The Visitor Skyla s Diary Wednesday June 28
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The Visitor: Monica's Diary, Wednesday June 28 free porn video
The Visitor
Monica's Diary
Wednesday, June 28
One of the advantages to Nathan working for himself is that to some
extent he controls his own schedule. This allows him to knock off a
little early on Wednesdays so that he can get home in time for us to
leave in time to get to prayer meeting. If he gets home at 5:00, we eat
and leave at 6:00 to be sure of arriving at 7:00 when the service
begins. If he doesn't get home by 6:00, then I take the kids myself.
When that is the case, most of the time he meets us at church. Tonight,
there were no difficulties, and we all went together.
Once there I was able to visit a little while with a few of the women
who had sat with Timothy. Both Jeanine (the second Doctor Duvall) and
Carlene Wallace expressed the same opinion, that he was such a fine
looking young man, a darling boy, and what a shame that he felt
compelled to do what he was planning to do. I agreed with them of course
and inquired about how they thought his recovery was coming along. They
both remarked that he was looking better than they had expected. After
the service I was able to talk to Martha Street and Linda, the pastor's
wife. Their reports were just as comforting.
I was distressed to learn, however, that no one had signed up to see
Timothy today. Now normally we linger at the church for about an hour
after the actual prayer service just to fellowship, but when I told
Nathan that no one had been with Timothy today, he suggested that we go
straight over to the hospital.
When we got there, the seven of us trooped into the elevator as a mini-
mob the way we always do wherever we go and encountered three uniformed
hospital staff waiting to go up.
"My, are these all yours?" A tall blond woman asked. When Nathan and I
just grinned and nodded, another of them--she looked to be the
youngest--said what I have heard many times over the years.
"You do know what causes that don't you?" The two immediately chuckled.
"Yes, we do." Nathan answered quickly, still grinning. "'The blessing of
the LORD; it maketh rich, and He addeth no sorrow with it.' The love of
God has blessed us so much that we cannot imagine what life could be
without them. I only pray that you know as much love in your life as we
do in ours each and every day."
The two who had spoken looked at each other but said nothing. The third,
a Hispanic woman, smiled with an understanding that seemed familiar.
Then I noticed her name tag. It was Alethea.
"Hermana," I whispered.
"Hermana," she mouthed back.
That's when the elevator stopped, the door opened, and we all trooped
out. We crept into Timothy's room as quietly as we could in case he was
sleeping. It turns out he was. I immediately noticed that someone, or
maybe several someones, had brought him a number of colorful gifts. My
observation of the colors was as far as I got, however, because Josiah
took this opportunity to shout out his customary greeting.
"Hey, Stinky, wake up; it's us!"
When he did, he saw his little peninsula of a bed surrounded by us on
three sides. The girls were quick to pounce on the various bottles and
cans and began oohing and awing over the colors and shapes. Once again,
but only for a moment, Timothy had that cornered-rabbit look in his eyes
as he hunched his shoulders and almost cowered at the sight of Nathan.
"We can't stay long," I said, "but when we heard no one had been with
you today we just had to come and see how you are doing."
He had nodded and started to smile when Josiah must have noticed the hot
pink book with gilt edges under Timothy's hands in his lap.
"Is that a pink Bible? Where'd you get that? And why pink?"
"Oh no," Timothy responded hastily as he pulled it up to his chest. When
he did so, a little lavender pen fell out from between the volume's
covers. "It's not a Bible. It's a, a . . ."
While Timothy's face turned red, Hannah deftly retrieved the pen and
held it up between the two of us. We both noticed the little hearts.
"It's a diary isn't it?" She asked. "You're keeping a diary just like a
girl." Hannah did not say this in a scornful tone. It was as if she were
merely announcing a fact that she had personally observed and was giving
everyone else in the room the information she had derived therefrom. But
once again there was real fear in Timothy's eyes.
"Mrs., I mean miss, I mean Dr. Norfleet came today and brought all this
stuff." His voice took on a pleading tone as he shot furtive glances at
each of us. "She said I would need things like this to help get me
started since I don't have anything."
There was the briefest of pauses. No one said anything, and then Nathan
moved over to Timothy's side and put a large carpenter hand on the boy's
shoulder. I could see him go tense.
"Listen to me, Skyla," Nathan said very softly, and just as slowly as
softly. "You do not have to be afraid of me. I am not going to hurt you.
God did not place you in my life, nor me in yours, to destroy you. I
don't pretend to understand the compulsion that is driving you, but I
promise you that I will not make your life any more miserable than it
already is. Do you understand what I am saying?"
Timothy nodded without speaking.
"Okay then; give me a hug." Timothy looked quizzical as Nathan wrapped
him up in his arms. "Not letting go till you hug me back, Sky." And very
tentatively Timothy reached his arms up and placed them lightly upon
Nathan. We all applauded.
"Can we have a little smell?" Elizabeth asked, her round eyes a-sparkle
as she held up one of the little jars.
"Yeah, can we?" Sarah begged.
"Okay," Timothy gave us a faint smile. When the two got the jar opened,
they looked at it and then at Timothy.
"You haven't used any of it." The tone was almost an accusation.
"Obviously not," said Hannah. "Skyla has been writing in ..." and there
was a deliberate pause while she searched for just the right words, "the
journal that Dr. Norfleet brought."
If Timothy noticed that Hannah did not say "her journal" or "her diary",
he did not have time to react, as both Sarah and Elizabeth made little
puppy squeals as they dabbed the lotion on their hands and sniffed.
"What's the big deal with girls and perfume anyway?" Mark asked.
"It's not perfume; it's lotion," stated Sarah.
"What's the difference?" He replied with a roll of his eyes. That's when
Elizabeth held out her lotion-dabbed hand toward his face.
"This is lotion," she said as if giving classroom instruction. Mark
wrinkled his nose but did lean forward just a little to take what looked
like would be a fearful sniff. At the same moment Elizabeth swept up the
little bottle of cologne on the mobile bed tray and spritzed her brother
full on the neck. "And this is perfume!" She shouted.
"Hey!" Both Mark and Josiah yelled and fled to the door of Timothy's
room all the while trying to rub the mist off with their hands. All of
us laughed, even Timothy.
"Mom!" Mark complained. "Now I smell like a girl."
"No you don't, silly," Hannah said, "you smell like a boy wearing
perfume."
"Anyway, the cure is simple, though you won't like it," I said.
"What?" Mark and Josiah chorused.
"Soap and water," I said, gesturing to Timothy's bathroom. While they
trudged toward the dreaded cleanliness, I turned to Timothy. "I spoke to
your father Sunday night."
"Yeah, what about?"
"About you, of course."
"I guess he still hates me."
"No," I said. "I wouldn't describe it like that. It's more like he is
very, very sad."
"Like I hurt him?"
"Yes. He is grievously wounded."
"Good!"
I glanced over at Nathan and saw his jaw harden. But before either he or
I could say anything, Hannah got right up in Timothy's face.
"What kind of Christian are you to treat your father this way?"
"You have no idea what my old man put me through," Timothy shot back.
"And you have no idea what God the Father put His Son through," Hannah
answered, "but not only did Jesus obey Him, He honored Him."
"Yeah, well I'm not Jesus, even if my dad thinks he's God."
"But you say you're a Christian. If you're a Christian, you should
follow Christ and honor your father as He honored His."
"You don't understand," Timothy protested. "God didn't hate Jesus. My
father hates me. He despises me. He makes fun of me. He hurts me every
chance he gets."
Hannah shook her head. "No, Skyla," she said evenly, "you're the one who
doesn't understand. Jesus obeyed and honored His Father knowing full
well that His Father was leading Him to the cross. On the cross the
eternity of God's wrath against all the sins of all His people was
poured out upon Him--all the hell that you deserve, and all the hell that
I deserve--and He took it, because that was His Father's will."
"Yeah, well I feel for Him, but I didn't ask Him to, so it doesn't apply
to me."
Hannah covered her mouth with both hands to stifle first a gasp and then
a sob. Glassy-eyed she turned and walked to the window, followed in
short order by her sisters who each took an arm.
"He was very sad about you," I said, trying to project the fiction that
there had been no interruption in our conversation, "but came to realize
as we have that perhaps God's hand is in all of this for your ultimate
good and His ultimate glory."
"Okay," Timothy said, glancing at me and then at Nathan. He lowered his
voice. "Look, I'm sorry, you know, I didn't mean to make her cry. I
didn't mean to hurt her feelings. I'm just all twisted in knots right
now. I mean it looks like maybe I have a shot at a new life, the life
I've always wanted, but she wants me to pretend to be something I'm not
and live a life I just can't live anymore."
"I understand, Sky," Nathan said. "You've been through a lot, and it
looks like you may be going through a whole lot more before all this is
over. Probably the best thing for all of us at this point is a good
night's sleep. We'll leave you to it, and I'll take care of Hannah."
With that we left and went home.
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