Christian Flash Fiction: Never Forgotten

Length: 1-950 Words Prompt: Joshua 1:9 Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go

Note:  Too Long for the contest, could not get it to under 950 words.This story is not really true, but not really all false.

Never Forgotten 

By WEGoss2

“Son, if you want to play ball for me, ah this University, you go the extra mile. You work hard and prove that you want it.”

I sat on the couch sinking almost to the ground. Across from me, was my coach, self proclaimed God of all he saw. Between us was his sacramental, a polished corpus of a dead football player frozen in the classic football pose. It stiff-armed me so that I didn’t get too close in an ever growing distance established by a simple request.

“Coach, my dad is dying; they don’t expect him to live much longer.”

“Well family’s important, but you have to think what your dad would want. Do you think he’d want you to forget about your future?  Would he want you to stay here, play ball, and get better; or, do you think he’d want you there crying at the foot of his bed.”

“Coach, it’s not him I’ll be going home for; it’s my mother and my brothers.”

“Go then, if that’s what you have to do. But, I got things I got to do as well. I can’t hold your scholarship. All I can do is let you can walk on in the fall, try to win your scholarship back, if you come back.”

Next to my father’s bed, a ventilator provided breath for him. “Hiss-ha, Hiss-ha, Hiss-ha.” 

I sit at his feet and looked across at him. I thought of his life and all that he worked so hard to win. He had been a preacher, a servant, and had given his life to Christ. Now he lay dying at the Veteran’s Hospital not able to breath on his own. The invisible hing killing him had infected him during the war. A man, who preached the world of God, lets the ventilator speak, “Hiss-ha, Hiss-ha, Hiss-ha.”

His funeral was simple. It was held in the church hall at the bottom of the hill that had the cemetery at the top. To bury him, his casket would be carried up the hill so he could look down over the valley and the people where his ministry had been for 20 years. The preacher, a close friend, wore the raggedness of human life on his face and in his eyes.  The sermon was, “Well done my good and faithful servant.” 

The sermon only made me angrier with God.

I remember the “Hiss-ha, Hiss-ha, Hiss-ha” sound of the pall bearers’ footsteps on the gravel path that led to the cemetery.   

~~~

Running from all of this, I returned to college, ready to pick up were I left off. I went back to forget my mother and my brothers. I went back to pick up where I left off, but the team had moved on without me.

Before leaving in the spring of my sophomore year, I had been second team. I came back in a position I had never played.  I was at the bottom of the depth chart behind high school walk-on players. I was on the practice squad, doomed to be a practice dummy.  If I made a good play, it was not because I had done well, I must have done something illegal. I just stewed in my own misery and became angrier. Because I hated so much, I did things that were wrong to me and other people.

I went into spring practice and moved up the depth chart. However, since I did not have a scholarship, I had to work during the summer and could not attend “unofficial summer workouts.” Star players luckily found high paying summer jobs that allowed them to attend workouts. Some of of the not so important had to find real jobs. When pre-season fall two-a-days started, I was again on the bottom of the depth chart behind every one, the only sixth string player on the whole squad.

I now remember how my angry forced breathing as I walked down the hall, “Hiss-ha, Hiss-ha, Hiss-ha.”

Again I sat on the couch, looking at that coach’s greatest moment. “Son, we just don’t think you worked hard enough. You didn’t sacrifice enough.
So we think we need to move on without you.  You can still be a part of the team, but you’re not in our future plans.” 

I didn’t beg and I didn’t stay any longer.

That night, lying across my old trucks bench seat, I could hear the anger in my breath, “Hiss-ha, Hiss-ha, Hiss-ha.” My car was my only option. I couldn’t stay in the athletic dorm and I couldn’t go home.

Screaming at God, “I hate you! Why did you ruin my life? Even you don’t want me around!”

A strong quite voice answered me “I have never left you.”  I sat up and looked around. I was just my imagination.

But everything worked out. A friend of mine who had left the team at the same time invited me to come and lived with him and his sister. I went back to my summer job. Soon, I met my wife. 

~~~

Fifteen years later, I went to bed one night. I woke up in the hospital.  I hear, “Hiss-ha, Hiss-ha, Hiss-ha,” as a machine breathes for me. My wife sits by my side, crying and praying. 

Remembering my father death, I realize these could have been my last breaths. The preacher’s words from his funeral came to me, “Well done my good and faithful servant.”

I realize that no one can truly say that for me.

Crying to myself, “How can I be a father? How can I be a husband? Who will take care of my wife, my children, my mother, and my brothers?” 

In the steady calmness of the “Hiss-ha, Hiss-ha, Hiss-ha,” I asked, “God have you forgotten about me?”

A strong quite voice answered me “I have never left you.” 

~~~

Prostrate on the ground before the altar at my ordination, I looked up to the cross. There, the corpus of Jesus Christ with arms outstretched brings me nearer to God. Christ embraces me. The greatest sacrifice offers himself and welcomes me to God.