The Other Side of Darkness (26 page)

Then we go home, change into our grubby clothes, and go outside to plant these things. Finally we gather round with muddy hands as we share our happiest Sadie memories, then say a prayer and sing “Amazing Grace.”

“Sadie was like an angel,” Sarah says as we walk back to the house. “Like she was here to protect us.”

“I know,” echoes Mary. “You always felt safe with Sadie around.”

“Maybe you should check on your cat,” I suggest, hoping to distract them from their grief. Plus I’d noticed this morning that the cat box was getting smelly, and I feel sure the cat needs some food by now. Not that I care much. Something about that cat bothers me. If not for the cat, Sadie would probably still be with us. It was mostly because of the cat taking over the laundry room that Sadie had been put outside. If she’d been safe and sound in the house, like usual, she never would’ve been hit by a car.

Somehow we go through the normal paces of the evening, but there is a spirit of sadness in the house. A spirit of defeat. And when the girls finish their chores and homework and ask about watching television, there is also a spirit of rebellion.

“No, I don’t think that television is a good influence.”

At first Mary thinks I’m kidding, but then I assure her I’m serious. “Mom,” she protests in that cranky, preadolescent tone, “you’re being way too fanatical and fundamental now.”

“Fanatical and fundamental?” I echo, curious as to where she’s picked up on words like those. “What makes you say that?”

“Katy says that Pastor Glenn was way too fanatical and fundamental. She said that’s why he got fired—well, that and some other things. And she said that his new church is really messed up.”

“I haven’t seen Katy at New Fire,” I point out, trying to remain reasonable despite the fact that I’d like to give Katy’s cute little red pigtails a good hard pull.

“Well, somehow she knows all about it,” continues Mary. “It was embarrassing too.”

“Why was it embarrassing?”

“Because she also knew that you go there and that I’ve gone there too.”

“I thought you liked it the one time you were there.” I know I’m treading on shaky ground since Mary already has her nose out of joint because I’ve vetoed television.

“It was weird, Mom.”

“I like it there.” Sarah takes my hand in hers as if to comfort me.

“Well, so do I.” I give Sarah’s hand a squeeze.

“Can we watch TV now?” asks Sarah.

I let out a deep sigh. “No, you cannot. But I’m willing to read, if anyone is interested.”

Sarah, who loves hearing stories, jumps at my bait, but Mary seems determined to sulk. However, once Sarah and I are seated on the couch and just getting into the good part of a mystery story—I’m actually quite good at voices, and I picked out this book for Mary’s sake—I notice that she’s standing in the shadows listening. “Why don’t you join us?” I say in my friendliest tone.

“Can I make popcorn?” she asks.

“Yes! Definitely make popcorn. We’ll wait.”

So we make it through our first evening without Sadie and without television. And after the girls are in bed and we’ve said our prayers, I go back out to the family room and stand in front of that horrid-looking black box that seems not only to intrude but to dominate, and I wonder how best to get rid of it. If I take it out, Rick will throw a fit. But to allow it to remain seems like sin.

Finally I spin the television around on the table where it sits. The solid-looking back seems to be held together with tiny Phillips screws. I go out to the garage and hunt until I find a small Phillips screwdriver that looks like it might work. Then carefully, very carefully, I remove the screws and pull off part of the back. I know this might appear rather sneaky and underhanded to some people, people who don’t understand or appreciate the powers of dark spiritual forces, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

So I take a deep breath and unplug the television, so as not to get electrocuted, and then I pull apart some important-looking but well-hidden wires and things. Then I plug the set in again, turn it around, and turn it on, and voilà, nothing happens. A small step for modern technology, perhaps, but a giant step toward spiritual victory for my house. Hopefully Rick won’t figure it out.

Suddenly I remember Matthew’s suspicions that I took his CDs and books, and I grow worried that Rick might start nosing around, might even decide to look in the trash. Fortunately the garbage beneath the sink is full and needs to go out. Not only that, but that stinking kitty litter has not been cleaned. So first I dump the garbage bag, careful to let the contents spill open so they’re splayed all over the inside of the can, and then I pour the stinking kitty litter on top. A person would have to be very determined to muck his way through
that nasty mess. With satisfaction, I close the lid, then go back into the house.

The black cat is curled up in the handmade doll bed, but she looks up at me with smug yellow eyes filled with cunning. I know it would seem crazy to some, but I can’t help but think it’s rather ironic how this animal showed up at our door and things suddenly got worse. Bronte said that Satan and his demons masquerade and parade right in front of us wearing earthly costumes, and not for the first time, I think this “Spooky” cat is really an impostor from the underworld, and the sooner we get rid of the beast, the better off we’ll be.

I am so tempted to take this animal outside, back into the darkness it came from. Maybe if I leave the back door open, she’ll run away. I look at the content animal and realize this is highly unlikely. She’s obviously got it made here. Instead, I refill the litter box and make sure the laundry-room door is securely closed.

If I can’t get rid of the beast, at least I can confine it. Now if I can only confine its dark powers as well. As tired as I am, I know I must take a few minutes to pray, placing both hands on the laundry-room door as I bind Satan’s power in this small black beast.

As I walk back to my room, it occurs to me that it might not really be the poor cat’s fault. It’s possible that she too is simply a victim. Perhaps she’s just an innocent cat that has been defiled by a demon, simply in need of spiritual deliverance. Not so unlike myself not too long ago.

Still, I don’t have the spiritual energy to cast demons out of cats tonight. All I want is to escape the madness of this never-ending spiritual turmoil and the draining battles against my relentless enemies. If only I could just sleep, sleep, sleep.

T
his is the busiest time of year in the shipping business, and Rick’s hours have increased to the point where it seems he is barely home at all. I have mixed feelings about this. But as a consequence, he no longer seems overly concerned with things like the nonworking television. He did mention it a couple of times early on, suggesting that I take it in to see if it could be fixed. I told him I would if I could find the time, but I also reminded him that we’ve had that old television since Matthew was a toddler and it only makes sense that it would finally give out. But more and more Rick comes home so tired that he simply crashes, sometimes on the couch in the family room, sometimes in our bed. And then he sleeps until it’s almost time to leave for work again. We resemble the proverbial ships in the night. Maybe it’s for the best.

Spooky, the demon kitten, is still with us. I’m not sure if this is spiritual weakness on my part, since I’ve come to feel sorry for the helpless creature. But I perform daily exorcisms of its demonic inhabitants. Naturally I do this when no one is around because they’re all starting to look at me strangely.

At first it only seemed to be Rick and Matthew who questioned my spirituality and then my mental health. But sometimes I feel that Mary is joining forces with them as well. Or perhaps it’s just preadolescence. Still, it disturbs me that my own family doesn’t seem to
grasp the stress I’m under as I attempt to offer spiritual protection for their well-being and for my friends at church and finally, and perhaps most important, for the community at large. It is a daunting task.

Our church has held numerous prayer vigils during the past couple of weeks, gathering with signs on the sidewalk in front of places like the abortion clinic, the adult bookstore, the strip club, and the porn shop as we pray for the abolition of these demonic influences and publicly protest their dens of iniquity. We’ve even made the six o’clock news a few times. Not that this is about fame, well, other than fame in the kingdom of God. No, this is about warfare and diligence. It’s about discipline and sacrifice. And it seems to be never ending.

“So how’s that job at the church going?” Rick asked me again today shortly before he left for work.

“It’s not a top priority right now,” I told him, trying to be patient with his inability to understand spiritual things.

“That’s what you keep saying, Ruth. But what I think you really mean is that it’s not really a job, right?”

“We’re building the church right now. It takes time to get people in the right places, doing their parts to make the body of Christ work the way it’s supposed to. Children’s ministry must come later.” This is almost a direct quote from Sister Bronte since I recently asked her when she thought we’d be ready to do something with the children. I felt a little silly even asking, because we have so few children in our church right now. Although I have been bringing my girls somewhat regularly, thanks to Rick’s busy work schedule.

It’s only his demanding hours and his spiritual laziness in general that have prevented him from kidnapping the girls off to Valley Bridge Fellowship. This is a huge relief, allowing me to focus on my contributions at my church. Plus, I feel the girls are learning to appreciate
their roles at New Fire. Other church members know my girls by name now and actually treat them like real partners. We all understand our responsibilities, the need to do our part, to take up arms in this ongoing spiritual battle, and to stay on guard.

Mary has gotten over her anger at the removal of her unicorn. I finally got out the encyclopedia to show her the origins of this mythical animal, explaining how it has pagan connections and how it’s truly an affront to the Lord. It took time and several meaningful discussions followed by prayers for deliverance, but I think she understands now.

I think my girls are both growing in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. My goal is for them to be well prepared to face the evils of this world, as well as to defeat our spiritual foes. I want them to understand that Satan is alive and well and that he is crafty in the ways he sends his demons out to conquer and then destroy—sometimes through something as innocent looking as a stuffed unicorn or a coloring book about fairies or a videocassette with a witch in it or even a postcard from Egypt. All such items either have been or are being purged from our home.

Sarah appears to be much more spiritually sensitive than Mary. Perhaps it’s because she is learning these truths at a younger age, or perhaps it’s simply the way the Lord has designed her. Bronte says that she is highly gifted. Of course, Bronte says the same about Mary, although I’m sure she means more in a musical sense. Bronte has been giving Mary piano lessons for the past two weeks and is encouraging us to buy Mary a small keyboard. Perhaps for Christmas. For now, money is tight. Despite the fact that Rick is working lots of overtime during this busy holiday season, our budget is more stretched than ever. It doesn’t help matters that I still owe my mother
for the loan. Not that Rick is aware of this. And that’s how I plan to keep it.

I know our money concerns might be partly the result of my charitable giving at church, but I also know the Lord desires me to be generous, and Brother Glenn promises that we will be repaid for giving “beyond our earthly limits.” As the future director of children’s ministries, I’ve also been stocking up on things. I have several large plastic crates filled with crayons, paper, scissors, glue, felt pens, and all sorts of various school supplies stashed in our attic. Of course, I can’t explain any of this to Rick. He is so spiritually blinded right now that he definitely would not get it. But it gives me great satisfaction just knowing those things are up there. Sometimes I go to the attic, open the crates, and just admire the neat and orderly supplies.

But the sad fact is, I’m sure my husband would throw an absolute fit if he knew exactly where our money is going. This must be why the Lord says not to let your left hand know what your right hand is doing when you give your tithes and offerings. So it is that I consider Rick to be the left hand and I, of course, am the right.

I’m fairly certain I will be taking the girls out of Valley Bridge school. I’ll admit this decision is partially financial, and I’m expecting the school, despite their policy, to refund the girls’ tuition. I think I can make them understand the need to do this since I fear that some of the things the girls are learning at school are in direct conflict with the Bible and our beliefs. I don’t know how VBF suddenly became so liberal, but I suspect it is mainly a result of the removal of Glenn Pratt from leadership. Once that good man was no longer ministering there, it seems the whole church went astray. Consequently, the school is no longer the school I thought it was.

I haven’t spoken to Rick about any of this yet, but I plan to write
a letter to the school this week, clearly stating my reasons for taking the girls out of the school, starting the first of December. My plan is to deliver it the day before Thanksgiving.

The rest of my plan is to begin homeschooling the girls. Three other families in our church, the only other ones with children, are homeschooling their kids, and it seems to be working very well for them. In fact, we’ve been discussing the possibility of partnering in this. Different mothers would teach different subjects. I’ve already volunteered for math since no one else particularly cares for it and I’ve always been fairly good with numbers. But we’ve all agreed to begin this after New Year’s. This gives me the chance to establish some routines and become comfortable with the idea of teaching my girls. I haven’t told them of this plan yet. It seems wiser to wait until it’s established. No need to have them fretting over these things during their last few days at VBF.