Romans Road Detour

Scriptures

Chapter 1

Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world. (James 1:27)

Your phone message sounded urgent. What’s going on? Are you feeling okay? Michael’s mother could see the fear on his face.

Oh, no, Dear, I feel fantastic!

Well, if you’re not sick, then what is it? Michael hesitated for a moment and then joked with his mom, as he often did. I know. You’ve got a boyfriend. Bessie Webster was in pretty good shape for 68, tall and slender, with nicely styled, gray hair, and only a little belly fat from carrying Michael for nine months; at least that’s what she always said.

Heaven’s no, Bessie laughed. It’s nothing like that.

Then what is it?

It’s just some great news I wanted to tell you in person.

At that, Michael moved Tabby off the sofa and sat down. He could not imagine what his mother was up to. Bessie sat next to her son and the old, gray cat jumped up onto her lap. While rubbing Tabby’s neck, she began to explain her plan.

I’m going on a mission trip with my church.

What? And that’s supposed to be good news?

Oh, Michael, I am so excited about this!

Where, and for how long? Michael was visibly agitated by the news.

We’re going to Ecuador.

I don’t know, Mom. Are you sure about this? You’ve never even been outside of California. But Ecuador? Shouldn’t you at least know a little Spanish?

Oh, it’s going to be great, Michael. One of the young ladies in our group speaks fluent Spanish, but we’ll be working at an orphanage where most of the kids are too young to talk anyway. You know, love is the universal language. And besides, it’s only for six months.

Wait, wait, wait, WAIT a minute! Six months? Are you crazy? You can’t just up and leave for six months.

And why not? I’m retired. I’m single. You’re not going to miss me, are you? Bessie pursed her lips.

Of course I’ll miss you, but you are almost 70 years old, you know. What about your cholesterol medication?

Sixty-eight is younger than it used to be. I just want to be able to make a difference while I still can. And I haven’t taken that medicine in months.

Mother! Michael scolded.

I didn’t like taking it, so I quit.

What did your doctor say?

He wasn’t real happy at first, but I just had my numbers checked and they’re better than ever.

Well, then, what about Tabby? Michael knew he couldn’t change her mind, but that didn’t stop him from trying.

That’s what I was going to talk to you about.

Oh, no. I can’t have pets at my apartment. You know that, Mom.

I know, Dear. That’s why I was going to make you a proposition.

Michael gave his mother an inquisitive look.

I was thinking, you could move in here rent free so you could save some money. I know how much you’ve struggled since the divorce.

Don’t remind me. Michael scowled at the mere thought of his ex-wife.

You would only have to pay the water and electric bills when they come. And the phone, of course. All the other bills are taken care of.

Hmmm. So all I have to do is feed the cat?

That and keep the place cleaned up, rake a few leaves.

Bessie’s yard was small but full of the fruit trees and flowers which thrived from her tender loving care. Michael did not inherit her green thumb, but he did know how to rake leaves.

Well, since I’m on a month-to-month with my landlord, I guess it wouldn’t be a problem. Michael’s inner calculator was figuring out his savings, and the offer was tempting. And she would be out of the country, so it wouldn’t be like he was actually living with his mother, which he had already tried for a year after graduating from college.

So what do you say?

When are you leaving?

In two weeks. That should give you plenty of time to move, don’t you think?

Yeah, I guess. … Okay, I’ll do it. I still think you’re crazy, though. Michael had failed in talking his mother out of doing a two-day walk for breast cancer awareness at age 60, just a few short months following her final chemotherapy treatment. Five years before that, he had tried but failed to stop her from participating in a 100-mile bike ride to raise money for the Lymphoma and Leukemia Foundation.

Wait a minute. You’re leaving in two weeks, and I’m just now hearing about this? You had to have known before now. Didn’t you have to get a passport? And what about shots? I know when you go to a foreign country like that you have to have a bunch of shots. Michael’s mouth couldn’t keep up with his spinning mind.

I wasn’t sure until now, but I had a pretty good idea. I didn’t want to jinx it. Got my passport. Had all my shots.

Okay. But I still think it’s a dumb idea.

Someday you’ll understand.

I doubt it.

Let’s have a piece of apple pie to celebrate.

I don’t feel like celebrating.

Oh, come on, be a sport.

Well, if you put a scoop of ice cream on it, maybe I’ll have some.

That’s the spirit.

* * *

Michael almost backed out of the deal with his mother, worried she would try to con him into staying longer. He knew if it was up to her, he’d be living with her the rest of her life. That is not going to happen. No way, he vowed to himself.

During the next two weeks, Michael packed up his belongings and made arrangements at a storage unit for some of his furniture. There was barely enough room to walk around inside his mother’s home since she never threw anything away. It wasn’t that she was a hoarder by any stretch of the imagination. She took very seriously giving the shirt off her own back and saved everything just in case there was a need.

I’ll have Brad and Jason over for a barbecue. Or maybe I’ll entertain the ladies, if I can find any in this town. Michael’s thoughts then took him back to a simpler time, as a young boy, playing on the wrap-around porch and climbing trees in the backyard with his buddies.  While growing up, Brad and Jason were his only two friends who didn’t spend all their time indoors playing video games. The three boys looked nothing alike, but were closer than brothers. Brad had short, kinky, black hair and Jason’s was of medium length, brown and straight. Michael was a towhead, with thick, fine hair the color of straw. When he was older, it turned darker, like dirty dishwater, and was cut in a long buzz style.

* * *

Michael and his mother had always gotten along fairly well, despite her obsession with church and the wide generation gap. She always referred to him as her little miracle. Michael’s parents had tried for many years to conceive a child and his mother was nearly 40 years old when he was born. 

Michael’s mom became a Christian shortly after Michael’s father died suddenly of a heart attack, leaving her to raise their 8 year old son alone. They were all that was left of the Webster family living in Drake Valley, California, which was once a small, rural, farming community located several miles north of the Sacramento.  With the addition of the new business park and subsequent housing tracts, the population of Drake Valley had grown to nearly 30,000. Several ranches and orchards remained, but the commercial sector of town had expanded considerably since Michael was a boy. One side of the freeway housed the original commerce of mom and pop stores. Across the freeway was a new shopping mall and strip malls were popping up all over town. There were now four elementary schools and two high schools, as well as a Christian school (K-12) on the outskirts of town where the more affluent families sent their children, along with a few less fortunate who were on scholarships provided through the many local churches. Michael had just started his first year of teaching at one of the public elementary schools.

Despite his mother’s dedication, Michael was not persuaded about Christianity. Following her conversion, he had been dragged to church every Sunday morning, Sunday night, and Wednesday night, and to every potluck, revival meeting, missionary conference, and anything else that was happening at the church. Michael memorized scriptures in Sunday school, but never without an ulterior motive. They gave out prizes. It also made his mother happy, and he beamed with pride whenever he could do something to please her. It took a lot to upset her, as she was always easy going, kind, and understanding. She taught Sunday school and kept a close eye on all of Michael’s Sunday school teachers, to make sure their influence on her young son was positive. She also volunteered in his elementary school classrooms for the same reason.

Michael was now 28 years old and divorced. He had no children and little experience dealing with them. For his first year of teaching, he was entrusted with a class of sixth graders, many of whom their previous teachers referred to as the most challenging group of students they had ever encountered.

While Michael was grateful to have landed this job, there were times when he wasn’t sure he was up to the challenge. He would have preferred teaching older students, but for now he was stuck. When he could afford it, he planned on going back to school to earn a Master’s degree and perhaps teaching at a high school or community college. He had given up baseball after high school and dreamed of someday coaching a winning high school or college team.  Hopefully living rent free for six months would move him closer to his goal.

Michael had never forgiven God for taking his father from him when he needed him most. His mother was great, but her moral character began to clash with Michael’s rebellious attitude when he entered high school, and there were no more hugs and kisses for Mom, only grief and worry. She never preached to Michael. She believed if she just lived what she believed, he would follow along.  When her sweet, compliant child began drinking and partying, her only solution was to ground him, and to pray. She was convinced that Michael would outgrow his rebellion and turn his life around.

Michael’s partying continued through his freshman year in college. Facing failure of graduating in four years, he snapped himself back into reality and became a responsible student, making the Dean’s list his last three years.

Michael had decided to become a teacher and hung onto the dream of someday coaching a winning baseball team. He lived at home for a year while completing his credential program. Mom had hoped Michael would return to church but, instead, he hooked up with an old high school flame which resulted in a pregnancy and a shot gun wedding. The pregnancy ended in a miscarriage, and the marriage lasted less than five years. There was enough blame to go around, but not enough true love for the marriage to survive. The union finally ended in a mutual divorce, which turned bitter when Michael found out about the credit card debt that Lydia had racked up during their marriage. Soon, he hoped, he would get out of the red.

* * *

Hello.

Michael, it’s Mom. You are coming to my going-away party at the church tonight, aren’t you?

Yes, Mom, I’ll be there. Michael rolled his eyes. He had done everything in his power to stay away from church. While he did attend on Christmas and Easter, that was only to appease his mother. The one bright note was the food. Those church ladies always put on a big spread.

Don’t be late.

Okay, bye.

Michael finished packing up some of his things before the party. He had arranged to move into Mom’s place the next day so he could spend some time with her before her departure.

Michael was overwhelmed by the number of cars in the church parking lot. Oh boy, this is going to be fun, he mused to himself. He was prepared to be accosted by every little, old lady who had watched him grow up, squeezed his cheeks, and made comments like Oh, look how you’ve grown!  As he approached the reception hall, he received his first pinch of the cheeks from Mrs. Davis.

Oh, Michael, so good to see you. My, how you have grown!

Yes, Ma’am, Michael answered politely, even though he had just seen Mrs. Davis two days earlier at the cleaners.

The meeting hall was filled with several older couples and three young ladies in their mid-20s, along with their families and friends. Michael liked the way the girls looked, but didn’t want to show too much interest for fear they would try to convert him.

In spite of Michael’s attempts to avoid him, Pastor Daniel (Dan) Robledo found his way into Michael’s earshot.  Michael had only seen him twice a year, at Christmas and Easter, in the five years he had been the pastor at Orchard Christian Church.

Michael, how are you? It’s been a long time.

Doing good, Sir. Been kind of busy, you know.

Well, we sure hope you’ll come visit sometime while your mom is away. Aren’t you so very proud of her? I know we are.

Oh, yes, Michael lied. Proud of her for being crazy?

Michael knew he would worry about his mother. He hoped she would have a great time and stay safe and well, but he also wanted her to be uncomfortable enough to never want to pull a stunt like that again. He knew how ever bad it got, she would never admit defeat and come home early.

Well, maybe we’ll see you tomorrow in church?

Many described Pastor Dan as a gentle giant. He was a large, soft-spoken, Hispanic man, in his early 50s, with salt and pepper hair down to his shoulders.

We’ll see.

Good seeing you, again. Pastor Dan gave Michael a hug, which reminded him of one of the many reasons he quit going to church.

Michael, Bessie tells me you’re going to be staying at her house and cat sitting. Mrs. Bell patted Michael on the head as if he was still 8 years old.

Yes, Ma’am.

Well, good. We’ll be stopping by periodically to check on you, make sure you have enough to eat. Do you like tuna noodle casserole? I’ll bring you one next week.

Oh, that would be great. Michael hated tuna, but didn’t want to be rude. He knew Tabby would eat it.

After two hours of speeches and well wishes to the group of ten missionaries, Michael scarfed down a delicious plate of every kind of dessert and quickly excused himself. I have papers to grade; I better be going. Love you, Mom. See you back at the house.

* * *

Much to Bessie’s disappointment, Michael skipped another Sunday in church. She was happy he at least attended her party the night before. After spending the rest of her afternoon packing the last of her things and giving Michael last-minute instructions about the house and the yard, she fixed him his favorite dinner of country fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, and fresh apple pie.

Do you want some ice cream on your pie?

Oh, Mom, you know better than to ask. Of course I do. Michael never had to worry about his weight. If anything, he could stand to gain a few pounds. He was tall and lanky, just like his father. Hey, thanks, again, for dinner. Everything was great. And looks like I’ll have enough to eat for a couple more days.

That was the plan. I’m glad you enjoyed it, Dear. There’s a couple of casseroles in the freezer, too.

Thanks, Mom.

Thanks for taking care of Tabby for me. Upon hearing his name, Tabby jumped up onto Bessie’s lap one last time.

* * *

Michael could see his breath in the crisp, fall air as he stood with his mother on the front porch. Are you sure you have everything?

Can’t take much, but yes, I think so.

Passport?

Got it.

And you’re going to call me when you get there?

"Yes,