Chapter 25 - Pastor James
I avoided St. Matthew’s for almost two years.
Too much.
The altar.
The coffins.
Evelyn’s hand.
Lucy running.
Then Pastor James called.
Not to bring me back.
To ask permission.
The church planned to revise its funeral safety procedures after the physical confrontation.
He said:
“I do not want to use your family’s story publicly.”
“Good.”
“We learned things anyway.”
He explained:
Clear security roles.
Private family waiting areas.
A protocol for removing disruptive people even when they are immediate relatives.
Not dramatic.
Useful.
Then he said:
“You know you did not deserve what she said before she hit you.”
I stared at my kitchen wall.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
I started crying.
Because part of grief had preserved Evelyn’s sentence.
God took them because He knew what kind of mother they had.
Religion can injure cruelly when grief is used as evidence of judgment.
Pastor James said:
“I will never explain your sons’ deaths as divine punishment.”
That was the first reason I returned.
May you like
Not theology.
Safety.
