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I Cannot Rest. I Cannot Stay. I Cannot Linger Anywhere.

11/22/2023

Carol knocked at the bakery door with Paul beside her. “I appreciate you coming along to help.”

“Jeb and Aundrea have been very generous.” He said, peeking into the front window. “It’s the least I can do.”

“Oh, my goodness!” Carol jumped back at the sight of Phyl’s face pressed up against the glass of the bakery door. The locks clicked, and the door opened. “Phyl, what are you doing?”

Phyllis Detweiler was tangled in yards of red and green paper chains, moaning pitifully.

“Are you okay?” Paul stepped forward to help free her.

“I’ve been cutting and taping for hours, guys. It’s playing havoc with my carpal tunnel.”

Carol laughed as she untangled her friend from the merry mess. “You didn’t have to try to do it all yourself, Phyl. Have a seat.”

Phyl threw her hands up in disgust. “I cannot rest. I cannot stay. I cannot linger anywhere.”

“Yes, you can and you will.” Carol grabbed a step stool. “Plant it there.”

Phyl grumbled as she sat on a step and massaged her hands and wrists. “I was hoping to have it done before you guys got here.”

“Points for diligence, but I’m all about teamwork.” Paul looked for the tape dispenser.

“Are you going to the dinner at Greg’s church tomorrow?” Carol surveyed the twisted chain.

“Are you?” Phyl countered.

“I was planning to eat at Mom and Dad’s.”

“Eh, bring ‘em.” Phyl groused. “How often will they get a chance to have dinner with a superhero?”

“As often as Marlene makes those smothered pork chops.” Paul said as he slid his gloves on.

She shot him a look. “Bring ‘em anyway. Your mom can smother a pork chop anytime she wants.”

“Alright, Phyl. I’ll twist their arms.” Carol worked on untangling the massive paper chain. “Where do you want this?”

“I’m pretty sure I have enough to drape it from corner to corner on each of the windows. I was going to hang a snowflake in the middle of each swoop.”

Paul grabbed a length of the chain and grew over eight feet tall. He taped one end to the far corner of the first window. “About how much slack were you thinking?”

“Huh, that comes in handy. Bet you’re heck at changing light bulbs.”

“You bet.” Paul smiled as he moved to the opposite corner of the window. “About like this?”

“Maybe a little lower.” Phyl said.

“Yes, I think so, too.” Carol tapped her finger on her lips.

Ryan was washing his hands when Pastor Greg entered the social hall kitchen. “Are you up for this? You’ve been working pretty hard this week.”

“I like to keep busy.”

“Idle hands are the Devil’s playthings?”

Ryan smirked. “Something like that.”

“How did you enjoy the job?”

“Not bad.”

“The decorations look great. I took a ride with Meghan to see them.”

“They’re alright, I guess.” He dried his hands and draped the towel over the bar. “The Christmas music was a bit much.”

“Not feeling the holiday spirit yet?”

“I’m not geared up for jolly. I’m just glad it went fast.” He searched the utensil drawer.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

Ryan poked around in the drawer. “Sure. I like hitting the rack exhausted. You know?”

“Still having—”

“Not if I keep busy.” Ryan pulled out a peeler and slammed the drawer shut. “If I can wear myself out, I’m out like a light.”

“It might help to talk about it.”

Ryan pulled a large trash can to the corner of the prep table and dumped an enormous bag of potatoes out.

“Nothing kills holiday spirit like too much talk.” He slid some plastic gloves on and grabbed a loose potato.

“Is that something your dad would say?”

Ryan peeled furiously. The shreds of potato skin flew into the trash can.

“Patch was a surly guy. I can see how he’d—”

“Exactly.” Ryan looked for something to contain the peeled potatoes. “Don’t you have a verse about silence being golden or something?”

“Something like that.” Greg grabbed a large pot and a knife. “Here, I’ll take that. Keep peeling.”

Ryan handed Greg the potato and grabbed another. Greg cut his into chunks as Ryan handed him freshly peeled potatoes.

Ryan finished the first bag’s worth of potatoes before dumping another on the table. “Got room in that pot for more?”

“There’s another one under the sink. Guess we’ll make some of these into parsley potatoes and the other into mashed.”

“People like having a choice.” Ryan pulled out the second pot.

Greg nodded, setting aside the first pot of cut up potatoes.

“Sorry.” Ryan whispered as he peeled a potato.

“No harm done, buddy. I’m here for you.”

“Not what I’m used to.” He handed it over and grabbed another.

Greg chunked it and dropped the pieces into the new pot. “Depends on the company you keep. Like you said, people like having choices.”

“They may like it, but they don’t always get it. You know?”

“Folks get caught up in their ways. Feels like they don’t have a choice.”

“Feel like they’re stuck.” Ryan used the tip of the peeler to dig out a nasty-looking sprout. “Choice is something other people have.”

“Sorry it got like that for you.”

“I’m afraid it will get like that again.” Ryan frowned.

“You made your choice, Ryan.”

He looked at the pastor.

“It got you here. Keep making good choices and good things will keep happening.”

“Can’t guarantee that.”

“No, I can’t.” Greg said. “It’s generally true, though. If you keep making good choices, you’ll build goodwill and a network of people who are kindly intended, maybe even a friend or two. If or when stuff hits the fan, you won’t be on your own. You’ll have a community to lift you up.”

“Think so?” Ryan peeled.

“From what I’ve seen.” Greg shrugged. “You know, it’s in my job description to tell you that you reap what you sow.”

“As you’d say, I reaped the whirlwind.”

“I’d also say ‘To the Lord our God belong mercies and forgivenesses, though we have rebelled against him’.” Greg chopped another potato. “Keep making good choices, Ryan. I promise, it’s worth the effort.”