Thursday, December 3, 2009


When I was little my adopted grandfather, Cliff, took me fishing. We went out on this small boat and finished for the better part of the day. I got so frustrated because every time I caught a fish he would make throw it back. I eventually got to the point of not seeing the purpose of fishing. Now that I'm in college, i've done my fair share of fishing. I feel a tug. It feels pretty good. I'm reeling it in, and then the line breaks. OR. I don't get any bites. OR. I get nibble. Then it's pulling hard. I'm reeling it in and everything is going great. Every thing is as it should be. Things are started to look up. I start to feel good about this one. I start to think I've finally caught something worth keeping. But then I reel it in. And I hear a voice that says throw it back in. Sometimes i keep it, thinking it will be OK. But that voice is right. I realize that the voice is right. So I toss it back, or it flops back in the water all by itself. And I keep fishin'. Hoping that one day, I'll catch something I can keep. Something worth taking back home. Until then, if you're looking for me, I'll be fishin'.

Friday, October 16, 2009


So I cried once. A long time ago. A warm day with clouds.
They came. The tears did. It was strange, because they were real.
They were for someone else. Someone real. Someone here.
I was helpless. But that was back then. When I cared.
But I don't anymore. It gone. Those feelings.
I tell myself.
I look at others. FInd others. Seek out others.
I'm well. Better even. A lot better. No more crying.
No more. We are no more.
The past. I think of it. It comes up. In my mind.
I try not to. But it happens. I get sad. A little.
I force it out.
I'm better. I'm better. I. Am. better.
But, yea. I cried once. A long time ago. It's been a while since then.
I'm still letting go.

Sunday, September 13, 2009

Random Facts

Random Facts with Matt.

The busier you are, the less your mind wanders.

Junior Year

Ok, it's Junior year and I'm swamped. I in a meeting. I'm in class. I'm on duty. There's no time to be with friends. There's no time to think. There's no time to breathe. Surprisingly, I'm OK with it all. I think i might like being busy, for now. As I sit here, procrastinating, sickened by the thought that a resident of mine gets paid $800 a month to have a blog. Anyways, I'm busy and I like it. I honestly haven't watched TV in like 2 weeks, honest. That's a long time for me. The new TV season is about to start and I don't know when I'll be able to watch TV, and I think I'm OK with that. (Of course I will be watching LOST and Chuck when they return next year.) Tomorrow my office hours begin weighing down a hell of a lot more busy on my shoulders. I'm excited. Am I crazy? Nope, I'm just quirky and awkward. Or as I told a friend once, I'm not on drugs, I'm just socially awkward. Speaking of friends I really miss my Louisa Friends. Even though we are far apart I still feel pretty close to them. But along with a new year, comes new friends. For once, I feel like I know to many people. I'm not complaining, I'm just saying, my phone never stops buzzin. I stay invisible on aim b/c if I'm not I'd never get any work done. Even my residents are constantly bothering me. Again, I'm not complaining, they all seem really cool, and they all really like their RA. As of now though, My junior year is off to a great start. I can't wait to see where it takes me. How will this chapter in my life end. I"m always wondering if a year from now will I still be hanging out with the people I'm hanging out with now. I put my Louisa Friends in a different category, I consider them family. As the old saying goes, Friends come and go, but but family lasts forever. So Hey Junior Year, let's have some fun.

Monday, April 27, 2009


The other day I heard someone say, "Why can't I have perfect friends?!"

Why you ask? Because they don't exist. No one is perfect, especially a friendship. A good friendship is looking over someone's imperfections and appreciating them no matter what. It's not exploding when they do that one thing that annoys you, but instead loving them more because it makes them, them.

Also A perfect friendship is you personally realizing that you're not perfect. Lord knows I'm not, in fact far from it. I know that i make weird, inappropriate comments, references no one gets, and sometimes come off as overly optimistic. But that's me. My friends have accepted that, just like i've accepted their imperfections.

A friendship is about being there for each other, no matter what. It's about having a bond that doesn't break, even after months of not seeing each other.

There is no perfect friend. There is however, a perfect friendship. I would know, I have one.

Monday, April 20, 2009

I'm just a little...

Nostalgia. It can happen at the rarest moments. Just the other day I was in target and I saw these kids, who were obviously high school students, and it took me back two years to my senior year. I remembered all of the trips to target and all the movies we saw, good and bad, and It reminded me how much I miss hanging out with my best friends every friday night.

The other day I was walking to class and the smell of hot pavement hit me. I instantly remembered all of the trips my family use to take to Kings Dominion. We would always pack a picnic and eat lunch out in the parking lot. And every time we went I would try to convince my parents to ride a roller coaster with me, but always failed.

Last Thursday I was at the gym, and the chlorine from the pool reached out and grabbed my mind. I was at Jordans last summer. We were all swimming in their pool. Playing kings, drinking bud light, sharing secrets and laughing. I realized that we have very few of those nights left, if any. I'm really going to miss them.

I now that as we get older, and our lives begin to move in different directions, some people begin to move apart. I don't think that we're like that. I think that the longer we are away from each other the more we appreciate our friendship. I've found some great friends here at school, but they are nothing compared to the friends I had before I graced this school. I know that we will have the rest of our lives together, but I'm still going to miss the past. Miss seeing everyone every day. Those late nights on the porch. Those weekly trips to regal cinemas. Those bagel bite/mozzarella stick lunches at my house. They will be missed. I know that we will create new traditions. I guess I'm just feeling a little nostalgic.

Sunday, April 5, 2009

Halfway Through

It's April of 2009 and I can't believe that I was in high school not one year ago, but two. When you're young time seems to creep. It crawls. Everything seems to take forever. That trip to kings dominion only a day away might as well be two years away. The car ride to the beach feels like 5 days instead of just five hours. The sunday sermon seems to take an hour instead of 20 minutes. But once you hit a certain point in your life all of that changes. Time finally lifts off the ground and never stops. Maybe it's because at some point we all change. We begin to see things in a different light. We begin to find ourselves and find who we are. Maybe time is only slow in the beginning because it's waiting for us to figure out ourselves. Maybe it's waiting for us to get a grasp on life. And once we finally get a firm grip (or what appears to be a firm grip) time speeds up. I feel, for the first time in my life that time is flying, and all I can think about is how much I want it to slow back down. I want it to be last summer again. I wish last summer could have lasted for a year, just like those trips to kings dominion. I don't want to wake up tomorrow as a 40 year old. I want to wake up in my bed back home. Take a shower. Go to work. Come home and then leave to go be with the people I love most. Where did the time go? I can't believe I'm halfway through.

Monday, March 16, 2009

Down by the River

As I went down in the river to pray
Studding about that good ol' way
And who shall wear the starry crown?
Good Lord show me the way

O sinners, let's go down
Let's go down, come on down
O sinners, let's go down
Down in the river to pray

As I went down in the river to pray
Studying about that good ol' way
And who shall wear the robe and crown?
Good Lord show me the way

Friday, March 6, 2009

Just Listen

Every Friday, Saturday and Sunday morning I wake up, open my window and just lie there. I like to listen to the cars driving down port. The speed demons on 81. People as they walk back from a night of mayhem. I can hear horns blowing, sorority girls chattering, and every now and then some sirens blaring. The Breeze from the window dances across my face and I just close my eyes. I forget about all of my problems: homework, residents, people. I just lie there and I get transported to another place. I feel like I'm floating in a world of sound. Birds are chirping as my HiFi is producing a soft sound of my current mix of music. It's so relaxing. It reminds me of the summer when I would lay out on the hammock and read. Of course, like all good things, it come to an end. I receive a text. Someone knocks on my door needing to get into storage. Or I just come out of coma and remember my daily tasks that must get fulfilled. But those moments, none of it matters. Nothing matters. I just listen

Sunday, March 1, 2009

This I believe

I believe in people watching.

I have always enjoyed sitting on a bench, in a park or somewhere in public, and just watching people as they do the various things that people do. Whether it’s walking with someone they love, playing games with their children, or just a lonely person out for a lonely stroll. As I sit on that bench I wonder where these people are from and what stories they have to tell. What hardships they have had to overcome and what joys they have experienced in their lifetime. Sometimes I even go as far as creating a background for them. One person may be meeting someone in order to begin mischief and mayhem, while another could simply be looking for answers in a world of questions.

What’s most exciting while watching people is when they collide. Watching them interact, it’s like watching a story unfold, like watching television with the clicker being your eyes. I never realized how much I would learn from watching people.

When my grandfather was dieing of cancer I sat and watched as my family came and went, saying their goodbyes. He had refused any treatment because at the age of 65 he had a full head of hair and didn’t want to lose it. With death so close to me I realized what little time I have to live, anyone has to live. At that moment, I began to live for every other moment. I realized that life is an awful thing to waste. That’s why the mother always chases after her young children when they go to far. That’s why the two people in love never let go of each other. That’s why the lonely man is walking through a lively park. We are all trying to hang on to life and enjoy it. I believe in living. I believe in living, not for the past or the future, but for now. I believe in life.

Friday, February 13, 2009

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Part 3

1. I hate it when people tell me I"m spoiled. I'm an only child DUH! And I could be a lot worse

2. I hate having nothing to do

3. I like having a job, it makes me feel accomplished

4. I always get really sick once a year

5. When I was little I use to have a secret hiding place

6. I also use to play tornado in my room...until I broke my piggy bank

7. Up until high school, I was excruciatingly shy

8. I helped my mom become more open to speaking her mind, and not letting people walk all over her

9. I really miss my grandmother who died when I was in the 3rd grade

10. I don't believe in regrets, you can't change the past, just learn from it

11. I think it's funny when people confuse a response to someone being defensive

12. I use to want to be a teacher

13. People puking...well, make me puke

14. I like Vampire Weekend b/c they have such a unique sound and there songs are so catchy

15. I can't stand reality shows

16. Conan O'Brien is the man

17. I'm not a secretive person, everything I've ever done, has been told to someone

18. I hate wearing socks

19. I can't stand Nicolas Cage

20. I really want to spend a year traveling, I just need to find someone to do it with

21. I worry all of my friends will one day forget about me

22. I don't want to end up alone

23. My body is made up of 72% sweet tea

24. I figure, if for some unknown reason become famous, my stage name would be Matthew Scott

25. I once seriously considered suicide, but I'm in a much better place now, A MUCH BETTER PLACE

26. I can't stay mad at people for long

Sunday, February 8, 2009

Part 2

1. There are things about me I wish I were able to change but can not

2. The first time I drank was actually in 9th grade

3. I once vandalized a construction site not one of my proudest moments

4. I am a first generational college student

5. My great aunt, who has dementia always thinks I am my grandfather

6. JMU wasn't my first choice, it was my only choice, but I like it a lot

7. I'm a Cowboys fan. Everyone in my family is one, except my Dad

8. Raspberry Sorbet completes me

9. Death scares me a little

10. So does getting old

11. I like to think i'm organized, but i'm not

12. For the past five years, maybe more, someone I was close to at some point, died

13. I never new my grandfathers

14. I've always wanted a sibling

15. I'm eclectic when it comes to music

16. LOST is seriously the best show on television

17. I can be easily peer pressured

18. I spill things a lot, but never while waiting tables (knock on wood)

19. I've always wanted to live on a farm

20. I never really got to know my dad until these past few years, because he was never around

21. I really like naps

22. I have a slight germ phobia, I have to use the same shower and bathroom stall every time. If someone is in it, I wait

23. Swimming is one of my favorite summer activities

24. I often talk to myself

25. In first grade I got in a lot of trouble after I stabbed a girl in the butt with a really sharp pencil

Thursday, February 5, 2009

25 Random Things

So this list is 25 random things that I think most people don't know about me.

1. I really like to take showers and I hate having to turn the water off

2. I really like to help people, and I'm constantly looking for new ways to do that

3. I hate it when people say things without merit. If you don't know what you're talking about then shut up

4. Chicken noodle soup is my favorite food

5. I day dream all the time

6. I often imagine my life as if it were a movie or a tv show

7. Sometimes I can't tell when my friends or joking with me

8. Other than that, I'm really good at reading people, no matter what you say, I can tell what kind of a person you are

9. I easily forgive forget

10. I'm frugal, or as my Dad says a "tight wad"

11. I secretly really liked Mr. and Mrs. Smith even though a lot of people didn't

12. I have to change my deodorants up because they never work for long

13. Even though I'm a journalism major, I doubt I'll ever be a journalist

14. I can make myself cry on cue

15. I'm a really good liar, and if you can tell i'm lying its because I want you to know that i'm lying

16. I'm constantly thinking of various tv shows I could create

17. I'm a wiki addict

18. I'm very optimistic, and often look for the best in all things

19. I'm at a cross-road when it comes to religion for various reasons

20. I have a fear of failing, and never making it out of the state of Virginia. There's nothing wrong if you want to stay in Virginia, it's a great place, I just want to be somewhere different

21. I'm very sarcastic

22. I'm not easily offended, but I feel that whenever I make a joke about someone they get upset. If you can't take it don't dish it

23. I hate double standards. Period

24. My feet and hands get cold easily

25. I hate it when people waste money, especially when they are already in debt

26. (I know one extra) I love the outdoors. I love to camp and do adventure type things. It's just so much more fun than sitting on the couch or reading about it. I like to make my own adventures.

Sunday, January 25, 2009


Chapter one: Light at Night
It was an unusually dark night. One of those dark nights where there is no moon in the sky and not one star to guide a lost soul home. It was also an extremely quiet night, and not the good kind of quiet but the utterly terrible quiet. The type of quiet where even the steps of an ant sound like the stomps of a giant, making it almost impossible for one to fall asleep. However, Seth had somehow managed to do just that, and was swimming in his dreams (which in this case I mean quite literally as he was dreaming of swimming in the ocean). In reality, he was far from the ocean, or any body of water for that matter, but snug tightly in his bed. His room was covered with textbooks, notebooks and other various items any high school senior would have tossed about their room, which at the moment was a nasty mess. Outside the quiet of his room, as well as the quiet of his entire house, was a not so quiet nature preparing for what was to come.
If someone had been awake at that hour, and had for some unknown reason decided to sit out on their porch, they would have witnessed a fascinating and unexpected show. Squirrels were scrambling to gather extra nuts, doe’s were delicately cleaning their young in anticipation, and birds were building in numbers at the tops of the trees waiting for their very own show. All at once the commotion came to a dead halt, and the utterly terrible quiet set in again, but not for long. As Seth was fast asleep in his bed, and as all of the animals were frozen staring at the same area of empty space, the ground began to shake. It began as an unnoticeable shake, but soon it became very noticeable, especially when Seth fell, rather roughly, out of his bed and onto the floor.
“What the h—,” Seth’s curse was cut short as he had fallen on his Ipod, a possession of his he had been missing for several days, and for a moment he celebrated the find. However, the shaking of the Earth soon grabbed his attention back from his favorite musical device.
“What is going on,” Seth asked to no one in particular. He attempted to stand, but again was knocked down by the constant shaking. Pictures and certificates that were hanging on Seth’s wall began to fall off. He could hear various items crashing to the ground, much like he had done himself just a moment ago. This time his attempt to stand was much more thought out. He grabbed the top of his bed and used the sheets to pull himself up. He then fell forward on his bed, which was a much more comfortable fall, but instead of standing back up he swung his legs up over the side of the bed. He then reached up for the cord that would raise the blinds, and when he found it he yanked it as hard as he could, causing the blinds to fall down on top of him. If someone had been watching, and the earthquake had not been taking place, they would have found this entire sequence of events quite comical, of course Seth was the only witness and he was not laughing. After shouting a few of his favorite four letter words and throwing the blinds onto the floor he peaked out of his window.
At first Seth noticed nothing out of the ordinary, but once he had firmly balanced himself against the window, ensuring that the steadily shaking earth was not about to throw him on the floor again, he noticed that his front yard was anything but ordinary. What he saw caused his mouth to drop, his eyes to widen, and another fall off of the bed. He quickly though without thinking had again secured himself against the window. This time however he squinted his eyes, just to make sure that what he was seeing was actually there. It was. In his front yard was a large arrangement of local animals, all sitting together peacefully, and were acting as if nothing was happening, as if the earth wasn’t trembling. Then all at once there was a streak of light that formed in the middle of the sky. It seemed electric almost, but instead of disappearing instantly it just hovered in the sky. Seth was drawn into the light. It fascinated him for some strange reason. He had the sudden urge to open the window, push out the screen and go towards the light.
Although Seth didn’t notice, due to his new obsession with a streak of recently developed light, the earth suddenly stopped shaking. Moments later the streak of light exploded, filling the entire sky, and all of Seth’s room, with a bright white light. Seth went to shield his eyes, but before his hands even reached his face the light was gone. Out of the corner of his eye Seth thought he saw the animals scurrying back into the forest, but he wasn’t sure. Mainly all he could see were little purple dots. For what seemed like ages, he stayed kneeling on his bed staring out of the window, as if he was waiting for more to happen. As he knelt he thought about what had just taken place. “What just happened? What was that light he had just seen? Had he just seen all kinds of animals in his driveway? Am I dreaming?” As he was thinking, an annoying tapping feeling had begun in his right shoulder. When he finally came back to reality he found the annoying tapping to be his mother.
“Are you OK,” she asked? She was wearing a blue nightgown, her hair looked possessed, and her face showed great concern for her son, which only grew when he didn’t respond.
“Seth! What happened? Your blinds are on the floor, you’re breathing heavy, and you’re drenched in sweat.”
Seth turned toward his mother ever so slightly, only showing her one side of his face. His eyes were wide and his mouth spelled a perfect O. “The earthquake woke me and th—.”
“What earthquake?” His mother quickly interrupted.
This time Seth turned and completely faced his mother. “The earthquake. It just happened. It was knocking stuff down all over my roo—,” he quickly stopped speaking as he noticed that everything was in its appropriate place. He had been positive that in all of the commotion he had heard various things falling to the floor. However, all that he did see lying on the floor were the same piles of books and clothes that had been there when he had gone to bed, the same piles that had been there all month.
“Seth, I think you were dreaming honey.” Seth looked back towards his mother. The concern had left her face, which was now covered with a nervous smile.
“Yea. I guess I was. It just seemed…yea it had to have been a dream.”
After a few moments filled with an awkward silence, the two said good night. Seth laid back down in bed, still confused about the events that had just taken place. He was almost certain that what had happened had definitely not been a dream. It had been real, or had it just been an extremely realistic dream. For the next hour he pondered this until once again he was swimming in his dreams.
His mother however felt as if she were living a nightmare. She knew that this day would one day come, but she never thought this soon. She always figured it would happen when Seth was older, more mature, more responsible, not when he was just a senior in high school. What about college? Could it really be time? If it was, Mrs. Seymour had a lot to do, in a very little amount of time. She wasn’t sure if Seth was going to be ready, but she knew ready or not, he was the one. Mrs. Seymour did not go back to sleep that night, but instead sat at the kitchen table, drinking coffee, and preparing herself for what was to come next.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

A Moment to Vent

You are the most selfish, two-faced, manipulative person I have ever met. You are rude, you talk about people behind their backs, and on top of that you think you are one of the most mature people in the universe. You say that people treat you negatively for various reason, but the truth is, people treat you like that because of the way you treat them, and in my opinion you deserve everything that comes your way. You are one of the few people that has ever been able to get under my skin. You have a lot of growing up to do, and while you are doing that, it would be great if you realized the world does not revolve around you. Everything about my Sophomore year at college has been great except for the thorn in my side that is you. Have a great Semester.

This moment of venting was brought to you by Matthew Johnson

Sunday, January 11, 2009

A Shot of God

The pistol trembled in the eyes of the associate pastor. He couldn’t blame the woman for wanting to kill him. He had even thought of suicide himself, but for a strange reason he found that he did not want to die today. As tears crawled down her cheeks he surveyed the room. There was a door to his right just on the other side of the desk, his only way to life. The only other exit was behind her, behind the gun. As he stared at the gun he noticed beyond Abigail the picture of Jesus praying beside his tomb. He was instantly filled with anger. Jesus was the person that had gotten him a gun pointed directly at his head. Jesus was who had brought him so much pain and trouble. As he stared at the picture Abigail then again asked, “Why?”
When Hayden was 31 years old he had been appointed to the position of associate pastor at Hope Community Church. He had been attending since he was a newborn, and when ever he became a subject over dinner, most would agree that Hayden Lawson was meant to be a preacher. Being well spoken, smart, and Bible savvy had always made him a favorite among the leaders of the church. Of course, like most well liked people, Hayden had his secrets. These weren’t really eye opening, mouth dropping secrets, but they were secrets all the same. Hayden had his doubts about God, and as an assistant pastor, doubts about God were not looked upon in a positive way.
At the age of 25, Hayden had met his soul mate, Claire. They married when he was 26, and had always been happy with one another. When he told her that he didn’t want to continue being a lawyer she supported him. When he said that kids were something he wanted, but not then, she supported him. When he had accepted the job as assistant pastor, she supported him. No matter what, Claire had been there. However, at the age of 32, Hayden lost Claire forever. They had left a church business meeting, and were making their way home discussing some of the future plans of the church.
“An interactive program for the kids would be great to have during the services,” said Claire.
“You really think so,” Hayden questioned, “I’m worried that the children will be too much to handle for just Ms. Spinter, I mean, she is 64 years old.”
“I know, but—”
A drunk driver, owning a red Ford F-150 had ran a red light and struck the Lawson’s car. Claire died instantly, her last thoughts on defending an elderly woman. This was the beginning to Hayden’s doubt.
Weeks, months, years went by, and Hayden continued to slip from his once strong beliefs in the church. How could God, the man he had always supported and praised, the man he had dedicated his life to, take away one of the few gems left in the world. Hayden began to read essays online and books about the existence of God, the existence of a higher being. He read essays on the origins of God, why God is impossible, and what the future is for the few god fearing people left in the world. With each essay he read, with every word he devoured, he slowly inched his way into being a hypocrite. His shell was the strong, obedient associate pastor of Hope Community Church. His true self, was what he began to believe, was what he thought about when ever he was not on stage—a man who doubted the existence of God.
With his doubt came the realization that, if there is no God, then why be good? He began to go out of his way to sneak into bars on Tuesdays. Soon after, visits were stretched to Wednesdays with a prostitute mixed in. He gambled on Thursdays, and on Fridays, he was back at church, ready to council couples in need, to show them how to use God to fix their problems. Often on Sundays, he would get on his knees at the alter, and ask God to forgive him, to forgive his doubts, and to forgive all of his sins. He would then ask, “God. Please. Please give me a sign; please show me that you are real. Please show that what I do for you is actually worth something, is actually something that needs to be done. Hayden had become two different people. One was the highly respected religious leader; the second was a sinful, doubtful man.
Abigail grew up in a trailer park. As a teenager, she had often been called white trash, dirty, or the poor girl. So when she stumbled into church one day, and heard about a man who accepts anyone, and loves everyone no matter who they were, she began to believe in God. She attended church every Sunday, and soon started to help out in the nursery. That was where she discovered how much she loved to work with children. It was helping in the nursery that made her realize if she were ever married, she would want lots of children. Luckily for Abigail, she met a gentleman who loved her as much as she loved him.
After dating each other for over a year, he proposed. They were married in the church that she loved dearly, and two months later she was pregnant. Throughout her pregnancy she prepared the baby’s room, bought clothes, and anticipated what it would be like to hold her child. When she finally went into labor, the baby was dead. It had choked on the umbilical cord within the last few days of her pregnancy. Abigail was devastated. However, after a year of on again off again depression, she was ready to try again. Two pregnancies later, and still no children, she told herself one more time. She and husband began to try for a child one last time. Months went by and she still was not pregnant. Finally after much encouragement from her friends, the couple went to a fertility doctor. After a few tests it was revealed that after the last miscarriage, Abigail’s body had stopped producing fertile eggs. Abigail left the office, drove home, and sat in her living room.
Five days went by, and she never moved. Her husband had tried everything, but she would not budge. By the fifth day, he would just bring her food, and then take away the half empty plate. From that point on, dinner was the only interactions the once happy couple had. Even after she began to shower again, they would only share dinner together, having entire conversations controlled by empty words. One night Abigail noticed a change. Her husband did not return home until long after dinner. When he did arrive home, he said, “Hi, sorry I’m late,” and then went to bed. Abigail watched him ascend up the stairs, and then fell back asleep on the couch. Although both had refused to accept it, their marriage was unofficially over. Abigail’s husband, like many others, began the classic affair with his secretary. He only came home for dinner once a week. Abigail never realized her husbands affair until the day she finally awoke from her trance of self pity only to realize what her life had become. This realization then set her back once again. Only this time she was angry. Angry at her husband, angry at herself, and angry at God and all those who supported him.
After an hour of kicking and throwing and screaming she found a pistol buried in her husbands dresser drawer. She stood there, and just stared at the gun. She began to cry, followed by screaming that slowly led back to viciously crying. She took the gun out of the drawer and sat on the bed, her bed, their bed. She turned and ran her hand across the top of the sheets. “Such good intentions,” she whispered, “such good intentions.”
An hour later she was out the door, and on her way to the church. The pistol was lying in the seat next to her. When she arrived at the church, she didn’t know what or why she had came here, but she knew this was where she needed to be. She sat in her car for what seemed like days, watching couples go in and out of the church. After sitting for three hours, a couple left the church and not another entered. She took the pistol, stared at it, and then tucked it carefully in her coat. She got out of the car, and began to walk towards the church.
Hayden heard a knocking on the side entrance to his office. “Come in,” he yelled.
Abigail opened the door and stepped inside. She stared at his face, his desk, and the Bible sitting on the corner.
“How are you today Abigail,” Hayden asked. He could tell something was wrong.
“Fine,” Abigail muttered, “I’m just confused about something.” Hayden stared at her with a slight fear. Had she discovered his double life? Was she about to reveal her findings?
“What,” he took a breath, “What can I clear up for you?”
“Why,” she started, “Why did God take away my BABIES,” she said starting in a whisper, and ending in a furious scream.
“Abigail please sit down, please. Is there anything I can get you? A drink, something to eat?”
“An answer!”
“Would you like to sit down?”
“No,” she yelled, “I want you to tell me why I am not a mother!” As he gathered up his courage to tell her the same reason he had told many, he noticed her clutching her coat.
“Abigail, I know this will be hard to understand, but just listen to me. Sometimes God does things that we do not understand, but there is a reason. Although, what happened is very sad and upsetting, God has a good reason for what he did, a reason that will be better for you in the long run.”
“You’re telling me that God let me conceive four times, just so I could have a miscarriage, resulting in my husband having an affair? Is God’s purpose for me to be a nun, a spinster, a bitter old woman?”
“Calm dow—,” began Hayden
“Don’t tell me to calm down! Tell me how I can have faith in God after what he has done. How can I ever truly believe in a God that does such things. He has ruined my life. Tell me! Why should I!”
“You shouldn’t,” he yelled. Minutes passed and they just stared at each other. Abigail’s mouth had dropped open, and her mind was spinning. Hayden, in disbelief, was re-examining what he had said, hoping that it hadn’t happened. Hoping he had not revealed his true feelings.
“You stand up there every Sunday and nod your head to every thing the pastor says, as if you believe, and here, right now, you are telling me I shouldn’t believe, that I shouldn’t have faith, that all the years I spent in this church were a waste?”
“Yes,” he screamed, “yes!”
“You know the reason I wanted to have a child of my own was because of this church. I worked in the nursery every Sunday, and in there I discovered how innocent children were, and I knew how cruel they could become. There in that nursery I realized that I wanted lots of children, so I could raise them to be kind and compassionate to everyone. So I could raise them in the church,” she pulled out the gun and pointed it at Hayden’s head, “and for some unknown reason God did not want that!” Hayden could not speak. There was a gun pointed to his head, a situation he never thought he would have found himself in as an associate pastor.
“You don’t want to do this, Abigail. Please come to your senses.”
“Just think of how much pain you could have spared me, and probably others if you had just told me to leave, that God was not worth it,” Abigail whispered.
“I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. I did believe, but after,” he paused, “but after he took Claire away I couldn’t.”
“And you still did nothing.”
“Can’t you understand,” he yelled.
The pistol trembled in the eyes of the associate pastor. He couldn’t blame the woman for wanting to kill him. He had even thought of suicide himself, but for a strange reason he found that he did not want to die today. As tears crawled down her cheeks he surveyed the room. There was a door to his right just on the other side of the desk, his only way to life. The only other exit was behind her, behind the gun. As he stared at the gun, he noticed beyond Abigail the picture of Jesus praying beside his tomb. He was instantly filled with anger. Jesus was the person that had gotten him a gun pointed directly at his head. Jesus was who had brought him so much pain and trouble. As he stared at the picture Abigail then again asked, “Why?”
“I don’t know.”
She stared at him with anger and hate, but she knew she could not kill anyone. Too much death had happened around her. She lowered the gun, gave one last look of hate, and opened the door. She stepped outside, turned around to close the door, and shot Hayden. She dropped the gun, and walked back to her car.
The associate pastor’s office was dead silent. The gun had been aimed directly at him, a sure kill. “She missed,” Hayden looked up through the ceiling, through the clouds, “she missed,” he repeated, “she missed.”