Free Miss Julia Speaks Her Mind by Ann B. Ross

Pastor,” I said, with some relief that he wasn’t going to start in about how the Lord needed more parking spaces. “You don’t know how I need your prayers, for I’ve never had such a shock in my life. You can imagine. It’s about broken me in two to learn about Mr. Springer’s waywardness. I’m trying to do the Christian thing, even though it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
    “I understand,” he said in a soft, understanding voice. I felt tears spring to my eyes at the compassion I heard. I could put on a steely face for the curious and the ridiculers, but kindness just about crumpled me up.
    “Yes,” he said, “I can imagine what you’re going through. Emotional turmoil plays havoc with our ability to rightly discern a situation. You must be very careful, Miss Julia. Unscrupulous people can take advantage of your trusting nature, as I am led to believe is happening to you right now, and it’s confusing your mental processes. For instance, we don’t always know what the Lord’s will for us is in unusual circumstances. And what we think is the Christian thing to do may not be at all. That’s why I wanted to counsel with you.”
    My eyes dried up and I felt confused. “I don’t understand,” I said. “I thought I was doing the Lord’s will.”
    “Well, it’s a delicate matter, but I’m sure we can straighten this out and you’ll be able to handle things a little better after we talk. You see, Miss Julia, Mr. Springer was highly thought of in this town, indeed, in this whole section of the state. To say nothing of our beloved church. I can’t tell you the contributions he made to everything he cared about, and it seems to me thatwe should be careful about anything that would be a blot on his good name.”
    “I’m not following you,” I said, but my insides were beginning to knot up on me.
    “I’m saying that your running around town proclaiming that child as Mr. Springer’s son is unbecoming to a fine Christian woman like yourself.” He leaned so close that I could smell the breath mint and hear it click against his teeth. “It helps nothing,” he went on, “to besmirch Mr. Springer’s reputation, which you’re perilously close to doing. Why, you know that the Springer family donated the very land this church is on and contributed greatly to this sanctuary.”
    “Yes, I know it.” My hands twitched on the arms of the chair, and I clasped them in my lap.
    “And there’s a Sunday school room named for your husband, and all the hymnals have his name stamped in them because he donated them.”
    “I know that, too.” Wesley Lloyd’s rings—the ones he’d put on my finger with an oath of fidelity—were cutting into the palm of my hand.
    “But, Miss Julia, you may not know that the session is seriously considering a Family Life Center, a building that would strengthen family ties by providing our members with a place for all kinds of activities. We’re thinking of a gymnasium, a video arcade room for young people, a study room, and several other possibilities to make the church the center of our lives,” he said, pausing and studying me awhile. He lowered his voice to a confiding whisper, “And our plan is to name it the Wesley Lloyd Springer Activities Center.”
    I couldn’t believe it. Little Lloyd’s face with its running nose, smeared glasses, and open mouth blended with Wesley Lloyd’s as I pictured an oil portrait hanging in their activities center for all to see. “I don’t think Mr. Springer’s name should be associatedwith such a thing,” I managed to say, “considering the activities he was engaged in.”
    “Miss Julia, Miss Julia,” he said, chiding me as if I were a child. “See, that’s the very thing I’m talking about. You are not grasping the essence of what I’m saying here. And this inability will only get worse as time goes by. You might consider and earnestly pray about granting someone trustworthy your power of attorney so you won’t