The Pastor's Wife Wears Biker Boots (8 page)

I rolled my eyes, sat back in my chair with my arms folded across my chest. Unbelievable.
But predictable.

“I think Hell’s Angels are in California.” Aaron chuckled. “That’s a long way from Indiana.”

“Well, actually, Aaron.” I leaned my elbows on the table and whispered out of the side of my hand. “They’re international now.”

Norman slapped his hand on the table. “See? I told you. International. I think Indiana’s in there somewhere.” His lips quivered.
It took little to upset him.

“Elder Norman, with all due respect, I don’t think the Hell’s Angels will bother coming to our church. For one thing, we won’t be serving alcohol. And besides, if the Hell’s Angels want to come, they’re welcome. They’re God’s children, too.”
Aaron kept his voice steady and kind.

Elder Pete and Deacon West nodded.

“It’s an unreached people group,” I said. “Think of this as a missions project. And as Aaron said, I doubt many people will come. It’ll probably be just us bikers who are members of the church.”

“Who rides a motorcycle and attends our church?” Norman’s hand shook as he took a sip of his coffee.

“Myself, and Lily, and Opal.”

“Opal?” All the men said her name at once.

“Since when does Opal ride a motorcycle?” Deacon Wilcox chuckled. His slightly rounded belly jiggled the brass buttons on his jean jacket.

“Since a few weeks ago when she bought one. She took the motorcycle class with me.”

All the men laughed, and even Norman gave in to a timid snicker.
“Bernice isn’t going to like it.” Norman’s snicker mellowed to a heavy sigh.

“Well, I gotta see this.” Elder Pete wiped his hands on his pants. “I think it’s worth having a bike blessing just to see Opal ride.”

Norman moaned and scratched the back of his head. “Bernice is going to say it’s unladylike and inappropriate for the pastor’s wife to be riding around on a motorcycle like a Hell’s Angel.”

“Well, I’m all for the blessing. This I gotta see.”
Deacon Perry flashed a sidewise grin.

“I agree.” Deacon West reached for two more brownies. “They’ll be talking about this for years.”

“OK. Kirstie, pick a date.” Aaron handed me the church calendar. “Eel Falls is going to host its first ever bike blessing.”

True to Norman’s word, Bernice had a fit when she learned the results of the monthly church board meeting. Those flowerbeds were her pride and joy, and she wasn’t about to let a bunch of rowdy bikers ruin them.
She came to the church early the next day and marched into the sanctuary where Aaron balanced precariously on a rickety ladder changing light bulbs. Bernice wasted no time in her dramatic assault. I could hear every word from where I worked in the church office because the door opened into the sanctuary.

“I won’t stand for it, Pastor. It’s unladylike and inappropriate for your wife to be riding around like a rebel teenager. If she’s having a midlife crisis, take her to a counselor. Rule your household, Reverend. Rule your household or you won’t be able to shepherd this church.”

In his usual calm, delayed manner, Aaron climbed slowly down the ladder.

“How are you Miss Bernice? It’s lovely to see you this morning. Is there something I can help you with?”

“You know good and well there’s something you can help me with.” I peeked out the door in time to see Bernice shake her finger in Aaron’s face. “I cannot allow this biker catastrophe to happen. I just won’t stand for it.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Bernice. I wish you’d reconsider.”

“I will not.”

Aaron folded the ladder.
“Well, that’s a shame. That’s a real shame, because I wanted to ask you to be in charge of—well—never mind.”

“What? In charge of what? Go on. What is it?”

“I looked forward to you being in charge of organizing the food and refreshments for the event.”

Bernice sighed deeply and glared. I’d heard Bernice tell people before that she was the only one in the church who knew how to get things done.

Aaron moved the ladder to the next chandelier, climbed to the top, and continued screwing in light bulbs.

“We have no idea how many will be here, and Kirstie and I aren’t sure what type of food we should serve that would make for good leftovers and…”

“Well, that’s true.” Bernice sniffed. “Kirstie’s gift isn’t in the kitchen. We both know that.”

I wanted to march in and give Bernice something else to talk about, but I held back.

Aaron didn’t say anything. With one quiet motion, he moved the ladder to the next chandelier and started changing lights again.
“What do you suggest Bernice?”

“For what?”

“For food. What should we serve?”

I chuckled and watched as Aaron hooked and reeled in Bernice. She talked about how serving egg salad wouldn’t be appropriate because it would spoil, but on the other hand, a fruit salad could keep for quite a while, and a person could always re-heat hot dogs and eat them later, but serving sandwiches would mean the bread would dry out
.

“I’m so glad we can depend on you, Bernice.” Aaron flashed her a smile. “Your help will be invaluable.”

“I live to serve, Pastor. You know that.” Bernice turned and hollered toward the office door. “Kirstie, tell Opal I’ll need a sign-up sheet for Sunday. I’ll call with the details in a few hours.”

“OK, Bernice. Opal should be here then. She stepped out to get supplies.” I choked back a giggle. When my husband shifted into pastor gear, he never failed to impress me. He had a patient way with people I hadn’t master
ed.

“At least they’ll get a good meal.” Bernice sniffed and began to walk toward the door. “Never let it be said that this church doesn’t know how to take care of folks. You hear me, Pastor Donovan? If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it right.”

Aaron climbed down the ladder and winked at me.

I smiled back.

“Yup. We’re gonna do it right. I can’t have my name associated with something done willy-nilly. People will be talking about this for years.” Bernice’s voice trailed off as she walked through the foyer doors and out to the parking lot.

Aaron walked into the office and began to tickle me. “You better get busy, Mrs. Donovan. We have some hungry bikers to feed.”

“Aaron, stop tickling me!”

He grabbed me in a big bear hug. “OK.” He buried his nose in my hair. “Please, God, please don’t let anything go wrong at this event.”

“It’ll be fine.” I looked up at him. “Really. Don’t worry.”

“I sure hope we don’t live to regret this, Kirstie.”

I walked to the desk and sat down at the computer to email Opal about Bernice’s sign-up sheet. “It’ll be fine. If it doesn’t go well, we can always live in the van.”

11

Finally the day came, and the thunder of motorcycles filled the air. I trembled with anticipation as people riding everything from Harleys to scooters to sport bikes filled the parking lot. I must admit Bernice pulled off a beautiful spread of BBQ and salads and plenty of sweet tea with the help of all the church ladies.

When bikers get together, everyone immediately becomes a family. There are no strangers. We all stood around and talked about our bikes, trips, and simply enjoyed one another’s company.
No pretense. It didn’t matter what someone wore, what they looked like, or what they believed.

“I think this must be what it’ll be like in heaven, Aaron.” I could hardly stand still from excitement. “Everyone getting along in peace and no bickering.”

“I never thought I’d see a picture of heaven in a bunch of bikers.” He chuckled.

When the parking lot filled and the last biker pulled in, Aaron stood on the makeshift platform under the new carport. His eyes gleamed with compassion and love. This was the largest congregation he’d preached to in ten years.

“Welcome, bikers!”

The bikers rolled their engines and honked their horns.

Bernice held her hands over her ears.

Reba and Lily beamed, and Opal, as usual, shook in her boots.

“I want to thank my wife, Kirstie, a lady biker, for requesting this event. She told me a lot of bikers lost their lives last year as a result of motorcycle accidents. May they rest in peace.”

Bikers nodded all around, dismounted, and removed their hats. Several crossed themselves.

“Today, we’re going to pray and seek God’s help for our riding season. God is interested in protecting you. He wants to bless you.”

The once noisy parking lot grew dead quiet. You could hear a doo-rag drop.

“But let me be clear.” Aaron paused, in full preaching mode now. “The biggest blessing God wants to bless you with isn’t a blessing on your bike, but on your eternal soul. The biggest blessing available to you is the blessing of salvation available through Jesus Christ.”

A few restless bikers shuffled their feet. Others put out their cigarettes. Most listened and nodded.

Aaron talked about God’s desire to protect His children and told funny stories about how I learned to ride and how God protected me. “It doesn’t matter who you are or what you ride. It doesn’t matter what you’ve done or where you’ve traveled. Salvation is free, and Jesus wants you to have it.”

Finally, we bowed our heads as he prayed a blessing over us and offered a sinner’s prayer for those wanting to receive Jesus.

“If you have any concerns or needs, let me and my wife know, and we’ll be happy to pray with you today. We’re not here to condemn you.
We’re here to welcome you and love you.”

I prayed hard for Bernice and Norman and their peeps to hear that last part. Bernice and Mrs. Hammond had been whispering in each other’s ears and staring at the women in tank tops since the well-tanned girls started arriving.

On the other hand, I couldn’t have been more proud of our little congregation. Most were excited to see activity in the church. And I could tell Aaron felt touched by the experience. Instead of babysitting Christians, he was getting to evangelize. He beamed. I watched with joy as he prayed with a couple while tears streamed freely down their sun-leathered cheeks.

Aaron walked to each biker and handed them a blessing sticker that said, “This bike was blessed at Eel Falls First Independent Community Christian Church.” Some put them on their helmets, others on their windshields, but others simply pocketed them. Aaron was fully in his element—greeting people with a hearty handshake and praying for their needs.

Elder Pete followed behind him and handed out pocket-sized New Testaments.

While my husband and the elders and deacons greeted the bikers individually, the church ladies and I began to spread the food for our guests. After we finished, I decided to stand in line for some munchies before my sugar dropped.

Nola and Jennifer didn’t notice me approaching from behind.

“Well,” I heard Nola say to Jennifer, “pretty soon Kirstie will be dressing like that.”

“Goodness, I hope not.” Jennifer popped a chip in her mouth. “She doesn’t have the figure for it.” Both
snickered, and I think I heard a snort.

“And you know what else?” Jennifer leaned into Nola’s ear. “Someone told me that she has a tattoo—in a private place.”

“If it’s private, how do you know, Jennifer?”
I reached between them and across the table for a carrot, bit into it, smiled, and moved on. The jaw-dropping, eye-popping look of horror on their faces almost made enduring their gossip
worth it.

Too soon, the time came to ride out to Lake Wawasee for ice cream. I kissed Aaron good-bye, plunked on my helmet, and rode my bike to the back of the line with Lily and Opal. We would make up the tail end. I’d asked Reba and Trace to lead.

“I hope Reba gave her heart back to Jesus today.” Lily
buckled her helmet as we waited for everyone to get started.

“Me, too. I hope she’ll give the church folks another chance. The ones who judged her mother for being divorced and remarrying aren’t even attending church anymore.” Opal pulled on her leather gloves.

“What happened to them?” I flipped my helmet’s visor up. Reba had left the church long before Aaron and I had moved to town.

“The gossipers got divorced. Ironic, ain’t it?” Opal shook her head.

“Just goes to show, you should never go around pointing fingers.” Lily turned on her bike.

I revved my engine. “Very true. Although, I must say, sometimes I get confused between true mercy and false mercy.”

“False mercy?” Lily flipped up her kickstand.

“Yes. Winking at sin because you think you’re showing mercy. It’s complicated, isn’t it?” I shook my head.

Opel nodded and started her engine. “That’s why we have to pray about stuff before we open our mouths.”

“Or not open our mouths.” Lily had to shout above the engines.

We were all eager to roll, engines started, kickstands up.

Finally, the call came from the front.

“Let’s ride!”

12

“Calm down, Lily.” I looked at the clock. One o’clock in the morning. Through my tired haze, I heard her sobbing. I shook Aaron awake and sat up in bed. “I can’t understand you. Try to slow down and tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s Milo. He hit me.”

“What?”

“He doesn’t know what he’s doing, Kirstie. It’s the Alzheimer’s. It’s getting worse.”

“Where is he now?”

“He’s in the living room yelling at the imaginary children he says are crawling all over the furniture. Can you come over and sit with me until he falls asleep?”

“Of course,” I said. “I’ll be right there. Do you want Aaron to come with me?”

“Yes, please. He can help me put him to bed again.”

“OK. Listen to me. If you can, stay in the next room where you can see him but he can’t see you, OK?”

“OK.”
It hurt to hear the pain and fear in Lily’s voice. She was normally strong and self-assured.

Aaron called Opal to come watch the kids. I dressed, and we were in the car in less than ten minutes. Lily only lived five miles outside of town.

“Poor Milo.” I rested my hand on Aaron’s shoulder as he turned down her long driveway. “I hate to see Lily going through this. Milo was always difficult but never violent.”