didn’t fill the void
in her life.
Meg’s eyes left Brooks and went to those filling the church. Many were nodding, a
few were whispering amen, but they alllooked sad; some were even visibly hurting. It was as if they had each been kicked
in the teeth. The more she looked around the more she realized that pain hung over
the service like a violent summer storm. As she took it all in, Meg’s aching turned
into rage. How could this be called a Christian service when it put so many people
through such great anguish? Where was the love in all of this? Better yet, where was
the saving grace?
“So, Meg,” the pastor’s mentioning her name suddenly jarred her out of her raging
fog and refocused her eyes on the pulpit. What she heard turned her stomach more than
soothed her spirit.
“Even though this time must be very hard for you, try to remember that Steven embraced
a mission and a life beyond this one. In fact, he had a mission and a life greater
than any we can begin to realize. He had been chosen by God to live and his job is
finished, and he is now in a better place than we who are left. Thank you, God, for
this man and what his life stood for. Now, let us pray.”
Yep, the old mystery angle again. If you don’t have an answer for something, then
trot it out and hook it to the it-must-have-been-his-time theory. It might work for
some, but not for Meg and not today.
Meg tuned out Brooks’s prayer. While all other heads in the auditorium were bowed,
her eyes remained fixed on the closed coffin. She’d shed no tears since the ones that
had fallen in the hospital parking lot and there would be none coming today. Not even
the sight of that cold, gray coffin could open her heart. She was too angry to cry
and ached to move to a place where she could fully vent.
When this funeral ended, she silently vowed, she’d be walking out of this church for
the last time. It couldn’t happen soon enough. After the final words were said and
they lowered Steve into the ground and covered the casket with dirt, Meg wouldshake a few hands, accept a few hugs, and even mouth a few prayers, but only for the
moment because the mask would soon come off. God had His chance to prove His love
and He had not proved worthy of hers.
As Brooks said his final amen and the congregation rose to watch the coffin rolled
out of the church, the emotion Meg felt centered not on loss but rage. Before this
day ended, she vowed that someone would feel her wrath. All she needed now was a human
target.
5
O H , M EG , I THOUGHT THE R EVEREND B ROOKS GAVE US SUCH A MEANING ful message today. Didn’t you?”
Meg glanced over at her mother. Barbara Hankins was short, auburn-haired, and a bit
chubby. Her fair, round cheeks caused her dark brown eyes to appear larger than they
were. She was dressed in a black suit and pumps. She was the stereotypical image of
a president of a book review club and she just happened to be filling that role this
year.
“I thought Steve’s parents handled it very well. It’s a shame that they live so far
away. I know that they could be such a comfort to you during this time. I mean, all
things considered, what a beautiful service! It really did Steve proud. I know he
would have liked it. I just wish your sister Terri could have been here. She just
couldn’t make connections from overseas. She would have loved the service and been
touched by it. Do you suppose the church made a video?”
It had been six hours since they’d left the graveside and except for her mother, everyone
else had gone home. Standing in the kitchen, looking out the window but not seeing
anything, Meg started to acknowledge her mother’s comments in the same manner that
she had everyone else’s, with a simpleyes and a line about how glad she had been that all of the family and close friends
could make it back to Springfield for the service, but something stopped her.
This was