accept that sometimes the best you can hope for in this life are little victories here and there. There are going to be times in your life when you’ll want more justice, when you’ll feel you deserve much more. But vengeance is the Lord’s wheelhouse, Sean, not ours. Remember, little victories. Anything more must be left up to God. In that, you must have faith, son. If there are any big battles to be wagered against—and I’m referring to genuine evil—those fights must be left to God. Believe in Him, Sean. Believe that He will set all things wrong with the world right again.”
“I sure hope so, Pa, for Blair’s sake.” He kicked lightly at the grass beneath his feet with the toe of his boot. Finally, Sean asked his Pa what he really needed to know. “Have you ever, uh,” he looked up. “I was just wonderin’ if, if you…aw,” Sean shook his head in frustration; he simply wasn’t the sort who was comfortable speaking of such things. “Remember when you used to hold Sunday sermons in the parlor for us and our friends, and you always finished up the worship by saying how grateful we were for our blessings, and how the good Lord should use you as his instrument to do with as He saw fit, ‘cause you gave your whole heart and soul, or life? I think you said something along those lines, anyway.”
“Yes, son. I remember.” Wyatt answered cautiously.
“Okay, good. Well, we—Will and I—always had our heads bowed and our eyes closed, but in my mind, I was sayin’ those things right along with you, through all of those years. And I still include that last part in my prayers, because, well, I believe it.”
“My sons are righteous men.” Wyatt declared, with equal doses of pride and concern. He waited for his son to come out with what was really needling him.
“Pa, did you ever wonder what it would be like if He did it? I mean, if God really decided to tap you on the shoulder and ask you to do something that’s gonna be, you know, hard to do? Did you ever wonder, if He did decide to tap you, how He would do it? Like, I always wondered if He would speak aloud to me, burning bush and all, or speak with a voice inside my own head. Or maybe He would come in a dream, or just kind of, I don’t know, send me a message, sort of heart-to-heart, see?”
Wyatt Marshall sat back down on the stoop, heavily. This burden of his son’s was a tremendous load. Wyatt would do almost anything to take that burden for Sean, whatever it was. But he realized no amount of prayer was going to change the facts: this was Sean’s burden to bear. Wyatt was willing, sure enough, but he had not been called to the Lord’s service. Sean had. With fresh pain clearly written on his face, Wyatt answered his son.
“I have wondered, Sean. I guess I always believed I would just know.”
The men stared silently at one another as seconds ticked by. Finally, Wyatt asked his son the question left hanging in the air. “So, which one is it, Sean? How did our Lord tap you?”
“The last one. And, you do know, Pa. You just know.” He smiled at his Pa. Sean thought his father looked beaten, wrung out. He appeared to have aged some over a matter of days. “Shoot, Pa, you look sad. Don’t be. I think Blair an’ me have a good life ahead. We’re happy,” he promised.
His father said nothing right away. But finally he stood, brushed off his seat again and faced his son. “Then I’m happy for you, Sean. You should be warned that the business of setting things right in the world might not happen soon enough to suit you. That’s exactly why you’ve got to have faith that eventually, our Lord will dispense his justice and even things up. Justice might be slow, but it will come, son. Until then, keep watch o’er your backside.” He took his hand from his son’s shoulder and hugged him fiercely instead, slapping his back with both hands to emphasize his love for him.
“I…thanks, Pa. I love you.”
“I love you too, son. Now, go
Jessica Deborah; Nelson Allie; Hale Winnie; Pleiter Griggs