Chapter 2: Return

© Copyright 2009 by Rachel Rossano
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rachel-rossano.blogspot.com

Daniel stepped into the foyer of his sending church. The display case laden with all his presentation materials pulled at his left shoulder while Dean, now a very active for a four-year-old, tugged at his right hand.

“I have to go potty,” Dean declared in a plaintive wail much louder than necessary.

The three adults standing off to the side turned to look at them, and Daniel reminded himself again that Dean was simply acting his age.

“Inside voice, Dean,” he reminded his nephew and eased the display case to the ground, hoping that the finicky catch holding it together would hold. “I only have two hands, and I heard you the first seven times you told me.”

“But I have to go now,” he protested, dancing awkwardly in place.

“Alright, I think it is down this way,” Daniel replied, abandoning his case as to escort Dean swiftly down the stairs to their left. After a few turns, they arrived at the door marked “Gentlemen,” and Dean bolted through the door without waiting to see if the way was clear.

Deciding to wait outside, Daniel leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. They were fifteen minutes early. Plenty of time remained to set up his display case exhibiting their mission field and needs and still have time to find the current senior pastor and introduce himself. Then, and only then, he would allow himself to seek out Anne.

She had assured him that she was planning on attending the missions’ conference, but the Lord sometimes had other plans. In her last letter she had seemed troubled. He was eager to see her and reassure himself that she was indeed well. Besides there was something he had to ask her, but he felt it was something that needed to be discussed in person. Every time he had tried to put it on paper, the words refused to come.

“I’m done,” Dean declared, suddenly appearing at Daniel’s side. “I washed my hands and flushed the toilet,” he announced proudly. “I even ran the dryer.” The muffled drone beyond the bathroom door offered evidence of his honesty.

“Then it is time to set up.”

“Hurray!” Dean bounded up the stairs eager to sort and stack the brochures detailing what they provided for the children of their mission field.

Right on schedule, Daniel was able to set off in search of the senior pastor while Dean galloped off to join the class geared toward his age. As Daniel strolled down the hall toward the office wing, he was delayed by the sound of someone singing.

“Oh, be careful little eyes what you see. Oh, be careful little eyes what you see, for the Father up above it looking down in love. Oh, be careful little eyes what you see.”

Pausing at the doorway he had paused at only two years ago, Daniel was almost afraid to investigate what lay beyond the door. Now that the moment was upon him, fear replaced eagerness.

“Oh, be careful little mouth what you say.” The clear alto voice seemed to caution him to pause. Perhaps now was not the time. He needed to keep his attention on presenting his mission to the church. Then, afterwards, he would have time to speak to Anne.

“You must be Daniel Ryan.” An older man approached from the office wing and offered his hand in greeting. “Pastor Dale O’Roark. I have been eager to hear about your mission in South Africa.”

Yes, now was not the time.




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