Promise Kept (Perry Skky Jr.) Read Online Free PDF Page B

pain and I don’t want her getting high every night trying to alleviate it. It’s our time to go when we get tired, we’ve just got to know that God knows best. We’re just supposed to be ready and everybody we know and love is supposed to be ready too, because if that’s the case you can face whatever comes and believe that God’s got it.”
    We drove the rest of the way in silence, listening now to his gospel music. He had a point. God didn’t leave me when I needed Him. I need not be mad at Him. I needed to find my way back.
     
     
    “So, he’s in a coma?” Chaplain Moss asked me as I sat in his office a week later.
    “Yeah, I don’t understand all of the medical terms and reasons why, but it doesn’t look good. They’re saying if he comes out of it that he might be on life support or something,” I said, trying to shake off the flu-like symptoms that were catching up with me. I’d been on the go every day, driving back and forth to Rockdale County Hospital to see my grandmother. I guess I should be excited because she was released and now resting back at home. I didn’t have to feel obligated to go there because my aunts, uncles, cousins, parents, and a ton of her neighbors and church friends, were all there to serve. Deep inside I wished that I could be in Miami and whisper something crazy to Saxon, like, “Man, you ain’t no good. I’m a way better baller than you.” Something that would just irritate him and make him jump up out of his deep sleep and go off on me.
    “So how do you feel about all of this?” C. Moss asked, leaning over his desk, waiting on me to tell the whole truth and nothing but my deep true feelings. I just swallowed hard, wishing my itchy throat away. I reached for a tissue off of his desk.
    “I don’t know how I feel.”
    “A lot of mixed emotions?”
    “Yeah! Being grateful that my grandmother is going to be okay, I want to scream a big ‘Thank You’ from Mount Everest to the Lord. Yet how can I, when I am still gloomy because the sparkiest teammate I have might be gone.”
    “And if he’s gone, where do you think he’s going?”
    “You’ve never seen him at any of your FCA meetings, have you?” I said, harshly. I was not trying to be funny, rude, mean or any of that. But I didn’t have time to be sitting in a counseling session having someone pick me apart when I was broken. I knew I had issues with God. I knew I was mad. Saxon was not a believer—or maybe he was, and the life he led just didn’t show it.
    “I can’t judge Saxon. I don’t know,” I said to C. Moss.
    “Fair. Can you judge yourself?”
    I knew where he was going with this whole line of questioning. He wanted to know if I thought I had witnessed enough. If I had led Saxon to Christ and if I had given him the opportunity to hear the gospel. But the answer to all of that was, no . I met Saxon after my first day of high school as a senior, with a sea of South Carolina’s recruits visiting. His cocky behind made me sick to my stomach and I probably wished him a trip underground, truth be told, but time and circumstances had changed our bond. And if he went to spend all eternity with the devil because I didn’t explain to him that there was another way, maybe I didn’t deserve to be at the Pearly Gates either.
    “You don’t have to say anything, Perry. I can tell you hate that you didn’t witness to him enough. Let me just let you off the hook—I’ve witnessed to Saxon. He’s heard the gospel. He shoved me off, told me he said all the right things in the correct places he needed to, to let people think he knew the Lord, but in reality he told me he didn’t. Hearing that news was so damning, so final, so finite. He’s got to pull through this, son. There is absolutely nothing wrong with hoping for another chance to make sure he knows God. Heck, maybe he was just pulling my leg and he already does. I mean, you football players have heard so much that you’re the best of the best and