Hal held up two fingers. “Number one, Jesus said we need to love God with everything we’ve got—heart, soul, mind. And number two, he said to love the folks around us as much as we love ourselves.”
“That’s it?”
“Jesus knew we humans need to keep it simple.” Hal sighed. “But he also knew it was humanly impossible to keep those two simple rules—without his help.”
“I don’t really understand.”
“It’s kind of like the ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water’ song,”Hal said. “We get weary and lonely and down and sad on our own. We need Jesus to transport us across the raging river.”
“I think I get the metaphor—but how does Jesus do that on a pragmatic level?”
“By becoming your friend, George. He’s eager to have a daily friendship with you. But you have to believe in him, you have to agree to his terms. And that’s when everything changes.” Hal smiled.
George didn’t know what to say, so he just sipped his coffee. This counseling session was not going as he’d imagined. Not that he had much experience with such things. But he’d envisioned this pastor giving him some encouraging words of advice. Sort of like his doctor had done—not that George had followed it.
“I realize I just threw a lot at you,” Hal said quietly. “But it was only because you asked, George. I hope I didn’t overwhelm you. I know I made it sound simple—and it really is—but it’s also something that takes a lifetime to fully understand. And maybe not then. The good news is you only have to take these things one day at a time.”
“Well, you have certainly given me a lot to think about,” George admitted. “Although I must say I’m surprised to hear a clergyman saying some of the things you just said. And yet I find some of it refreshing.” He was still chewing on what Hal had said about relating to Emerson’s views on religion. That was very interesting.
“I can see that you’re well on your way, George—on your own spiritual journey.” Hal’s eyes lit up. “Please feel free to call me anytime you want to talk. And not just about spiritual things either. I’m interested in lots of topics—everything from soccer to French cuisine to gardening to literature. Infact, you’ve given me the urge to do some research on Ralph Waldo Emerson. I don’t think I’ve read any Emerson since college days.”
“I have lots of Emerson books if you’re interested.”
“I most certainly am. And I want you to feel free to come to our Sunday service. I don’t care what your beliefs are—you are welcome. I think you’ll be surprised to see it’s different from what you recall as a child. After talking to you, I’m considering some Simon and Garfunkel music for our next Sunday service.” Hal shook George’s hand, and George thanked him for meeting impromptu like this.
But as he slowly walked home, George wasn’t sure what to think. Although Hal had given him plenty to consider, George still felt stirred up and unsettled inside. Still, it was encouraging to think he might be on his own spiritual journey. At least that meant he was going somewhere.
twenty-nine
Once again, George felt the need to apologize to Willow. How many times would this make for him? Oh, sure, she’d apologized to him as well. But he was usually the one holding his hat in his hands. And after going into fits over his grandparents’ house—after he’d given her complete freedom to do as she pleased—well, he knew he was in the wrong.
He also knew that the problem—besides being shocked at the many changes—was the knowledge that Willow had incorporated these “improvements” with the help of the handsome contractor, Cliff Grant. Even his name had a bit of a Hollywood ring to it. Perhaps it wasn’t the name he’d been born with. Maybe he’d hoped to be discovered for film but hadn’t been. So he’d taken up construction instead. George knew it was silly to make up these stories in his head, but that was what one did when one was jealous. And George knew that he was jealous.
“What should I do?” George asked Baxter on Tuesday morning as they sat in the morning sun together. “Should I try to win her back? Or should I simply apologize and letit go?” Baxter purred with contentment, as if to say,Forget the whole thing and stay here with me.
“Yes, I could do that.” George gently lifted Baxter out of his lap, setting him on the floor. “That might make us both happy for the time being. But it wouldn’t last long.” George carried his coffee mug into the kitchen and began to wash up his morning dishes. His recent goal was to return to his old routines, but not in the regimented ways he used to. According to his self-help book, the first chapter anyway, one key to managing OCD was torule it instead of letting it rule you.
Laundry could be done on any day of the week and at any hour of the day. And the grass would survive without being mowed every Saturday morning. It was even okay to let the dishes sit in the sink for an hour or two. But then, especially if flies invaded, George would jump up and compulsively wash and dry, putting them safely away. Wasn’t that just good sanitation?
As George dried his dishes, he noticed Lorna outside. Although she was watering her petunias, she didn’t have on her usual stay-at-home clothes. Unless he was mistaken, she was dressed for an outing. Probably one involving shopping. That was Lorna’s favorite pastime and she wasn’t afraid to admit it. Of course, if she knew how off-putting this was to George—or any bachelor who cared about his bank account—she might be more careful of her words. But suddenly, George felt like a shopaholic was just what he needed today. He set down a still-damp bowl, tossed down his dish towel, and hurried out to say hello.
“Oh, hello, George.” She waved.
“Looks like you’re going somewhere.” George tried toappear nonchalant as he went over to the low hedge that separated their yards, picking off a stray leafy twig that he must’ve missed during its last trimming.
“Just going to Lampton.” She smiled sheepishly. “Sale at the outlet mall.”
“Ah, shopping.” He nodded. “You’re quite the expert at that, aren’t you?”
“I’m quite the pro if I do say so myself.” Her expression grew curious. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, I’m not much of a shopper. Especially when it comes to clothes.” He waved down to his button-down blue shirt and gray trousers. “So much of my wardrobe was for teaching. I don’t really have the sorts of clothes that—”
“Why, George Emerson, you’re coming with me today,” she declared. “That is a fabulous idea. We’ll take you shopping for retirement clothes. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this sooner. Are you ready?”
“I guess so. Let me go check on my cat and a few things, and I’ll be right with you.”
“This is gonna be fun,” she called out as he hurried back to his house.
