8
On Sunday morning, Bing rose with a smile on his face. Spending time helping Gigget had been fun and rewarding. He frowned a little at the memory of Tink taking him aside on the way to his truck to inquire as to his intentions about the lovely widow.
Intentions? He’d only just met her. He lacked evil intentions, but beyond that, he had no clue. Why would a sweet lady like Gigget want him? He was short, round, and according to his ex-wife, too nice to be worthy of a long-term relationship. He’d always suspected the real issue was his faith in Jesus. Once he’d learned about God’s wonderful salvation and started living a Christian lifestyle, she’d refused to follow his lead. But Gigget attended church and seemed to like him.
Bing glanced through the Sunday morning paper and chuckled. Stores were selling Christmas goods already. A friend at this particular store had asked him for some help. He thought Bing would be the perfect model for the Christmas garden gnomes that they were advertising. It was a way to pick up extra cash and while the company that made the gnomes had enough creativity to make them without his image, they liked a version that appeared more realistic. Still, it cracked him up when he’d seen the Army ones.
Army gnomes would do better protecting Gigget if they were real and not a garden statue.
He’d served his Army time and been a scout on patrol in strange parts of the world. When his time was up he’d switched to the Army National Guard. Occasionally he got called to duty, and had regular weekends of training. How long before he’d be out of country again? Not that he minded. It was his honor to serve his country. But would he feel the same way if he had a woman like Gigget in his life? And her precocious children were cute. Quite the little family, something he’d wanted for a while.
His grin returned. He hoped he’d run into them at church again. But what excuse would he have to see her next? Did he dare ask her out on a date?
What if she said no?
Was he a man or a gnome?
He grabbed his Bible and headed to his truck to go to church. Lord, You’ll need to be the One to lead me here. I’d really like to get to know Gigget better, but how?
At church, he stepped into the sanctuary.
Puck greeted him. “Good morning, Bing. How are you? Any more trouble from Fez?”
Bing shook his head. “No. I hope he’s done with this foolishness and will leave Ms. Wicket alone.”
“Have you set your sights on her?” Puck asked.
Bing’s cheeks grew warmed, but he hoped his beard hid most of the heat. “She’s a sweet woman, but I doubt she’d be interested in someone like me.”
Puck patted him on the back. “She would be a fool not to recognize how good a man you are, Bing. Don’t lose hope. She’s not like Sharlie at all.”
“It doesn’t mean she’d want a divorced man.” Why did speaking that out loud bring his spirits lower?
His friend pointed a finger at his chest. “You are a kind and compassionate person, Bing. Being divorced doesn’t mean your life and happiness needs to be sacrificed.”
A sigh from deep within slowly escaped Bing’s chest. “Thanks. I’ll think about what you said.”
“Do more than that, Bing. Believe it. You are a new man in Christ and the old has passed away…that includes the shame you carry for the failure of your marriage. Let it go.” Puck nodded and his eyebrows lifted to emphasize his words.
The music started in the sanctuary so the two men went in to sit.
As worship began, Bing forgot all about keeping an eye out for Gigget.
~*~
Gigget got to church during the first song. The children had dawdled and she was already exhausted. How did families do it? Did a husband really help? She was aware of how cynical she was, but as much as she told herself she shouldn’t be, she couldn’t seem to help those bitter thoughts from creeping in. The day was cold and cloudy. The chilly house didn’t help. The furnace wasn’t keeping up, and she had no idea what to do about it. She couldn’t use the fireplace, as she wasn’t sure if the stove pipe needed to be serviced. The work to maintain the old house was overwhelming. The money available to deal with it all—non-existent.
Great is Thy Faithfulness began, and she couldn’t bring herself to stand.
Thanksgiving was soon, and she should be grateful for so many things, but right now she struggled to hold on to those blessings.
Her kids were healthy.
She was healthy, too.
Her car was running—thanks to Bing.
New camera doorbells, again, thanks to Bing.
A job, even though it barely met their needs. It was all she was qualified to do and care for her kids.
Government assistance. She hated that she needed the insurance and food allowance, but prices kept going up.
She had friends, but they were often busy with their own lives.
Gigget realized she was horrible at this gratitude thing. God, You have been faithful, and I worry about so many things; yet somehow, day by day, we manage. You feed the birds and You continue to provide for us, too. Help me to rest in that truth and not my own worries about all the things that go wrong.
Why was it so hard to set aside those very harsh realities? She sighed and struggled to not cry. She gave in to tears only in the privacy of her bedroom so the kids wouldn’t realize it. They didn’t need to carry her burdens.
As the congregation sat, she spied Bing over to the side and slightly ahead of her. At least he couldn’t observe her struggle. He’d already gone above-and-beyond in caring for her and the children, who were now earnestly praying for him to be their daddy.
Why did her heart skip a beat at that thought? He was a handsome man. Strong. Resourceful. A protector and rescuer. He was brave. He’d been tender to the children and listened to them, seeming to really care about their thoughts. He would make a good father. He’d probably make an excellent husband.
For someone.
That could never be her. Her clothing was old, out of fashion, and worn. Her fingers were calloused from hard work. She was already noticing wrinkles on her forehead. She’d lost weight to ensure her kids got enough food to eat. Her appearance was nothing to draw the attention of a man. But even if she were beautiful to look at, no man would want her or the burdens she carried.
She barely heard the sermon as she sat silently in the mire of ugly emotions that seemed to penetrate every thought. She feared for her children if she didn’t do something to take care of the darkness that seemed to overwhelm her. She’d spent what little spare time she had reading God’s work and journaling her prayers.
I’ll still cling to you, Lord, even though I can’t see a way forward and am drowning in misery and loneliness. Logic tells me I should be grateful for all Your blessings and joyful at the thought of how You love me .
The final song began, and she rose to her feet but didn’t sing. Last night had been filled with peace and contentment while her friends and Bing sat around her table. But the emptiness left behind scraped a raw wound in her soul. She didn’t know how to keep herself together but didn’t want to shatter to pieces right there in the pew.
The song ended, and they were dismissed.
Gigget got in line to pick up her children who were strangely silent as they left their classroom. They managed to get to their car without conversing with anyone. Soon they were on their way home. As if that chilly, drafty house was a better place to be.
~*~
Mrs. Cowterputter bustled over to Puck and Bing.
“Good morning, Moosha,” Bing said.
“I didn’t know who else to talk to about this,” the older woman said.
“About what?”
“I have the Wicket children in my Sunday school classroom, and this morning they asked for prayer.”
“And?” Puck asked.
“They mentioned their house was really cold and that the furnace wasn’t working.”
Alarm filled Bing. Broken furnaces could lead to carbon monoxide poisoning—as well as freezing to death. He looked at Puck. “Well, you’re the heating specialist. I don’t know as much as you do. Want to go help a widow today?”
Puck nodded. “I’ll go home and get my truck which has all my tools. You contact Gigget to make sure she’s home.”
“I don’t have her number. Do you have a carbon monoxide tester?”
Puck tilted his head. “Of course. Text me her address, and I’ll meet you there in about thirty minutes.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Bing turned to Mrs. Cowterputter. “Thank you for making us aware of the problem. Ms. Wicket is in a tough spot from what I can figure out, and it is our pleasure to give her a hand.”
“I knew you young men wouldn’t fail me. I hate to watch them suffer.”
“Pray for them. It’s the best thing any of us can do.” Bing shrugged on his coat and grabbed his hat. He hoped Gigget wouldn’t be upset with the children for telling someone of their struggles.