RUST ON MY SOUL (13th in Series of Novel)

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RUST ON MY SOUL (A Novel) (Published by Bridge Press in 1985 & Distributed Internationally) (A new Series that began on Tues April 13th and will continue every Tuesday thereafter until finished) (Thursday & Sunday will continue to cover a variety of subjects as in the past)

INTRODUCTION (Repeated for those new to the series)

In an old loose leaf notebook, Thomas Kettering wrote when there was a cry from his heart. He wrote when his inner longing spilled over into the reality of his days. He did not write every day, only when he felt he must. How often he wrote or when is not important. The journey is what counts, for it is a diary about all of us, to all of us. “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step,” and even a stumble is a step.

Morning

I don’t think those of us who won’t repent are angry atheists. I just think many of us are indifferent and ineligible Christians. Indifferent to God’s truth and ineligible because we’re afraid to believe it.

Afternoon

I remember how it was when we couldn’t afford a nice home. We imagined one instead.

“Shall we eat on the patio or in the dinning room?”

We had a one-bedroom apartment with a kitchen small enough to give a midget claustrophobic. That was the reality.

But it didn’t really matter because we had each other and we truly believed our tomorrows would be better.

Living poor grows old quickly without hope. We were only visiting. It makes a difference.

We were saving for a down payment on a house and cutting corners whenever we could. I cut down on smoking. Nancy bought a cookbook with 128 ways to serve hamburger.

Tonight’s spread at the country club will cost as much as I once made in a week.

If the evening follows the usual pattern, I doubt it’ll be worth it.

We’ll sit around with our highballs and low talk, thinking we sound more intellectual with each round, solving the world’s problems while compounding about our own.

Last night Freddie was boasting about his latest conquest. Joe was telling hoe he sold a real lemon at a huge profit. Mike was bragging how his church was adding a new million-dollar sanctuary and wouldn’t have anything less than a D.D. in the pulpit.

Sometimes, when I realize that one man put together from the best of us wouldn’t make much of an addition to this old world, it makes me a little sick.

Evening

Tomorrow is our twenty-seventh wedding anniversary.

What have we done with all the years since we were married in that little shaded chapel in North Carolina? There was a cold wind blowing that day but the bright sun was only a reflection of our love.

Or so we felt. It had been a late fall and now it seemed that an early winter was coming on. But we were warm with new love and great hope.

“May every day be filled with a smile and may the best of them be yours.” Strange I should still remember the minister’s parting words. He was a tiny man with tired eyes and an infectious grin.

“How far do we go? Nancy asked. She was only asking how far it was to the place where we would spend the night. But the philosopher in me, even then, read a double meaning into her question

How far indeed, Nancy? How much physical, spiritual and emotional intimacy will we allow each other? We must never treat our marriage as if it is only one more item on an entertainment bill of fare…those were my inner thoughts, then.
We hadn’t built our barriers yet. We simply sat beneath our infant learning tree and made our first entries.

We’ve never been back to our honeymoon place, to the room with a fireplace and a long view of the mountains. They say you can’t go back. But then, if you build right, you don’t have to.

Our marriage deserves no applause. It subsists on a stead diet of resolve.

Nancy moved me into a monastery long ago. Not bag and baggage, but with the chilling suggestion that the honeymoon was over and that the business of survival required all left over energy.

“Have you hugged your wife today?” It was a bumper sticker on the back of the car in front of me today and reminded me to get Nancy a gift.

Yes,, it’s been a long time since I hugged my wife. So tomorrow I’ll place her small expensive box on the breakfast table and she’ll act surprised and thank me. What does the gift without the giver say?

Ah, so much for affection.

But, I really wouldn’t want to be married to anyone else. It’s just that we stopped communicating so long ago that expressions of love are now embarrassing.

TO BE CONTINUED 

(Complete book available on amazon.com)

(great prices)
Neil is also the author of THE SPIRITUAL ABRAHAM LINCOLN (His last book)

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Three of Neil’s books are still available on amazon.com. THE SPIRITUAL ABRAHAM LINCOLN, RUST ON MY SOUL and POOR RICHARD’S ALMANACK FOR THE 20TH CENTURY (Written as if Ben Franklin had come back to life in the 20th Century and wrote yet another Almanac)

HIS 9TH BOOK “THE SPIRITUAL ABRAHAM LINCOLN” IS AVAILABLE ON Amazon.com KINDLE Reader