A Thousand Miles

Part 29

Shane lifted another spoonful of chicken noodle soup to his father's lips, then used a napkin to catch a small dribble before it could roll down his chin onto his pajamas. His dad's gaze hadn't wavered from his face as Shane relayed the huge mess he'd made of everything—of the show, of his relationship with JoLynn—everything. And while he knew his father's counsel would be sound, there was no way of knowing what that counsel would be. There was no way known to medical science to extract the thoughts from a mind imprisoned by a body that could not cooperate.

Go. Something inside whispered. Were it not for his father here, needing care he wasn't able to give, Shane would go. He'd crank up the RV, pack up his dad, and hit the road. Nothing was more appealing now; now that there seemed no way of fixing what had happened. Maybe he'd head back to Tennessee. He gave the soup a stir, then spooned another bite and fed it to his dad.

His father worked with his two impaired hands, pushing the Bible, which had become a permanent fixture on his lap, toward Shane.

Shane shook his head and gave a bitter little laugh. "I don't see how that could possibly help me."

Still, his dad pushed it toward him. "You...read..."

"Read what?" Shane set the bowl of soup down and reached for the leather bound book. Frustration at this futile activity spiked unreasonably, disproportionately. This isn't what he needed. This wouldn't solve anything. It wouldn't even help.

The grunt emanating from his dad sounded every bit as frustrated as he felt. Shane looked down at the Bible in his hands fighting a bitter laugh. He and his father had never been good at heart-to-heart stuff. Sure, there'd been plenty of talking, plenty of instruction. But they'd never sorted through anything that mattered; things that might have made a difference to him. His mother's death, their wandering from coast to coast with no permanent residence, the tossing away of their faith...these weren't things they had ever discussed. Now it seemed his dad was ready to talk. Now he wanted to explain, but couldn't.

Shane shook his head and ran a palm over the cover of the book on his lap. "Dad...I wouldn't even know where to begin."

Tears welled in his father's eyes and spilled over.

"And even if I did, I'd have so much ground to make up. So much to atone for..." So many years of anger, bitterness, and faithlessness. "There's no way that I could."

"Maybe you could start..." Shane jumped as Rosa's hands swiped the Bible from his. She fanned through the pages with all the confidence of intimate knowledge, then dropped the book back into his lap. "...here. Micah. Chapter six, verse eight."

"Micah, huh?" Shane raised his brows. "That's the key? The Old Testament?"

"Read it and see." Rosa rolled the tray of food to the other side of the bed and took over feeding his father. She glanced at Shane and met his gaze directly. "Read it."

Shane blinked and looked at the page. "Verse eight?"

"Verse eight."

"'He has showed you, O man, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.'"

That was it? That's what the Lord required?

"That's the key for you today." Rosa's voice rose softly from the other side of the room. She gently spooned another bite into his father's mouth. "Tomorrow, or next week, or next month, maybe the key will come from some other verse. But for now, that's what you need to know."

To act justly...

When had he ever acted unjustly?

JoLynn came to mind, and the look on her face that day in Lampasas when Curtis had suggested Shane might have judged her unfairly. The same day he had kept to himself the knowledge that Truman was rethinking her position as the anchor of the show. Whether he believed it would ever really happen was beside the point. He had known about the possibility, and had said nothing.

To love mercy...

In all the years since the attack that had nearly ended his life, he had craved justice...maybe even vengeance, but never mercy for his attackers. His mind reeled back to a childhood Sunday school lesson taught by his mother. The story of Jesus on the cross. "Forgive them, Father..." he had cried as the Romans were killing him. Shane clenched his jaw against the sting of tears. How was it even possible to extend that kind of mercy? It wasn't natural.

To walk humbly with your God...

His eyelids drifted closed. Pride pervaded every aspect of his life. He was the master of his own destiny, the orchestrator of all his successes. The owner of his freedom and his father's.

Rosa rolled the tray away. The bed hummed to life as she adjusted it. Then she took the television remote, pressed it into his dad's hand and curled his fingers around it.

To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God. It sounded so simple. Justice, mercy and humility weren't actions or activities, they were attitudes, they were attributes of the heart...of a heart that belonged to God. He had given himself to God as a child, and it had been a sincere decision. But somewhere along the way he'd taken his heart back, or tried to. And now he'd broken JoLynn's. Wonderful, beautiful JoLynn, who walked as graciously and humbly through this world as anyone he'd ever met.

Shane took a deep breath and closed the Bible, smoothing a hand across the cover before laying it back on his dad's lap.

"Thank you, Rosa." Shane said quietly. "It's certainly worth thinking about."