Chapter 22

And then came the day when Frank began his service as pastor of South Valley Fellowship. We drove down I-25 and got off the freeway at Rio Bravo, and headed west. After a bit we turned off the major street, and wound our way through small side roads to the church. We didn't have keys yet, but the head deacon was there to meet us, with a key for both of us and the doors already unlocked. He ushered us in, and said, with a note of small ceremony, "It's all yours, Rev. Carter."

Frank looked around, not with a proprietary air, but as though he were coming home after a long time. "Thank you, Brother Henry. And please, if you could call me Frank I'd appreciate it."

My husband had indeed changed. When we'd been at Gilead, and previous churches, he'd always accepted the title of "reverend." He hadn't insisted, but his manner had made it clear that he preferred the formality. Now he was asking a man he barely knew to call him by his first name. I took his arm in both hands, and then twined my arm through his. I looked up at him, and saw him smiling down at me. "I'm not what I used to be, Gen," was all he said, but I knew he'd divined my thoughts.

No, he wasn't. He was everything I could ever have dreamed of in a husband. I had never missed this gentleness, but now that it was mine I knew that I loved it, and that I had craved it without even knowing that it was missing.

Brother Henry took us on a tour of the church. The fellowship hall to the side we of course knew, for we'd eaten lunch there two weeks before. It was currently set up as Sunday School space, and there were other rooms upstairs, where some churches have a balcony. The adult class met in the auditorium, and as we came back down the stairs people were beginning to assemble for that.

"We don't have no Sunday School assembly," Charlie said – he had told us that was his first name. "We just get into our classes and go at it."

So Frank and I found seats near the front of the auditorium, and I saw for the first time in two years how my husband approached the study of God's Word in company with others. It was, again, a new thing. His mind was intact; he could still penetrate to the heart of a verse or a discussion. But he was kinder, gentler, more forgiving of errors on the part of others. And more than once I could tell that he was holding back, even though he had something to contribute.

Finally I tugged on his arm to get his attention. "Frank, you know the answer to that question," I whispered.

"Yes, but I want them to work it out. The last thing they need is for the new pastor to spoon feed them or worse, lord it over them."

I nodded. Frank was right – he very often was right – but this was a consideration for others that he hadn't had before. Watching him as he took up his duties as pastor of South Valley Fellowship, I was realizing that my husband had been a good pastor before his conversion, but could never have been a great pastor. But now his concern was for the sheep, and though he might never be great in terms of numbers, I knew that his people would love him, and learn from him, and that here at SVF we would glorify God as we never had before.

There were a few minutes between Sunday School and the church service. I took Frank aside into a corner of the auditorium, and leaned up and kissed him. "Frank Carter, if I didn't already love you, I would learn to love you for the way you're dealing with these people."

"I'm just being myself, Genesis."

"But yourself isn't what it used to be. I've seen you become a better husband, and now I see that you're going to be a far better pastor. You now love your people, Frank, as you didn't love them before."

"It's not me, Gen."

I nodded. "I know that. Only God could change you as I've seen you change. But you're the one I love – you're the one I'm talking to right now."

"Yes, and I'm the one you're monopolizing, to the great delight of the congregation."

I looked around, and indeed there were smiles in various places as people watched my husband and I having our private moment. I turned back to Frank. "I think it's best that they learn right away that you belong to me, don't you think?"

"I believe you're correct, Genesis. Certainly any woman who tries to get to me will have to go through you."

"And that won't be easy. You're my husband, Frank Carter, and don't you ever forget it."

Frank laughed quietly. "How could I forget? And for that matter, where else would I find such glorious red hair?" And he tangled his fingers in it.

"If you don't stop courting me in public, Frank," I said with a teasing smile, "I'm going to cut off all that hair and sell it to a wig maker."

"In that case I suppose I'll have to let you go."

I laughed myself then, and took his hand and led him back out among the pews. People were indeed smiling, and I could tell that they weren't laughing at us, but rejoicing in the fact that we so plainly loved each other. What could have been embarrassing was in fact merely a private time in the corner.

The couple who'd teased us about our looks at lunch the day Frank had preached in view of a call came to meet us. "I guess I'll have to stick with Maude here," the man said to me.

"And a good thing it is too, young lady," his wife said to me. "I'm too old to find someone better than Harold, though it wouldn't be hard to find someone."

They laughed together. "I think you had better stick together," Frank told them. "No one else could take your teasing."

The laughed again, and went to find their seats, for the piano was beginning to play. I looked up at Frank, as handsome as I'd ever seen him with his hair just slightly mussed, and drew him to a seat in the front row. "Here's your place, my darling," I told him, "and I expect you to stay in it until time to preach."

He smiled at me. "Then I shall do exactly that, Genesis. Wherever my place is, there you can expect to find me."

That morning, with it being Frank's first day as pastor, the deacon chairman – head deacon, as he called himself – had charge of the service. He explained that he would work with Frank during the week to establish an order of service that Frank was comfortable with, and that beginning the next Sunday Frank would be in charge. "But today, we're breakin' the new pastor in gentle," he said, and smiled.

He led us in a prayer for the new pastor. He prayed that Frank would be wise, and knowledgeable, and able to lead the flock as they needed to be led. And then he prayed for me, by name, asking God to give me the wisdom to be the wife Frank needed as he worked on behalf of the church. It touched me that he, and the church, cared enough about me, in spite of my history, to ask God to lead me in the task I had before me. I was teary eyed when the prayer finished, and as Frank held me to him I saw that the prayer had touched him too.

At last the time came for Frank to deliver his first sermon as pastor of South Valley Fellowship. He rose, and climbed the steps to the platform, where he took the head deacon's offered hand, and then wrapped him up in a hug. It was another new thing for Frank. He had often hugged me, and I'd seen him hug his parents, but this sort of man-to-man embrace was as far outside the old Frank's repertoire as spreading gossamer wings and flying on the breeze.

Frank laid his Bible on the pulpit, and opened it and spread his notes out as was his custom, and then looked out over the congregation. "I am so grateful for all of you," he said. "Two weeks ago I told you that my wife and I had sinned, and that was where any discussion would stay. During our meeting with the pulpit committee the subject came up, as I knew it would, and I explained in somewhat greater detail the facts of the case.

"They chose to recommend that you call me in spite of our history. And you did call us, in spite of our history. It isn't that you're ignorant of things, for I know that rumor, and truth, has reached you. It is, rather, that you are children of God, and know how to forgive. That is precious to me, for it wasn't until recently that I learned that lesson.

"As I've looked over the building I've seen that this church has some fairly pressing needs. The exterior needs patching, before it becomes too dilapidated to patch. From the stains I've seen on the ceiling here and there, I know we need to work on the roof. We could use a better air conditioning system, and this sound system is evidently just a step away from its grave. I noticed this morning that the pew on which Genesis and I sat appears to have a weakness in it, for it gave more than it ought to under our weight; perhaps other pews also need repair or replacement. Over the coming weeks I'll be examining our financial status, and obtaining estimates, and contacting friends and colleagues for help. We must have a decent meeting place, one that can accommodate us and meet our various needs.

"But more important than that are the needs of the people. I am not here to be primarily an administrator. I am good at that, and I suspect much of my time will in fact go to administration. But that's not my purpose here. I am here to proclaim the Word of God," and he lifted his Bible overhead in one hand. "I, like the apostles of the New Testament church, will give myself as much as I can to prayer and the ministry of the Word.