9. Chapter 8 #2
I appreciate Dad’s attempt to lighten the moment.
But I’m in shock. I can’t wrap my mind around the fact that my dad found God.
Did he find God like I did? There’s no way it could be similar to my meeting with God.
A chance, unintended relationship. A mix of emotions cascade through my mind.
I’m happy for my dad, but I’m mad. Well, I guess that’s one answered prayer, God.
But what about Raegan and me? I know it’s great, Dad getting saved.
The guilt and the shame feel heavier on my shoulders. I should be happier about this.
I open and close my mouth a few times, but no words come out. Finally, “That’s really great Dad. Mom, Izzy, and I started going to church after we got to Clear Creek. God and I found each other too.” But I screwed all that up. I don’t even know if God wants me anymore. “Does Mom know yet?”
“Other than Dave, who introduced me to God, I haven’t really told anyone. I’ve just been doing a lot of Bible reading and getting to know God.”
“I don’t know what to say, Dad. I was...
” I lean forward, propping my elbows on my knees, “still am, kinda… Um, mad at you. For everything you put us through.” My nose feels like it’s got cotton stuffed up it, and my throat has a baseball lodged in it.
“It’s an answer to prayer. To one of my prayers, anyway.
Coach told me to pray for you, even when I was mad.
” I shake my head, then stare out over the yard.
“I can’t believe God answered that prayer. ”
“Only He could do it. Only God could save a wretch like me.” I turn back to Dad and watch as tears stream down his cheeks. “Can you forgive me, Austin? For the poor example that I was? For tearing our family apart to chase earthly treasure that didn’t last?”
Now, I’m crying. Dad never apologizes. Never asks for forgiveness. Through tear filled eyes, I stand and walk around the fire pit to wrap my arms around Dad. We rock back and forth for a few seconds. “I forgive you, Dad. I’m so glad God found you.” I choke out the words into his shoulder.
God, if you can make this much change in my dad, You’ve got to be able to make a change for Raegan and I, right?
“Thank you, Jesus,” Dad murmurs against my head. He pats me on the back a few times before pulling away. Wiping a tear from his eye he says, “So, how did you meet God?”
“Well, Clear Creek is a small town. Turns out my baseball coach is the youth pastor at the church where my graduation party was. And one night we watched Facing the Giants. And I just realized I needed Christ to be my Savior.”
Dad squeezes me again. “Never thought I’d call myself a Christian, but here we both are.” He tears up again. “I’m sorry it took me so long to see what I needed in life to be the best dad, and man, I can be. I want to fix our relationship, be here for you better than I was before."
I just nod, not trusting my voice, or the tears welling up in my own eyes.
“Why don’t we get some pizza, watch a movie, do something fun.”
“Yeah, that would be nice, Dad.”
“Pepperoni, sausage and ham still your favorite?”
“Always, Dad.”
Part of me wants to call Coach, call Mom.
Tell someone. But I’m a little envious. I want God to fix my problems too.
But if I try to tell Coach I’ll fall apart.
Calling either person will make me think of Raegan.
And right now, I kind of want to put the thoughts of her away.
Thinking about Raegan hurts, I miss her, and I wish I could change things.
God, do you only love the people who obey after they trust You as Savior?
If He’s turned away from me, He’s probably turned away from her, too.
So, I’ve ruined her life. I know that’s not what Coach taught me.
“That’s not my God,” he would say. I know the truth.
I know God still loves me, but why am I finding it so hard to truly believe?
Lights from the pool dance on the ceiling of my guest room. It’s kind of relaxing. I swipe through one last picture of Raegan and me before I drop my phone. I shove my hands under my head and take a huge breath.
Come on, God. Why can’t you work something for me and Raegan? Somehow You got Dad, so why not us?
How could it be that Dad finds God at the same time that I feel like I’m slipping away from God?
I really am glad Dad changed, that he has a relationship with God.
But I feel like God ripped away my relationship with Raegan, and exchanged it for my relationship with my dad.
I know it isn’t true. Raegan and I made our choices and forced our relationship to where it is now.
And I chose baseball. I had to. It was a once in a lifetime chance.
“Is there any chance, God, that you can fix things for Raegan and me?”
I roll over to my stomach and punch the pillow down so I can get more comfortable. My phone lights up with a notification. I prop it against the headboard and tap the screen to read the message.
Carson:
Happy Thanksgiving a day early. Miss you. Hope Atlanta is treating you right.
I miss the guy. Carson is a good friend. He wasn’t interested in friendship because my dad worked high up in a huge company, he was in it just to be friends. For the bond. For building each other up.
I wonder how things would be if I hadn’t left Clear Creek.
What if I hadn’t been drafted? But I would’ve left for college anyway, would’ve gone to Georgia Tech in the hopes of getting drafted while there.
I don’t know if small town living is for me.
But I don’t think city living, especially not Atlanta, is for me either.
Not anymore. I almost feel homeless. Lost.
If I'd stayed… Would Raegan and I not have had sex? Or maybe it still would’ve happened and we’d be getting married, or just doing it in secret and letting everyone think we were sticking to the boundaries we’d set.
I hate that I didn’t feel the level of remorse that she felt.
I hate how we ended it, that I didn’t run after her. Didn’t try to fix it right then.
I need to stop worrying. A lesson that Coach taught in youth group comes to mind.
Worrying won’t make you taller. Worrying won’t make you stronger.
Worrying won’t add to your life. It’ll only make you miss out on all the influential and important things happening around you.
The moments that God could be using to build you and strengthen you.
Those moments that might add to your patience, to your humility, to your endurance.
The moments of real, true growth. Let God control it all. He will come through, always.
Laying here and thinking what-ifs about Raegan won’t change anything.
It won’t get us back together. It won’t heal the pain.
But going to God, and laying it all at His feet could, right?
It should. That’s what I’ve been taught.
Not instantly, I know that much. I want something to change. I want to feel God working.
I miss talking to Coach about all these doubts and worries. I miss the days when I felt like I was so close to God. The times when I felt like God cared about me.
I push myself to a sitting position and lean back against the headboard. Wallowing in pity won’t fix things, but maybe having those hard conversations could help in some way.
Clear Creek is one hour behind Atlanta, and Coach has always told me that no matter what time it is, he’d be available to talk.
It’s only ten at night here, making it nine in Clear Creek, so there’s a good possibility that Coach is still up anyway.
I tap his contact info in my phone before the doubts make me chicken out. I press the phone to my ear.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Austin!” Coach’s deep voice rumbles through the phone. It kind of feels like a warm hug from him in a way.
“Hey, Coach. Happy Thanksgiving to you, too.” I force the melancholy from my voice. I am happy. Dad found God, so that gives me a sliver of happiness.
“Where are you calling from? I haven’t seen your mom recently to ask if you were coming home or not.”
I lean back and the leather behind me squeaks against the wall. Mom’s work schedule has picked up recently, but I know the real reason I haven’t talked to her much is all my guilt and shame.
“I’m actually at my dad’s.” I don’t volunteer anymore info. I’m rethinking spilling everything to Coach. Do I want to do this?
“And how are things there?”
I look around the white room. Even though it’s the dark of night, the white makes it so light in here. “It’s very white.” I laugh. “Dad’s new house is modern and everything is white.”
Coach chuckles. “Could be worse colors. So, how are you feeling now that the season’s over? You find a good church? Make good friends?”
I duck my head, feeling embarrassed. But I know Coach can’t see me. “I haven’t been to church since I left actually. I’ll try and find a church nearby.” And I mean it. I do need to get back into going to church. Back into reading my Bible.
“Iron sharpens iron. We need that fellowship to help us grow.”
“I know.” I nod as I whisper the words. I feel unworthy of God’s love, like I can’t bring my issues to him. I miss having Coach around, having Bible study with the guys. They always knew how to point things back to God.
“So, what’s got you calling me at a late hour? I bet it was to do more than wish me a Happy Thanksgiving.”
Coach knows me too well. And he’s never been one to beat around the bush. “Yeah, you got me there. My dad told me today that he and Virginia aren’t together.”
“Well, that’s an answer to prayer. How are you feeling about it all?”
“I’m shocked. But the reason he broke it off was what really got me.”
“Don’t tell me. God found your dad, didn’t he?”
Coach has this sixth sense about him. Or maybe it’s a God sense? He knows what’s coming, knows what to say. Always.
“How’d you know?” I laugh lightly.
“It’s just another answered prayer. The Lord is in the business of redeeming lives.”
Is He? Cause I’m not feeling redeemed. If anything I’m feeling a little jealous.
Jealous that God redeemed my Dad, but not Raegan and me yet.
“Coach,” I clear my throat, “say a person messes up pretty bad. They’ve given their life to God, but then…
They mess up, really, really bad. Does God just cast them off? Or are they still His?”
“Digging deep there. I’ve got some good verses to answer those questions. Several times in the Bible God tells us we are eternally secure as His children. Once we’ve repented and accepted Christ’s death and resurrection as the atonement for sin, we are His forever.”
I interrupt. “But why do we still sin, even after salvation? And can a sin be so big that we lose salvation?”
“I wish we could sit down in person, and look through the Word and find all the answers together.” His voice rises in pitch and gets warmer.
I can see the look Coach would have on his face as he says this.
The way his eyes crinkle at the corners, and this glint enters his eye.
It’s not a mischievous glint. In a way it’s a magical glint.
“I miss you too, Coach.” I twist my lips and chew on them. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back. If things are good with Dad, ya know… Maybe I should just stay here.”
“What about Raegan? You wouldn’t want to be back here with her?”
And there’s the kicker. “We’re not… not together anymore, Coach.”
“You haven’t called her at all? Is that something you want to talk to me about?” I can hear compassion and care, and something else, in Coach’s voice. Coach never begs, never pushed me to share details, even when I’d been a grouch, having just moved to Clear Creek.
“Maybe someday. But today isn’t the day.” I let my chin rest on my chest.
“You take it to God, son. Remember that He’s always there to listen to your problems.”
“I know, Coach, I know.” If only I felt worthy of taking this issue to God.
“Well, it’s getting close to my bedtime. But you can always call me at any time. And don’t forget that God is available twenty-four seven, as well.”
“I won’t, Coach. Thanks for being available.”
I find the cord for my charger and plug my phone in for the night. I can’t resist Raegan, and flip through her album one more time before clicking the screen off. I toss and turn, punching my pillow multiple times before finally settling down. Begging sleep to come and turn off my thoughts.