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Hey, Ryan. Trouble Sleeping?

Greg wandered into the kitchen with a bowl and spoon. “Hey, Ryan. Trouble sleeping?”

“Always.” He was sitting at the table with a mug of warm milk.

“Want to jog around the social hall until you wear yourself out?”

“Sometimes. I don’t think that will work for me tonight.”

“Restless.” Greg washed the bowl and spoon. “Want to talk about it?”

“What’s this ‘fear the Lord’ stuff about? That’s got to be the wrong word. Fear?”

Greg grabbed a towel and dried the items off. “Well, it is and it isn’t.”

“A college boy answer if ever I heard one.”

Greg chuckled. “That’s the spiciest thing I’ve heard from you in ages. You must be tired.”

“I wish I was, Pastor. I’m really churning inside. You know?”

“Sure, Ryan. The Hebrew word means a couple of things. One of them is fear the way you’d expect it to mean, so the direct translation is technically accurate.”

“But it kind of isn’t?”

“We’ll make a college boy out of you yet.” Greg smiled. “Yes, it’s about context. Sometimes it’s fear like being afraid or even terrified, but it can also mean reverential awe.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Okay, so have you ever heard of Ivan the Terrible?”

“Professional wrestler?”

“No, but that would be an awesome name for one.” Greg laughed. “This guy was the king of Russia back in olden times.”

“So, if he was terrible, he must have been one of the bad ones.”

“In retrospect, yes, but at the time, he was considered one of the best ones. When he earned the title, it was terrible like the terrible swift sword in the Battle Hymn of the Republic. He was awesome. He kicked butt and took names.”

“So, why not Ivan the Awesome or the Amazing Ivan?”

“Unfortunately, he didn’t stay good. He was popular because won a lot of territory and conquered some neighboring countries who were squeezing the Russians and had been for centuries. Later, he got paranoid and started persecuting the Russian people. So, Ivan the Terrible as in awesome became Ivan the Terrible as in awful. Same guy. Same word. Different meanings.”

“I get it, I guess.”

“They probably should have picked another word to make the passages make sense, but they wanted to be true to the translation.” Greg itched his chin. “Speaking of translation, maybe if you could tell me what happens in your dream, you might stop having it.”

“Maybe.” Ryan stirred his milk. “I don’t think I’m ready yet.”

“It’s just a thought. No pressure. I’m here if you need me.”

“Thanks.”

“What do you want to do about Marta?”

“Who?”

“Trilby’s friend with the mad crush on you.”

“Those two shorties? Feels like double trouble, Pastor. Think I’d better steer clear until I know what’s what. I’m more worried about that redhead who works for Carol.”

“Why, what is she doing?”

“Like a bug buzzing around the corner of my eye. I’m out there working, minding my own business. Suddenly, she’s there.”

“Like you said, she works for Carol. She’s just keeping an eye on everything.”

“It’s kind of intense. Kind of judgy.”

“Did you ask her about it?”

“What if I don’t like the answer? I don’t want to get fired for being confrontational. I need this job. This whole situation could go up in flames between her and Tom.”

“I’ll see what I can find out. I don’t want anybody sabotaging this for you. Try to get some sleep.”

“Not sure I can.” Ryan swigged his milk.

“Let go and let God, Ryan. You’re doing good, buddy. You’re doing good things and good things are happening for you. Earl thinks very highly of you and the other guys on the team respect your work ethic. I’ll find out about this other stuff and we’ll get it ironed out. Okay?” Greg patted his shoulder and wandered out of the kitchen.

“Sure, thanks. I’ll try to get some sleep.” Ryan watched him go. ‘I hope.’

He thrashed around in bed. Sleep finally came, but rest didn’t come with it. His breath was ragged and his skin was clammy. His moaning underscored the horrors coursing through his dreams.

The light came on.

“Paul, are you okay?”

He sat up and rubbed his eyes. “What’s the matter?”

“That’s what I’d like to know.” Jeb leaned in the doorway. “You’ve been pretty restless all week, but you’re in a real state tonight. How can I help you?”

“Oh, I’m really sorry I woke you.” Paul slipped out of the covers.

“That’s okay. You’re here to unwind. Carol’s stuff can take a back seat to that.”

Paul massaged his neck. “The show must go on, buddy.”

“Not so much.” Jeb signaled for Paul to follow.

“Look, I’m sorry I woke you but I’ve got to get some rest.”

Jeb cruised out to the kitchen. “I’ll bet you do. The way you were kicking those covers, you could have given Connor a run for his money.”

“What are you doing?”

“Helping you get back to sleep.”

“In the kitchen?”

“This is part of it. Nothing like a midnight snack to fight off nightmares.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.”

Jeb smiled and diced some turkey. “Trust me. My wife is a Type-A workaholic. I’ve got just the recipe for you. They call it comfort food for a reason.”

“Did I disturb her?”

“She’s a pretty deep sleeper once she settles down. She’s okay.” He grabbed some shredded cheddar. “It’s you I’m worried about.”

“You don’t—”

“Sure I do. You’re my guest. I told Matt I’d help you unwind. If you can do that and help Carol with her Christmas stuff, great. If not, you come first. This is important.”

“But I made a—”

“Commitments are great as long as you can keep them without cracking up.”

“That’s a bit much, Jeb. I’m not cracking up.”

“That’s not what HEARTH said. You haven’t taken any kind of serious R&R in ages, Paul. You’ve got to take care of yourself before you can take care of others.”

“I’ve done alright so far.”

Jeb shook his head as he sprinkled diced peppers, onions and mushrooms into the pan. “‘Alright’ is kicking around the bed like an indoor windmill? You’ve been pushing too hard for too long. Eventually, you’re going to break. None of us wants that to happen. You’re on mandatory relaxation here. If the Christmas stuff is fun and it recharges your batteries, great. If not, I’m benching you.”

“It is. I promise. I’m just walking around giving out autographs and hamming it up.”

“Then why can’t you sleep?”

“Because I’m here.”

“Are the flannel sheets too hot? I can switch them out.” He cracked a pair of eggs into the pan.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“No, Paul, I don’t. I’ve never had to make the sacrifices you did.”

“I’m here and not in Empire City. I feel like something’s going to happen that I could have stopped.”

“So, the Sentinels can’t function without you?”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“But it’s what you said. It must mean something. Right?” He slid the omelet onto a plate.

“I’m worried.”

“That’s why you’re here. You’re hung up on the what-ifs. It’s becoming your focus, and it’s going to cause a problem. Where you focus is where you arrive. If you’re focused on everything that can go wrong, something’s going to.”

“I know, but—”

“It’s all life and death. All the more reason to step away and regain some perspective. Why did you join the Sentinels?” He scooped some dark chocolate powder into a mug.

“I wanted to help people.”

“Who are you going to help if you stress yourself into causing something you’re trying to prevent?” Jeb poured some hot milk from a saucepan into the mug. “Want marshmallows?”

“If I do, I’m going to have to trade my Megaman suit in for a Santa suit.”

Jeb stirred the hot chocolate. He grabbed a can of whipped cream and coiled a pyramid on top. “You worry too much, buddy. Take a deep breath, relax and eat your snack.”