Chapter 7
Anson had enough problems without stirring up dissension. Why had he been so tempted to complain to Blaze about the church drama at the park?
Four days later, it still bothered him as he vacuumed up popcorn the high schoolers left in their wake after Sunday school. Blaze and Nolan would arrive at any moment for the last-minute leaders’ meeting he’d called. While he cleaned, he gave himself a mini-sermon on discretion.
Thank God Blaze had called him by his last name in the park the other day.
That reminded him of Sydney, who sometimes called him Mr. Marsh.
With Sydney, he could be real. They could discuss church problems. She’d keep it confidential and talk him down when necessary—as she’d done on Wednesday night—without losing her respect for Many Oaks Bible Church.
She’d helped him decide not to confront the board.
Instead, he would put in the extra time and effort to meet their goal without sacrificing lesson time.
To do that, he’d need help from his leaders.
Hence today’s meeting, where he’d try to describe the goal without poisoning their respect for the board.
He scanned the room, looking for more popcorn kernels.
Cabinets and a countertop ran along the rear wall.
Then came a table and metal chairs they rarely used.
Anson would replace the workspace with more comfortable seats, but they rarely filled the front half of the room, where a lectern faced two rows of six chairs.
A semi-circle of thrifted couches, the most popular seating option, surrounded those.
Blaze appeared in the doorway, angled to talk to someone behind her.
She wore a navy-blue dress laced with a dainty floral print.
With buttons down the front and puffed sleeves, the feminine style contrasted with her usual choices.
For shows, she wore lots of black tops and jeans like what the high schoolers wore.
Most Sundays, she opted for sleek professionalism.
Then again, what did he know? Maybe the dress was trendy. It certainly flattered her figure.
His throat tightened. Those were dangerous rails for a train of thought. He turned his back to her and unplugged the vacuum.
“With what?” Her smooth voice asked.
“Worship,” Nolan said as he walked in behind her. “I do my best, but we could really use your voice. And if you play guitar or piano ….”
“I’m always happy to sing, but I never learned an instrument.”
“Good enough.” He plopped onto one of the couches. “You sound a thousand times better than anything I croak out.”
Anson wound up the vacuum cord and wheeled it across the hall to the janitorial closet.
The space held more than its fair share of supplies, ranging from the standard cleaning products to stray décor.
But a sleeping bag? That didn’t belong tucked on a shelf.
He made a mental note to take it to lost and found, then circled back to the youth room.
His notes waited for him on top of a cardboard box he’d left on a chair in the front row. “Nolan, you heard we added to the team?” He motioned to Blaze.
“It’s about time. Now we won’t have to grab a Saplings teacher when Carianne disappears into the restroom for half an hour.”
Blaze quirked an eyebrow. “Restrooms are a big issue with these kids.”
Nolan lifted his hands. “The women’s restroom must be a lot nicer than the men’s, that’s all I’m saying. You ladies have a spa in there?”
Amusement sparkled in Blaze’s eyes. “Not last I checked.”
“Then I don’t know why the girls are always hanging out in there.”
Because they’d rather not be at youth group, apparently. Maybe there was a problem, and Anson had missed the signs.
“We’ll do our best to make sure it’s more interesting to stay with the group this year.” He inhaled deeply, steeling himself. “We have a goal of doubling attendance before the end of the semester.”
Nolan whistled. Blaze’s mouth skewed with doubt or concern.
Anson pushed ahead. “As I prayed about this, I realized most of our students have been attending for years. That’s made it possible to focus on more nuanced or advanced lessons, but this year, I want to revisit the basics so the kids can concisely explain what they believe and why.
They’ll need that as they become adults, and in the meantime, they can better engage with friends who need hope.
Plus, the lessons will be more accessible when they invite friends without a church background.
That’s important, because I don’t want to grow by poaching students from another youth group.
I want to disciple the kids we have and share the Good News with kids who aren’t getting it anywhere else. ”
“Preach.” Nolan clapped.
Blaze’s expression straightened into a smile.
The approval bolstered him, probably more than it should.
“I also want to make it as easy and fun as possible to invite friends to youth group, so I’m working on using social media more effectively.
In the meantime, I sent all the middle and high school students home today with an invitation with a QR code that’ll take them to an info page on our website. ”
“High tech,” Nolan quipped.
Not really, but updating the website and generating the code was as high-tech as Anson got. They’d need other improvements to attract more students.
He opened the box and lifted out a hooded sweatshirt.
The word Rooted ran down one arm. The other said In Christ. “A couple of years ago, when I ordered fifteen of these, the woman on the phone thought I said fifty. We didn’t catch the mistake until they were printed.
I have plenty left to give them as a reward to anyone who brings a friend to Rooted or one of our events.
” He dropped the zippered hoodie back into the box with the others.
“And I heard Blaze agree to sing. Thank you for that.” He nodded at her.
“What else can we do to make this year our best yet?”
“Snacks?” she asked. “Do you normally have those?”
Carter’s speech about food echoed in his mind, and he cringed. “When one of us remembers to pick something up.”
“Mercy and I like to bake. Treats can be our contribution.”
“Done.” He jotted down a note. “I’d also like to arrange more extra activities. Can you two carve out a few hours one Saturday a month?”
“As long as I’m not on duty.” Nolan’s schedule as a police officer was all over the place. Ensuring he was free every Wednesday evening involved a complex series of trades with his coworkers. Anson couldn’t ask him to guarantee another day of the month too.
He looked to Blaze.
“I used to have more gigs, but with the new job, I haven’t had time to coordinate that, so, sure. I’m flexible on Saturdays.”
“How about the Saturday after Labor Day, eight to two? I know it’s short notice. I told Branching Out students about it this morning. With enough leaders, we could open the activity up to Rooted students too.”
Both consulted their phones before nodding their agreement.
“Great.” Their help would put him one event closer to the attendance goal. “We’ll meet here and take a van to Pine Gully Creek for canoeing.”
Blaze lifted her hand like a timid student. “How does that work? Do people have to be able to swim to come?”
“Shouldn’t be a problem. Pine Gully Creek is shallow and slow, for the most part. We should have enough leaders who can swim to pair with anyone who can’t, and the rentals come with life jackets.”
She bit her lips together and nodded. Still concerned?
Maybe Mercy couldn’t swim, but short of repeating himself, he didn’t know how to reassure Blaze.
He moved on to planning Wednesday’s meeting.
Rooted always kicked off with a party, and they needed a strong opening night if they hoped to interest students in anything that came after.
Blaze paused outside Mercy’s bedroom. She’d told her three times to clean up, but each time she checked on her, she found her sister playing with Cinnamon Bun instead of picking up after him.
Now, the rabbit lounged on the floor next to Mercy as she spoke into her phone. “Why not? It’s—” She exhaled loudly, waited, then said, “Fine. You don’t have to be mean about it.”
After a clipped goodbye, she tossed the phone on the floor and scooped up BunBun. According to the dozens of articles Blaze read before agreeing to the pet, bunnies didn’t like to be held. BunBun made an exception for Mercy.
Blaze leaned against the doorway. “Who was that?”
“Amelia. I invited her to Rooted, and she said yes, but now she doesn’t want to come, and she won’t even tell me why.”
“Did you fight about something?”
“No.” Mercy stroked her lop-eared rabbit’s light brown fur. His hair was so fluffy—and prone to shedding—that a puff of it floated into the air. Their robot vacuum was a lifesaver, but it couldn’t handle the hay pieces that ended up scattered near the hutch in Mercy’s room.
Cleaning was a must, but Blaze knew all about friend trouble and how much it could hurt. “I’m sorry you two are fighting. Maybe you can talk to her more at school tomorrow and find out what happened.”
Mercy shrugged. “She says she doesn’t want to do anything with someone like me.”
“Someone like you?”
“That’s what she said.” Her chin bunched, and she kept her gaze on her rabbit.
“I don’t know what went wrong, but I do know what kind of person you are. You’re funny and energetic and caring. She’s lucky to have you as a friend, and you’re lucky to have her too. You’re going to work this out.”
Mercy’s mouth skewed.
Blaze couldn’t blame her for being skeptical. Disagreements with grade school friends hadn’t always worked out for Blaze either. She prayed Mercy would have a different result. “I bet you’ll be friends again long before Wednesday, but right now, I do need you to clean this room.”
Mercy’s gaze darted to the corner where she’d abandoned her crutches on Friday. “Maybe my ankle hurts.”
Blaze lowered her chin. After the leaders’ meeting, she’d found Mercy running around in the gym without a hint of pain. “You can ice and elevate after you finish. Cleaning up will only take a few minutes if you put your mind to it.”
“Mom never made me do chores.”
“Mom also never got you a bunny. You don’t want to live in that mess, do you?” She toed a piece of hay stuck to the carpet.
“I don’t mind. I don’t even notice.”
“I mind.” Blaze’s phone dinged, but she wasn’t about to give her sister an escape by pausing the conversation to check it. “Next time I come check, his litter box and this carpet had better be clean, or I’ll give you other chores to do too.”
Mercy set the bunny free and stood, but instead of moving to obey, she scowled. “You don’t clean our bathroom every day.”
“You are as capable of cleaning the bathroom as I am, but BunBun cannot change his litter box. And our bathroom doesn’t double as your dining table.”
Mercy’s mouth scrunched. They’d both been surprised to learn bunnies ate mostly hay—and troubled that their preferred place to do so was in their litter boxes.
Blaze’s phone sounded again. Trusting she’d made her point, she stepped away and slipped the device from her pocket. “When you’re done cleaning, come show me your homework.”
The afterthought went unanswered, and Blaze let it go. For now.
She unlocked her phone.
Anson had texted her and Nolan. Thanks for the ideas today. Glad to have you on the team.
Interesting. She hadn’t expected him to play cheerleader.
The other message came from Nolan. After the names of four worship songs to brush up on for Rooted, he’d added, This is gonna be awesome!
Blaze snorted. She and Nolan had been in the same class at Many Oaks High, a year behind Anson. They hadn’t interacted much, but apparently that hadn’t been because of any judgment on Nolan’s side. Or if it had been, he’d outgrown it.
I’ll be ready. She added a thumbs up for good measure and sent the message before heading to the kitchen to heat dinner.
The texts and Rooted commitments on her calendar made her feel a little less like an outsider.
She should’ve volunteered to serve years ago.
Instead, she’d assumed no one at church would trust the girl who’d once burned down a building.
Assumed her own childhood difficulties with friendships would follow her into adulthood.
If there was hope for her yet, there was also hope for Mercy’s friendships, but her little sister wouldn’t be encouraged to hear that improvements might take another fifteen years.
Anyway, Anson had dragged his feet before letting Blaze lead.
This might be tenuous cooperation, not full-fledged acceptance.
One mistake and Mercy might not be the only one in need of a pep talk.