The Kingdom Land (11 page)

The ladies made sure the food stayed fresh and warmed
by the oven in the back room. They would talk about their kids and
craft projects and hopes for a vacation and throw in a little
gossip. But they would never talk about their husbands. It simply
was bad taste to talk about the husbands or the state of one's
marriage, good or bad.

Mary would quickly examine the room once she entered.
She had a purpose here more than the food or the dance. Mary never
did remember if the music was good or the dancing skillful. She
just remembered looking for Henry. It was at these dances that she
first met Henry. She loved to dance and although she was only
fifteen, and much too young to date according to her folks, she
wasn't too young to dance with a handsome young man with jet-black
hair. They would dance maybe two dances; the others their age
staring, and then they would retreat to their place. There was a
stage at the front of the hall where the caller and musicians would
play. The side curtains provided a barrier for young people to
talk.

They did nothing but talk, but when she returned to
the farm she would treasure every word that Henry had said. The
curtains around them drawn close together creating their own little
cubby hole within. Here, the rest of the world didn't exist. They
would spend part of the evening with their other friends, but they
cherished that time alone. Their companionship sheltered them both.
It was here that Henry shared his life with Christ and here that
Mary responded. It was here that their closeness began to develop.
Years later, their life would continue with the same sense of
closeness and self-sufficiency, relying on the Lord and each other
while still having the ability to not close themselves off from the
need of others.

Over the years, it was amazing to see the Cooper's
love for each other. It was as solid and unmoving as the land
itself. The simple life of the farm made it easy to rely on each
other, but at the same time they never allowed the troubles of the
farm to enter their marriage.

They were childless, not by design, but by nature. It
was to this comfortable nest that Erik was brought that fateful
evening. Mary worried at times, and especially this evening as she
thought back over the past, that Henry's and her closeness had not
allowed Erik room in their lives. They had tried as best they
could, but they had been married twenty-one years when Erik moved
to their house. Maybe they hadn't realized it and had shut Erik
out, no matter how hard they tried. Guilt is a terrible thing,
especially when it is unjustified. That evening guilt was tearing
at Mary as she remembered the nightmares of Jimmie and worried that
maybe she hadn't done enough to prevent Erik's nightmares.

She didn't know. She could only pray and hope she had
done enough, and pray some more. But none of this allowed her to
sleep that night. Finally, in the morning hours, she gave up and
walked to the kitchen and started the coffee pot. As she opened the
drawer to pull out a spoon she noticed a worn corner of the metal
cabinets. They had installed metal cabinets in the farmhouse
because they were told they would last forever. However, the
porcelain had flaked off years ago and the cabinet showed its age.
Mary also felt her age, but at the same time she remembered how
often she had gone through the same morning routine. There were
days that started with joy and anticipation. There were days that
started after sleepless nights worrying about the crops or some
other crisis. Each day brought its own chores to be done, farm
tasks to be completed and sometimes tragedies to face.

As she looked at that worn edged she smiled. No
matter what the day brought, she still went on. Her life might seem
like that worn edge from day to day, but there had never been a
time that the Lord hadn't been faithful. Even as that old drawer
opened each time it was pulled, Christ would open a way, and she
needed to remember that. Every time to this date that her life had
been filled with fear, He had sheltered them. She knew He would be
true even today. She knew the same could be true for Erik. And she
waited for Erik to come to breakfast

 

 

When Erik went into the main house at 6:30 a.m., he
smelled the coffee that meant Aunt Mary was already up. She urged
him to go back and sleep longer. “The fields can wait. Take a
couple of days and just relax.” Erik made some feeble excuses that
the work had to be done and it was his job. His only reaction to
the turmoil of the last thirty-six hours was to go back to what was
most familiar: the tractor and its endless laps around the stripes
of fields. He knew he was going to the fields today not for the
work, but the chance to sort things out in his mind.

It was unusual, but he didn't see his uncle at the
breakfast table. He didn't know if his uncle was hurt, angry or
ashamed. Erik didn't quiz his aunt nor did he add further
conversation. He simply ate the pancakes and bacon and headed for
the fields. His aunt watched him go, silently praying that his lack
of conversation was not a sign that Erik had once again retreated
away into his isolation.

Erik went through the regular routine of preparing
the John Deere for the day's labor. He filled it with diesel from
the large pump tank. He greased the plow and checked the dual tires
by bouncing a hammer off their treads, inspecting them to make sure
no rocks had become lodged between them. But this routine was done
without thinking. He worked as a machine doing its task. It was
only when the tractor started and the plow was plunged into the
soil that Erik began to think.

In the past he would have taken this opportunity to
escape to his dreams. Today he could only think of the reality of
the last two days. There was something about the deafening roar of
the tractor and the taste of dust in his mouth along with the
routine of endless circles in the field that made his mind clearer.
As much as he hated the work, it was on the tractor that he could
try to make sense out of the last few days.

His uncle had said that the state had asked for money
for funeral expenses. He wondered if the Coopers had sent money or
if his mom had been buried in a cheap box in a pauper's grave. He
thought it was almost a peculiar speculation. Certainly she had
never cared nor given anything to anyone else. Why should the
Coopers send money? They had supported her child for years, wasn't
that enough? Still, it was a question that came to him, and a
question he knew he would never ask. This was a woman who had cared
for no one, but this woman was still his mother. He hoped she had
been buried right.

The questions he asked himself allowed Erik to know
that he had changed in a short period of time. In the past, he
would not even have acknowledged his mother's existence, let alone
worry about how she was buried. He knew something was different. It
was ironic that the difference of caring meant a renewed sense of
abandonment and betrayal. When he had talked with John in the
diner, it all seemed so simple. Love God and your neighbor. God
forgave you so you needed to forgive others. That reality seemed so
simple and easy as they talked just a day ago. Now he had just
gotten hit with the cold reality of how difficult it could be to
forgive.

He then thought of his uncle. He found it impossible
to be bitter towards him. His uncle hadn't done anything wrong, no
matter how hard Erik tried to find fault. His uncle was right. What
good would it have done to tell Erik years ago? Erik had never
expressed any interest in his mother, had never asked of her. He
realized that his uncle could have thought it would drive Erik away
even further. He also realized his uncle hadn't caused his mom to
be a druggie. He was just the person that got the death
certificate. What was he supposed to do?

Erik felt ashamed of himself that he had responded so
bitterly towards them last night. He wished his uncle had been at
breakfast, but he also knew he needed time. The Coopers had done so
much for him and had tried so hard. They had made mistakes, but the
mistakes were never out of spite or anger or lack of caring.They
had never had kids themselves and Erik knew he wasn't exactly the
easiest person to parent.

On the way home from the diner he had known that he
had to reach out to the Coopers. Then within hours he had slipped
back into his old shell. Again, that which had seemed so clear and
so simple was going to be harder to live than he anticipated. Just
as he knew there had been a change within him as he thought of his
mother, he knew he had to also change from his old habits. His
habit wasn't booze, like the winos that worked during the harvest
season, or like his dad, for that matter. His habit was cutting
himself off from people. He knew now he could no longer be a loner
that needed no one. Again the simple reality was that he needed to
love God and people. It was the people who had abandoned him so
many times in the past that would make that task difficult.

He had told the Coopers that he needed to forgive his
parents. He knew he had to first ask the Coopers for their
forgiveness. Forgiveness was needed for all the years he had been
rude to them, including last night. It had been a shock that he
couldn't go to his one remaining parent, but the Coopers were only
a couple of hundred feet from his bunkhouse. Maybe it was easier to
think of forgiving parents that weren't close. It was harder to
look the Coopers in the eyes because of all that had
transpired.

His mind thought of the past day and then the long
process it would take to really make the changes necessary. He then
thought of the farm and the harvest. He hated the first day of the
harvest season. It meant for the next three weeks the only thing he
would be doing is work and sweat. Each year when they pulled the
combine into the first field it seemed as if the harvest would
never be done. But unless the harvest was started there would be no
hope for its completion. It was only the completion of the harvest
that meant all the months of labor had really been worth it. As he
looked at his life, he knew a lot had to be done, and it wouldn't
be as simple as it seemed when talking with John. He also realized
it was only by accepting and relying on Christ that he could begin
the harvest of making his life different. Christ had planted the
seed and tilled the ground; now Erik was going to have to complete
the harvest by determining to get into the fields of change.

Even as he thought through this reality, the pain was
still sharp. He still couldn't overlook another example of people
leaving him. He couldn't think of an example of any person loving
him without having him dropped on them. He wanted to be a son with
a family, even more so after his talk with John. He had determined
it in his mind to be part of a real family. Somehow, he had
expected that he would find his mother and everything would be
magically different. All the years of pain and hurt would be gone,
swept away by a new beginning. Now he knew that had only been
another dream. His only option, he concluded, was to have a family
of his own and raise his own son. Certainly in Fairfield there was
no woman that would take him. Certainly the thought of his own
family was as distant as the changes he needed to make.

About noon he saw a car coming up the dirt road to
the fields. On the plains the dust made thrown up by a passing
vehicle made its approach visible long before the car actually made
appearance. When he could finally see the car, it was one that Erik
couldn't identify. It was a late model car that wasn't suited for
the dirt or ruts of the field road, but it was obvious it was
making its way to Erik. There was nowhere else to go in this land.
As Erik drove the tractor down the hill after another circle of the
field, he saw the car door open and John stepped out. He had
something in his hands. Erik was both glad and hesitant to see
him.

Erik pushed the throttle to stop the John Deere and
opened the side window of the tractor's cab. “John, what are you
doing out here? That's an awful fancy car for the fields. A rock
will put a hole in your oil pan.”

“
Your aunt made a casserole and I
brought you a dishful. She thought you might like that more than
your bologna sandwich. I also have some cold pop.”

“
That's nice of you, but it's a long
ways from Fairfield to be an errand boy,” Erik replied, but he knew
the food was secondary to John's visit.

“
I found myself in the area today.
Thought I would stop in and visit. Your aunt and uncle are
concerned about you,” John leveled with him. “They love you a lot
and they asked if I would talk to you. I understand it was a hard
night last night.”

Erik looked away. “Yeah, it was,” he admitted. “There
are some things I need to think over.”

“
Well, why don't you climb off that
tractor and get into this food before it's totally cold. It has to
be cooler inside my car than inside the tractor.”

Erik hesitated. He was reluctant to leave the
sanctuary of his tractor. The tractor was his territory and made
any real conversation impossible through a half-opened window. He
considered a moment, and then gave in, climbing down the tractor
rungs and into the Buick. John handed him a plate after removing
the tin foil cover and opened a can of 7-Up.

As Erik took several mouthfuls of casserole without
acknowledging him, John broke the silence. “Your uncle told me what
happened,” he began. “I'm sorry.”

“
You better watch saying you're
sorry,” Erik said around a mouthful of food. “Someone might believe
you.” He regretted his words as soon as he said them, but today he
was going to be much more guarded than he had been yesterday.
Still, the remark's rudeness was too obvious. Moments before on the
tractor he had determined to trust that the Lord would make a
change in his life. Now as soon as he saw John, he was rude,
insulting even. It seemed as if he was climbing a hill of loose
shale rock. As soon as he tried to take two steps forward with
change he quickly slid back a step to old habits. He had done the
same thing the night before with the Coopers.