Seeking Oz

I remember making my way late at night, the short distance down to Bud's and Sandra Sue’s temporary home, making sure to not trip over the electrical “umbilical cord” to our home and to dodge any poison oak, with little-to-no moonlight to light my way. It was a downhill grade and a little difficult to navigate amongst the scrub oak and woody brush, requiring I watch my step. Phil agreed to watch the children and asked no questions when I said I needed to speak with Bud. I had forewarned Bud that I needed to talk to him, and he was waiting for me when I arrived. I briefly explained that I was having chest pain and would like some relief from teaching for a time. Without any dialogue, Bud motioned me to sit in a chair near him while he pulled a book from his small bookshelf. He quietly and solemnly reached for his reading glasses and under the dim light of a lamp, he read me a short story. The story was about a widow who was raising her small child, alone, when she contracted a fatal disease. She was concerned about leaving this earth and her young, dependent child. Though she was worried, fate would have it that there was someone who came forward and offered to raise the child when she died. As it turned out, it was for the best, because this person was better equipped than even the mother to do the job. When Bud finished the story, I recall my feelings being that of mortification. Bud removed his glasses, set them on a nearby desk with the book, leaned back in his chair, folded his hands across his chest and offered no further explanation for reading me such a story. He didn’t address my request to get relief from teaching. It was clear. His message was that if I died, someone else would “fill my shoes,” take over my job of raising Jacob and Melissa and probably do a better job in the long run. I said nothing further. I saw the expression on his face. It was set. He was somber and serious. His penetrating gaze was hard and fixed. He wanted me to understand that I was dispensable, even to my own family and children. I knew in that moment that he knew that I was becoming increasingly unhappy with my situation. I knew that he knew that I possessed an important piece of property in relation to community. I also had a credible standing in the community. However, I was becoming a little more expressive in the groups. Remember, I was the token mercy person who generally went opposite the direction of his leadership and teachings. And I had already expressed to him that I was asking God for answers as to whether I should leave. I was becoming a threat. I saw it in his face. Furthermore, there was no need to discuss whether I would teach. He knew me. I wouldn’t abandon the children if there was to be no replacement for me. I would conscientiously carry on…and on…and on…until… I stumbled home in the dark night, responsibly wiping aside an outpouring of unstoppable tears so as to clearly and safely make my way uphill. My self-talk was, “Nothing is more important to me than my children. I need to be sane and healthy for my children. This is a message, a warning. I will record this in my heart and brain. I can’t tell Phil or anyone else because I can’t trust them. It could get back to Bud. I can’t let on to Bud that I am afraid.” “Help me, God. Help me, to find my way. This scares me! Surely this has to be wrong! Very, VERY WRONG! This man is evil!”