There Must Be Something More

26 | My Bible

Meredith leaned back so casually on her headboard. She looked up the space and smiled as if dreaming up a flashback. She let the chandelier become her own spotlight.

"I used to be so dyslexic when I was younger. I would see every alphabet skirt through walls, hang with the drapes, and saddle up beside my shoes. I used to cry about it a lot, complaining why I couldn't catch all of them and form one single word. I used to be so sad I was so different from everybody else. It made me hate myself."

She paused for a breath. I held mine. And then she folded her hands, I knew she had more to say.

She said, "but then my mother had the greatest idea!"--she said so loud I almost fell of my chair--"She wanted me to get used to reading and so she wrote Bible verses on every corner of the walls, and down my feet, and on my curtains where the letters used to wander! I would laugh and purposely look under tables and couches like looking for treasure. And then I got used to reading!

"But it wasn't because of the sticky notes that I had the strength to give reading a chance. It was the Lord's promises for me. I kept it with my heart. Proverbs chapter seven verse three says: Tie them on your fingers as a reminder. Write them deep within your heart. And so I did. That's the thing about the Lord--He only needs your faith for Him to act. Because His love is not forced. He wants you to choose Him yourself and that's where He'll bless you with His presence. That's where He'll show you real love and life."

I nodded, realization dawning on me.

"And so I believed the Lord's words although I knew nothing of His plans. I trusted that if He loved me enough for Him to die on the cross to pay for my sins, then He's more than willing to heal me. Besides, it is always the Lord's Will to heal us. All we have to do is have faith and know He is God. And the Lord has already paid for every sin and sickness and blaspheme we did and are about to do in the future. The only way to be saved from them? Repent about every mistake you have. He is always willing to forgive and change you for the better."

I smiled. But the words were too wise, too distant for me to respond to. I stayed put. I let the wisdom sink in.

"So... you got better?" I asked.

She nodded. "At twelve, I stopped seeing alphabets swim and dance. I started to read the Bible everyday and do devotionals and enjoy it as much as I can. You'll love it! The Lord's Words are full of love. And you'll learn how powerful the truth really is."

I felt chills run down my back. I rubbed the back of my neck nervously. I felt nine ways at once--and they all ended on the thick leather book I held in my hands.

We decided to eat dinner in Meredith's room. She had it in her bed, while Grandpa Chuck and I sat on the floor with crossed legs with our bowls of chili. She even let Sheila the sheep step inside and run around. Grandpa and I almost dropped our dinners.

After the laughs and conversations, Meredith wanted to fall asleep. She excused herself and said we could resume the hangout in the living room. We told her it wasn't the same without her. She said we shouldn't flatter her too much just because she was sick.

Walking back to my car, Grandpa Chuck followed me outside. He was silent as he lagged behind, but I turned to him. I knew he wanted to say something.

"Thank you," the old man said. Wrinkles appeared on the corners of his eyes as he smiled.

"Meredith has done so much more than this for me," I said, "I can't thank her enough."

And then his eyes widened. He reached for his pocket and took out a square red-colored paper. I realized it was a sticky note.

"She told me to give you this," he said.

I looked down at it and read: I thank my God in all my remembrance of you, ~Philippians 1:3

To normal and humanly eyes, they would have perceived it as something romantic or malicious.

But I knew the truth. Meredith was never like the world. She was never like anyone else. She did not conform into anything of this world.

And I knew her note was much more than a kind gesture--it was love. Love that could not be mistaken into anything else if you knew the truth--she loved me like I was her own family. I knew the note was meant that way.

I smiled, stuffed it in my jeans pocket. "I thank my God for her too."

Grandpa Chuck chuckled and patted my shoulder. And then he turned around and went his way back to their house.

I looked up the window of her house where the lampshade light filtered out from the window. I imagined her smiling as she wrote the note for me. I imagined Grandpa Chuck feeling the same way.

And my smile stretched wider. Is this what having a family feels like?

I have never felt it from my own family, my own friends, or my own girlfriend. I have never felt it from anywhere else but the presence of the Lord.

When I got home that night, I opened my Bible for the very first time. I could have started on the first book of Genesis, if I hadn't heard a loud crash from downstairs.

With an alarm, I closed my Bible and rushed to the kitchen. Mom had her back on me, folding her hands. Dad gave me a calm sigh, patted my shoulder, and jogged up the stairs.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Your dad doesn't understand," Mom said, finally turning to me. Her forehead showed deeper wrinkles than I had seen over the past couple of years.

"Doesn't understand what?"

Mom sighed, looked at me. "He planned a family trip for us. But... I told him I was too busy for it. He started telling me about my priorities, and... Charlie, you get that my priorities are you two, don't you? That's why I'm spending all this time working. For you!"

She kind of had a point. But my dad did too. And I hated to take sides.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. If only Meredith were around all the time. I need her!