So Many

“Are you there, God? It’s me, Susie.” 

“Hi Elmer, she said, as she hugged its enormous trunk.” “Yes, I know, I’m back again.” A large orange, yellow, and green leaf landed gently on her head. She held the leaf gently as she sat her dingy yellow backpack down on the grass at the base of the huge elm. She sat down next to Elmer and crossed her legs, Indian style. Rubbing her small back against the bark of the huge elm, she tried to get comfortable. Fingering Elmer’s leaf seemed to settle her. “Elmer, I haven’t seen you since I was ten. I’m eleven now, she said. I came to talk to God. Do you think he’s listening? Does he listen to kids like me?”

 “I’ve been thinking a lot about it, and I am pretty confused. The mom at the home I just came from said I’m a sinner. She said I’m unclean and that need to be saved. Their last name was Olsen, and they were Baptist. They said I had to be a genuine believer and dunked underwater to be saved. They did dunk me, but I still don’t know what I believe in or what it saved me from.”

She grabbed her backpack and pulled it to her lap. The yellow fabric was dirty and faded. The smeared text was hard to read. She called it her memory keeper. Every time she left a home, she wrote the number of the move it was. They had had just removed her from number nine. The starting and ending dates she lived there, and the name of the family. Sometimes she wrote a little more if there was something special she wanted to remember. She marked those words with a star. She ran her fingers over the ink marks, searching for number eight.

“Here it is God. The eighth family I lived with. They were the Marshalls. They were Presbyterian. They said I had to have faith in Christ. They baptized me and said it would deliver me from sin through Christ’s blood. How do you go through Christ’s blood, God? They also dunked me underwater in a freezing river. I was sick for a week after that.”

She paused again, searching for number seven on the bag. “The Orwells were my seventh family. They were Jehovah’s Witnesses. They believe God’s name is Jehovah, and that he is the only God. They would not give me a birthday party because they said Jehovah would not like it. They did not baptize me. They said I needed to pray to Jehovah and tell him I wanted to belong to him and wanted to serve him forever. The trouble is, I don’t know who he is. Is he the same as God? And also, I don’t stay anywhere forever. Just ask Elmer. I wasn’t really that sad to leave because I do like birthdays.”

In purple ink, she found the next name.

“The Cerillos were my sixth family. They were Christians. They said their hearts were just like Jesus Christ. They said that above all was God, then his son, Jesus Christ, and then the Holy Spirit. They said God sent Jesus to save the world. What is he saving the world from? Who is the Holy Spirit? Is he your grandson? The Cerillos also baptized me, but in a fountain, at the front of the church while everyone watched.” She stopped for a moment, looking at the dog she had drawn by their names. “I hope you’re watching out for Buddy. He was a good dog.”

“My fifth family was the Lemoores. They were atheists. They don’t believe in any God. They said it was something uneducated people made up. Although I heard Mr. Lemoore say, God damn, and Jesus H Christ. And Mrs. Lemoore shouted, Oh for God’s sake, a lot. I said it once and got my mouth washed out with soap. It was awful. I had to leave there because they were getting a divorce. They didn’t last long. Neither did I.”

Susie stopped, pulled her long braid over her shoulder, stretching her skirt over her knees. She flipped the bag over, searching for number four. 

“Here they are, the Barbels. They were Mormon. They also believe that God is the father, Christ is his son, and in the Holy Spirit, whoever he is. Hey, maybe it’s a girl. They said Mormons can’t have any coffee, alcohol, cigarettes, or drugs. I did like that part. I’m sure my parents were not Mormons. My mother was always smoking and drinking. My dad too. The Mormons don’t use a bible, they have a Book of Mormon. They said it was more correct than the bible. Mrs. Barbels said I should never cut my hair if I wanted to become a Mormon. They baptized me when I turned eight because that’s when I could sin. I wore a white dress and Mr. Barbel laid me back under the water, washing me free of sin. The next day, they sent me back.”

Looking at the bag, Susie smiled as she found a pink heart drawn next to a star.

“My third family were the Jacksons. They were Protestants. They were, what you call, a mixed-race family. He was black, and she was white. Sorry, I’m supposed to say African American, aren’t I? Anyway, they went to my favorite church. I liked it because they sang a lot. They got up off their seats, singing loud and raising their arms. Saying hallelujah and amen. They had beautiful voices. They baptized me by pouring cold water on my head. It got my new white dress all wet. They said God would now welcome me into his kingdom. I liked them very much.” 

Susie stretched her legs out and searched for number two. After she found it, she reached into the backpack, pulling out a small pouch. She put it to her nose and took a deep whiff before clutching it in her hand. 

“My second family was the Raines. They were Catholic. At their church, they baptized me by pouring water over my head as I leaned over a fountain. They gave me a rosary. It’s like a necklace, only you don’t wear it all the time. You just take it to church with you. They said to say my prayers while holding it. See, I’m holding it now. You stood up and sat down a lot. I remember that, but I can’t remember much more than that. I wasn’t there very long, either.”

She knew exactly where the next name was. It was there at the top of the bag, in a small child’s printing. Misspelled and barely legible.

“Here they are, my first family. Their name was Newhouse. They were Christians. I was so small that I don’t remember too much from when I lived there. I had a photo that they gave me when I left. They tucked it inside a little bible. It was my baptism gift. I think I lost it when they came to remove me from the Cerillos, number six. I think I was crying in the photo, but my dress was cute.”

Another leaf fell in her lap, landing in the stretched-out folds of her shirt. A beautiful yellow-orange. She saw it then, the big heart she had drawn in the center of the dingy canvas, right under the side zipper. In the center of the heart, she had written Mom and dad. In little letters around the edge of the heart, Mikey, Ronnie, and Susie. She had circled a zero above it. She pulled the heart to her and held it to her chest. 

“God, So I guess what I’m asking is, exactly how many gods are there? Why am I dirty, and how many times do I have to be baptized to be clean? Am I clean now? Am I still a sinner? Who is the Holy Spirit? Is he your grandson? Can you, your son, or your grandson just fix my real mom and dad? Can you please make them better, so they can get us back? I am eleven now, and I have lived in nine homes. Well, that’s just foster homes. If you count this group home, I’ve moved twenty times. They bring me back here between moves. I stay here until they find me a new home. I am really, really, really, tired of moving. Do you think you could find me a home where I could stay, and not move until my mom and dad get better? I miss my brothers, too. God, could my brothers please live with me next time? I know it’s a lot, but I promise I’ll be good. I’ll try not to sin, and I’ll say my prayers.”

“Oh yes, God, can you please take care of Elmer? Isn’t he wonderful? He’s a magnificent tree and a great listener. He never tells anyone my secrets.”

As Susie rose and picked up her backpack, she wondered if she should say one more thing.

She turned and hugged Elmer tightly, whispering, AMEN.