Stubborn OLeif
Friday, January 26, 2007
Meanwhile on that Friday morning, Mom was likely washing off every flat surface at the house as well as the electronics, anything with which everyone had constant contact, where Carrie-Bri germs were likely wandering around in little herds, ready for the kill. This was Carrie’s second bout with strep. Collette prayed that Dad, Mom, Frances, and Linnea would be out of the house before any of the monstrous germs came in contact. Disney World summoned them away at 3:30 the following afternoon, after Frances’ basketball game and after Linnea had attended Amelia Pie’s 10th birthday party at the church. Who wanted strep on such a magical vacation? Who ever wanted strep, especially for a second or a third time?
OLeif was better that morning, although he would still need the crutches. He was entertaining thoughts of still going to the City Museum that night with the youth, provided he sat on the ground floor and watched all the activity instead of participating in the crawling through tunnels, climbing towers, and squirming through spaces most cavers would be fearful of attempting.
Collette found that he was a stubborn big guy, more so because he had injured himself, and refused help. He already didn’t like the idea of Collette having to drive him around, insisting that he could drive. But Collette still sat behind the wheel for Friday and dropped him off at work again.
Meanwhile, Collette heard that Rose’s second day at Subway had gone well on Thursday, although it took awhile to remember how each individual type of sandwich was put together. There were times that the customers had to point out to her what actually went on the sandwich, but she was learning. She had already served a bucket-load of college students, the police academy, the Green Lantern managers, several Mexicans, and corporate (who was coming by to check on the status of their Subway branch). Her first day, the owners had swung by for a sandwich.
“It’s good though,” she said. “I really like it. And we get a sandwich for free every day and as much soda as we want. But this food is more healthy; it’s more fresh.”
Collette was pleased to hear Rose talk about eating healthy. Perhaps she would be trying harder, as well, not to eat so many odd snacks during the day (i.e. bowls of powdered sugar or brown sugar, or chocolate bars).
OLeif still decided to go to the City Museum that night. He absolutely insisted on driving to the church office himself to meet Jimmy, Judah, Evangeline, and the youth. And he was only using one crutch. One of the guys at work had called him a pirate. Collette had to admit that he looked a bit like an old seafarer, hobbling around. She only hoped that he would actually sit still when he got to the City Museum, and talk, instead of try to participate in any activities. It was by this time that Collette finally found out that he had been playing “tag” on the trampolines at the time of his injury.
“‘What harm have I ever done Him?’ There is the real rub. The worst we have done to God is to leave Him alone – why can’t He return the compliment? Why not live and let live? What call has He, of all beings, to be ‘angry’? It’s easy for Him to be good! Now at the moment when a man feels real guilt – moments too rare in our lives – all these blasphemies vanish away. Much, we may feel, can be excused to human infirmities: but not this – this incredibly mean and ugly action which none of our friends would have done, which even such a thorough-going little rotter as X would have been ashamed of, which we would not for the world allow to be published. At such a moment we really do know that our character, as revealed in this action, is, and ought to be, hateful to all good men, and, if there are powers above man, to them. A God who did not regard this with unappeasable distaste would not be a good being. We cannot even wish for such a God – it is like wishing that every nose in the universe were abolished, that smell of hay or roses or the sea should never again delight any creature, because our own breath happens to stink.”
– p.51, The Problem of Pain, C.S. Lewis