hair, and he wore little round glasses and a red sweater.
“Hello, Pastor Simmons.” I really hoped he wouldn’t think my question was dumb or something. But at least it would be easier to talk to a preacher wearing a red sweater.
He looked at me like Daddy checking out Chesler’s skinned knees, but he didn’t say a word until he sat down behind his big desk stacked with books and papers. “So, tell me, Kate, how are you this afternoon?”
“I’m just fine, sir.” I pointed at the wall next to the window. “I really like your pictures. It’s like a whole year in Cedar Falls.”
He nodded. “Well, thank you. That’s what my sister said when she took those pictures. My sister travels the world taking pictures, but her favorite place to take pictures is right here in the Appalachians. She says God took great pleasure in creating this part of Kentucky with its hills and forests and streams. And I agree with her.”
“Mama always said Cedar Falls was closer to heaven than anywhere else.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Well, just maybe your mama was right. So, tell me, Kate, what brings you to see me today?”
I told him I had some questions about my mama and about her dying.
“Well, we shouldn’t talk about dying without first talking about living.” He scratched his head. Then he asked, “Do you like to read?”
I nodded. “Yes, sir, I really like to read. I read all the time.” I didn’t tell him I read under the covers with a flashlight late at night. I didn’t figure he needed to know that.
“Well, Kate, life’s a lot like a book with a setting and characters and a few problems to solve.” Then he asked me about my favorite book and if I remembered the characters and their problems.
“My favorite is Charlotte’s Web , and how Charlotte saves Wilbur, and how Wilbur gets all sad when she dies.”
He nodded. “That’s a very good story. I’ll have to read that to Harry.” Harry was his five-year-old son.
Then he said in a soft, kind voice, “God is kind of like an author, Kate. He writes a story for each of us, and we are the characters in His story. Sometimes God lets us write a little bit of our own story, like choosing someone to be our friend. But God decides who our parents are.”
I guessed that was what Mama meant when she said God picked me out to be her one and only daughter.
Then Pastor said, “We get to decide about some things, but God decides when the characters die and go to heaven to be with Him forever.”
I remembered what Mama told me when we were sitting on that rock above the creek. Faith. Family. Forever. What the pastor said sounded sort of like living happily ever after, but I wasn’t so sure about that part. “I know Mama’s in heaven, but I wonder if she’s very happy without Daddy and Chesler and me.”
“Oh, your mama’s happy, Kate. She knows the end of the story. She knows one day you’ll all be together again.”
Talking to Pastor Simmons was better than giving book reports at school, but I didn’t come to talk about books and stories and happy endings. I wanted to talk about dying and about Mama. But before I could say anything, Pastor Simmons said, “Life comes in stages, you know.”
I knew about stages. For a while, Chesler threw a fit about eating vegetables. Granny Grace told Mama he was just going through a stage and not to worry about it. Sure enough, he got over it once he saw me eating my vegetables and getting dessert as a reward.
Pastor Simmons said, “I remember when you were born and you couldn’t walk or talk. And when you could walk, you were a toddler, and being a baby ended.”
I didn’t remember being a baby or a toddler either.
Then he said, “You grew up more and went off to school. Your next stage will be when you’re a teenager, and then you’ll be a woman and get married and be a mother just like your mama.” He went on and on about stages. Then he said, “The last stage is death, when we leave this
“Hello, Pastor Simmons.” I really hoped he wouldn’t think my question was dumb or something. But at least it would be easier to talk to a preacher wearing a red sweater.
He looked at me like Daddy checking out Chesler’s skinned knees, but he didn’t say a word until he sat down behind his big desk stacked with books and papers. “So, tell me, Kate, how are you this afternoon?”
“I’m just fine, sir.” I pointed at the wall next to the window. “I really like your pictures. It’s like a whole year in Cedar Falls.”
He nodded. “Well, thank you. That’s what my sister said when she took those pictures. My sister travels the world taking pictures, but her favorite place to take pictures is right here in the Appalachians. She says God took great pleasure in creating this part of Kentucky with its hills and forests and streams. And I agree with her.”
“Mama always said Cedar Falls was closer to heaven than anywhere else.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Well, just maybe your mama was right. So, tell me, Kate, what brings you to see me today?”
I told him I had some questions about my mama and about her dying.
“Well, we shouldn’t talk about dying without first talking about living.” He scratched his head. Then he asked, “Do you like to read?”
I nodded. “Yes, sir, I really like to read. I read all the time.” I didn’t tell him I read under the covers with a flashlight late at night. I didn’t figure he needed to know that.
“Well, Kate, life’s a lot like a book with a setting and characters and a few problems to solve.” Then he asked me about my favorite book and if I remembered the characters and their problems.
“My favorite is Charlotte’s Web , and how Charlotte saves Wilbur, and how Wilbur gets all sad when she dies.”
He nodded. “That’s a very good story. I’ll have to read that to Harry.” Harry was his five-year-old son.
Then he said in a soft, kind voice, “God is kind of like an author, Kate. He writes a story for each of us, and we are the characters in His story. Sometimes God lets us write a little bit of our own story, like choosing someone to be our friend. But God decides who our parents are.”
I guessed that was what Mama meant when she said God picked me out to be her one and only daughter.
Then Pastor said, “We get to decide about some things, but God decides when the characters die and go to heaven to be with Him forever.”
I remembered what Mama told me when we were sitting on that rock above the creek. Faith. Family. Forever. What the pastor said sounded sort of like living happily ever after, but I wasn’t so sure about that part. “I know Mama’s in heaven, but I wonder if she’s very happy without Daddy and Chesler and me.”
“Oh, your mama’s happy, Kate. She knows the end of the story. She knows one day you’ll all be together again.”
Talking to Pastor Simmons was better than giving book reports at school, but I didn’t come to talk about books and stories and happy endings. I wanted to talk about dying and about Mama. But before I could say anything, Pastor Simmons said, “Life comes in stages, you know.”
I knew about stages. For a while, Chesler threw a fit about eating vegetables. Granny Grace told Mama he was just going through a stage and not to worry about it. Sure enough, he got over it once he saw me eating my vegetables and getting dessert as a reward.
Pastor Simmons said, “I remember when you were born and you couldn’t walk or talk. And when you could walk, you were a toddler, and being a baby ended.”
I didn’t remember being a baby or a toddler either.
Then he said, “You grew up more and went off to school. Your next stage will be when you’re a teenager, and then you’ll be a woman and get married and be a mother just like your mama.” He went on and on about stages. Then he said, “The last stage is death, when we leave this
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