Understanding

Copyright 2007 by madengineer3

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It is interesting that some of the understandings that truly set us free to be ourselves can be some of the most painful experiences that we can face. All the way through high school and college I was on the heavy side. It was unfortunate that all of the people around me, in my social and cultural milieu tended to be interested only in the girls that looked like they had modeled for Playboy centerfolds or guys that were either rich or physically powerful and handsome. Heaven help the young woman or young man who had physical limitations or who was, on the whole, plain. Now please note I did not say ugly! Just being plain was enough to limit your possibilities. If you also happened to carry a few extra pounds, well let's just say that your social life was almost non-existent.

I went to a relatively prestigious technical college majoring in physics and minoring in mathematics. My name is Paul, and at that time I was about 5'6" and weighed about 170 pounds. Unfortunately I was also very shy around the opposite sex and was not the sharpest student in my class. All I had going for me was a desire to succeed and relatively good common sense.

After graduation with my B.S. I went to work in industry. In fact I went to work doing work as an electrical engineer. (If you get back to the true fundamentals of any type of engineering you end up at physics. It is a good study for a generalist. And generalists are in relatively high demand where practical solutions are needed.) For a time I made the typical mistakes that come with being on a steep learning curve. For example I had never worked with the core architecture of digital processors before. I became relatively adept at processor design. Again, my social life was limited. We were working on government projects for several "hush hush" programs. We had to watch out with whom we socialized for security reasons. I had to interface with representatives from NSA, the NRO, and one of the largest military digital telephoto camera manufacturers on earth. I had little free time.

All thorough this time I had the nagging feeling that there was something wrong with me. After all, people always talked about their "conquests" and wild party life, and I simply lived and worked at what I was good at.

After a while my life became quite routine, not truly satisfactory, but routine. That is until we had a new engineer join our group early last year. Susan was not a stunning knockout. She wasn't rich. She didn't drive a fancy car or talk a smooth line that would make you think she was someone special. She was, however, real! Now, I can't fully describe this quality of "realness". She didn't seem to have a vain bone in her body. If she heard something in confidence, she didn't repeat it. If she told you she would do something, she would do anything in her power to do exactly what she had said, or more, without expecting to be praised for it. If Susan saw someone who needed a hand, she would supply it without feeling that they owed her anything. When she engaged in a conversation she could be very "witty" without using crude language or putting anyone down. I am sure that she had heard plenty of crude words and crude jokes, but she never indicated that she did.

Except for some very close family members I had never run into a person like this before. I wanted to know her better. A chance to do that came along after several months. Susan was commenting that she was going to move from one apartment to another. She had shared an apartment with another woman who didn't share her values, although she had "talked the right talk" prior to moving in. In fact the other woman turned out to lie, be a borderline alcoholic and used "recreational drugs" on a regular basis. This wasn't Susan's lifestyle. Susan finally had to find a place to move to. Her roommate was falling behind on her half of the rent and utilities every month. More and more of the operating funds were coming from Susan.

Over lunch, in the company cafeteria, she indicated that she couldn't see a way around the problem she faced. Since the economy in the city where we worked was booming the cost of single apartments was astronomical. She couldn't afford the price of a single apartment and succeed at her attempt to repay her student loans early. I thought that maybe I could help.

Now, I live in a somewhat unusual set of circumstances. I live out of town in a large, old, farm house. When my father died, I had decided to live at home so that my mother wouldn't have to be uprooted. My father had been a pastor of a small rural independent Congregational church. If you don't know about the salary scales in such churches suffice it to say that minimum wage would have constituted a significant raise. My mother is somewhat hard of hearing and is quite visually challenged, so a change in location would not be good for her. I purchased the house from the my father's estate, for more that it was really worth, and put the money in long term bonds and securities in my mother's name. That way she would have the funds to do most of the things that she might like to do, in her old age. I had the money since I am single and had been working for a good salary for several years. It also doesn't hurt that I have been rather successful as an investor in the stock market.

My house, an old farmhouse, has five bedrooms. My mother, of course, has her own room, as do I. I have an older sister who was born with some serious genetic problems. She never learned to read, and with her memory there is no chance that she could find gainful employment in anything but a sheltered workshop. She is, however, gifted in one area; she likes to clean and does a very good job at it. The bus from our local sheltered workshop picks her up every week day for work. Anyway, we occupy three of the five bedrooms. That leaves two bedrooms that have been largely unused for as long as I could remember.

I finally made up my mind on what I needed to do. I asked Susan if she would join me for dinner on Friday. I told her that I would like her to meet some people and that maybe there was a solution to her housing problem. She thanked me and said that she would have to think about it.

On Thursday she came in to work, obviously upset. During a break I wondered over to her area and asked if something was wrong. She almost broke down. Her roommate had brought drunken friends in for an overnight and one of them had tried to sexually assault her during the night. She was at her wit's end. I asked her about Friday and reminded her that there might be a solution for her problem. On the spur of the moment she told me she would join me for dinner.

I had already bought the various provisions that I would need for the meal. I had assumed that she would come. It was, at this time, late fall. What I had purchased were the ingredients for a very nice old fashioned beef stew. Both my mother and sister really like the way I make stew.

Anyway, when quitting time came around on Friday I offered to give Susan a lift to where we were going, since there are a fair number of turns on roads with no lighting. I told her I would drive her back to her car at the end of the meal and any conversation that we had. I could see that she was a bit reluctant, but she finally agreed to do this.

When we arrived at my home, my sister was just walking toward the house after taking one of her late afternoon walks. Susan immediately wanted to know about my sister. After all, some physical problems are relatively easy to spot. I explained that the people I wanted her to meet were my sister and my mother. Susan looked confused.

When we got in the house I directed Susan to the main bathroom so that she could wash her hands before dinner. While she was doing that I brought the huge crock pot, containing the stew, and set it on the dining room table. My sister had done a very nice job of cleaning. Everything looked just right.

Susan came into the dining room and joined us at the table. As is our custom we said grace and then I started to serve the stew. Susan had never had stew the way I make it. Many people don't put rutabaga and turnip into beef stew, along with the cabbage, onions, carrots, potatoes and beef. With this stew the idea is to mash the vegetables with your fork and load them up with good butter and coarse ground black pepper.

As the meal progressed I explained the way our house worked. I especially explained that there were two spare bedrooms that had not used for decades. I also indicated that since they were next to each other I could turn one of them into a private bathroom. It was about that time that Susan started to see what I had in mind.

The first question that she had to ask was a bit pointed. "What would the total cost be for me if I were to take you up on this kind offer? What types of things would you expect me to do?"

She asked the question in a very polite way, but the unsaid question was there. She wanted to know if I would expect any special physical favors from her for the ability to use the room. "Susan, I value you way too much as a co-worker and as a person to try to take advantage of you. This house is paid for. All I have to supply are maintenance, heat, electricity, insurance, and taxes. I would suggest that the room, with a bathroom I can put in, would cost you under $200 per month. Of course if you want to eat with us every day, that might go up to cover the extra food, but even that is negotiable. I'm not trying to get rich, and having another woman around as companionship for my mom and sister would be great. There are no strings, of any sort, attached to this offer. Your rooms will have good locks on the doors. Your things will be safe, and you will be safe. You can think about this offer for as long as you wish. Would you like to see the rooms?"

She indicated that she would, so I turned on the back hall light and led her to the rear two rooms. They were typical of large old farm houses. The rooms themselves were the better part of 16' by 13' with nine foot ceilings. The floors were typical old wide plank wooden floors. The heating system in the house used steam radiators. Each room had a large walk in closet that was almost as large as a small dormitory room.

I could tell from her face that she was seriously considering this! She turned to me and said; "Let me have the weekend to think about this. If you would drive me back to my car I'd appreciate it."

So, I drove back into town and waited until she was safely in her car. I waved to her and headed back home.

It was Saturday evening that I got her call. She sounded like she was beside herself. I had never heard so much pain in her voice before.

"Paul, I need help. My roommate brought her friends over again, and I couldn't fight them off. I called the police and they sent me to the hospital for a rape evidence kit to be done. I can't go back to my apartment until I have someone with me. They know the name of the guy who did this, but he is still out there somewhere. Is there some way that I can come out there tonight? I want to take you up on your offer of a room."

I told her that I would be at the company parking lot in thirty-five minutes. She said that she would pick up some things, with a policewoman with her for protection, and see me then.

I hurriedly dressed. Just in case, I put my 12ga pump shotgun in the back seat and pocketed five shells loaded with buckshot. I was in the parking lot thirty-three minutes later. She was waiting for me. A police car had accompanied her, and on her signal the police left. It was then that I noticed that there was a older van parked in the dark rear corner of the parking lot and it looked like it was running.

I got out of my car and went over to tell her the route we would be taking to my place. As I was heading back to my car, the van started to drive over to her. She had parked under a light so as the van approached and turned broadside to us we could see the occupants.

Susan became very pale and said; "those are the guys that were in my apartment earlier. What are we going to do?"

I told her not to worry. As the van came to a stop, and the guys started to get out I lifted up the shotgun and started to feed shells into the tubular magazine. I didn't even point it at them but they piled back into the van and left the parking lot in a real hurry. They hadn't left fast enough to prevent me from jotting down their license plate number. Susan had the business card of the detective who had talked to her earlier so I got out my cell phone and called the officer. When I got her on the line I told her what had transpired, including the part about loading, but not pointing the shotgun, and then gave her the license number of the van. I explained where Susan would be and the number she could be reached at and then wished her "good hunting".

I unloaded the shotgun and put it back on my rear seat. Then we started to drive home; my car in the lead and Susan following very closely. I was silently praying that we had seen the last of those hoods for the evening. The drive to my place turned out to be uneventful.

When we arrived I helped her get her things into the house. The spare bedrooms still had very old beds in them. I brought in fresh linens for the bed, reminded her of the location of the bathroom and kitchen, closed the curtains in her room and went to my bedroom for some sleep.

In the morning I was up at my usual time. I went to the kitchen and made a fresh pot of coffee and whipped up some bacon and French toast. As each piece was cooked it went onto a plate in the oven. (For warming I set the oven for about 200 degrees with a small pan of water in the oven so things won't dry out.) I had almost finished the cooking when Susan walked into the kitchen. I turned to see who had came in and saw a rather unusual expression on her face.

"Morning Susan, did you sleep well?"

"Yes, it was comforting to know that I was in a safe place. What are you doing?"

"I'm finishing up making breakfast. Mom and my sister will be up soon and we will eat so that we can get out of here by 9:00 to get to Sunday school and church on time. You are free to ride with us if you like, if not that's o.k. too."

"Where did you learn to cook?"

"Well, Mom's eyesight has been pretty bad for many years now, and my sister doesn't get along with cooking at all, so since I like to eat I have had to become a pretty good cook. This morning's breakfast is French toast and bacon. There's orange juice in the refrigerator. Help yourself. If you are feeling super hungry I can give you breakfast before the others get here."

"No, I'd like to eat with your family. What church do you go to?"

"It's a small independent Congregational church. We aren't a part of any of the mainstream denominations, but our theology is somewhere between American Baptist and Presbyterian. For many years my father had been the pastor of that church. It is so small that it can barely afford to pay the utilities for heating and lighting."

"How can your church afford a pastor then?"

"Well, we really can't. But, our current pastor has a full time job and donates his time to give the sermon and teach the adult Bible study. It's called a "tent making ministry" since it is like what Paul did in the early church. You see, technically all you need is someone to provide the preaching. The individual members are the ones who look out for each other and try to help the needy. That is how the early church worked and that is how we work."

"That will take some getting used to! I came from a main line denomination and was used to "high church" type services where the individual members did nothing about ministry, and seldom worried about each other. I'd like to see how your church works."

At that moment my mother and sister came into the kitchen and went over to the table. I suggested that Susan sit across from mom. The places were already set with dishes, cups, silverware and cloth napkins. (I hate paper napkins. You have to kill trees to make them whereas the cloth ones simply need to be washed.) The food was placed in the middle of the table, grace was said, and we dug in to a good meal.

At the close of the meal I removed the dishes and helped my sister wash them. As I said, she loves cleaning and is pretty good at it. As usual, my sister and I carried on a simple conversation, at her level. We were just about finished when I realized that Susan had been quietly sitting at the kitchen table, listening to and watching us. She seemed to be deep in thought.

"A penny for your thoughts."

"Oh, they aren't worth a penny, I was just sort of blankly daydreaming. How dressed up do you have to be for your church? For my church it is almost a fashion show."

"Many of our members are lucky to have two changes of simple work clothes. Any clean clothes are more than acceptable. We even have one old member who comes to church in clean bib overalls. It isn't the clothes that make it a church. The church is in fact the people who gather together and truly believe the Scriptures."

"I've never heard it put that way before. I'm looking forward to seeing it."

The rest of the day went the way it was supposed to. For Sunday dinner I had cooked chicken in gravy and made up some baking powder biscuits. I still had some corn that we had frozen in the fall. We had buttered corn with the chicken and biscuits.

When Monday morning came around I told Susan that she could car pool with me, or drive independently. She indicated that she should drive because, with police as defense, she needed to move much of her stuff out of the apartment. I offered to drive my old pickup and help if she wanted it. She seemed glad that I had offered.

After work, I followed her over to her apartment, accompanied by a policeman.. It was good that he was on hand because some of her roommates friends were there and seemed to be unhappy that they couldn't take out some of their frustrations on us. It took two hours to get everything into her car and my pickup. I suspected that we would have no problems on our way home since my rear window gun rack held both my 12ga shotgun and an SKS semi-auto rifle. If you "speak softly and carry a big stick" you seldom need to use the stick!

When we got home I pulled the pickup truck and had Susan move her car into the barn. It wasn't much to look at, but the barn had been made in 1856 and had been built well. The roof and outer walls had always been kept in repair so the structure was sound. With the doors shut and locked we wouldn't need to unload the vehicles until a more convenient time. That was fortunate since the weather had turned quite cold.

After supper, I went into the living room and fired up the old pot bellied stove. There had been quite a nip in the air and with all the moving, sweating and straining we had done I wanted some nice warm radiant heat. Susan came in and sat on the opposite end of the couch.

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

With a smile I said, "Yes, I suppose so; but I won't guarantee that I will answer it."

"How come you have remained single when you are obviously very much a home centered person?"

"Hmmmmm, I suspect that is has to do with two things: one, I've never been sure that I have met the right woman; and two, I've never wanted to have a wife have to share the burden of taking care of my family. And as you can see, they do need some care. I cannot, and Lord willing will not, ever have them forced out of this house and into some form of institution or home."

"That sounds like a couple of good reasons. Why do you suppose that you haven't found the right person? Where have you looked?"

This was getting a bit uncomfortable. I wasn't sure of how to formulate the answer. "I'm not sure I can tell you why I haven't found the right one. As for looking, the woman I'm looking for won't be spending most of her times partying or in bars. I'm after someone with values that don't change with the calendar. I want someone I can talk about my interests who will understand what I am saying. I suspect that my problem is that I am not sure where such a woman can be found. One other reason my sound foolish, but I tend to be shy around women I don't know. That, unfortunately, is a bit of a "Catch 22". I hope this doesn't sound crazy to you."