Suncatchers (57 page)

Brother Hawthorne cleared his throat and smiled out at the congregation. “Welcome to our annual Youth Service. We've looked forward to this all year.”

“He put 'em on after he opened 'em,” Eldeen whispered, “and everybody like to of
busted
!”

“Our young people have put together a fine service for us tonight,” Brother Hawthorne continued, “and I know it will be a blessing to all of us. Let me introduce the teenagers for you before turning the service over to them. Then I'll have a few words at the end before we dismiss and meet again back in Fellowship Hall for refreshments and our gift exchange.”

“Earl said he found 'em at a yard sale, along with a necktie that Libby wrapped up for her gift,” Eldeen whispered. “Woody Farnsworth ended up with the necktie. It was bright orange with a big old black ape on it and . . . oh, shh! He's telling about the young people.” Eldeen put her hand on Perry's arm as if to silence him and turned her full attention to Brother Hawthorne.

“ . . . at the piano. Marilee is fifteen and is in the tenth grade at Derby High School. She sings in the school chorus, plays flute in the Dickson County Youth Orchestra, and is in her ninth year of piano lessons—I believe that's right.” Marilee nodded from the piano bench. “And Joe Leonard Blanchard will be leading the singing,” Brother Hawthorne said, turning around to motion to Joe Leonard, who was sitting behind him on the platform. “He's fifteen also and is a sophomore this year. He plays tuba in the school band and would have been on the basketball team if he hadn't had a little accident in the locker room one afternoon back in October after tryouts.” Everybody laughed softly, and Joe Leonard stared at the tips of his loafers. “But we all know it wasn't really an accident,” Brother Hawthorne said. “God uses everything for a purpose.”

“He sure does!” Eldeen murmured.

“He used Joe Leonard's so-called accident,” Brother Hawthorne continued, “to lead Howie Harrelson to the Lord, and Howie's whole family was saved as a result and joined our church last month.” Howie was sitting on the front pew, his right arm stretched out along the back of the pew behind Joshua Chewning. Perry saw him smile and nod at something Joshua said. “Howie will be singing in the youth ensemble later in the service,” Brother Hawthorne said, “and will also help with the offertory, I believe. Stand up, would you, Howie, so the visitors will know who you are. Howie is a sophomore at Derby High also.”

As the introductions continued, Perry studied the young people. In appearance they were quite a disparate group: Mayme Snyder, home for Christmas break after her first semester at college, was tall and willowy with a face that had always reminded Perry of a war refugee—hollow cheekbones, dark haunted eyes, and an expression of long-suffering innocence. Yet when she spoke or sang, her eyes widened and brightened, and her lips melted into an ethereally sweet smile. Trisha Finch, pretty and sprightly, barely came to Mayme's shoulder, though she was only a year younger. Bonita Puckett, fifteen, was plump and friendly, with clear green eyes and a headful of extraordinarily bountiful black hair. Marilee Tucker was the shyest of the girls and the plainest—the kind of girl who could easily pass through life unnoticed and unpraised if her parents hadn't provided her with opportunities to develop some compensatory skill, which in her case happened to be musical achievement.

The boys on the whole were a younger group, Howie being the oldest at sixteen. Though only five feet seven, Howie's physical agility had earned him a starting position on the Derby High basketball team. He had shown up for the first practice in October with two black eyes and a dark stitched gash on his left jaw and had played each game of the season so far with a single-minded zeal that had taken Coach Hampton by surprise. The coach, who had chosen Howie for his speed and quick reflexes, had prepared himself to endure the same braggadocio Howie had exhibited the previous year. But Rob Finch had told Jewel that before their first practice Howie had asked to address the team. He had looked them all in the eye and said he was sorry for his big mouth in the past and said he hoped they'd see a different side of him from now on. He finished by saying he meant to play extra hard this year to help make up for the doctor telling his buddy Joe Leo he'd better sit out this season. And from what Perry had heard and seen, Howie had made good on his promise.

At fourteen, the Chewning twins, Joshua and Caleb, were both comically graceless, though Perry could see them someday growing into their bodies and transforming into lean, muscular men. They both had blond hair with cowlicks and smiles that spread over their faces like warm butter.

As he studied Joe Leonard, Perry found himself wishing he had taken a picture of the boy when he first saw him back in February. Was it just a matter of getting used to him, or had Joe Leonard really changed as much as Perry thought he had over the past ten months? He knew for a certainty, of course, that he had grown taller. To Perry it had been like watching the summer corn in the Illinois fields back home. Joe Leonard must be close to six feet tall now, and his frame had begun filling out a little. Although he still had the habit of shyly diverting his gaze from people's eyes, he nevertheless held his shoulders back and took long purposeful strides.

The service began with Joe Leonard introducing the first song. “First Peter 2:9 says, ‘Who hath called you out of darkness into his marvellous light.'” He darted a sideways glance at Marilee, then swept his eyes across the congregation before fixing on the clock above the main doors. “Please turn to number 216,” he said, “and stand as we sing the first, second, and fourth verses of ‘Sunshine in My Soul.'” Marilee gave a rousing introduction, then Joe Leonard lifted his arms, and his pure tenor voice led out boldly. “There is sunshine in my soul today, More glorious and bright Than glows in any earthly sky, For Jesus is my light.” Perry wondered if Joe Leonard had selected the songs much earlier, before he knew there was going to be a cold, dreary, unremitting rain falling tonight.

The song service proceeded, a mixture of Christmas songs and regular year-round ones. Apparently Joe Leonard had chosen them carefully, for each of his transitional comments provided a clear bridge between thoughts. Perry saw that he had written the Bible verses in order on an index card. After several songs Sid Puckett stood and explained the Scripture memory program he and Dottie had started with the young people, and then all the teenagers stood on the platform steps and recited the first two chapters of James. Perry noticed that even Mayme knew the verses, and he wondered if they had mailed her an assignment each week at college.

After the Scripture recitation Joe Leonard stood and read a few announcements from the morning bulletin and then led in prayer before Joshua, Caleb, Bonita, and Trisha passed the offering plates.

“Aren't these young people just the biggest blessing?” Eldeen said aloud as Howie and Marilee mounted the platform together. Several people sitting in front of Eldeen nodded and smiled their assent.

The offertory was a flute and drum duet of “Little Drummer Boy.” If he weren't sitting here watching Howie and Marilee, Perry thought, it would be hard to believe the sound being produced was from two teenagers. Maybe the flute was an easy instrument to play, and maybe anybody with a modicum of rhythmic sense could make a drum sound good, but the fact was that the number was beautifully and sensitively performed.

Later, when the ensemble sang an arrangement of “Silent Night” that Willard had written for them, Perry closed his eyes. If there were churches like this all over America—and he was told that there were—then there must be at least some small hope for the next generation. But would these young voices he was hearing now, searching so earnestly for harmonies, be enough to counter the other voices—the ones in huge inner-city schools where education was a mockery, where children addicted to drugs sought to kill their teachers and each other over the slightest affront, where condoms were as easy to get as hall passes?

“The greenhouse fallacy”—wasn't that the term Cal had often used? “Those people think that by sheltering their kids from real life,” Cal had said, “they can escape.” Then he had laughed a bitter-tinged laugh. “My mom and dad tried that route, but they found out that their little greenhouse plants didn't turn out like they'd expected. For one thing, they
couldn't
resist all the outside pollution if they had wanted to, and, for another, they didn't
want
to. So there you have it. Try to smother and hem them in when they're little, and they'll run wild all over the place when they finally find a little crack in the greenhouse to get out.” It made sense to Perry. In fact, he could see both sides. These eight teenagers looked like pretty solid proof to him that the Christians' plan could work, but then Cal and his brothers seemed to argue the other side. There had to be
something
, some definable key that explained the difference.

Which side of the line will Troy end up on? he wondered. But no sooner had the question presented itself than a response came, swift and severe: “Troy cannot possibly end up like the eight teenagers standing before you, since, first, Troy's parents are not born-again Christians, second, they do not espouse any religious doctrine, third, they have not adhered to the greenhouse principle of child-rearing, and fourth, they do not even live together.” But there were other good kids who weren't from religious families. Troy could be one of those. For a moment Perry tried to form an image of Troy as a teenager, but nothing took shape except a picture of himself as an awkward, introverted teen. He felt a prick of fear along the back of his neck. Surely Troy wouldn't turn out like him—he wouldn't wish that on anybody.

Joshua Chewning had been voted on by the youth group to deliver what was called “The Challenge to the Congregation.” As he stood behind the pulpit wetting his lips, his cowlick silhouetted against the white wall of the baptistry, Joshua looked exactly like what he was—a nervous fourteen-year-old boy. He looked so out of place, in fact, that several younger children in the auditorium began snickering until Eldeen whipped her head around indignantly and released a low, long “Shhhhhhh!”

Everything grew still as Joshua opened his Bible and spread it out on the pulpit. “A Father's Love,” he said. His voice was higher than usual, but his eyes were serious. There was no sign that this was the same boy who tied people's shoelaces together and made jokes out of everybody's name: “Knock knock. Who's there? Howie. Howie who? Howie gonna keep warm without a blanket?” Marilee was “Marilee we roll along,” and Trisha Finch was “Fisha Trench.” He called Bonita “Bonita Chicana,” which he explained was a variation on “Chiquita Banana.”

Perry knew he should be writing down the sequence of events but decided he would condense tonight's service into a few paragraphs to insert in the chapter about the youth group. And if he did it tonight before bed, he probably could get by without taking notes. He wished this would quit happening, though. He hadn't counted on new material this late in the project, but things kept cropping up that needed to be included. He had spent a good part of the afternoon today, for example, adding six paragraphs to one of the chapters in the
THEME
section of his book about this morning's Christmas program.

All of a sudden something else came to his mind that he ought to mention in Eldeen's profile, and he dug his Day-Timer out of his pocket. He wrote the name “Flo Potter” to remind himself, then decided to go ahead and jot a few notes about tonight's service. The trouble with the section about Eldeen was that he could write a whole book just about
her
. How could he possibly sum her up in three or four pages? The more he listened to the audiotape of the interview he did with her, the more frustrated he became. His book was almost finished now except for these final details he had to keep adding and the very last chapter, the one containing the five individual profiles. He looked over at Eldeen sitting beside him, her dark eyes intense beneath the thick bushy ridge of her eyebrows. What would she say, he wondered, if she knew how he was struggling over the section about her? The other four profiles—the ones of Harvey Gill, Curtis Chewning, Vonda Snyder, and Trisha Finch—had fallen into place easily, but every time he sat down to work on Eldeen's, he was more convinced than ever that mere words were totally inadequate for the task. Maybe he should ask Cal about marketing a videotape supplement along with the book.

Joshua Chewning held up two fingers and said, “Point two. God didn't let His love get in the way of doing what He knew was the right and best thing to do.”

Way to go, Perry scolded himself, sitting up straighter and staring directly at Joshua. It was going to be a little hard to include a summary of tonight's “Challenge to the Congregation” if he sat there mulling over unrelated problems instead of paying attention.

“I asked my dad about this,” Joshua said. “I asked him who God loved more—Jesus or the world. How could He give up His own son if He didn't love the world more? My dad said that God didn't let Jesus suffer because He didn't love Him as much as us, but He did it because . . . well, it's hard to explain, but because when He looked at everything, it was the
right
thing to do. It hurts a father to see his child hurt, my dad said. He even said it would hurt him more to see
me
hurt than if he got hurt himself. So when God gave Jesus to die, He was hurting himself, but He did it because it was the best thing to do. It would've been selfish for God to say, ‘I know everybody will die and go to hell if I don't give Jesus, but I just can't do it because I love Him too much.' A perfect, holy God wouldn't do that. Just like I've heard my dad say at home that he doesn't
want
to punish us, but he does it anyway because it's the right thing to do and he won't let his love get in the way of doing what's best for us.”