Are You Listening to Me God

“Are you there God? It’s me Jo. I need your help and I’ve asked you so many times. Do you hear me now, do you ever hear me? Or do you just ignore me like everyone else?”

She sat upright on the old wooden pew. The familiar smell of wood somehow seemed to settle her. It reminded her of childhood times when she would go over to see her Grandma, the only person she could truly trust and open up to.  Walking in through the front door she smelt the old wooden furniture, the beeswax pungent.

As always the warm chubby arms would hug her tight and tell her that everything would be alright.

“God, you even took Gran away from me when I needed her. She understood me. Jo laid her head on her arms and cried, tears quietly running down her face but then the sadness took hold and she sobbed, loudly.

After a while Jo lifted up her head and she could feel a headache coming on. It was dark in the church but she wasn’t scared. A tiny shaft of light, from the crescent shaped moon peeping through the stained glass window lit up the face of Jesus. He seemed to be looking directly into Jo’s eyes and it unnerved her slightly. “Don’t look at me like that. You don’t help me” she shouted into the dark.

She stood up and wiped her face with a tissue and blew her nose. It felt cool and she pulled her long cardigan around herself. She always felt peaceful when she was inside the church, although if someone asked her to describe the actual feeling she wouldn’t be able to. It was as if something washed over her as soon as she passed through the entrance.

Her Grandma would come to church every Sunday, even when it rained she would trudge along the road, umbrella up, just to worship her God. Of course more times than not another member of the congregation would see her Gran and stop to give her a lift. She asked Jo many times to come to church with her but she never did come. “You need a faith in life Joey” her Gran told her, using her pet name, “then no matter what happens to you, there is always someone to turn to, talk to and help”. She could picture her Gran’s soft wrinkly skin on her face surrounding her bright blue twinkling eyes.

“Well Gran I’m sorry to say that he’s not listening to me” she whispered.

 All of a sudden the window at the very back of the church began to rattle. “Oh I’d better go now  it’s getting windy” she said out loud.

Just before she left, Jo walked up to the very front of the church, and stood looking at the hand carved wooden cross, praying silently ‘please God, let me know you’re with me, just once’.

As she passed the collection plate she reached into her pocket, took out a coin and placed it in the bowl. She locked the door and hid the key.

Riding her old bike along the rough road she remembered when she had found the key to the church. It seemed like such a long time ago.

It was one of the nights when he dad had come home drunk and started to shout at her mother. She remembers how she would put her head underneath her pillow with her hands on her ears, saying ‘lalalala’ making sure to drown out all the shouting. As soon as he had finished his drunken rage and hopefully fallen asleep in front of the television, Jo would sneak outside and ride down to her Gran’s house. She could even now feel the peace and gentleness that was always in the small cosy sitting room just thinking about it.

Back at her own house her mum would take herself up to bed when her dad was snoring - no one ever knew that Jo went out.

This particular night, riding her bike home late from work she saw a light on in the church. Getting off her bike at the the back of the church, Jo wheeled it towards the front. Rounding the corner she saw Mrs. Lindsay coming out of the doorway, turn off the light to the church, lock the door, then place the key behind the electricity meter box. She pulled her scarf tightly around her neck and wandered off towards town.

“Oh I must remember that. I might need somewhere to shelter one day – you never know” she though as she once again set off for home.

Jo had used the key many times to let herself into the church since then.

Her mind drifted back to the night her dad left them. She hadn’t heard him coming up the stairs to the small room she slept in. The door was kicked open and he stumbled in, unsteady on his feet but with rage on his face. “Get down the stairs” he yelled in a slurry voice “now”.

She scrambled to her feet, falling over in her haste and banging her head on the corner of the door. He didn’t care and he pushed her through the opening and she raced down the stairs. Her mother stood in the dining room, her eye already turning a black/blue and a tiny trickle of blood was coming from her lips. She could hear the television going – it was a quiz show and someone had just won a lot of money, the audience was clapping and cheering loudly. “Turn that off” her dad had yelled.

“You two make me sick” he shouted banging his fist on the melamine table. The gravy boat fell on its side and the brown liquid ran across the uneven table top and down one side, dripping onto the floor.

“I am going and this time for good. I can’t waste my life on the likes of you”. He looked from my mother to me. I was looking down, too scared to make eye contact. “Look at me” he yelled “and you stop your blubbering” he told my mum who was wiping her eyes and her lip.

I looked up and at him thinking how much I hated him. I was glad he was going and I hoped he never came back. He had gone once before but returned after a few weeks to turn our lives upside down once again.

He grabbed his bag and walked out through the front door.

After cleaning up the gravy and sat down together. “I don’t want him to ever come back Mum, do you? I asked her.

“I don’t want you to witness any more of this Jo. You deserve better, even if it means he never comes back” was all she said.

He didn’t come back and we never heard from him again.

Jo’s life had never felt easy. After her dad left it was ok for a while but her mother really missed him. Of course Jo could never understand how you could miss someone in your life that constantly drank too much and got verbally and physically abusive. “How can you miss Dad? He used to shout at you and push you around. That night he left us he pushed you so hard that you fell on the table and cut your lip and bruised your eye? Why would you miss that Mum?” asked Jo.

“He wasn’t always like that Jo. It was when his parents both died together in a car accident that he started drinking and it just got worse. He was always sorry for what he did to me”.

“Sorry or not he shouldn’t have done it”.

“No he shouldn’t” was all her mother replied with. She seemed to always be tired and had lost any jest for life that she ever had. It seemed to Jo that when he dad left for good he took some of her mother’s heart with him.

Two years after her dad went her Mum got pancreatic cancer and within four months had passed away. As she lay dying in her bed, Jo holding and stroking her hand, the last words she uttered in a barely audible voice were “I love you Jo, Gran will take care of you. Please forgive your father, just for me”

So here she was now, in her thirties, sad, lonely and drinking too much. Oh she had a job, she had a home that her mum had left to her when she passed away but inside she felt empty. She wasn’t sure of what she was really looking for but knew when she found it, it would change her life.

Laying on her couch with her little dog next to her, her one true and faithful friend she knew in her heart that her life had to change. She would never find peace and contentment in a bottle. Not for want of trying either! “What am I going to do Toby? God doesn’t listen to me”. Toby lifted one eye lid up and looked at Jo. He really didn’t understand but licked her hand just to let her know he loved her. “What would I do without you boy” she said to him holding her wine glass in one hand and ruffling his coat with the other.

Jo hadn’t gone to the church for a couple of weeks – she didn’t feel like it, but on Friday night she felt the urge to sit on the smooth wooden pew and talk to someone she thought could help her.

‘Why do I think he can help me when I don’t even know if I believe in him’ she thought. “Are you real God?” she yelled into the wind as she pedalled quickly on her bike. “Where are you?” Jo sang in a high pitched voice “Where are you Jesuuuuuus?” she tried to keep the last note going before she reached the back of the church but had run out of breath and was puffing loudly as she almost fell off her bike. She knew she had drunk one wine too many when she set off but…..

Leaning her trusty bike up against the stone wall she walked around to the front of the church and was surprised to see the old wooden door slightly ajar. Pushing it open slowly she stepped inside. That feeling overtook her, almost as if her soul was being fed with whatever was in the air.

A candle burned at the front of the church throwing large dark shadows on the whitewashed walls and the rows of dark wooden pews. It was silent inside the church, except for one noise she could hear - it was a branch of a tree sweeping across the outside of a stained glass window - the wind pushing it back and forth.

Out of the quiet a rustling noise flitted through the building and she turned quickly as a figure walked towards her.

“Hello. I didn’t realise anyone had come into the church”. A man, probably in his seventies, tall and balding held out his hand to Jo saying “I’m the reverend Philip Carlisle”

“Hi I’m Jo” she replied and casually gripped his hand for a second or two.

“I’ve never seen you in church before” he said to her quietly

“No I don’t come” was all she said, by now feeling the need to sit down

Seeking her permission, he sat next to her.

Jo thought of her grandma and knew she wouldn’t like Jo to tell a lie in church so taking a deep breath told the Reverend that she often came at night because she had a key. She didn’t go into details about how she came to have a key, and he didn’t seem to want to know because all he said was “Did you drop this one time you were here?”

He had taken something out of his pocket and held out his hand to Jo.

“My Grans Cross, it must have fallen off the chain. Oh I thought I had lost it on the road. I can’t believe it has been found. Thank you, thank you so much” she uttered, taking the cross from his soft palm and putting it back on her empty chain that hung around her neck.

They sat side by side in silence, the peacefulness that surrounded them calm and comfortable.

Jo broke the silence “Can I ask you something?” she turned to look at the man of God next to her. “Why doesn’t God hear me? Why doesn’t he listen to me and help me with my life?”

“God always hears us. WE can’t decide when he will help us. He does it all in his own time and when he thinks the time is right”.

“Well that doesn’t make sense to me. I need him now but he’s not listening”.

“One day you might realise that he’s been listening all the time. It will become clear what his plan was and is for you”.

“Really?” was all she said. “I’m not entirely sure that I believe that. Anyway I have to go now, the wind’s picked up and the hill is downwards to the old mill but after that it’s not easy! It was nice to meet you. Is it alright if I still come into the church with the key?”

“It was lovely to meet you. God would want you to come into the church, so yes it is ok”.

Each time Jo pedalled to the church and let herself in the Reverend seemed to be there, as if it was organised that way. It wasn’t, but it was a strange coincidence.

They would sit side by side and talk – about lots of things. Jo eventually opened up about her life, her childhood, her grandma and her dependence (this was the first time she had admitted to anyone that she felt dependent on alcohol).

Jo felt at ease with him. His kind mannerism and non-judgemental attitude relaxed her and made it like a natural progression, to in a way have confession with him. He in return told Jo that he felt in his heart that she would one day hear from God and find peace herself, but to be patient.

“In the meantime” he told her, I have someone very close to me whom I would like you to meet. She can introduce you to a group of friends who can perhaps help you to come to terms with your life and understand why you make the choices you do Jo. Most of these people themselves once just needed to be listened to by a sympathetic ear.

Taking her hand in his he continued “You know Jo, the person I will introduce you to and who will take you under their wing has a beautiful heart, kind, compassionate and as a bonus has a wicked sense of humour! But many years ago she had an addiction and it almost ruined her life, it did ruin her marriage, but she heard God one day after asking for his help and it changed her outlook on everything. She’s my daughter. My only daughter and we almost lost her”. He let go of Jo’s hand and stood up. “I’ll write Rebecca’s number down and you can ring her, but only if you would like to. Now I have some work to do!”.

Jo met Rebecca and began to go to the meetings. She started to feel comfortable talking to the others - realising that there were a lot of people whose lives hadn’t been a bed of roses.

Riding home one night from a meeting it had rained and the road was slippery. As she rounded the last corner before her house her bike skidded, slamming into a wooden fence at the front of a neighbouring house.

Fortunately for her the owner of the house on hearing the commotion, helped her up, put her into her car and took her to the hospital. “I feel so silly going to the hospital – I’m ok really I am. There’s just a bit of skin of my arms and knuckles but apart from that……”

“It’s best to be safe than sorry” the kindly neighbour told Jo “you had a knock to the head so they might even keep you in overnight, but don’t worry I will look after your bike”.

‘So kind’ thought Jo and thanked her for her care – and  after declining the offer of a lift home, said she would pick up her bike and they would have a cuppa when she was back.

The attractive male nurse attending to Jo asked how she came by her injuries. “Just fell off my bike, that’s all. Silly really” she told him.

“Were you on your way to the church?” he asked

“What? How do you know I ride to the church? Jo was shocked

“I’ve seen you” he replied grinning, keeping her guessing.

“When?”

“OK” he said “I live in the rectory, you know the old cottage not far from the church?”

“Do you belong to the church?” she asked puzzled, beginning to think it was maybe the knock to her head.