Fri. July 5, 2008
Ch. 4
Hope
I could hardly believe it when the alarm went off. Phillip leaned in close for a kiss. “I made you some coffee.” he said and I smiled. We had been married almost 20 years and he still treated me with as much kindness as the first day we met. Not that we didn’t have our differences. We did. Phillip headed off to his job in nearby Liberty Hill.
I practically inhaled my coffee on the drive to camp. I rolled my window down to catch the last cool breeze that would be afforded to us on this hot summer day. I pulled into the parking lot at 6:30 a.m., a terrible time to even be awake. However, breakfast for 120 would not be cooked by itself.
I walked up the dirt path and entered the large, air-conditioned kitchen. My two jc’s (junior counselors) were waiting to help. This morning we served eggs, bacon, and pancakes. We served the kids family style. Many of them didn’t know what it was to eat at a table with napkins, and conversation that didn’t include cursing and screaming. With the help of my little team we had the dishes done in no time and the girls went off to their bible studies and activities.
Now it was time to find out exactly what was bothering Shirley. I couldn’t imagine what the
problem could be, especially that she would want my help with. After so many years of experience the camp ran like a well oiled machine. Shirley was very much the professional, adept at locating government grants and dealing with government agencies. Her parents bought the camp in the seventies. She and her husband, Lance had taken over shortly after they married. She devoted much of her time in the winter months to getting donations and help for the camp.
I entered her office smiling.
“Ok girl, what’s up?” I joked.
“Shut the door. Call Bette and have her come in and take over for you for lunch. Meet me at the camp van. Here are the keys. Use your cell from the van. I’ll meet you there in ten minutes,” Shirley said.
“What? Call Bette? What is up?” I asked laughing.
“Just do it. I’m serious. Please, Hope.” she looked at me pleadingly. I felt a ripple of fear and concern. She was obviously upset.
“Ok, ok Shirley. I’ll do it. Don’t worry about it,” I said.
Ten minutes later, after having secured a promise from Bette, I was waiting in the van with the air conditioner running. Shirley came down the sidewalk, a troubled look on her face. She got
in the car and fastened her seatbelt. She turned to me and said urgently,
“It’s real. The gold. It’s real.”
“Do what?” I asked.
“The gold. It’s not a toy. It’s real gold.” she said.
“I’m sorry, Shirley. I’m not following you.” I said as I pulled out of the parking lot and onto the two lane road to town.
“Remember last night? The gold tokens from the infirmary? It’s real. It’s real gold,” she said.
“Ok… so what does that mean? How could it be real?” I squinted at her in disbelief.
“Do you remember the table, the table in the apartment? Where we had the volunteer orientation?” Shirley asked.
“The table in the apartment? The coffee table? With the money under the glass?” I asked. I remembered the table she was talking about. Several women had commented on how unusual it was. At the time Shirley had explained that the table was kind of a family heirloom. Her father had been a missionary in various countries around the world and he collected foreign monies from each post. She said none of it was very valuable but she couldn’t bear to part with
it, so she had put it in the apartment.
“Yes, that’s the one. Last night, I knew something was wrong. The coins that we picked up from that lockbox were real gold. Have you ever held the tokens? They are very light. There is no way to mistake them by their weight.” she said.
“Well, ok so are you saying that your Dad had real gold coins in the table and someone stole them and put them in the lockbox, and then someone else sawed the lock open? And that’s what we found last night? What did Daniel think? Did you tell him they were real?” I asked.
By this time we had pulled into the parking lot of the party store by the mall.
“Come on, there is a Starbucks. We can talk there. A little more caffeine won’t hurt.” I said,
trying to lighten the mood and calm her down. It worked for a moment. She was content to go
inside the restaurant and order a latte.
We picked a table at the front of the store.
“Did you tell Daniel?” I asked.
“Hope, I think Daniel took them. He stole them from the table. I went to the apartment last night when he was at the reenactment. There are tokens in the table.” she was whispering now, the look on her face bordering on frantic.
“Tokens!” she said again.
“Did you talk to Daniel at all about this?” I asked.
“No, I didn’t. I wanted to wait until I spoke with Lance. He won’t be in until tomorrow. He
went to Houston on a fundraising trip. Daniel will pick him up at the airport and they will go
straight to the camp because he has a meeting with the board of directors. He’ll give a report on
how it went in Houston,” Shirley said. Her husband, Lance, was a wonderful man and together they had worked tirelessly for Indian Oaks. It was their life. I knew they would be devastated if there was trouble.
“I told Daniel that I would keep the tokens, uh I mean the gold. He knows I have them. I told him I didn’t want to encourage the children to hide things,” she said.
“Where are they now?” I asked.
“I don’t want you to know. If you don’t know you can truthfully say you don’t,” she said.
“How many are there? How much does that translate to? What is gold going for in this crummy
economy anyway?” I asked.
“Well, I don’t know exactly without calling a
bank or a gold broker. What was in the lockbox could translate to possibly a million,” she whispered.
“A million dollars!” I shouted.
“Shh!” she hissed, looking around nervously. No one was paying us any attention. We were just two middle aged women out for coffee.
“Oh, ok. Do you think you will file charges against him?” I asked.
“Hope, it breaks my heart. You know he came to camp as a child. He was one of our first campers. I believe it was only the second year that Lance and I were in charge. Then, later he was adopted after his parents’ rights were terminated and he worked at the camp, helping to construct the new buildings. He worked for hours each day learning carpentry skills with my Dad.”
Richard was a big brawny man whose gentle heart had caused him to devote his life to being a missionary and serving others. I gave her the only advice I could.
“Pray about it. Talk to Lance. Talk to John. Pray some more.”
She bowed her head and nodded, tears filling her eyes.
We finished our coffee, talking quietly about the details we still needed to finalize for the banquet. The meat would be provided but I still needed to provide the side dishes. We went to the party store and picked up balloons, crepe paper, and glitter confetti. The banquet was a tradition that had begun during the camp’s first year. The counselors wanted to do something nice for the kids to make them feel special. It had worked. The kids woke up on Sunday
morning feeling good, and after a rousing morning worship, boarded buses to go back to some of
the worst neighborhoods in Dallas and Houston. However, their hearts were forever changed.
Not that some didn’t still end up in jail, or even dead, but the vast majority of these children were
truly changed forever. They had acquired a new friend, J
esus.
One girl had hitchhiked to Shirley in the middle of the night with her 2 year old daughter and had lived with her for a year. Currently, she was going to community college and was about to receive her degree as a nursing assistant.
By the time we ate a light lunch and got back to the camp, it was time for me to prepare dinner. We had 12 visiting sponsors. They were potential donors so we tried to supply them with everything they needed to keep them well fed and comfortable, and also convey an air of professionalism. Shirley and Lance had a dream to build luxury cabins for a bed and breakfast to provide extra income for the camp. One day they would have the resources to do it.
Friday dinner preparations were easy. This was a good thing because after cooking and washing dishes for 120 for a week, I was ready to go home and rest. Dinner was sub sandwiches and bagged chips with chocolate chip cookies for dessert. It was served under a tent in the pasture. The night time worship was held outside. I missed the sound of their beautiful voices lifted up in song while I washed the cookie pans but I was grateful to go home early. I
sought out Grace before I left. She was organizing kids into groups but when she saw me she came over to give me a hug.
“Mom, thank you for being here. It means so much.”
“Oh, you’re welcome, sweetie. If we can help and reach even one of these kids for Jesus it will be worth it.” I said. She looked at me then, her beautiful brown eyes filling with tears.
“Mom, I have so much. I am so blessed to have you and Dad.” I hugged her again. She had such a tender heart. I placed a kiss on the top of her head.
“I’m going to go, baby. I love you. God bless you.” This was always the last thing I said to
her at night. I watched the chaos a moment longer as the children were grouped together. I felt a ripple of uneasiness as Daniel came to Grace and announced that they were partners. She looked up at him with a shy smile. If Shirley and Lance decided to press charges against Daniel there could be long term consequences for that young man. Grace was so young I hoped she would not be interested in him.
However, until the Bakers made their decision and
confronted Daniel, I felt sure Grace would be safe enough with him in such a big group. The kids were always encouraged not to pair off but to stay in a large, mixed group. Some of the junior counselors that homeschool had chosen courtship practices and being in a group kept the kids safer from temptation. Chaperones added an accountability that I found to be a relief, being the mother of an easily influenced 15 year old.
If only I had intervened and taken her home with me then. After this night, I would not see my baby girl again for six weeks…