Enough

   Arriving at the church, my church, was a relief after the week that I had been through. I walked across the foyer with all of the thoughts of the past few months cluttering my burdened mind.
  My cousin, Mikey, had been diagnosed with cancer. At first I didn’t think anything of it. It hadn’t yet registered as something that could really hurt him. After all, he was a member of my family. Nothing that bad ever happened to my family. Cancer only killed people I didn’t know. It couldn’t possibly take him. Right?
  Recently the “truth” in that had started to fade. He had been getting worse and worse every day. There was no more denying it. Cancer was no respecter of persons. Cancer did not care that he was a part of my family. Cancer also did not care that he was only fourteen. Cancer had him, and its intentions were clear. Cancer had come to kill.
  On top of all that some accursed “Summer Sabbath” was coming up. A horrid idea proposed by the deacons to give up Wednesday youth meetings over the summer to give the faculty a break. Starting next week. Youth meetings, the one thing I thought would keep me sane over the summer, being taken away by whatever monsters we had for deacons at the time. I, for one, was strongly against the idea.
   I set my bag down beside the set of double doors leading to the sanctuary. It was empty then, and would be for the rest of the night. There were no adult services on Wednesdays. It offered the perfect solitude that I craved, just God and me.
  My footsteps made little sound as I made my way to my regular pew to sit. The room was made to echo, but containing only myself, it had nothing to echo. There was a simple, comforting silence for a moment, before I began to cry.
  What did these people expect me to do? What did God expect me to do? Giving all of this to me at once? All I could do was cry. Or complain too upper management, but when does that ever work? Besides, what would I get? A get out of jail free card? Those things only work in Monopoly . . .
  The high ceilings echoed my sentiments almost louder than I had offered them. It was unnerving, worrying about someone walking in on me at any moment. I stayed, though. I stayed until I was sure that I was completely drained. I didn’t want to risk crying in front of my all-guy youth group. I was “black sheep” enough already by being the only girl.
  I wiped the tears from my face and stood. Whether I liked it or not, I had to go to that evil pre-Summer Sabbath party eventually. I turned and left, picking up my bag as I went. I made my way through the maze that was my church, passing through the foyer, a hallway, and a stairwell before reaching the youth area. Apparently they had already started decorating.
  Gary, son of Gary, greeted me enthusiastically, “We have streamers!”
  I smiled and nodded, hoping to God he didn’t notice I’d been crying.
  After that brief conversation, his father needed us, and the one other person present, in the gym just down the hall.
  Youth Pastor Gary, father of Gary, approached us. He was a giant of a man by anyone’s standards (but especially to mine!), and his older son was no different. Also like father, like son, they both had the biggest hearts, so I should have expected what happened next.
  Bigger Gary gave out a few instructions, turned, then paused. He turned back around and looked at me, “Are you okay?”
  I blinked, both pleasantly shocked and unpleasantly bothered by the observation.
  I don’t remember how I responded to his question. It doesn’t matter. The fact that he noticed was enough. Someone had actually cared enough to notice what was almost literally written all over my face. That was defiantly enough.