found a seat across from an elderly
couple. The old gentleman looked up and smiled when he sat down. Joe noticed
that his hand was resting lightly on hers as they sat waiting for their meal.
It was a small thing, but it impressed Joe that this couple-who looked to be in
their eighties-were still affectionate with each other. He wondered where he
would be and with whom when he was eighty.
“Where are you headed?” the man
asked after Joe had ordered his food.
“I’m on my way to the city. I’m
going to visit some friends. What about you?”
“Headin’ home. We have a little
apartment up on Smith Hill. Been there for years. My name is Joshua.”
“Pleased to meet you. My name is
Joe.”
Joe noticed the man did not
introduce his wife, and that she hadn’t looked up from the table since he’d sat
down. Their food came and the man took her plate and set it in front of her. He
put a fork in her hand. Joe tried not to stare as she fumbled with her
potatoes. She managed a few bites, but eventually gave up, or lost interest.
Joe wasn’t sure.
“She’s got Alzheimer’s, Joe,” he
said as he wiped her mouth. “I lose a little bit more of her every week, it
seems. She knows me, but she can’t
remember my name. We had sixty great years together, but…the woman I married is
lost inside there,” he said as he touched her head with the tips of his
fingers. He tried to help her while he was eating, but she got agitated and
kept repeating “No, no” until Joshua excused himself and took his wife back to
their cabin. The steward had barely cleared the table before someone else sat
down. Joe was dismayed to discover it was Eddie, the last person on the train with
whom he wanted to eat dinner. When his food came; Joe bowed his head to pray,
and tried to be thankful even as the smell of cigarettes and whiskey assaulted
his nose. He opened his eyes, but didn’t look up. Joe tried to pretend he was
alone. But then, “You gotta light?” Eddie asked. No intro, nothing, just the
question. Eddie’s voice was like gravel. He sounded just like someone who’d
spent most of his life in a smoky bar.
“I don’t smoke, Eddie,” was all Joe
would offer.
“How you know my name?” Eddie
asked.
“I met Suzy this afternoon. She
told me a little about you.” Joe was trying hard not to be hostile. “There were
also some things she didn’t tell me-until I asked-like that black eye she tried
to cover with makeup.”
“Yeah,” was all Eddie could manage.
Joe could think of nothing to say that wouldn’t be tinged with anger, and he
didn’t really want a confrontation, so he ate in silence. Eddie’s food
came-cheeseburger and fries-he wolfed it down and left. Joe finished his meal
alone, but when they came with the check, he realized Eddie had stiffed him for
the meal. He started to get angry, but what was the use? Eddie was a waste of a
human being. It wasn’t worth the few bucks the meal cost to cause a scene. He
paid the bill, went back to his seat, and tried to forget about Eddie. He read
for a few hours until he got sleepy, then he put his seat back and closed his
eyes. He thought about Paul and Priscilla and the kids. He thought about his vision
on the mountain. He gave a little sigh. But then another, now familiar, thought
came to him: that was all past. To look back to something good was little
different than looking back to something bad. With that he fell asleep.
Joe woke up several hours later.
Someone had a hold of his arm. “Hey wake up. Wake up.” It was Eddie. Joe put
his seat up. It was dark. Everyone was asleep; everyone but Eddie, and now him.
“You gotta help me, man. I’m in bad shape.”
“What’s the matter, Eddie?” Joe
asked.
“You gotta help me,” he repeated.
“I can’t help you. I’m not going to
give you any money, and anyway, the bar is closed.”
“Naw, it’s not like that. I’m
sick.”
Joe could smell the booze. “You’re
drunk.”
“Please help me. I’m going to puke.
I can’t find the bathroom. I saw you pray. Don’t you have to help me?”
Joe got up. “Follow me.” He made
his way back, and into the next car. There was a narrow passageway. Joe knew
the bathroom was about halfway down. He heard Eddie say something and turned
around just as Eddie lurched toward him and vomited. He turned his head, but he
was too close. Eddie got his shirt, his pants, his shoes, the wall, the floor
and himself.
“Eddie!” he yelled. “What the…?”
but there was no answer to that question. Joe grabbed Eddie’s arm and pushed him
into the bathroom. Eddie vomited again. Some of it, at least, went in the
direction of the toilet. Joe lost track of how many times he vomited. Finally
he left Eddie in the bathroom and tried to clean up the hallway. It was no use;
there weren’t enough paper towels to clean up this mess. Eventually he tracked
down one of the stewards and the two of them got the hallway and the bathroom
reasonably clean. When they were done Joe went back in to check on Eddie.
“Eddie, do you have a change of
clothes?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Eddie responded. He was
sitting on the floor with his head on the toilet seat. His eyes were closed,
and he was as white as a sheet.
“Where are they?”
“Yeah.”
“Eddie! Where are your clean
clothes?”
“Garbage bag…under my seat.”
“I’ll be back.”
“Yeah.”
Joe went back to their car hoping
the stench of vomit on his own clothes would not wake anyone. He found Eddie’s
bag. When he picked it up he heard the sound of bottles rattling inside. He got
a change of clothes from his own bag and went back to the bathroom. Eddie had
not moved. He opened the bag and found another pair of jeans, some underwear
and a t-shirt inside along with two bottles of cheap whiskey. Joe opened the
bottles and poured them into the sink. He looked at Eddie.
“Eddie, can you change your
clothes?”
“I just want to sleep,” was all he
answered.
“Fine,” Joe said to no one. He took
off his own clothes and bathed himself as best he could in the sink. He took
the soiled clothing and put them in a plastic bag he’d gotten from the steward,
and tied it off.
“Your clothes are on the hook,
Eddie,” he said as he left. He stepped over Eddie’s legs and went back to his
seat. He was tired and disgusted. He tried to sleep, but he was too angry. As
he sat there he began to think about the story Mike had told him. Then he
remembered the napkin Nathan had given him. He dug it out of the side pocket in
his bag. He read the words he didn’t really want to think about: “Lesson number
Two: love your neighbor as you love yourself.” It sounded great when Nathan
said it in the café, but now it seemed like a punishment. Did ‘neighbor’ apply
to Eddie? How could he know? He didn’t have a Bible with him. He didn’t have
Nathan or Philo to ask. He put the napkin in his pocket and stared out at the
darkness. But fifteen minutes went by and Eddie had not come back. Joe got up.
He crossed his arms and shook his head. He thought of a dozen excuses why he
should leave Eddie in the bathroom. Then he wondered: why did he think of Eddie
as an enemy, and not a neighbor? Eddie wasn’t the Enemy. He was a casualty of
war. Joe turned and walked to the back.
In the bathroom he found Eddie in a
fetal position on the floor. He’d gotten his shirt off, and his pants were
tangled around his ankles. He’d thrown up again. The place reeked. Eddie was
shivering so bad his teeth rattled. When Joe bent down over him he opened his
eyes and looked desperately at him. “Cold,” was all he said.
Joe found it impossible to nurture
his anger any longer. He got Eddie off the floor and into a sitting position.
He washed his face and arms. Then he washed his chest and legs. He got the
t-shirt on him and the socks. “Eddie, we got to change your shorts.”
“Yeah,” was all he said, but then
he managed to get them off, and with only a little help from Joe they got the
clean pair on him and then the jeans. Joe put his tennis shoes back on and tied
the laces.
“Okay, Eddie. Let’s get you back in
a seat.” He got him on his feet and helped him back into the car, but he sat
him next to where he was sitting. He got a pillow and a blanket and propped
Eddie against the window. He was still shivering badly, but Joe sat as close to
him as he could, and eventually that stopped and he went to sleep. Joe was
exhausted. He drifted off just as dawn was breaking.
Joe woke with a start. Something
seemed different, and then he realized the train was slowing down. How long had
he been asleep? He looked outside. He could see houses and streets and a water
tower off in the distance. It had “Hillside ”
painted on the side. Then-
“Hey, Eddie,” he said as he nudged
him, “What’s your stop?”
“What stop?” Eddie still wasn’t
processing very well.
“Where do you get off? What town?”
“Parent’s house,” he said as the
train pulled into the station.
“What town, Eddie?”
“Hill Town
“Do you mean Hillside ?”
“Yeah, that’s it.” He was barely
awake.
“Well, we’re here. You’ve got to
get off the train.”
“Can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Need a drink.”
“Eddie! You almost killed yourself.
I poured all your boozed down the sink last night. Now listen to me. We are at
your stop.”
“Yeah.” But he didn’t move.
“Come on. I’ll help you.” He pulled
him to his feet. He got Eddie’s left arm over his shoulder and he grabbed him
around the waist. They stumbled and bumped down the aisle and out onto the
platform. It seemed to take forever. Joe took him inside and sat him on a bench
against the wall. Then he ran back on the train and got Eddie’s bag. He ran
back into the station. Eddie was asleep.
“Eddie, who’s picking you up?” he
asked as he shook him.
“What? Uh, gonna call.” People were
loading on the train.
“Call your parents?”
“Yeah.”
“When are you going to call them?”
“When we get to Hill Town
“We are here, Eddie. Go call your
parents.” But he knew it was useless. In that moment he made a decision. He
went to the ticket window.
“When does the next southbound come
through?”
“Two days, about this time.” The
woman told him.
“Two…?” but he didn’t have time to
deliberate. He ran onto the train and got his backpack. He’d figure something
out. He just couldn’t leave Eddie like this. When he got back inside he went
over and sat down across from him.
“Eddie, are you awake?” No
response. He was breathing. Joe put their stuff in a locker and went to find
some coffee. There was only a vending machine. Not his favorite source of caffeine,
but it would have to do. After he finished his coffee he got out a pen and sat
down again across from Eddie.
“Eddie, wake up.” He pulled him up
into a sitting position.
“How ya doin’?” Eddie asked. He
looked around. His eyes were bloodshot. He was still confused. “Am I home?”
“I think this is your stop. Look
I’ll call your house if you write down the number.”
“Yeah, sure.” Joe gave him the pen
and a brochure he’d picked up. Eddie wrote the number down. When he got up to
find a pay phone, Eddie grabbed his arm and said, “Hey.” Joe turned around, and
Eddie asked, “What’s your name?”
“It’s Joe.”
“I don’t remember much from last
night, but thanks, Joe.”
“It’s alright,” he said as he
turned to leave. He found the phone outside and dialed the number. Someone
picked up on the first ring. It was a female voice with an accent he couldn’t
make out.
“Cornell residence, Lana speaking.”
“Hello,” Joe began. “My name is
Joe, and I met Eddie on the train. He gave me this number to call. Is this the
right house?”
“Yes, you have called the right
place. This is his parents’ residence. How can I help you?”
“Is this his sister?” Joe asked.
“No. I work for the Cornells.”
“Okay…well, Eddie is in pretty bad
shape. We are at the train station. Can someone come to pick him up?”
“Just a minute.” Joe heard her put
the phone down and walk away. He waited for almost five minutes. Then someone
picked up another phone.
“This is Mrs. Cornell. To whom am I
speaking?”
“This is Joe.”
“Why are you calling, Joe?”
Joe was set back by the question,
but he told her everything he’d told Lana. When he finished all she said was
“We’ll send someone down. Thank you.” and she hung up. Joe was confused, but
what could he do? He went back into the lobby. Eddie was asleep again. Joe sat
down and closed his eyes. Forty minutes later a man in a white dress shirt and
black slacks came in and walked straight up to Joe.
“Are you Joe,” he asked.
“Yes.”
“I’m going to get Edward in the
car,” he said. “What are your plans?”
“I, uh…I don’t know. I don’t have a
place to stay tonight. Can you drop me somewhere?”
“You may stay at the house, if you
prefer.”
“Are you sure it’s okay?”
“I’m sure. Do you have luggage?”
“Yes.”
“Why don’t you get that while I
assist Mr. Cornell?”
Joe went to the locker and
retrieved the bags. When he went outside he was surprised to see a black Mercedes
parked in front. The trunk was open and the man put Joe’s bag in and then
opened the back door for him. When Joe got inside the car Eddie was huddled in
the back seat not saying anything. There was a gentleman who looked about sixty
in the front passenger seat. He turned around.
“Good day, Joe. I’m Ed’s father. If
you haven’t been introduced, this is my driver, Mr. Ames.” And with that they
were off. They left the station and immediately got on the freeway. Ten minutes
later they exited on a two lane road heading away from town. No one made small
talk. No one talked at all. The car was silent. Joe looked at the houses going
by in the morning light. They all seemed to be real nice, but then the car they
were in was nice also. Finally the silence was broken when Mr. Cornell said:
“So, tell me, Joe, how much do you want?”
“Excuse me? I don’t understand.”
Joe responded.
“How much money, Joe? I’m sure you
understand that.”
Joe was about to answer when the
car phone rang. Mr. Ames answered and then gave the phone to Mr. Cornell. He
said, “Yes, we have him…Not good…No, same as always. It would be a good idea to
call Dr. Kim…I don’t know yet. We’ll see you in a few minutes. Goodbye.” He
handed the phone to Mr. Ames and then without turning back around said, “Here’s
how I see it, Joe. You are a friend of Edward’s. You have done him a great
service by bringing him back home. It’s only right for you to feel the need to
be compensated. How much do you think would be fair?” The sarcasm in his voice
was subtle, but unmistakable.
Mr. Cornell’s words made Joe angry,
especially after what he’d been through last night. “Mr. Cornell, you misjudge and
insult me. You met me twenty minutes ago. I think it’s arrogant of you to think
you know anything at all about my motives. I don’t mean to be disrespectful,
sir, but you’re wrong. If you’d let me out by a gas station, or a pay phone,
you will never see or hear from me again.” There was a long pause, and then Mr.
Cornell said, “Perhaps. Why don’t you lunch with my wife and me this afternoon?
We can discuss this issue then. At any rate, you’re welcome to spend the night
with us.”
“That’s fine with me. Thank you.”
Nothing else was said for the rest of the trip. A few minutes later they turned
off the road onto a wide driveway. On both sides were low stone walls leading
to a huge wrought iron gate that was just swinging open as they turned. The
driveway wound around and up the back side of a large hill. As they crested the
hill Joe saw a beautiful mansion. In front was a semicircular brick drive. The
property was lush with trees, ferns, fountains and little stone bridges leading
over a man-made stream. The effect was at once, both breathtaking and peaceful.
The Mercedes stopped in front of
house. An olive skinned young woman was standing on the walk leading to the
massive front doors. At the front door stood a woman Joe assumed was Mrs.
Cornell with one hand at her throat and the other clutching a handkerchief. As
they got out of the car Mr. Cornell said, “Ames
“Yes sir,” She responded. With that
Mr. Cornell walked into the house with his wife and Joe did not see them the
rest of the morning. He took his backpack out of the trunk as Ames
Joe followed her into an expansive
foyer with a curved stair to the right. Straight ahead a wide hall led into
another room that from here seemed to be all windows. Lana led him into a hall
under the stair. At the end of the hall they turned left and went up a flight
of stairs. At the top was a short hallway with doors on both sides like a
hotel. Lana opened the first door on the left and went in. Joe followed.
“This is your room. There are
towels in that closet,” she said pointing. “The bathroom is there. The TV
remote is in the cabinet. If you need anything, dial two-two, and I will
answer. It is now…” she consulted her watch, “ten o’clock. The Cornells eat at
twelve thirty. I will come get you when it’s time.” With that she turned and
left, closing the door behind her. She did not raise her voice or sound angry
or slam the door, but Joe got the distinct impression he was not welcome. Even
so, there was nothing he could do about that right now. Besides, all he really
wanted was a hot shower and a nap, and that is exactly what he did.
A knock at the door woke Joe at
twelve twenty. It was Lana. “It’s time for lunch.”
“Okay,” Joe responded. She didn’t
move.
“Your hair,” was all she said. Joe
went to the mirror and brushed his hair. Apparently he passed muster because
Lana turned to leave. This time they went the other way down the hall to yet
another stairway. It led to the room Joe had seen before with the windows. It
appeared to be a family room. He saw a terrace outside that overlooked a large infinity
pool. They went through a door to his left that led to a formal dining room. No
one else had arrived. The table could seat a dozen people, but there were only
three places set at one end. There were fresh flowers on the table and candles
lit in various places in the room. On one wall were several arched windows that
looked out at the driveway where they came in. Hanging on another wall was a
painting of the family. Mr. and Mrs. Cornell were seated and three children
stood by them, two teenage girls and what appeared to be about a ten year old
Eddie. Joe tried to imagine what might have transpired between the painting and
the young man who vomited on him last night. It occurred to him that people
make choices not fully understanding the path those choices place them upon.
They don’t really know where the path leads, but they can’t seem to get off
even though things are bad. But maybe they don’t always want to get off. For
some, a known bad is better than an unknown. Joe knew that such thinking could
lead to despair if not for the Lord. What he had learned since he became a
follower of the Way was that you don’t choose the path, you choose Jesus.
“Good afternoon,” a female voice
spoke to his back. He turned. It was Mrs. Cornell.
“You must be Mrs. Cornell,” Joe
said shaking her hand.
“Yes, but you can call me Cynthia. My
husband will be down in a minute. He’s on the phone with a client.” Mrs.
Cornell looked to be in her late fifties. She was slender, about Joe’s height,
and had graying hair. She wore tan slacks and a burgundy silk blouse which, for
her, was probably casual.
“What does Mr. Cornell do?” Joe
asked.
“He owns a telecommunications
company. He started it on his own about thirty years ago. Now he has forty
employees. Most of the work he does now is with the phone and the computer. He
has a young man working for him who oversees all phases of the actual work. He
came up through the company and will probably take it over someday. It was our
hope that Edward might be able to do that, but…” She trailed off.
“How is he doing?” Joe asked.
“The doctor has seen him,” was all
she’d volunteer. Just then Mr. Cornell came in.
“Why don’t we eat?” he suggested as
he motioned to the table.
Joe sat across from Mrs. Cornell
and Mr. Cornell sat at the head of the table to Joe’s left. As soon as they’d
sat down a man came in pushing a cart. He looked at least as old as Mr. Cornell,
but it was hard for Joe to tell. From the cart he took a platter covered with
sliced meats, cheeses, crackers and bread.
“Joe, this is Mr. Rick. He has been
working for us…how long now?”
“If you don’t count the time you
put me out on the street, and the bike wreck, I’d say about eighteen years.
Yes, eighteen wonderful years.” Mr. Rick responded as he opened a bottle of
white wine, punctuating ‘wonderful’ with the pop of the cork.
“Mr. Rick is our chef,” Mrs.
Cornell said, changing the subject. “He has cooked all over the world, and
never ceases to amaze us. He can prepare anything we ask, but today we wanted
him to surprise us. What are we having for lunch, Mr. Rick?”
Mr. Rick stood at the table with
his hands clasped behind his back, gesturing occasionally at the food. “As you
can clearly see, there is before you a plate of meats and cheeses-I sliced myself.
Soon I will bring out a crab salad. You may eat that if it pleases you. Then I
have made, just for you, grilled chicken breasts on Kaiser Rolls. To drink we
have the wine I just poured, water in abundance, and momentarily I will bring
out iced tea. Anything else?” he asked as he tilted his head to one side and
raised his eyebrows.
“No, Mr. Rick,” Mrs. Cornell
answered calmly. “That sounds perfect.” At the word ‘perfect’ he lit up,
smiled, and marched out of the room. After he’d left, Mrs. Cornell said, “I
probably ought to explain. Mr. Rick has worked for us ever since we could
afford our own chef. He was always, shall we say, eccentric, but then he actually
did get in a bike wreck. That was probably fifteen years ago. He was riding his
ten-speed into town and swerved to miss a squirrel. He went off the road and
down an embankment. His bike hit a log. He flew over the handlebars and went
head first into a mail box. He was in the hospital for six weeks. There was a
time when he didn’t even know who we were.”
“Just so you know, Joe,” Mr.
Cornell added, “we never put him ‘out on the street’. There was a time, though,
when the business almost went under, that we had to let him go. We hired him
back as soon as we could, but for two years Mr. Rick had to cook for a local
steak house. It traumatized him. After the accident, he gets things confused,
that’s all.”
Just then Mr. Rick came in with a
pitcher of iced tea. He placed it on the table and turned to leave. Then
suddenly he stopped and turned back. He tapped a finger on his temple and
asked, “How many for lunch, ma’am?”
“Just the three of us, Mr. Rick.”
“Oh! Well, I have made sandwiches
for six. That leaves three to spare. What…?” He gave that look again where he
tilted his head.
“If it’s not too much trouble,
could you wrap the extras and put them in the walk-in? I might have one later,”
Mrs. Cornell offered.
“Yes, ma’am, I will.” Then just as
suddenly he turned and left.
“Now, Joe, let me change the
subject,” Mr. Cornell began. “I want to readdress our conversation in the car
this morning.”
“Yes, I would too,” Joe said.
“I want to believe you meant what
you said, but,” he looked over at his wife, “Ed has brought many friends here
to the house. Most of them have been users. By that I mean they use people for
their own ends. When they find out we have money…well, I lost count of how many
hard luck stories we have heard. We had no reason to think you were any
different. But in fact, you do seem to be different. So, I’m trying to say,
Joe, that you don’t owe us an explanation of how you came to be friends with
Edward, but if you felt like telling us your story, we’d like to have you share
it with us while we ate.”
“That is fine with me,” Joe began.
“First of all, I’m not really friends with Eddie in the normal sense. In fact,
he didn’t even know my name until a few minutes before you picked us up. Secondly,
I knew nothing of his family, or even that he had a family. I met him on the
train yesterday. At first I wanted nothing to do with him. I had met his
girlfriend earlier in the day and…uh, they didn’t have the best
relationship…She had the bruises to prove it.” He saw Mrs. Cornell react to
that news across the table and wished he hadn’t offered that information.
“Last night,” Joe continued, “Eddie
woke me up. He was in trouble and needed help.”
“What kind of trouble?” Mr. Cornell
asked.
“I don’t know much about alcohol
abuse, but it seemed to me that he’d drank so much that he was suffering from…I
think they call it alcohol poisoning.”
“Ed has had a drinking problem for
a long time,” Mrs. Cornell admitted.
“But why did he pick you out of all
the people on the train?” Mr. Cornell asked.
“Well, we’d met at dinner,” Joe
said. Then he explained how he’d stopped at Suzy’s bar and the events that
brought them to the point where Eddie woke him. He told them everything that
happened. Because they were eating, he spared them a description of the vomit,
smell and mess. He just explained that Eddie got sick. Then he told them of the
all-night vigil and getting Eddie off the train, and making the phone call that
morning. It was hard to relate all this because Joe couldn’t help seeing the
family picture on the wall opposite from where he sat. This story was about
their only son, their baby. They had to know Eddie had messed his life up, but
that probably didn’t make the reality of that mess any easier to take. Then Mr.
Rick came in with the cart again. He put the sandwiches on the table for each
of them and left, this time without comment.
“But there is something else,” Joe
continued. “This is a little harder to explain. Not long ago I became a
follower of The Way.” Joe paused for a reaction, but none came. “I have had so
much to learn, so many changes I needed to make in my thinking. One of these
lessons was learning to love my neighbor as I love myself. I think God brought
Eddie into my life so I could learn that very thing. I mean I didn’t really
want anything to do with Eddie, but there he was…I needed him as much as he
needed me, only in a different way.”
There was a long silence. Joe ate
his lunch and tried not to think of how uncomfortable he felt. He heard ice rattling
in their glasses, he heard some soft jazz playing from a speaker in the
ceiling, but no one said anything for several minutes. Finally Mr. Cornell
said: “Alright, Joe. You were right. I judged you too quickly. Will you accept
my apology?”
“Certainly,” Joe said without
hesitation.
“Something else,” Mrs. Cornell
spoke quietly, “Thank you, Joe. Thank you for helping him, and for bringing him
to us. We haven’t had any contact with him for months.”
They finished the meal and went to
the family room. After they’d sat down Mr. Cornell asked Joe, “I hope this
doesn’t come across in the wrong way, but is there anything we can do for you?”
Joe thought about that, and then
said, “I was on my way to the city, when I met Eddie. The person at the train
station said the next train is in two days. I need to find a motel and a ride
back to the station.”
“How would it be if we gave you a
ride instead of the train? The city is only about thirty minutes by car.”
“I don’t want to be an imposition,
Mr. Cornell,” Joe answered.
“It’s not a problem. Trust me; we
can afford it. You can stay here tonight if you want and Ames
“Thank you,” Joe said.
“Where exactly are you headed?”
Mrs. Cornell asked.
“I have some friends who run a
mission called The Refuge. I can stay there until…well, until I know what I’m
going to do with the rest of my life.”
“Can I offer you a job, Joe?” Mr.
Cornell asked.
“I sincerely appreciate that, but I
think the Lord is calling me back to the city to do some kind of work there.”
“Fair enough, but I want you to
know the offer is open.”
“Thank you.”
“Speaking of which,” Mr. Cornell
continued, “I have work to do myself. The house is yours,” he said as he stood,
“you can swim outside, play pool downstairs, listen to music, wander the grounds,
watch movies in the theatre, whatever you like. If you need anything just ask
Lana, or find one of us.”
“I’ll be out for a few hours,” Mrs.
Cornell said, “but make yourself at home. Again, thank you.”
“By the way,” Joe said, “will there
be a time, you think, when I could visit with Eddie?”
“Maybe this evening,” Mrs. Cornell
said. “As you know, he’s not doing well. I think the more sleep he gets right
now the better.”
“Okay, I’ll check on him later.”
After they left, Joe went out onto
the terrace. He admired the pool and the spectacular view. There were some
padded chairs to his right and Joe sat down there. Fifteen minutes later Lana
spoke to him from the sliding glass door: “Joe, excuse me. Mrs. Cornell said
you’d be staying the night and that I should show you around. Would now be
alright, or would you like me to come back later?”
“No, now is fine,” Joe said as he
got up. She showed him the entertainment room. It had a massive television
covering one wall. Another wall held an equally massive video library. They
went down hall to a room with a beautiful antique pool table complete with
leather pockets and pearl inlays on the rail. In another wing of the house they
took three steps up to an arched wooden door. Lana opened the door and they
entered the library. It had a fireplace
on one end and opposite it a curved wall that was solid books from floor to
ceiling. There were four leather chairs around a game table in the middle of
the room and two more chairs by the fireplace. The lower ceiling and abundance
of woodwork made the room cozy and inviting. Joe made a mental note to come
back here for sure. After they saw the exercise room, she took him outside and
showed where he could change and shower for the pool. She showed him the hot
tub. To his right was a hedge that must have been ten feet high. There was a
rugged wooden gate in the hedge.
“On the other side of the gate is a
pathway leading up the hill to the Perch.”
“What’s the Perch?” Joe asked.
“There is a bench inside a little pergola. You
can see all the way into the city from there. The lights are beautiful at
night.” Pointing to their left at another hedge, she said, “On the other side
of that hedge is the sports court. The shed where the A.T.V.’s are kept is
beyond that. There are a number of trails on the property. You can use the
A.T.V.’s, motorcycles, hike, or ride the bicycles. There is a wooded area up
behind the house that surrounds a little lake. It’s very nice up there this
time of year.
“How big is the property?”
“It’s big. I think it’s around two
or three hundred acres.”
“Wow.”
“I’ve walked the trails the trails
several times myself and I haven’t seen it all. Feel free to explore. Well
that’s about it, Joe,” Lana said as they headed back into the house. “If you
need anything, I have a little office off the kitchen.”
“Thank you, Lana,” Joe said as she
walked off. He tried to remember where the library was. He knew it was on the
second floor at the end of the hall. He found the arched doorway and went
inside, closing the door behind him. It was quiet. He looked around and tried
to take it all in. He had always loved reading, but there were more books here
than he could imagine outside of a public library. It was obvious these weren’t
books on display because they looked nice on the shelves. Many of them had been
read and showed the signs of wear. Some of the volumes looked quite old, to be
sure, and were probably rare, but for the most part this was a library that got
used.
Joe ran his fingers across the
spines as he perused the shelves. As he did he accidentally caught the edge of
a skinny little paperback that was sticking out. It fell on the floor. When Joe
picked it up the title read: The Mark of
the Christian. The author was some guy named Francis Schaeffer. He had
never heard of the author or the book, but the title intrigued him. Plus,
finding a book about the faith in this home was a bit of a surprise. He went
over to the fireplace and sat down. On the first page the author said there is
a universal mark that shows others that a person is a Christian. He quoted
Jesus’ statement in John 13:35, “By this all men will know that you are my
disciples, if you love one another.” Then the author said: “This passage
reveals the mark that Jesus gives to label a Christian not just in one era or
in one locality but at all times and all places until Jesus returns…We are to
love our fellowmen, to love all men,
in fact, as neighbors.” The statement about love jumped out at Joe. It was
exactly what he was trying to learn. Joe finished reading the book over the
next hour, but that initial thought stayed with him. He could never be used by
the Lord, never be successful on the Way, if he did not learn this great truth.
In fact, he had a lot to learn about many things.
Joe decided to walk one of the
trails and think some more about this. He took the book with him and found Lana.
He asked about the trail to the lake, and how much time he had until dinner.
With that he left. The hike was fairly flat and after about fifteen minutes he
saw the water through the trees. The trail made a loop around the lake. All
around the lake at regular intervals were white Doric columns connected by
arches. They were lit by ground level floods of different colors. The effect
was striking. To his right between two of the columns was a grassy area with a
picnic table. He walked over and sat down. It was peaceful here. Almost as soon
as he sat down he thought of Luther’s cabin in the woods-without the Greek
effect, of course. It made him feel both sad and happy at the same time. He wasn’t
sure why he felt sad, though, other than he had just escaped death at that time
and he had nothing in the world. But that was all past now and Luther had found
some kind of redemption, in part, because of Joe, so things were okay on that
front.
Then Joe thought again about this whole idea of loving
your neighbor as you love yourself. He remembered something that had been
written inside the cover of the book he’d read earlier. He opened the book. On
the inside cover it read “Jodie: ‘Let no
debt remain outstanding, except the continuing debt to love one another’-Rom
13:8. I hope you enjoy this little book as much as I did. Love, Marsha.” The
names meant nothing to Joe, but the biblical quote was exactly what he needed
to hear. How many people had shown love to him? A lot, it seemed. Each of them
had invested a certain amount of love in Joe’s life. It had cost them
something, but it was freely given. Now Joe needed to continue giving that love
to others. It was like Joe “owed” a payment of love. Whatever he did from this
point forward, wherever he went, it should be motivated in some way by his love
for others. Joe stood up. Now more than ever he was anxious to get back to the
city. He turned and headed back to the house.Questions:
1. In
what ways did Joe show God’s love to Eddie Cornell?
2. What
is the difference between liking someone and loving them?
3. What
does Eddie teach us about the nature of the second greatest commandment?
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