Month: October 2023

God and Girl is my first novel, written in 2015. I'll post it, a chapter a day, over the next few weeks.

I received the call around 4:15 Friday afternoon. I was at home.  It was unusual for Dr. Ayers to call me.  Her voice broke the minute she said my name.

“Ruthie, honey, Ellen has been in a car wreck and we are at Marshall Medical Center South.  I don’t know how bad she is hurt.  They won’t let me back to see her.  I was still at school when I got the call and came straight here.  I know Ellen would want me to call you.”

“I will be there just as soon as possible.”  I said.

I fell apart.  And, I fell to my knees beside my bed.  I wanted to pray but felt so unworthy and so afraid.  I started crying and moaning uncontrollably.  My Ellen, oh my sweet Ellen.  I cannot lose you.  I can’t make it without you.  ‘Oh God, if you are real, if you hear me, please help Ellen, protect her, save her God from all harm.’

As I was getting up I felt Mom’s hand on my shoulder. “Ruthie, what’s wrong?”

“Mom, I need to leave right now to go to the hospital.  Ellen has been in a car accident.  Please take me now.” “Let’s go.” Mom said.

We grabbed our coats and headed out. It was a clear and cold day in mid-November.

We met Dr. Ayers in the Emergency Room waiting room.  Her eyes were red and puffy. “They are trying to get her stabilized, so they can make some x-rays and give her an MRI.”  Dr. Ayers said.

“Do you know how bad she is hurt?” I asked.

“I was told a Doctor would be coming out soon to give me an update.”  Dr. Ayers said.

We sat down in the corner of the waiting room.  There were several other groups scattered around, all hovering together, eager for news about their loved ones.

“I’m looking for Mrs. Ayers, Ellen’s mother,” the tall and boyish looking man said standing closer to another family group than ours. “Over here doctor.  I’m Emily Ayers, Ellen’s mom.” “Do you want to talk in private?” the doctor said.

“No, that’s not necessary.” Dr. Ayers said looking at Mom and me.

“Your daughter has been in a very bad accident.  Her condition is a little more stable than when she first arrived, but she is critical.  She has suffered head and upper body trauma.  I cannot say more right now.  She is on her way to X-Ray right now.  I’ll keep you posted just as much as I can.  I ask that you all be patient.”  The doctor said.

“Doctor, is she going to make it?” Dr. Ayers asked.

“We are doing all we can for your daughter, but I will not mislead you.  As I said, she is in very critical condition.  Just pray all you can for her.” The doctor said walking away, back to the Emergency Room.

We all just stood there, looking at each other.  And then Dr. Ayers virtually collapsed into a chair.  Mom sat down beside her.  I knelt in front of her holding her hands.  We all cried our hearts out.

After what seemed like an hour or more, just trying to comfort Dr. Ayers, I needed comforting myself.  I got up, told Mom I was going to the Chapel and to come get me if there was any new news.

I had seen the sign on the other side of the Emergency Room pointing towards the Chapel.  I went in and down a long hall and walked into the Chapel.  It was set up pretty much like a church, with pews and an altar before a large cross at the front.  I went and knelt at the altar.

Ellen, baby, I need you to be strong and live.  I felt a powerful force pulling me to pray.  It was the most natural thing.  I had spent my entire life in church, believing in everything my Dad said, everything he preached, all the Bible.  I couldn’t do anything but pray.

“Dear Lord, forgive me of my sins.  Forgive me for not being faithful to you.  Father, please help Ellen. God, you know how I love her.  God, I don’t believe that you condemn Ellen and me.  I believe you love us just like you love your Son Jesus.  Oh Father, I pray for a miracle for Ellen.  Touch her body, her mind, her spirit.  Heal her God.  I need her in my life.  Lord, I can’t make it without my dear Ellen.”

I stayed for a long time and continued to pray as best I could, as heart-felt as I knew how.

“Ruthie,” I heard my Dad’s voice behind me.

“Honey, I am so sorry about Ellen. Can I pray for her?”  Dad asked.

I agreed, and he prayed the sweetest, most gentle loving prayer I can remember.  It was as though Dad and God were sitting together right here in the Chapel and Dad was talking to God as a faithful and obedient son.  I could feel Dad’s faith, his belief in what he was doing. I could feel his acceptance of me just the way I am.

Dad was continuing to pray when Mom came in and told us that a nurse had told them that Ellen was back from X-Ray and that the doctor would be coming out soon.  We returned to the Emergency Room to await the news.

The same young doctor as before, Dr. Spears, said “the news isn’t good.  I’m sorry.  Ellen’s brain is swelling, and we are doing all we can for its release, a place for the pressure to go—that requires a shunt.”  Also, she has a collapsed lung and internal bleeding.  She is being prepped for OR right now.  I’m sorry to have to tell you that the MRI shows Ellen has a brain tumor.  We do not know if it is malignant or not. 

I have asked Dr. Thornhill to join the surgeon while Ellen is in the operating room.  We will know more in a couple of hours.  I’m sorry.”  The doctor said.

The next few hours were the worst time of my life.  By now, Mr. Ayers had arrived.  He had been out of town when he got the news.  And, probably 30 to 40 others had come—teachers, students, neighbors, and friends.

I couldn’t take the crowd. I told Mom I was going outside to walk in the parking lot and to come get me with any news.  I walked out, and Dad tried to join me, but I told him I needed to be alone.

I walked in circles around the side parking lot.  It was not as full and seemed fewer cars were coming in and out compared to the main parking lot in the front of the hospital.

I couldn’t think of anything other than what the policeman had told Dr. Ayers when she first arrived.  She had finally told Mom and me what he had said.  He said that she had run off the road and hit a tree head on.  He said that the road didn’t show any signs of swerving or braking.  It appeared that she had simply driven straight into the large tree without attempting to miss it or to slow down.  He said it was difficult to know how fast she was going when she hit the tree, but he estimates 40 to 60 miles per hour.

The policeman hadn’t said, or Dr. Ayers had not told us, whether Ellen had suffered.  But of course, she is suffering now.  I wonder if she can think about what happened and what is going on now. I walked, and I walked.  I could not think anything good.  Every thought I had was that I was losing my Ellen, that Ellen was going to die, that I was going to be alone and frightened.  Was I being selfish?  Why was I thinking of myself?  Oh Ellen, I want you to live, but I don’t want you to suffer.  You are the most important thing in my life.  I will sacrifice everything just so long as you do not suffer.

When I finally returned to the Emergency Room, Dad was telling everyone that he was going to the Church.  He invited folks to come.  He announced he is going to start an all-night prayer vigil and asked that everyone spread the news.

By 10:30 p.m. most everyone except the Ayers and myself had left.  I had made Mom leave.  She had finally agreed but said that she would be with Dad at the church praying.

Around midnight Dr. Spears and the surgeon, Dr. Baker, came out and told us that Ellen was in intensive care.  They told us they had been able to stop the internal bleeding and relieve the swelling on the brain.  They said Ellen was in a coma and on a breathing machine.  Dr. Thornhill said they should have the results from the tumor biopsy by early morning.

“Can we see her?” I asked.

“I really don’t think that is a good idea.  She has been through a lot. But, I will let you look through the glass into her room, if you will not try to go in.” Dr. Spears said.

We rode the elevator to the third floor and was met by a nurse outside ICU.  “Dr. Spears told me you were coming.  Follow me, being very quiet and do not go into Ellen’s room.”

We stood at the large glass wall outside Ellen’s room.  I could see her, less than 10 feet from me, laying there with tubes everywhere, a large one in her mouth for breathing.  Her head was bandaged.  I couldn’t see her hair. I could see her hands folded over her chest and stomach.  Her eyes were closed.  She looked like she was asleep.  She looked like she was at peace.  I fought back my tears.  Was this a dream?  I couldn’t believe this was happening.  Surely, I will wake up soon and I will be beside her, in her car, heading to her house for our Friday night routine, to finish our Biology paper by midnight.  A swim downstairs, playing our silly quarter diving game ending with an embrace and nudging kiss as we sink to the bottom.  Drying off while rushing to the kitchen for cold pizza.  Then to her room.  Adele on the radio with a slow dance, our clothes falling to the floor as we fall into her bed. Time, touch, talk. 

Everything in my being told me that our Friday nights together were over, that never again would I lay beside the love of my life and stare into her beautiful blue eyes.  I felt as though I was being pulled down into the ocean, into the deep murky water, without any way to breathe, I was being drowned by the evil clutch of death pulling me deeper and deeper.  I was suffocating.

“I’m sorry but I have to ask you to leave now.  We will do everything we possibly can for your dear Ellen.  Please know that we care, that we sincerely care for her and for you.  God Bless you.  Dr. Spears will keep you posted.”  The nurse said nudging us out of the ICU. We walked out, and I returned to the Chapel.  I stayed there until 5:30 a.m.  At some point, I had fallen asleep. I was lying in the floor in front of the altar when Mr. Ayers called my name.

“Ruthie, oh sweet baby, Ellen is gone.”  I heard these horrific words and him sobbing uncontrollably, and then I fainted.

God and Girl is my first novel, written in 2015. I'll post it, a chapter a day, over the next few weeks.

After Poetry class, Ellen walked me to my locker.  Normally, she just heads out to the parking lot to wait on me in her car, or she will walk upstairs to her Mom’s Biology class.  

“I want to go with you tonight to youth group. Okay?”  Ellen said.

“Sure, as always, you are welcome.”

“I’m curious what you all do.”  Ellen said.

“Do you want to come by my house and pick me up and then us go together?”

“No, I have some reading to do so if it is okay with you I’ll just meet you there.”  Ellen said.

“No problem, see you at 6:30 in the Fellowship Hall.  Just park out back and come in the side door.”

We made our way outside to her car and I drove us to the Dairy Queen.  Just about the time we were about to park, she said she needed to go.

“I want to get on home.  I have that reading and I also feel like a nap.  You’re okay with that?”  Ellen said.

“Sure, you know I’m always available to talk if you need to.” “I know that my love.”  Ellen said.

I drove to my house and got out, watching Ellen drive off, wondering why Ellen was acting a little strange. I took a nap myself since no one was at home.  Mom came in just in time to take me to church. I needed to get there earlier to meet with Ryan to discuss tonight’s visit to Golden Living Nursing Home.  He was in charge.  We usually talk on the phone either Monday or Tuesday nights about our plans.  For two years we have alternated who is in charge.

“Hello Ruthie Kaye Brown. You turn 16 and start ignoring me.” Ryan said.

“I’m sorry I haven’t returned your calls.  It’s like I’ve been in another world since this past weekend.  I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted but I have a favor to ask.  I need to leave here just as soon as possible. I have that challenge exam in Calculus tomorrow morning.  I need to pull an all-nighter to cram.  I think I will be okay, but I will feel better if I review the prep guide.”  Ryan said.

“No problem.  What did you have planned for tonight?”

“We obviously are going to the nursing home, since this is the third Wednesday of the month.  The girls are teaming up.  I have the list here.  It includes the room assignments.  If all the girls show up, we will have 10 teams.  Each team is assigned three rooms.  The teams are to do some evangelizing.  They are to present the plan of salvation if they are given a chance.  I have written out the introductory script that I feel is a good way to direct the conversation.  The girls have been studying the FAITH tract for several weeks.  I believe they are ready.”  Ryan said.

“I feel you would do a lot better job at this than me. Maybe we need to wait till next month when you will be here.”  I said.

“Why are you so skittish about this?  You know this stuff backwards and forwards.  And, I emailed or texted everyone last night to be ready to do this.”  Ryan said.

“Here are the scripts.  I must go.  See you tomorrow.”  Ryan said as he dashed out the side-door just as Ellen walked in.

“Hey Ruth.” Ellen said as she walked towards me across the Fellowship Hall.

“Wow, where did the ‘Ruth’ come from?  You are totally serious about something when you do that.”

“I am serious.  I am serious about spending more time with you and learning more and more about what makes you a Bible thumper.  Ha.

Ha.” Ellen said half-silly but half-serious.

“Well my love, you will learn a lot tonight.  Here come the girls.

One or two will probably wind up the wife of a pastor, a Southern

Baptist pastor at that.  Oh, the horror.  Just kidding, I think.”  I said.

“Okay girls, take a seat and spend five minutes or so reading over the script I’ve placed on the tables.  I’m leading tonight since Ryan had to cram for a test.  I think you all should know we are visiting the nursing home and you will present the plan of salvation to residents.  The green sheet in the middle of each table is the team and room assignments. 

Study till I let you know when Mr. Gilbert is here with the bus.”

Mr. Gilbert was pulling up with the church bus by the time I had walked to the side-door and looked out.  “Okay girls, study time is over. 

Let’s go.”

The twenty young ladies are all responsible.  They’re six, seventh, and eighth graders.  Overall, they are serious about Christ, church, and our group.  Of course, there are a few who are getting pulled away, tempted away, by the world, its glitz and glamour, and the opposite sex of course.

After we arrive, and the ten teams head off to their assigned rooms, Ellen and I stand and talk with Mrs. Jordan, the night administrator.

“Thank you, Ruthie, for coming.  Be sure and let your Dad know how much we appreciate all your efforts on our behalf.  So many of our residents thrive on your visits.  Many of them do not have strong family ties, making for few visitors.  It seems like every Wednesday evening when I start my shift, I have two or three ladies ask if this is the night you all come.”  Mrs. Jordan said.

“You are so welcome.  Many of our girls are developing a relationship with one or more of your residents.  We certainly encourage them to.  We are working on an ‘Adopt a Grandparent’ program that we will tell you more about soon, hopefully before Thanksgiving.”  I said.

“Thanks again. Oh, sorry, but I’m late for a meeting with Mr.

Carlton’s son in 86B.  See you later.”  Mrs. Jordan said.

Just a minute or so later Leah and Rachel (yes, that is their real names) came rushing to Ellen and me and said that Ms. Townsend in 46A wants to talk with us but needed our supervisor present.

“Is that what she actually said?”  I said, totally confused.

“Yes. And we think it is a good idea too.  She is rather weird.” Rachel said.

All four of us walked down the main hall and to the right down another hallway to room 46A.

“Hello Ms. Townsend, how are you.  I am Ruthie.  And here is Ellen, and you’ve met Rachel and Leah.”  I said.

“Are you their supervisor?  They came in here a few minutes ago and told me their names and asked me if I wanted to be saved. I asked them, ‘saved from what?’ and they just looked at each other and that one (pointing to Rachel) said ‘from Hell.’ I thought these two dear ones were adorable.  I really liked their direct approach, but I thought they might need a little more training to satisfy the higher ups.”  Mrs. Townsend said.

“Thanks for allowing us to come.”  I said.

“Honey, what do you actually believe?” Mrs. Townsend said to Leah.

“Uh, uh, that Jesus was God’s son and He came to the earth and died on a cross for our sins and that He has saved me from eternal hell because I have believed him?”  Leah said.

“Oh honey, how old are you?”  Mrs. Townsend asked Leah.

“Thirteen.”

“Sorry my little one, but you are too young to know what you believe.”  Mrs. Townsend said.

“And what do you believe?” Mrs. Townsend said turning to me.

It was like I froze.  What a question.  And what a question right now.  Does she not know that I am a curious and creative one who has got herself caught out in the middle of the ocean, caught up in the perfect storm?  The high and turbulent waves of religion from the south, and the low and violent waves of science from all over the world?  I stood there for hours, it seemed.  I couldn’t think of what to say.  I was just about to say, ‘I don’t really know,’ when I thought that might not help Mrs. Townsend become a true believer.

“Ruthie has not been feeling well lately.  Let me tell you what she believes.”  Ellen said, saving my hide from an interrogation that was certain to take place at some point.  Dad knows everything that goes on when it comes to church.

Ellen had been standing kind of beside and behind me since we arrived.  She now walked out and right up besides Mrs. Townsend. “Have you ever heard of Reverend Augustus Montague Toplady?”  Ellen asked.

“No.”

“Have you ever heard of the song ‘Rock of Ages’?

“Well of course, do you think I’ve been living under a rock myself over the past ninety years?”

“Back in the year 1763 Reverend Toplady was walking along the side of a gorge, when suddenly a strong and powerful storm came out of nowhere.  He could fight the wind and the rain and make his way to a little gap in the rock wall.  Huddled up tightly in that little gap in the rocks he was struck by a song’s title.  It was as though God had inspired him.  So, he scribbled down some lyrics.”  Ellen said.

“Let me read a few of them to you.”  Ellen said pulling a foldedup sheet of paper from the back pocket of her jeans.  I could tell it was the same sheet I had given her in Mentone.

‘Rock of Ages, cleft for me,

Let me hide myself in Thee;

Let the water and the blood,

From Thy wounded side which flowed,

Be of sin the double cure,

Save from wrath and make me pure.

Not the labor of my hands

Can fulfill Thy law’s demands;

Could my zeal no respite knows,

Could my tears forever flow,

All for sin could not atone;

Thou must save, and Thou alone.

Nothing in my hand I bring,

Simply to Thy cross I cling;

Naked, come to Thee for dress;

Helpless, look to Thee for grace; Foul, I to the fountain fly; Wash me, Savior, or I die.

While I draw this fleeting breath,

When my eyes shall close in death,

When I rise to worlds unknown,

And behold Thee on Thy throne,

Rock of Ages, cleft for me,

Let me hide myself in Thee.’”

Mrs. Townsend, Ruthie here, my friend, believes that it is easy to believe in rocks, water, blood, fleshly wounds, hands, and tree-made crosses.  These things are visible.  She can touch them.  But, Ruthie also believes there are things all around her that she can’t see and touch. She believes strongly that she is blood, bone, and flesh, and she also believes that she has a spirit.  Like the wind moves a rocking chair outside on the porch, back and forth, her spirit is unseen but rocks her outward and upward. She believes in a Rock of Ages, one she can see and touch and cleave to and hide herself in.  She also believes in a Rock of Ages that cannot be seen, but she knows that out there somewhere, maybe everywhere, even right here in this room, there is a savior that takes care of little baby humans, maybe even those not even quite human. She believes this savior rocks her outward and upward ‘to worlds unknown.’ And that someday, that day soon or far, far away, she will cling to that ‘Rock of Ages,’ and let Him hide her, safely and sweetly, always and forever.”  Ellen said.

“Thank you dear.  May I have a copy of that?” Mrs. Townsend asked.

Ellen looked at me and then turned and handed her copy of ‘Rock of Ages’ to Mrs. Townsend. “Here is my gift to you.  You can have my copy.  Please read it over and over.  It has many secrets to reveal.”  Ellen said.

Our time was up.  Rachel and Leah and Ellen thanked Mrs. Townsend for allowing us to come.  I just smiled at her and walked out into the hall.  As embarrassed as I was I was thankful for this experience.  And, I was thankful that Ellen had asked to come along tonight.  She was so needed.  As we walked out and got on the bus I couldn’t help but be proud of Ellen.  She is truly curious and creative.  And, she is searching mightily for truth without varnish.

God and Girl is my first novel, written in 2015. I'll post it, a chapter a day, over the next few weeks.

It’s Friday, Algebra II is over straight up at 10:55 a.m., and the weather is glorious.  Having packed last night, we are ready.  Mentone, here we come.

Ellen’s parents let us drive on our own.  Ellen had turned 16 this past July and developed into a very capable driver.  Which, I shouldn’t doubt, since she was so responsible—an alert, attentive and obedient driver. To my surprise, Ellen had insisted that I drive.  She said I needed the practice for my upcoming driver’s license exam.

We couldn’t believe it had been a year since our first trip to Mentone. Last year, my 15th birthday, and now Ellen and I are here to celebrate my 16th birthday. This has the makings of an annual event, a real Ruthie/Ellen tradition.  But, more importantly, we are here together, to celebrate us, our lives.  We are so blessed that the stars so wonderfully aligned to open the door for us to have met, and for our hands to have joined.

We followed last year’s routine and went to the Wildflower Cafe after checking in and putting our luggage away in our room.  We both had the chicken salad plate.  We didn’t see Chaz, so we didn’t linger.  We returned to our room and started watching a Netflix movie on Ellen’s iPad but soon dozed off.

We woke up around 7:00 p.m., changed clothes and went outside to the porch and our swing.  Last year we had sat here snuggling under a dark green woolen blanket after we had listened to singer wannabees, and watched couples, old and young, sit by the big roaring fire, roast marshmallows, dance and kiss and kiss and dance on the browning grass and piling leaves in front of the make-shift stage.  Tonight, the music hasn’t started, but we see Chaz and his gang building a fire and lighting the grills.

We finally walk down off the porch and make us burgers, heaped with mayonnaise, ketchup, onion, tomatoes, pickles, and lettuce—just like we like them.  Ellen grabs two slices of sweet-potato pie and we sit down by the fire.  By now it has grown a little cool, so the heat of the fire is welcomed, and welcoming.  We cut up with Chaz and listen for hours as three or four sweet, but terrible young boys and girls try to sing. 

Finally, the Mountain Men (Chaz’ group) takes the stage.  

The Mountain Men do an unbelievably good job of treating us to songs from the group Alabama, including “Love in the First Degree,” and

“There’s a Fire in the Night.” By the time they start ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ we are out of our chairs and bumping butts on the dance floor—for some reason I’m not as intimidated this year.  We let loose in every way.  Ellen moves her hips and her head pulling back her long black curly hair as she puts her all into looking sexy for me.  We laugh and cry like never. But, it is ‘Touch Me When We’re Dancing’ that makes it feel so right, makes me feel like my heart, with victory flag in hand, has finally made it across a dry and lonely dessert and has reached the promised land.  I see my heart pull Ellen’s up on a rock and plant our flag. We are victorious.  We are in love. 

Play us a song we can slow dance on

We wanna hold each other

Play us a groove so we hardly move

Just let our hearts be together

Oh baby ’cause it feels so good

When we’re close like this

Whisper in my ear

And let me steal a kiss

Come on touch me when we’re dancing

You know you’ve got that lovin’ touch

Oh, touch me when we’re dancing

I wanna feel you when I’m fallin’ in love

Tonight’s the night and it feels so right

What my heart’s saying to me

You’re the one and I’ve waited so long

So, let your love flow through me

Oh baby ’cause it feels so good

We can be this close

You’ve got me up so high

I could fly coast to coast

Come on and touch me when we’re dancing

You know you’ve got that lovin’ touch

Oh, touch me when we’re dancing

I wanna feel you when I’m fallin’ in love.

I wish the dance had never ended.  Our hearts were together, the love flowed within us and between us, and Ellen’s sweet, soft fingers felt so good, so loving, as she touched me while we are dancing.

The dance did end.  It was nearly 2:00 a.m. when we fell asleep in each other’s arms laying sideways across our big King Size bed with deep, soft covers, kissing with even deeper, softer touches.

Contrary to what we had planned, we slept late Saturday morning.  It was almost 10:00 a.m. before we got up.  We shower separately this year, dress for the outdoors, stuff some apples and oranges from the dining room into our backpacks and head out the side door.  Since we had slept nearly three hours later than we had last year we decided to skip our stroll through the Antique Store and the many little craft booths set up all around Mentone.

“Hey, we are The Mountain Women, do you think we can sing like The Mountain Men?  We could start off with ‘Touch Me When We’re Dancing.’”  Ellen said to me as we biked next to each other as we headed to Desoto Falls Road and our Rock of Ages.

“No.  You can’t sing.  But you sure can dance.”  I said as Ellen rode on ahead of me, her long, black, curly hair sexily dancing in the wind from under her safety helmet. I just can’t forget our slow dance.  I just can’t stop humming: ‘You’ve got me up so high I could fly coast to coast.’

We finally landed at the trail head.  We walked our bikes fifty feet or so down the trail, and then twenty feet or so off the side where we lock them up, return to the main trail, and hike thirty minutes or so to our rock, Ellen stopping us three times attempting to tease me into repeating her dance moves from last night.  I refused three times.  She is the sexy one, the one with the rhythm.  She has all the moves, and her moves move me up so high.

When we arrive at our Rock of Ages, we set aside our backpacks and stand side by side and look out over the ravine.  Once again, we are standing in the middle of paradise.  We see nothing for miles and miles, nothing at all but an ocean flowing with various shades of gold, red, yellow, purple, black, orange, blue, brown, magenta, and pink. Fall has become, for both of us, our favorite time of the year.

The Fall season represents the harvest.  A time when farmers gather their crops after spending months and months of care, of tender loving care. In a sense, Ellen and I are farmers.  We planted a seed in each other’s hearts—well, somehow the seeds got planted, maybe it was fate, or, was it God?  Those seeds sprouted immediately.  Maybe the seeds had lain dormant many months, or many years, before in our hearts, before we met some fourteen plus months ago, all the time waiting for just the right rain to ignite life.  Ellen and I had cared for our seeds so lovingly, so tenderly, so gently, ever since.  We had used the best tools to nurture and grow our seeds.  Time, touch, and talk had been the best ones.  Each of these had been carefully oiled with just the right words.  We both loved words.  We both loved playing with words, even inventing new ones, ones that became vital to us, important to growing our relationship into a strong and vibrant plant.  Harvest.  Our investment in each other was producing a harvest.  We were now reaping rewards of investing time, touch, and talk.  We were today enjoying a fruitful connection, real chemistry, that overflows from the lab of love, erupting from those times, those touches, those talks that we had mixed so creatively and so spontaneously for over a year now.  It was beyond rich to have someone in my life who I could share my innermost thoughts, no matter what they were, good, bad, ugly, beautiful. I was beyond wealthy to have a companion, a partner, who held my hand and spurred my mind, who set my spirit ablaze to know, to learn, to seek, and to sort truth from lies and lies from truth.  Ellen was me and I was Ellen.  We could be vulnerable with each other, the ultimate form of intimacy.

“Have you ever seen anything more beautiful,” Ellen said.

“Yes, but not quite as outwardly colorful.”

“Oh, tell me my love, about your crush.” Ellen said.

“You goofball. You know Ryan is much more than a crush.”

“I knew it.  You have been teasing me, just faking it, all to learn of my secrets, my secrets for a happy life.”  Ellen said.

“Seriously my darling, the trees, the leaves, and the wind we see and hear all around us are as beautiful as it gets, but they are darkness compared to your light.  But, I do love you more when you are wearing your Thanksgiving sweater of many colors.”  I said.

“Ha ha.  How about an apple?”  Ellen said.

“Sounds great but don’t be tempting me.” Ellen grabs us each an apple from her backpack, and I take out a blanket from mine, and a sheet of paper.  We sit down, cross-legged on our blanket and share bites off each other’s apple. 

After Ellen takes the last bite of my apple I say, “look what I brought.”

“What, a diamond ring for me, all folded up in that sheet of paper.”  Ellen said.

“Not today, I’m sorry, but soon if that’s what you want, I’m game.  You know we have been calling our rock, our Rock of Ages, since we first discovered it last year.  So, I found the lyrics online the other night.  I thought it would be neat if we read it, even sang it, here today.” “Oh wonderful, now she’s gonna make me love Southern Gospel. I feel a breakup coming.”  Ellen said.

“No, no.  This song can have wonderful meaning for us.  For some reason, we named our rock after this song.  So, put on your poetry cap and let’s see what it means to you, and to me.  I unfolded the paper and began to read:

Rock of Ages, cleft for me,

Let me hide myself in Thee;

Let the water and the blood,

From Thy wounded side which flowed,

Be of sin the double cure,

Save from wrath and make me pure.

Not the labor of my hands

Can fulfill Thy law’s demands;

Could my zeal no respite knows,

Could my tears forever flow,

All for sin could not atone;

Thou must save, and Thou alone.

Nothing in my hand I bring,

Simply to Thy cross I cling;

Naked, come to Thee for dress;

Helpless, look to Thee for grace; Foul, I to the fountain fly; Wash me, Savior, or I die.

While I draw this fleeting breath,

When my eyes shall close in death,

When I rise to worlds unknown,

And behold Thee on Thy throne,

Rock of Ages, cleft for me,

Let me hide myself in Thee.”

“I actually like it.  Rock of Ages is obviously referring to the Christian Jesus.  He has come to take away our sins and save us with His cleansing blood.  For those He saves, He is their Rock of Ages–rock solid, strong, eternal.  To the saved, He is a hiding place and a bridge to the next world, the one after death.”  Ellen said.

“You either are a fast learner or you know more about Christianity than I thought.  Maybe you are not an infidel.”

“Well thanks.  Infidel?  If your Rock of Ages story is true, then I must admit it is interesting and kind of magnetic.  I surprisingly am drawn to it.  It has an appeal.  I love the rhythm, the pace, the story.  Can I have the sheet?  I’d like a copy to read later.  Who knows there may be something to that Christianity of your Dad’s—other than the stoning the homosexual part.”  Ellen said.

“Here you go. I’m glad you’re interested because I am too.  I just want to know the truth about life and love, our past, creation and evolving, our future, life beyond death.  Let’s make this search an important part of our journey to love.  Okay?”  I said.

“Sure thing.” Ellen said standing up while holding the paper with the song, turning and looking to me, still seated, like she was my teacher. “As long as you don’t start evangelizing me.  Now, listen to this.  Here is a version, my twist on the song. I think we can love it together, love it here today, and all our tomorrows.  I also have a unique twist that we can take with us beyond our lives here on earth, out into Always and Forever (bless their soul way over there deep in that cave), the great afterlife, if there is such a thing.  Now, listen my love and make careful notes:

Let me hide myself in Thee.

Nothing in my hand I bring.

That’s the first part.  That’s us, me hiding in you, you hiding in me.  We have each other and nothing else matters.  Just me and you, us and nature, hidden in this rock.

Now, when we can no longer come here to celebrate your birthday, that day far into the future if you must come here alone, please remember:

While I draw this fleeting breath, 

When my eyes shall close in death, 

When I rise to worlds unknown,

And behold Thee on Thy throne,

Rock of Ages, cleft for me,

Let me hide myself in Thee.

Even in death I will love and honor you, cherish you.  You will always be my special angel.  I will always and forever be beside you.”  Ellen said, and I cried.

“You know we have been studying a lot about human evolution.  I don’t think either one of us believes that the story of Adam and Eve as told in the Bible is a true story, that it actually happened, but is there something more important than whether that is really history?”  I asked. “Maybe, we are simply to use the Adam and Eve story, and all the other stories in the Bible as a source of meaning.”  Ellen said.

“So, what should we learn from Eve eating that apple and sharing with Adam?”

“Maybe, to watch out for temptations.  As the story goes, they were in a perfect place and had a perfect relationship.  That was a pretty good spot to be in, don’t you think?  Kind of like how I see us.  They let something come into their lives—represented by the apple—that wasn’t good, that drove a wedge between them.  I’m not sure what learning about their nakedness has to do with them, but they now had to deal with pain and hardship.  It would be hard for Eve to dance with Adam if she is bowed over with pain while having little Cain and Abel.  Also, Adam had to divert his attention to making a living.” Ellen said. 

“We can apply their lesson and learning to us today.  If we are not careful we might let children (don’t worry, I’m not ready for that), work, hobbies, friends, family, anything come in and crowd out our togetherness.  We must be serious about continuing to invest in us, invest real time and attention into caring for ourselves, our relationship, kind of like farmers must do all year round in producing a crop, a bountiful crop.  It takes more than planting and harvesting.  It takes the cold winter of planning for the upcoming spring.  It takes cold winter days in the barn, maintaining and refurbishing tools and equipment to be ready just at the right time, just when the seed needs sowing, the plant needs weeding, and the fruit needs gathering. Maybe Adam and Eve’s apple can be our symbol, our reminder that we need to always be alert to what can come crawling up beside us, inside our lives, to divert our attention from us as one, unto me as me, and you as you.”  

“I think you are right.  And, I know that is so much more important than folks, mostly Christians, getting bent out of shape over whether the Adam and Eve story, the whole Genesis creation story, took place 6,000 years ago.  When it comes down to it, we are humans, the smartest animal ever discovered.  We are not just humans, we are individuals, each needing special attention, each wanting and needing love.  Love is the answer.  If we all would just focus on that one thing and forget our differences, just take everyone for who they really are. 

Stop judging.”  Ellen said. 

“Christians say they believe the Bible and that it is God’s word.  But, the Bible has evolved.  What people believe about the Bible has evolved.  It’s funny that just as the Bible is against homosexuality and adultery, and it commands stoning for both the homosexual and the adulterer, we both know that the adulterer is given a free ‘get-out-of-jail’ card.  Christians and non-Christians alike divorce and remarry, just about in the same percentages.  But you don’t hear Christians up in arms over whether someone is an adulterer.  It seems Christians, not all, but many, just believe what they want.  They dislike homosexuals and want to stone them, maybe not literally, but figuratively.  The hatred is evident.  You know how my Dad feels, although I don’t think in any way that he hates homosexuals, but I do know that he has invested a lot of time in his “Take a Stand” program that really has just caused more division.  Dad should have focused simply on love, and how to bring homosexuals and every other person into our church and stop judging.”  I said.

“It seems we really haven’t learned a lot about love and caring for our fellow man since the dark ages.”  Ellen said.

“Get this.  You read my Biology paper about the Naledi’s.  How much more backward could you get?  They had no conveniences whatsoever.  They didn’t have a car, a house, clothes, a grocery store, a Walmart.  They only had what nature gave them, what was around them, dirt, rocks, water from a creek, trees, leaves, caves, and sticks.  Yet, they showed real love to each other.  And, we, modern man, have every convenience imaginable.  All man-made.  Maybe we have evolved into not needing love.  Maybe, we have forgotten how much we need love.  We sit alone, even though in the same room with a friend or family member, and read something on our iPads, even watch a movie, alone. 

We do this instead of talk or walk or build a fire and sit by it for hours talking about the stars, the wind, the rain.”  I said.

We continue to talk, continue sharing philosophy.  Soon we are laying back, using our backpacks for pillows and our talking slows to a crawl and then to silence.  I dream of little Ella’s body down deep inside the cave and I feel her spirit resting on my chest, her eyes, dark but tender, looking at me.  She is smiling.  I dream of her mom and dad, with no house, clothes, or pantry, spending every waking hour caring for the other.  The hardships they faced everyday were their reminder of how important and beautiful they were to each other.  They knew the value of their friends, family, neighbors—how they were all in this thing called life, in it together, interdependent.  

It seemed I dreamed for hours.  I woke up to Ellen’s kiss, soft, tender, genuine.

“Wake up.  It is 4:30, and it looks like rain.”  Ellen said.

“It can’t be that late.”  But it was I knew from looking at my watch.  We had been here since before noon.  “I hope you had good dreams as I did.” I said.

“Every moment with you is a dream come true.”  Ellen said.

“Oh, you are so good with words.  And, you know just when to say them, the order they roll off your lips is always perfect.”

“Funny, funny.  Let’s get going.  It’s starting to sprinkle.”  Ellen said.

By the time we unlocked our bikes the sprinkling had turned into a steady rain.  We didn’t have much choice but to ride as fast as we could back to the Inn.  As usual, Ellen led the way.

We were about half way back when I noticed Ellen staying straight while we were coming into a curve to our left.  I yelled out to her, but by the time I closed my mouth she was in a ditch thrown over her handlebars, never slowing down until she rolled into a big Rhododendron bush just beyond.  I stopped and threw my bike down just at the edge of the road and ran over to Ellen.  Her backpack had come off one arm but still was clinging to the other.  I pulled the backpack out of the way and turned her over.  She looked up at me with those darling blue eyes and smiled.

“What happened to you?”  I asked.

“I guess I just kind of dozed off.  I was so deep in thought I wasn’t paying attention.  But, I’m fine.”  Ellen said.

“You scared me to death.  Are you sure you are not hurt?” I said as Ellen sat up.

“I was deep in thought trying to figure out a way to get you in my arms, in this rain.  I just couldn’t wait until we got back to the Inn.”  Ellen said.

“That’s lovely, but you didn’t have to scare me so and be so dramatic.”

Ellen took my hands and pulled us both up. “Look, there’s an old barn.  Come on.” Ellen said as she started running toward an old red barn set back off the road behind the foundation of a house that looked like it had burned down years ago.

“Don’t we need to get our bikes and backpacks? I yell, over the roaring rain, as I run to catch up with Ellen.

“Spontaneity is a key fertilizer to real romance, real chemistry,” Ellen said as we ran inside the central section of the old fading barn.  The wood stalls looked prehistoric, fossilized almost, like something from Noah’s Ark.  The smell of mildew, and probably mold, hung heavy in the air.  It was drier inside but drops of water plunked down on my head from above, from a leaky metal roof, worn thin from years of rain, steam, and sun.  

“I guess down-pouring rain and soaked clothes is a necessary activator or trigger to make that fertilizer spur on love and kisses, romance and tenderness, dances and sexy looks.  Right?”  I said. “Oh, my dear sweet baby.  You are learning the science of romance.  I have full faith in you that I can mold and shape you for future spontaneity leadership.”  Ellen said.

“Well, I do love the teacher in you.  Do you have another lesson ready?  Or, have you used up all your spontaneity for today?”  I giggled.”

Ellen pulled me into her body, backing up against a dusty wooden and sagging stable gate.  I loved that we were so equal in height, even though she was a little taller than me.  Our lips touched, but we stopped, almost frozen, acting as though we were scared to kiss, scared to press our lips together.  Our eyes opened, and the dance began.  Without a word, I submitted.  She toyed with my upper lip with both her lips.  She sweetly and gently tilted up my head and kissed my neck from under my chin to under my left ear.  She lowered my head and this time played with my lower lip with her lips. Our eyes locked again, hers to mine, mine to hers.  Just as I thought she was about to speak, she pulled my head down to her shoulder and rubbed my back and stroked my hair.

We stood silently as the rain fell against the tin roof. The more I listened, the more I could discern a repeating pattern.  I leaned closer into Ellen’s shoulder and imagined the rain was playing a newly invented song, one just for us.  It, the rain, the rain’s brain, the rain’s owner, the new creature, the Rain, whoever, had woken to life as it had recognized the need for spontaneity.  The Rain wrote us a song, maybe borrowing a little from Augustus Montague Toplady’s 1763 song, Rock of Ages.  Story is, Toplady, a preacher, was traveling along the gorge when he was caught in a storm.  Finding shelter in a gap in the gorge, he was struck by the title and scribbled down the initial lyrics.

The Rain needed no further help from Toplady.  ‘Today, right now, this very moment, has been planned, it has been written in the stars for always and forever, since the beginning of time.  This moment is for you Ellen and you Ruthie.  Take your time, touch each other, talk to each other. For, neither of you will ever forget this time, the time in the rain, in the shelter of this old red barn, the one the house-fire couldn’t reach for it had a destiny.  No matter if you ever learn the truth of where you came from, what your life’s purpose is, or where you will spend eternity, you do know, right here, right now, that you are one.  The two of you no longer exist as individuals.  Ellen, you are hidden in Ruthie always.  Ruthie, you are hidden in Ellen, forever.  When one smiles the other smiles, when one is happy the other is happy, but when one is sad, the other spontaneously pulls her close and looks happily into her eyes, and when one is hurting, the other spontaneously throws down her bike and runs and pulls the hurting one in her arms and loves the pain away.’  

The rain finally begins to fade, and I opened my eyes for the first time since Ellen pulled my head down on her shoulder.  We had stood there for over an hour, silently, lovingly, our hearts joining hands committed to never letting go.  I raised my head and looked at Ellen’s face.  Her eyes were still closed, and she was smiling.

“We better get going.  I’m glad we have reflectors on our bikes.”  Ellen said as she took my hand and pulled me out into the darkness.

We slowly made our way back to the Inn, stripped down naked and both spent thirty minutes in the shower, giggling and listening to each other’s stomachs growl for food.

This year we were less formal in our attire for the Saturday night dinner, each opting for jeans and dark flowing blouses with pink collars, standing on three-inch stiletto heels.  We were giants and we were gorgeous, at least according to the many eyes that tracked our every move, as we followed Mrs. Bradford to our skinny little table against the back wall by the fireplace.  “Not again this year.”  We both said out loud as she walked away.  We someway ordered.  Then, we sat silent for what seemed an hour, of course, it wasn’t.  After our food arrived, we willed ourselves to love a plate of shrimp overlaying cuttlefish noodles, with cauliflower and smoky ‘duck ham’ on the side.

Afterword’s, we went outside and sat in our swing for a couple of hours before returning to our room and watching ‘The Best of Me,’ by Nicholas Sparks on Ellen’s iPad while cuddling in each other’s arms.  As the movie ended, Ellen fell asleep first, with my left arm across her side, and her back touching my stomach, my legs nestled into the back of hers.  As I listened to her breathe I thought of the song playing on top of the old red barn.  I thought of the burned-out foundation that once was a house, filled with children and loving parents.  A couple who once lay back to front, one asleep, one awake, with her listening to her partner’s breathing and hoping and praying that life would continue and forever remain the same.  At some point, I too fell asleep but feeling the heat from the roaring flames engulfing the house while standing with my children in the hallway of the old red barn watching the clapboard and shingled flesh of the house disintegrate while the weakening and glowing trusses and sidewalls crumbled to the ground finally melting into a pile of ash.

Sunday morning, we took our time getting up, showering, getting dressed, and eating a full southern breakfast while talking with Mrs. Bradford about the creativity involved with our clothing choices.  After breakfast, we loaded up our bags and our bikes and drove to DeSoto Falls Road and parked.  We had decided during the movie last night to come here and make some pictures of each other standing beside the trail-head and Ellen’s car, and hoping we could flag someone down to make a few pictures of the two of us together.

Our photo shoot was perfect in every way inspiring Ellen to take a thousand more snapshots as I drove us home.  “You definitely need the practice.” Ellen kept saying.

I drove us straight to Ellen’s and spent the rest of the day swimming and sitting by her pool.  Mom and Dad even let me miss church and stay until they picked me up.

“See you tomorrow.  I had a great weekend.  Our weekend could not have been better.”  I said walking to Dad’s car, turning around to make sure Ellen had heard me while she stood by her front door. I could see her smiling. And that was the perfect ending to the perfect weekend, my 16th birthday, spent with Ellen, spent with my once in life love.  It didn’t seem life could get any better.

God and Girl is my first novel, written in 2015. I'll post it, a chapter a day, over the next few weeks.

Mom dropped me off at Ellen’s around 8:00, right after youth group at church. We must complete this week’s science project no later than Thursday night since we are leaving for Mentone at 11:00 a.m. on Friday.  Therefore, I have come to Ellen’s Wednesday night, to stay as long as it takes to at least complete a first draft.  

“Let’s knock this paper out tonight even if we have to stay up all night.  I don’t want to work on it at all tomorrow night.”  Ellen said.

“Fine by me, I think I can talk Mom into letting me stay over.”  I said.

This week’s assignment was from Jerry Coyne’s book, Why Evolution is True, on how amphibians evolved from fish.  Ellen and I had earlier decided we wanted to study the fossil species, Tiktaalik roseae.  It is transitional between fish and amphibians and was discovered in 2004. 

“You start us off.”  Ellen said.

We normally attacked our team-assignment by both reading the materials before we got together, then we would just talk our way into the most relevant parts trying to develop a working knowledge that we could dialog about.

“Since I didn’t read the Chapter very closely, I’m going to quote some and paraphrase some for now.”  I said.

Ellen sat up straighter in her chair and cupped her hands behind her ears. 

“Around 360 million years ago there were tetrapods, four-footed vertebrates that walked on land.  Prior to then, say 30 million years earlier, the only vertebrates were fish. These tetrapods had flat heads and bodies, a neck, and strong legs and limbs. Kind of like modern-day amphibians.  But, they also had characteristics like much older fish, more like the lobe-finned fish. These fish had bony fins they used to hold themselves up off the bottom of a lake. The tetrapods also had scales, limb and head bones.

So, the key question is, how did fish with fins evolve into land dwelling amphibians which obviously had limbs for walking?  Okay, your turn.”  I said.

“Okay.  Evolution, as we have learned, is pretty good at predicting. The fossil record showed the lobe-finned fish but no land vertebrates around 390 million years ago but showed the land amphibians around 360 million years ago, so scientists knew they should find a transitional creature in between these times. And, that is what happened, although it took years of hard work to find these transitional fossils.

It was in the Canadian Arctic, Ellesmere Island, that scientists found the transitional fossil.  They called it Tiktaalik roseae.  It had gills, scales, and fins like a fish, but it also had a flattened head like a salamander, with eyes and nostrils, not on the side of the skull but on top. ‘This suggests that it lived in shallow water and could peer, and probably breathe, above the surface.  The fins had become more robust, allowing the animal to flex itself upward to help survey its surroundings. Like early amphibians, Tiktaalik had a neck.  Fish don’t have necks.  Their skulls join directly to their shoulders.’ And, to show its ability to move on land it had ribs to help in pumping air into its lungs.  Ribs also helped move oxygen from its gills.  Note, Tiktaalik could breathe with both lungs and gills. Also, it had big, stronger and fewer bones in its limbs than lobe-finned fish had in their fins.

At some point down the line the grandchildren of Tiktaalik had the courage to walk onto land on their strong ‘fin-limbs,’ for reasons such as finding food or avoiding enemies.  As we have learned, natural selection would continue to shape these transitional fossils into modern day amphibians if there was a benefit to living on land.”  Ellen said.

“I like this statement, it seems to be a good summary statement we might can use. ‘That first small step ashore proved a great leap for vertebrate-kind, ultimately leading to the evolution of every land-dwelling creature with a backbone.’  And, I might add, land-dwelling creatures including humans.”  I said.

“Okay, enough for now.  You know we do our best work in phases, with each around 30 minutes long.  So, it’s time to dance.”  Ellen said.

We slow-danced to Adele with each of us mouthing words to each other as our eyes stayed locked.  I could almost feel our hearts shedding their fins and their limbs, legs and all, and growing wings.  Our time, our touch, our talks, started off earth-bond, water and land, but now our romance was starting to fly.  I felt as though we were soaring above the earth, our wings touching so softly, so sweetly, so gently, on every down-stroke.  Having Ellen by my side, in my heart, and in every cell of my being was something more than what is possible if we had come from fish and Tiktaalik’s.  It was spiritual, heavenly, a fairy tale that came to live, instantly, from nothing, when we reached out to each other that night over a year ago at Ryan’s by the fire.  We didn’t even touch.  The reaching out had been more verbal, a word, words, and more visual, a look, looks.  No matter, the words and the looks electrified the instant they were launched.

Our thirty-minute dance lasted nearly an hour.  Then, we raced to her kitchen and spooned out two bowls of creamy/cheesy potatoes, sitting at her bar playing airplane with our spoons, feeding each other, laughing and giggling, sometimes unintentionally spewing potatoes onto the bar.  Finally, we literally slapped each other’s delirium and sleepiness away and trudged back up to her room.  We had a hard time getting back on track, evidenced by our silly and scary sketches and our human-like play-dough molds of Tiktaalik. “Okay, we have to focus.  If we want to leave school early on Friday to go to Mentone we must finish this thing tonight.  Get your laptop.  I’ll start off.  You just get some words down.” I said, because there was no way I would miss being in Mentone this weekend for my 16th birthday, and with my Always.

Two drafts and twenty edits later we were finished. At 4:15 a.m. we finally lay down for a two-hour nap.  We didn’t even care to push wads of paper and eight Popsicle sticks off the bed.

Almost asleep, I couldn’t help but be proud of our work. And, I was proud of Ellen.  Together, we had waded out into the murky water off Ellesmere Island and had seen for ourselves, learned for ourselves, a little more about where we came from, at least our bodies.  I was so proud of Ellen because she is so resilient, focused, tough, determined when she needed to be.  She is so in love with life and learning, and of course, me.  Yea.

Thursday was a very long day at school.  Ellen’s Mom woke us up when she was leaving at 6:30. She said for us to be ready to go by 8:15, that Ellen’s Dad was coming home from work to take us to school.  She said she would cover for both of us, especially since we were having a first period pep-rally for the football team that was still in the playoffs.

Someway we made it through the day without an ISS (in school suspension) nomination and were eager to head to Dairy Queen afterwards.  I don’t know why Ellen ordered a foot-long hot-dog with extra mustard and sour-kraut, but it sure did smell good, smelled better than it looked.  So, I bought one for myself, along with an Oreo Blizzard.  I guess last night’s marathon, and today’s lunch-skipping, spurred our appetites into pigdom.  It might have been the same two things that triggered our conversation for the next forty minutes.  Of course, it might have been all the sour-kraut.

“It seems rather clear that science has proven modern day humans and apes and chimps all descended from a common ancestor.  It also seems clear that amphibians evolved from fish, and birds evolved from dinosaurs.  There is just overwhelming evidence for evolution.  But my quest, our quest, is truth.  Just because evolution is real doesn’t mean there is no God and no afterlife.  I think evolution disproves the Bible in so many ways, just start in Genesis with Adam and Eve. Could it be that the Bible writers just got a few things wrong?” I said.

“When was the Bible written?”  Ellen asked.

“I’ve read that the Gospel of Mark was written around the year 70 AD, with the Gospels of Matthew and Luke written between 80 and 90 AD.  The Gospel of John was not written until sometime in the second century, although there is some who argue it was written at the end of the first century.  Others have said John was written by several different writers over a period of 25 to 30 years, that none of the words that Jesus purportedly says in John can be attributed to him.  Also, some say that none of the miracles written in John were performed by Jesus— like turning water into wine or feeding 5,000 people with five loaves of bread and two fish or raising Lazarus from the dead. In addition, some scholars say that many, if not most, of the characters in John are literary creations, that it was never intended by the writers for them to be taken as actual, living, breathing people.”  I said.

“Did Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John write their own gospels?”  Ellen asked.

“No, the Gospels were written by anonymous authors.  As we’ve seen, the gospels were written generations after Jesus’ crucifixion in what is thought to be the year 33 AD.  It is most likely that they were written by very educated men, smart scholars, in Greek, not Aramaic like the disciples spoke.  Most of the men and women living during this time were wholly ignorant peasants.  They certainly could not read or write.” I said.

“The writers of the Gospels may have been the brightest and smartest, the most educated, of their day, but I suspect they didn’t really know too much about evolution.  They had never met or heard of Lucy and the Naledi’s.  Right?”  Ellen said.

“Of course, you are right.  They likely hadn’t even heard of Adam and Eve.  There is argument among Biblical scholars as to when the Old Testament was written, and by whom.  Some say Genesis, or at least the creation story itself including the creation of Adam and Eve, was added to the Old Testament during the time the gospels were being written.  Until I started reading and researching these topics a couple of years ago, I had always believed that the Bible could be taken literally and that it was written by eye-witnesses pretty much, and that it was written by a lot of different writers, all separated in time and place, but all under the direct inspiration of the Holy Spirit.  It seems this is in no way true.  When you get to looking carefully you learn that even the Gospels have undergone many revisions since the first drafts.  Mark even had a new ending tacked onto it.   

As you say, all the writers of both the New and Old testaments knew so little about the world.  It is easy to see how they got a lot of things wrong, especially if science was involved at all.  

Does this mean there isn’t any truth in the Bible, that there is no God, no Jesus, no afterlife?”  I said.

“I think too many people think it is all or nothing when it comes to the Bible.  That you must either accept or reject the Bible.  You and I seem to be carving out a new path, a new way of thinking.  At least for us.  We certainly are no scholars.”  Ellen said.

“I agree we are not scholars, but we are curious, and we are creative.  I also agree that there is a better way, a third way of thinking that holds promise for me and you at least.

Why can’t we accept that evolution is true, that the Bible is a wonderful literary creation that is only partially true?  Those parts are relevant to today.  Just because the writers of the Gospels didn’t know about evolution they may have known something about Jesus even if they were not themselves eyewitnesses.  It is very believable that some truths can be passed down as oral tradition.”  I said.

“It seems the crucifixion is vitally important to Christianity.  It is the key, the absolute key.  I agree with you, writings can be false just like spoken words can, but also writings and spoken words can be true.  If Jesus died on a cross that is something people who witnessed it would remember and tell their wives and children about, over and over.  And, these children would grow up with that story and they would tell it to their children and it would become an oral tradition.  Obviously, parts of it would change but hopefully the core truth would be maintained.”  Ellen said.

“It seems a shame that modern day Christians—let me say, Southern Baptists because I have firsthand knowledge about them, including me—believe we have the absolute truth.  Don’t you think it is almost guaranteed that 2,000 years from now scholars, pastors, and church members, will have learned something, both about Christianity and the world?  It’s inevitable there will be zillions of more scientific discoveries.  I would also bet there will be new findings, maybe even some revelations.  It may be by then that a whole new Bible has been written and in it the story of Jesus being married. I guess we better not anticipate that a new Bible will reveal that Jesus was married to John.  Dad would just die.”  I said.

“What a thought.  I mean, to look 2,000 years down the road and compare the knowledge then to now.”  Ellen said.

“And let’s not ever forget that the Naledi believed in an afterlife.  Maybe, they didn’t, but they at a minimum had a burial ritual.  That need, that belief, came from somewhere.  I want to think I am close to believing, that they thought death was not the end of life.  And, get this, they had never heard the name of Jesus.”  I said.

“Or God.  At least not in any language any human in the past 100,000 years could understand.”  Ellen said.

“I want to continue pursuing our third way of thinking.”