The unannounced christma.., p.2
The Unannounced Christmas Visitor, page 2
“Hey, Guillermo.”
“Great service, huh?”
“Yeah,” Lydia answered, less enthusiastically than usual. Normally she would tell him how handsome he looked in his suit, but that was the last thing on her mind at present.
“You look like a woman on a mission.”
“Time to get Matthew and Grace.”
“Take your time,” Guillermo said, glancing at his wristwatch. “It’s probably a zoo up there.”
It could wait no longer. “What was all that about earlier?”
“You mean with the homeless man?” Guillermo said.
“Yeah,” Lydia said, matter-of-factly.
“Can you believe he actually tried sitting in the Rainers’ seats?” Guillermo chuckled without humor. “The nerve of him!”
“So that’s it, huh?” Suspicion dripped from Lydia’s lips.
“Yup. Mike Hastings said he did the same thing in the first service.”
“Wonder why he wanted to sit so close to the front?”
“Said he wanted to be as close to the pastor as possible.”
“Sounds reasonable enough to me. Why didn’t you let him, Guillermo? You saw how old he was.”
“Come on Lydia! In the Rainers’ seats? Are you serious?! You know we have an image to uphold.”
“We do?”
“Could you imagine someone from our television audience seeing him sitting in the front row? Besides, he didn’t exactly throw off a pleasing aroma, if you know what I mean.”
“Are you saying you could smell him?”
“Actually, I’m not sure, but it looked like he smelled bad to me,” Guillermo chuckled again, hoping to elicit laughter from Lydia this time.
It never came.
Guillermo shrugged his shoulders. “If I had to guess, I’d say he probably hasn’t bathed in more than a month. The Rainers flat-out refused to enter the sanctuary until he was gone, or at the very least seated as far away from them as possible.”
“You can’t be serious?!”
“As a heart attack.”
“I can’t believe I’m hearing this.”
“Come on, Lydia, think about it. We actually did the old man a favor.”
“Oh, yeah, how’s that?”
“We prevented him from looking like a lowly caterpillar gathered among Monarch butterflies, in front of a live television audience. So, in that sense, we saved him from further humiliation.”
Lydia dropped her head in disgust. “I’ve never been more ashamed to be part of this church than right now!”
“I only did as I was instructed.”
“From whom?” Lydia glared at Guillermo. She could feel the heat of anger rising-up inside. “Pastor Flores? Or the Rainers?”
“I’d rather not say,” Guillermo replied, awkwardly.
Instead of retaliating, Lydia turned on her heels and stormed out of the main church building, without saying bye to Guillermo.
Before entering the annex building, Lydia became even more distraught seeing her image staring back at her in the glass doors in front of her. It literally caused her to stop dead in her tracks.
Gazing deeper into the squeaky-clean pane of glass, she silently gasped. Deep stress lines were cruelly stenciled onto her face, the obvious result of too many arguments with John of late.
And no amount of make-up could cover up the dark bags beneath her eyes, from too much crying. They kept resurfacing.
Lydia was painfully reminded again that she looked nothing like when she first got married to John 13 years ago. Not only was she losing ground in her marriage, she was losing the battle with the aging process, not to mention with gravity itself.
At 39, the half-Irish, half-German, slightly overweight mother of two was still shapely but, after giving birth twice, what once was firm had slightly weakened and loosened.
Even her face, though much fuller than it was a decade ago, was gradually losing its overall shape. Skin that once was silky smooth was starting to sag in some places, snaking all the way down to her neck.
Lydia wanted to cry. Even the wavy, long brown hair John fell in love with, and couldn’t stop touching when they first met, was much darker these days. And shorter. And more brittle.
John, on the other hand, was still quite fit, and looked a couple years younger than his 42 years of age. Six feet tall, save for a slight potbelly due to the fact that he drank a beer or two each day after work—something he seldom did in the past—he still looked good.
Of Scandinavian descent, Norwegian to be precise, he had deep-set blue eyes, a prominent chin, and a head full of light brown hair. Even though his sideburns were slowly turning gray in color, if anything, it made him look even more distinguishing.
About the only lackluster quality to his overall appearance was that the man who once stood so tall, brimming with confidence, who lived life with unbridled passion, now slouched with great indiscipline.
This was something he never did in the past.
Other than that, John was aging so much more gracefully than she was. With her 40th birthday a little more than three months away, Lydia couldn’t help but wonder if her unshapely body was the reason her husband no longer looked at her the way he once did. Am I really that unsightly?
Taking one last look at her reflection in the glass doors, she was struck with a troubling thought. If I sat in the front row, would I also be considered by some as a lowly caterpillar gathered among Monarch butterflies?
Lydia rode the elevator up to the second floor. She couldn’t help but wonder for the millionth time if John had another woman. She quickly dismissed the thought, hoping John wasn’t the cheating type.
What was it then? She had no idea what had caused her husband to all but disconnect from his family the way he had. All she knew was that it started in late Spring and had progressively worsened as the weeks passed.
Was John having a mid-life crisis? Whatever it was, he wasn’t the same man to Lydia or the same father to Matthew and Grace he was just a few short months ago. A few long months ago, she corrected herself.
On those rare occasions when her husband wasn’t in a foul mood, his mind was usually elsewhere. Unlike before. But what had caused the glaring disconnection? It was the million-dollar question...
Though the married couple always did their best to shield the children from the near-constant arguing, it was impossible at times since John was even snappy toward them of late.
Without even inquiring, Lydia knew Matthew and Grace had already seen and heard too much the past few months, to feel at peace at home.
How could they feel otherwise when the tension lately was both constant and palpable? She feared they, too, were preemptively bracing for the inevitable. She could see it in their overall demeanor. It’s like they, too, were forced to walk on eggshells.
Once everyone’s seat belts were securely fastened, John started the car and left for home. As usual, the mood was somber. Lydia knew it wouldn’t improve all that much as the day dragged on. The good news was that she would have a three-hour reprieve once the football game started and John’s eyes were glued to the TV, from start to finish.
But once they were gathered at the dinner table, the bickering would resume. As it was, they were still in mid-argument from the night before when John rolled over in bed and fell asleep, leaving Lydia all alone with her thoughts. And tears.
The arguing continued this morning until they left for church.
Lydia was so numb she couldn’t even remember what had started this latest quarrel in the first place.
Yes, indeed, something had to give soon. Not only for John and Lydia, but for Matthew and Grace as well. Otherwise, they would keep drifting apart until there was nothing left to cling to.
Lydia blinked the thought away, not wanting to go there, even if only in thought…
3
ONE WEEK LATER - TWO WEEKS BEFORE CHRISTMAS
LYDIA JENSEN WAS SEATED in church waiting for the 10:45 service to begin. After another week of constant quarreling with her husband, the ever-desperate woman feared she might explode. Or implode. Whichever came first.
Drained of all emotion, she wondered if God was even listening to her constant cry for help. Either way, it was starting to devour her from within.
What came as no surprise was that John wasn’t with her this time. He said he was too tired to go to church, that he worked long hours and wanted to stay in bed all day.
The last thing Lydia heard him grumpily say as she left the house with Matthew and Grace was, “I deserve this break! I need it!” Though greatly disappointed, his absence made for a peaceful ride to church.
Lydia knew how hard her husband worked. But as a stay-at-home Mom, she worked just as hard herself. Whereas John got to leave his workplace each day, Lydia didn’t have that luxury. Home was her place of business, and business was open 24/7, 365 days a year at the Jensen residence.
Lydia pushed these unhealthy thoughts from her mind. With Matthew and Grace in Sunday school class, she was grateful for this quiet time. After the turbulent week she had, even ten minutes of peace and quiet was like gold in her hands.
With Christmas just two weeks away, next week would be even more hectic, making this the perfect opportunity to recharge her batteries.
“Let next week take care of itself,” she told herself, as her eyes drank in the winter wonderland her church had been transformed into. It looked more like a concert hall than a sanctuary.
Thousands were expected to attend the five upcoming Christmas concerts, the last one ending on Christmas Eve.
Lydia could only marvel at how her church had grown so exponentially the past few years. Ten years ago, it was half this size. It was quickly becoming a mega-church.
Taking one last glance at the soothing lights on the two trees on stage behind the pulpit, Lydia opened the church bulletin and found the listening guide Pastor Flores included each week for his sermons. The message was aptly titled, “Being Thankful this Christmas Season.”
Just as she was considering the title, out of the corner of her eye she spotted the same mysterious-looking man she saw the week before, wearing the same tattered gray wool coat, slowly, gingerly making his way to the front of the sanctuary.
Quickly gaining on him, a mere ten steps behind, were Guillermo and the same usher from the week before that Lydia knew only by face.
Before lowering himself into an open seat, the old man glanced back and saw them approaching. If he was surprised by their presence, he didn’t show it.
Just like the Sunday before, the three men formed a small circle and spoke in hushed tones, before all three quietly and unceremoniously made their way to the back of the church.
Lydia was so busy this week arguing with her truant husband that she totally forgot about last week’s unsettling incident. Once again, she wondered where this man came from. Was he really homeless? If so, where did he sleep at night? A homeless shelter? On the streets?
Craning her neck back, Lydia watched him settle into the same seat in the last row as last Sunday, without the slightest hint of a protest. Once the two ushers left, he dropped to his knees and lowered his head in prayer, his face disappearing behind a shock of long, wiry, silver-gray hair.
Lydia watched in silence, unable to pry her eyes off of him.
Suddenly, just like last week, Guillermo emerged through the door closest to him. Betty Rainer clung to the handsome Latino man’s right arm looking prim and proper as always. Every hair was in place.
Tom burst through the doors a few steps behind his wife, waving to friends like he did each week, an infectious smile plastered on his face.
Then it happened: Lydia saw Betty glaring down at the homeless man seated in the last row. Her smile flickered, and her face quaked in anger the moment she saw him. It quickly returned to full beam upon turning her head away from the old man.
It only lasted a split second, but sometimes that’s all it takes.
Lydia felt her pulse race in her ears. Unsure if anyone else saw the smug, “How dare you try sitting in our seats,” scowl on Betty’s face, Lydia knew she would never forget it as long as she lived.
Though brief, as far as Lydia was concerned, the endearing smile Betty Rainer was famous for in this place was forever tainted.
Thankfully, the old man in the back row was too busy praying to his Maker, to know he was the object of her wrath.
Upon reaching the front row, Guillermo gave the grinning senior her customary embrace, then shook Tom’s hand before scurrying to the back of the assembly.
Once the Rainers were seated, the service promptly began.
Lydia was astounded. Even though she’d witnessed this same posturing every week, everything suddenly felt different. Betty’s actions troubled her deeply. To see a woman whom she highly esteemed acting so un-Christlike before her very eyes was extremely unsettling.
Like everyone else, Lydia always looked up to the Rainers as two of her spiritual mentors, often referring to them as the finest Christian couple she knew. Whenever someone needed prayer, counseling or just friendly advice, Lydia never hesitated to send them to Tom and Betty.
They no longer seemed so perfect to her...
The nerve-shredding scowl on Betty’s face changed everything. Everything Lydia had loved about them suddenly seemed jaded, perhaps scripted even. And for what? Because the old man wanted to be close to the pastor, and accidentally sat in their seats? Perhaps he was hard of hearing or visually impaired or didn’t like an obstructed view…
Whatever the reason, ragged appearance or not, it was wrong of Tom and Betty Rainer, Guillermo or anyone else to treat this visitor to their church with such contempt. This wasn’t what the Bible taught about treating others properly; especially fellow believers, as this man most certainly appeared to be. Would Jesus treat him this way?
No. If there was one thing Lydia Jensen knew, it’s that her Savior was more interested in the condition of the heart and how His followers treated others, than how many Christian songs and Bible verses they could memorize.
But something else was gnawing away at Lydia’s insides, something that had nothing to do with the old man seated in the last row. Why did the Rainers always wait until the very last minute to be ushered to their seats?
Lydia knew they arrived at church each week at 8 a.m., for morning coffee, before teaching one of the life group classes in the annex building. John and Lydia gratefully attended their class for two years before moving on to a new group.
Mostly due to sheer embarrassment, Lydia stopped going to life group class altogether, last August, after John started missing church so much. Bottom line: she didn’t want to constantly subject herself to making excuses for her husband.
Like all other life groups at this church, classes ended at least 20 minutes before the late service began, giving each participant ample time to find their seats, including the Rainers.
So what took them so long? Lydia had a sinking premonition it was so everyone would notice them as they made their grand appearance each week. What else could it be? Did they think they were President and First Lady of this church, and now that they were finally seated the service could officially begin?
After so many years of friendship, Lydia felt guilty for allowing herself to think such suspicious thoughts about the two most popular people at this place of worship. But it was difficult thinking positive thoughts when it suddenly seemed more like a presentation to Lydia than a church service. Was their grand entry as important as the Message itself?
The very thought sickened her. Bowing her head, she prayed, “Father God, please forgive me for...,” just as the church band started playing a familiar song most here knew, Blessed be the Name of the Lord, causing Lydia to lose focus.
Everyone rose from their seats as one and started singing, including Tom and Betty Rainer.
Lydia remained on her knees observing the aging couple. Hands raised high above their heads, they belted out the lyrics as if God Almighty Himself had suddenly materialized and was seated before them.
This was truly a snapshot moment. If anyone looked up the words, “Genuine Christians” in the dictionary, this sparkling image of Tom and Betty could be posted instead of words. At least that’s how Lydia used to see them. She didn’t know what to think about the Rainers now.
Were they really the perfect godly couple? Or was it nothing more than a mirage, a vain outward attraction from two people hiding their true inner selves and motives?
Lydia tried brushing these unhealthy thoughts aside, so she could focus on why she was here in the first place. Easily overcome by emotion when singing to the Sovereign God of the universe, it wasn’t uncommon for others to catch her brushing back tears during this segment of the service.
Even if it made John uncomfortable at times—when he was here, that is—nothing could stop the raw emotion from rising to the surface, sometimes forcing Lydia to her knees.
But her mind was too cluttered, her heart too pained for that now.
When the band reached the chorus, the vast majority turned up the volume a few notches and shouted the lyrics, “You give and take away, You give and take away, My heart will choose to say, Lord blessed be Your name!”
Lydia rose from her knees and tried lending her voice to the singing, but no words came out of her mouth. Eyes sweeping over the assembly, she wondered how many of her fellow congregants came here more to be seen and heard, rather than out of pure spiritual conviction?
Could it be true that some, or even many, merely went through the motions of playing church, instead of coming for the sole purpose of earnestly seeking and worshiping their Creator?
Did some think it was a country club and this was the ideal time to socialize and catch up on gossip? Did they think they would receive extra credit for coming once a week, that it would guarantee their entry into Heaven, when their lives came to an end?
Feeling overwhelmed for all the wrong reasons, Lydia sat down again to collect herself. “Sorry, Lord, for ruining our date today, and for thinking bad thoughts about my fellow brothers and sisters in Christ.”
