Author: Richard L. Fricks

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

The holidays came and went.  But, I kept on screaming, not every minute, but three or four times a day, like seasons of the year, my voice spewed a chorus against everyone and everything in my path, living or dead, but mostly against God.  I finally realized it was doing no good, especially my verbal anger against God; God couldn’t hear.  He was either non-existent, dead, or simply didn’t care.

As the cold and lifeless shouts of my mind fell silent, my heart grew still and heard the faint but undeniable whispers from Ellen’s beautiful lips.  Her words motivated me to return to my writing.  And, I kept on writing.  Unsurprisingly, poetry became my salvation, although sitting in front of the fireplace in the den didn’t hurt.  The burning wood allowed me frequent trips back to Mentone with Ellen sitting beside me in the yard of the Mountain Laurel Inn with Chaz and his band playing on the make-shift stage.  We held hands and fed each other sweet-potato pie, and laughed and danced and sang:

“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.”

Those cold winter nights by the fire painted for me a portrait, one of Ellen and me by the fire, and taught me that our imaginations were one of the most powerful forces in the universe.  This portrait and its eternal chemistry with poetry were my true salvation during the darkest days of my life.

Another saving grace over the past several weeks had been my Dad, to my complete surprise.  I was not surprised by his sweet smiles, tender touch, and morning and evening ‘I love you.’

No, it was our talks that fed me, that nourished my soul when it was already dead from starvation. It all started with him listening to me.  He gave me the freedom to speak my heart and mind.  He encouraged me too.  He never condemned.  He never judged, even after I had laid out a detailed outline of my thoughts, I HATE GOD FOR WHAT HE HAS DONE TO ME, and I DOUBT THERE EVEN IS A GOD.  Of

course, my rationality was suffering right along with my faith.  Most days I made no sense at all, I’m sure, but Dad listened and, slowly, started to talk with me.

One day, I think it was in late January or early February, Dad came after supper and knocked on my door.  It was already late, but he wanted to talk, even asked me for my thoughts. It was Saturday night and I felt it a little strange that he wouldn’t be headed to his study to complete his final preparations for Sunday’s sermon.  I just figured he needed to work on some guilt he was feeling for being away.  He had left the past Wednesday morning for a pastor’s conference in Nashville.  Mom told me later that he was in a cabin on Lindsey Lake in David Crockett State Park in Lawrenceburg, Tennessee. She said that Dad changed his mind as he was driving to Nashville and made his detour, saying that he needed a few days alone to think and make some sense out of his life.

I thought this was very odd for Dad, the man with the plan, the man with God’s plan.  As Dad sat down in Granny Brown’s rocking chair beside my bed, I told him I hoped he had a good time alone.  I told him I was proud that he had taken a little time for himself.

“Thanks honey.  The time was very rewarding.  The cold days out in the woods and by the lake killed off a lot of germs I have been unknowingly carrying around for quite some time.  The warm nights sitting alone by the fireplace resurrected buried feelings and beliefs that all men and women are on the same journey and that each of us have a responsibility to love and respect everyone, never judging, and always offering that cool drink of water.”  Dad said.

“Sounds like fireplaces have a way of transporting us to truth, reality, things that really matter.” I said.

“You are absolutely right.  Honey, I wanted you to be the second person to know that I have decided to resign as pastor of First Baptist Church.  When I was leaving my cabin, I called your Mom and told her.  It was a long phone call.  We talked nearly the entire time I was driving back.  I made her promise she would not tell you.”  Dad said.

“Why Dad?  What is going on?  What is making you do this?” I asked.

“I, like you, am on a journey to truth.  I have spent the past several weeks questioning everything I believe.  I have read and researched widely, even pulling out a lot of my materials from seminary.  You may faint when I tell you this, because it is unlike anything you have ever heard from my mouth.  I no longer believe the Bible is without error.  In fact, I believe it contains a lot of errors.

For example.  In the King James Version, Daniel 3:25 should read “a son of the gods” and not “the Son of God.”  Obviously, inserted to promote Jesus and Christianity.  First John 5:7-8 is clearly man-made. Pressure from the Catholic church caused Erasmus to add this Trinitarian formula (“in heaven, the Father, the Word, and the Holy Spirit, and these three are one. And there are three that testify on earth”). 

Again, inserted to promote the trinity and Christianity.

And, a very big error is found in Mark.  The original ending was: “Do not be alarmed. You seek Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has risen; he is not here. See the place where they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going before you to Galilee. There you will see him, just as he told you.  And they went out and fled from the tomb, for trembling and astonishment had seized them, and they said nothing.”  But, our church fathers didn’t like this ending because it said nothing about Jesus being seen after his resurrection. So, a human mind made up a new ending.  The King James editors included it in their Bible: 

“Now when he rose early on the first day of the week, he appeared first to Mary Magdalene, from whom he had cast out seven demons. She went and told those who had been with him, as they mourned and wept. But when they heard that he was alive and had been seen by her, they would not believe it. After these things, he appeared in another form to two of them, as they were walking into the country. And they went back and told the rest, but they did not believe them.

Afterward he appeared to the eleven themselves as they were reclining at the table, and he rebuked them for their unbelief and hardness of heart, because they had not believed those who saw him after he had risen. And he said to them, ‘Go into all the world and proclaim the gospel to the whole creation. Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved, but whoever does not believe will be condemned. And these signs will accompany those who believe: in my name, they will cast out demons; they will speak in new tongues; they will pick up serpents with their hands; and if they drink any deadly poison, it will not hurt them; they will lay their hands on the sick, and they will recover.’ So, then the Lord Jesus, after he had spoken to them, was taken up into heaven and sat down at the right hand of God. And they went out and preached everywhere, while the Lord worked with them and confirmed the message by accompanying signs.”

There are hundreds more errors in the Bible, things that rational people cannot explain away, that all reasonable people would conclude are errors.  A lot of these errors I learned about in seminary, but of course the professors didn’t call them errors.  They always had a way to explain these ‘oddities’ that reconciled with the Bible as the Word of God.

I can no longer, in good conscience, stand before a congregation and proclaim that the Bible is God’s Word, Holy Word, without error.

If the Bible is untrue in some areas, why isn’t it untrue when it comes to homosexuality?  Since we know a man, a human mind, added his own words to Bible manuscripts, how do we know that a human didn’t write-in his own hatred for homosexuals?  Whether this happened or not, I have been wrong in my stance against homosexuality.  I now have proof, living proof, real evidence, of how wonderful and beautiful a relationship between two young ladies can be.  Honey, you and Ellen, unknowingly, were probably my greatest teachers.  It was your relationship that got me to thinking.  How can homosexuality be a sin if it produces such love, such caring, such joy, such peace, such real romance?

The Bible teaches that sin has awful consequences.  The Bible never teaches that sin produces such beauty and wonder. Of course, it argues that sin, for a season, seems fun, but that is irrelevant in our case.  I know beyond doubt that your love for Ellen and her love for you will last forever.

I’ve also been reading your book, Why Evolution is True, along with a ton of related articles.  I now know why you believe evolution is true.  It seems rather ignorant not to believe that it is the best, and only, reasonable explanation science has for all living things and all things that have died.

The Bible is supposed to lay out the creation story.  As you clearly know, Genesis says God created Adam and Eve in His image on day 6, instant creation.  But, you also know that this just isn’t true.  Man has evolved over millions of years, sharing a common ancestor with apes and chimps.

I simply can no longer preach with my head in the sand.  I can no longer deny the truth like, so many Christians are doing, including well-respected theologians, such as John K. Pullman.  In 2008, he wrote the forward to a book titled, ‘God or Science: Do We have a Choice?’ Pullman is clearly wrong when he says “evolution is a guess.  It is just a hypothesis.”  

His stock value drops to near zero for me with this statement.  He chooses to ignore 99% of all real scientists.  They would all say that “evolution is a fact.”  And they could point to mountains of evidence to SHOW it is true. 

Pullman also said, ‘the biblical narratives of creation don’t obviously say anything that bears one way or another on the question of whether the evolutionary hypothesis might be true or not.’

Pullman obviously ignores the plain reading of Genesis as it clearly describes God creating Adam and Eve on a certain day–the plain reading is that these are normal length days.  The Genesis creation story is directly opposed to evolution.  Genesis obviously has lots to say that relates directly to evolution.  Pullman also is ignorant when he labels evolution a hypothesis.  He doesn’t understand the scientific meaning of hypothesis.  Evolution was much closer to that status in Darwin’s day.  Today, 150 years after Darwin, it has leaped into fact status.  Most scientists would say that ‘evolution is a fact’ just like ‘gravity is a fact.’ 

Pullman is typical in that he totally ignores the reality of science.  He knows an honest investigation would reveal his Bible creation story is far, far from reality.  He realizes–though never openly admitting it–that his hypothesis that the Bible is true, totally true, is losing ground fast, that the hypothesis, in fact, is no longer a viable hypothesis.  The evidence is in, and it reveals that the hypothesis has been proven false.  It must therefore be abandoned.  Pullman will never do this.  He will continue to crawl to higher ground, ground that is forming a tall, tall point, with no plane to stand on, no flat ground to pitch a nice tent.  When he reaches the point, the peak of the mountain, he will have to admit, at least to himself, that there is no more higher ground.

Pullman’s ignorance, and his attitude towards his ignorance–and the many others similarly situated–is likely one of the main reasons younger generations are either abandoning the church/Bible, or not in any way drawn to or interested in it.  Their minds being shaped and formed the way they are–let’s just say, minds that are rational/reasonable–forbid them from adopting opposite positions on the same topic.  They realize there is simply too much evidence from science to conclude that evolution is simply a hypothesis, that the first man and woman were Adam and Eve, and that they were created, instantly, by a God, that is either powerless to help millions of suffering children in the world, or worse yet, a God that simply doesn’t care.

Again, I no longer can stand before our congregation and lie. 

But, I don’t want you to think I no longer believe in God or think the Bible isn’t a great work of literature.  I just know that I have miles and miles to go before I truly know God.  But, I believe there is truth to be found.” Dad said.

“What will you do Dad?  I mean after you resign?”  I said.

“I want to start a new church, for want of a better name.”  Dad said. “I want a place that welcomes all, no matter their beliefs, no matter their color, no matter their sexual orientation, no matter why they have been marginalized before.  I want a place where we celebrate life. Life is love, it is literature, it is poetry, it is the sun, moon and stars, it is rainbows and mountain streams.  Life is our imagination and our curiosity. It is my hope that my new ‘church’ will be a place that people find community, a place to gather with friends and family, a place to sing, a place to pray if that is what they want, a place to love and be loved, a place of acceptance, a place without judgment, a place to worship and serve the true and living God.”  Dad said.

“Wow, you truly are a radical dad.  A radical for truth and freedom, real religious freedom.  I love it and want to be a part of it.” I said.

“Of course, you can. You will be my top adviser.  I mean it.  Honey, thanks for listening and thanks even more for opening my eyes and triggering my curiosity and imagination.  You launched me onto a great adventure.  We can search together.”  Dad said.

Dad said good-night around 2:30 a.m.  Surprisingly, I felt sad.  Does Dad know what he is getting into?  He is a Southern Baptist pastor in the heart of the Bible belt, the infamous bigoted Alabama.  I’m afraid he is soon to find out what real Christian love is all about.

Sunday morning at 11:00 a.m. came quickly.  I was at home as I have been every Sunday since Ellen died.  I turned to our local TV station and sat by the fire.

Dad was bold and confident as he stood before a packed sanctuary.  He preached a sermon of love and forgiveness, acceptance without judgment, a message, humans of every color and creed, would enjoy, a message from humanity about humanity.  A short message and an even shorter resignation: “It is a great day when a man or a woman wakes up to new truths, a new life.  Real life means full agreement between inner beliefs and outer walk.  For over 15 years, I have had a real life with you and this church because I have walked a walk totally consistent with what I felt and believed in my mind and heart.  And now, I must begin a new journey, a new walk, because how I feel and what I believe have changed and therefore now conflict with what the Bible says and what most of you hold dear to your hearts. I consider you as an extension of my family, many of you are friends.  I love each one of you with all my heart. I want us to remain family and friends.  Separation from family and friends is never easy and always brings sadness.  And, it is with a heavy load of sadness that I resign as your pastor effective immediately.  May God’s blessings be on you.”

With that I turned off the TV.  That’s the way I wanted to remember Dad the last time he stood before the church that he had loved and led so courageously for over 15 years, my entire life.

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

I opened my eyes and saw Mom.  It was as if I was looking through a foggy window pane.  I had never seen her look so sad.

“Honey, I am so, so sorry about Ellen.”

I lay my head back on the pillow and looked straight up at the ceiling.  I couldn’t think.  Ellen, gone?  I had been praying in the Chapel. Why?  I was so tired from sleeping on the floor.  Her Father?  He had been here earlier?  “She’s gone.”  Had he said this?  He had.

“No, no, no,” I screamed.

Mom lay beside me and held me close, tight, kissing my forehead.  

“Baby, all I know to say is I’m so, so sorry and that I am here for you. Oh, my baby, scream if you need to.  I love you.”

Through my tears, screaming, yelling, and I think a ‘damn you God,’ I heard Dad’s muffled voice. “Baby, I’m here, in all ways, in every way I can. I love you and I hope you know I will always be here for you.”

Lying in bed, unable to get up, Mom told me that her and Dad got the call early, around 5:00 a.m., and rushed immediately to the hospital.  I was in the Chapel with the Ayer’s.  We all hugged and cried and cried more.  Then, Dr. Spears and Dr. Baker, and Dr. Thornhill all came in.  They said that Ellen had died around 4:20 a.m. and that she had died peacefully, without pain.

Mom said that Dr. Thornhill had said the biopsy results showed that Ellen’s brain tumor was malignant.  He said that she probably had been showing signs for several weeks, but they would have been basically undetected, symptoms of a headache, maybe a light dizzy spell.  He did say that it is possible that she had a dizzy spell when she was driving, even passed out, and that may have been the cause of her accident.

Mom said I fell apart when I recalled that Ellen had run her bike in a ditch on the side of the road in Mentone.  Dr. Spears had ordered the nurse to give me a sedative.  Mom and Dad had brought me home and put me to bed.

I spent the rest of Saturday on the couch in the den.  Dad had gone out to have my prescription filled, strong narcotics.  I slept most of the day, dazed, depressed, and so very lonely.  It was good that the meds closed me off from reality.

Sunday morning, we all met at Carr Funeral Home to see Ellen one last time.  Her family was very private, and they didn’t want a traditional Alabama funeral, just a simple viewing and a memorial attended only by close friends and family.

I have little memory of what happened after I ate three spoons of Mom’s potato soup late Saturday afternoon, up until now, as we walk into the Chapel at Carr Funeral Home. I do seem to recall Ryan, Lisa, and Sarah coming by the house, but I don’t know when.

“Are you holding up?” Mom asked as we walked down the aisle toward Ellen’s casket and her Mom and Dad standing, looking down, holding each other.

“You are holding me up, Mom.  I have no strength and no desire to live.”  I said.

We made it to the front and the Ayers turned and hugged me, both crying, wailing. “We love you Ruthie.”  Mrs. Ayers said. “Ellen loved you so very much.  She came alive after she met you.  The two of you were our special angels.”  The Ayers walked away and left Mom and me and Dad and Rachel and Jacob alone, besides Ellen’s casket.

I turned and looked down at her. “Oh, oh, Ellen,” I moaned. I suffocated.  I couldn’t stand.  Mom and Dad and Rachel and Jacob all held me, propped me up.  I gasped for breath.

“She isn’t dead, she can’t be.  Ellen, get up. I’m here.” I touched her hands and pulled back suddenly, frightened.  Death, so this is what death feels like?  She was so cold.  Her hands were stiff, cold, lifeless.  Ellen was dead.  She was gone.  She was still so beautiful.  Her face, her long black curly hair, her lips, but she wouldn’t open her eyes. Oh baby, show me your eyes, let me look once more into your baby blue eyes.  I moaned, I couldn’t breathe.  “I can’t live without Ellen.  Carry me with you.”

I wanted to die.  I became so angry.  I hated this world.  Kill me, please kill me.  Help me God.  God damn-it.  God, how could you be so cruel?  You killed my Ellen.  You hate me, and I hate you.”  I said.

I was and am fortunate to have parents who are really in-tune, at least at times.  During my entire ‘losing it’ episode, my family just loved me.  They didn’t ever say, stop, or that’s not necessary, or that I shouldn’t be acting this way, at least not here.  But, they had a good sense about them that what was happening to me was natural, a response to the death of a loved one.  Of course, they couldn’t ever imagine how much I loved Ellen.  Only she knew how I truly felt.

And, now she was gone.

After I had screamed and cried, and shouted and cussed all I could, with every ounce of energy and life I had in me, Mom and Dad led me, upheld me, out and to the car and home and to my bedroom and to my bed.  Whether it was the absolute best or not, they mercifully fed me my meds and I slide and sunk down the vertical chute into the cave, deep, deep away from this world, up besides little Ella.  I say this now imagining, but then, as the meds kicked in, all thought had ceased, and I just floated away.

Again, I slept the rest of the day, all night, and until 10:00 Monday morning.  Mom later told me that around midnight I had woke up and said I was hungry and that I asked for cold pizza and was shivering from swimming.  She said I must have been hallucinating from the drugs.  

I sat in the car at the cemetery.  I didn’t have the desire to be with anyone, not my family or the Ayer’s.  I wanted to be alone with Ellen.  Mom had agreed to leave me in the car, but she stood about half way in between me and Ellen’s grave-site where everyone had gathered.  As soon as everyone left, or at least moved away, Mom came back for me as agreed.  The Ayers and the funeral home guys had agreed not to lower Ellen’s casket after the service, not until I had my time. Mom and Dad led me to Ellen, and left me and her, alone.

“Oh baby, I am here.  This can’t be happening.  This is a dream, a nightmare.  Honey, we must go back to Mentone, to our Rock, to our old red barn.  I love you my baby.  I can’t make it without you.  What am I to do?  Why are you leaving me here?  Why?  Oh, why?  I’m sorry I let you down.  I should have noticed something was wrong, especially when you ran off the road with your bike.  Forgive me.”

I kept on talking out loud to my Ellen, my baby, for a very long time.  Then, it started to rain, not heavy, but a steady rain.

“Ellen, I want to stay here but they won’t let me.  I’ll come tomorrow, and we can talk.  We will spend time together tomorrow, and we can touch.  Before I go, let me have one more dance.  Ellen, dance with me.  Dance with me like we did in Mentone, like we have so many times.”

Listen, my baby, and dance with me.

I don’t remember if I just spoke these words out-loud or whether I sang them, but Ellen and I did dance, our dance, that dance that only we could.  We were back in her car, windows down, singing with the radio as it played “Come Away with Me,” by Norah Jones, on our way home from Mentone, Sunday, just a week ago:

“Come away with me in the night

Come away with me

And I will write you a song

Come away with me on a bus

Come away where they can’t tempt us, with their lies

I want to walk with you

On a cloudy day

In fields where the yellow grass grows knee-high

So, won’t you try to come

Come away with me and we’ll kiss

On a mountaintop

Come away with me

And I’ll never stop loving you

And I want to wake up with the rain

Falling on a tin roof

While I’m safe there in your arms

So, all I ask is for you

To come away with me in the night

Come away with me

And all I ask is for you to come away with me in the night.”

As the rain fell, harder now, I collapsed in a ball beside Ellen, lifeless except for my fingernails scraping the side of her casket.  Finally, as the clouds drew darker and darker, as though night fell like a foggy blanket way before the proper time, Mom and Dad came and gathered me up in their arms. As they tried leading me, I collapsed again during my first step.

“Leave me here. Leave.  You two please leave.  Leave me alone and never come back, I half screamed, half whispered, fully crying.”

“Darling, it is time to go home.”

Dad picked me up and carried me like a baby back to our car, me screaming for Ellen the whole way home.

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.