Living Without Arms: A Tricia Gleason Novel

By Dr. Mark Henry Miller

A clergy retreat is purposed by good intentions, not a time to tell lies on how well it goes. The exception to that is a retired minister, whose first name is not coincidentally Donald. He shouts down Oregons Interim Conference Minister Nathan Spark and makes it clear that you are rubbish to be dumped in a bin and left. There is not room for both of us on this earth! At which point, he stomps from the room.
Nathan learns the rubbish remark isnt new. His predecessor, the irrepressible Creighton Yale, heard the same rant. So Nathan decides its better to see about catching Redside trout out of the Deschutes River near Maupin, Oregon. As he casts, someone walks up to him and holds a fly rod but wears no wading boots. They say the normal greetings. The last thing Nathan remembers is watching Madame Xs fly floating the surface. When he awakens, he cant see, and his hands and feet are bound. It doesnt take long to become rubbish. It was almost a week without water or food, and he was covered in slime from his excretions. Would help arrive in a cabin with no light?
When help arrives, dehydration is in control. The battle between living and death is neither academic nor metaphorical. Shit is shit.
Months later, no longer reeking with the bad odor, he and his new wife, Tricia Gleason, share with Tricias congregation in Tillamook, Oregon, that they are pregnant. The joy lasts until the fifth month, when a sonogram reveals their infant-to-be-born has no arms. What to do? When they share with their congregation, one member stomps out about the disgrace of having an armless baby. She tirades, God must be really furious with you. What have you done? You must be really bad!
Apprehending the culprit who put Nathan in the cabin takes time. The most pressing matter is clear: having a baby with no arms. What should they do?
Read on.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: May 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9781546240594

Dr. Mark Henry Miller

Dr. Mark Henry Miller and his wife, Diane, live in Austin, Texas. Mark is a retired United Church of Christ minister, having served churches as a pastor and conferences as a Conference Minister since 1966. “Voice of My Heart” is a collection of his blogs written since October, 2010. But they are more than blogs. In their own way this book is a step or two as autobiography, a step or two of reflections upon the daily ruts and routines and a step or two on how life can be more than a good idea about hope and growth. Mark has had his first novel, “Murder On Tillamook Bay,” and three previous books of pastoral epistles published. All of which can be tracked down on his web page, www.drmarkhmiller.com His educational background includes some time in libraries and classrooms at Stanford University, Yale University Divinity School and Eden Theological Seminary. His real classroom, though, continues to be the pulse of life itself.

Book preview

-1-

Her nose wasn’t crooked, broken, yes. But in her eyes, or the voice of the mirror, just fine. Nathan agreed but didn’t throw away a sense of humor, Well, you’re right, but could be if you were part of a Sioux tribe they’d call you Broken Nose.

She didn’t slap him, that was not part of their merging world. She only commented, Reverend Spark? You reveal a very vivid lack of perception. The nose’s straight.

In that moment she flashed upon the moment the nose was smashed. Hit with no lack of wrath by the lady who ended up with feet up under the ground. The horrific scene at the Beaver Slide along the South Fork of the Nehalem River when justice was served, the killer being shot while the revolver was pushed against Tricia’s head.

Six months had passed since the incident. More surprise than anyone would say, because to say it would continue would be inviting misfortune. Just like the football announcer saying, He’s completed ten straight passes. The next one, you could almost wage, would be incomplete.

Still, Tricia Gleason, once homicide detective, then fishing guide, then seminarian, then licensed minister was now half-time pastor at the Congregational Church in Tillamook. Her love, new and yet so very part of her life as if it hadn’t ever been absent, Nathan Spark, was Interim Conference Minister for the Oregon Conference of the Congregational Churches. His office and apartment were in the Portland area.

They spent as much time together as possible. Being half-time, but no one put an egg timer on Tricia’s schedule, meant she could get to Portland twice a month for a two-day break. Amazing coincidence that Nathan had the same two days off. Remarkable! But, what it meant is their love, their passion, their fun, their adventure, their relaxing and sharing life was always one. Affirmation became a way of life.

They discussed the future for about four months, December to April. Then the surprise.

In 2018 Easter was on April first. No one said April Fool’s Day, that was non-theological. Rather, it was Easter Sunday, with a sunrise service on a Garibaldi Hill [which was filled with irony because it was near the clearing Tricia was held captive for a few hours in a cabin.] The irony didn’t bother Tricia or Nathan, who made sure he could attend the sunrise and 10 a.m. Easter Service. Not a bother because Tricia didn’t believe in fate holding anyone hostage or limiting the new day in what you did or where you went.

The Sunrise Service was quiet but not somber. Rather, Tricia invited Nathan to join her in a litany about the meaning of Easter, making sure the voice of Easter made it clear that in the language of grammar, death was always a comma and never a period, let alone an exclamation point. That the Apostle Paul was right that whether we lived or died, we belonged to the Lord.

That wasn’t biblical mish-mash. Rather, it spoke to those who gathered. For on April 1, the sun rose on time, the people didn’t complain about the chilled air. Rather, they loved the team of the two pastors, but to them it was Nathan and Tricia. And, they were overwhelmed when Tamisha, the spouse of Tricia’s favorite detective, Margie Post, both had come from Salem, sang, Jesus Christ Is Risen Today. The angels, Tricia and Nathan agreed, had to have applauded.

Nathan said he wanted to be a parishioner at the 10 a.m. service and not a worship leader, believing that there’d be new people for Easter—he remarked, Easter and Mother’s Day and Christmas Eve, all the church refugees show up and they should see you as pastor. Tricia didn’t disagree.

She couldn’t not have Tamisha sing, though, because there weren’t enough members to form a choir. Tamisha brought the service to such joy as she sang The Lord is Alive. Tricia’s sermon…she had become accustomed to not having a manuscript…her wonderful friend Creighton Yale, former Conference Minister, retired in Beaverton and still vibrant and sassy, said to Tricia, Don’t read that damned manuscript. You’re better if you just speak. And DON’T stay in that frickin’ pulpit. It either appears as a podium or a protector. GET WITH THE PEOPLE. Stand in front of them and be you…which then doesn’t hide your heart, your wisdom, your humor…hey, do I need to say more?

Ah, Creighton. She wished he could have been with them, but as he admitted, he had too much candy through Lent, because he was ornery and thought rather than give something up, he should challenge the health gods and eat chocolate. Well, the health gods didn’t agree with him so his Blood Sugar pushed 200. Not good for a 77-year-old geezer! Tricia promised they’d send him a tape.

For a strange reason, after all it was still Easter, but not to completely deny April Fool’s Day, they had no plans following worship. Some members invited Tricia and Nathan and Margie and Tamisha to dinner, but back to Salem was Tamisha and Margie’s agenda. For some reason Nathan took the lead and said to the member Easter dinner invites, No thanks, we have plans.

Tricia wrinkled her brow, Plans?

-2-

Nathan only smiled, but Tricia could tell, a smile that lurked. She asked again, Plans?

She didn’t let him answer, sighed, slumped her shoulders, How about an Easter nap…two services…I’m tired. Why don’t we explore reality in the parsonage?

"Wow, you can be so euphemistic…explore realities. Is that a synonym for intimacy?"

She gave him a lurking smile, Well, guess we’ll have to find out.

Everyone had left, but their love couldn’t be closer. Well, that wasn’t totally true, so before the nap, maybe even the preparation for the nap [another euphemism] they got closer. Sexual intimacy happened naturally for them…over the months since they met it never rushed to either of them, never got forced. For whatever reason it was always mutual and consensual. They never set boundaries, although Tricia had continued to take birth control pills.

The shower in the parsonage may never have been a get closer place, but who cared. The soap and tender touching. And wadda ya know. A nice bench that invited much creativity. For sitting or bending or just holding on as the water sprayed them with affirmation.

The nap was good…better than good. The quiet was without any interruption. They woke up at the same time, Nathan looked, Hey, your day has only started, beautiful and gracious Tricia. Now. It’s my turn.

Tricia wasn’t sure what my turn meant…sex twice in the afternoon? Who was keeping score?

But. Another direction.

-3-

Nathan got dressed and asked Tricia \to do the same.

Puzzled, Tricia decided to open the trust valve fully. No reason not to. It was about 3 p.m.

They jumped into Nathan’s new Mazda 6 and headed north.

She thought maybe it was Easter dinner at the Pirate’s Cove that overlooked Tillamook Bay.

Nope.

Maybe a nice new restaurant in Nehalem, just north of Wheeler and Nehalem Bay.

Nope.

Nathan became quiet, almost nervous. Tricia could tell his body language, which she loved, because his honesty was never compromised. Heading north on #101 he turned off into Tolavana Park. She knew of some restaurants there, but honestly, nothing to celebrate Easter. I mean, really, crab louis for Easter? She silenced her thoughts.

He then pulled off a place they’d been before. It wasn’t a puzzle; it was a PUZZLE. ‘Nathan, we’ve been here before. I took you here for the first time so you could see Haystack Rock at Cannon Beach. Yes?"

He said nary a word, parked, walked around, opened the door, took her hand. The day, of all things, had gotten warmer, pushing 65 degrees. Lots of seagulls, the lapping tide at its height and Haystack Rock framed by soft gentle clouds and blue sky. What a sight.

They walked to the Rock. No one near, some kites flying a little north.

Nathan took her hands, Tricia, you brought me here the first time. In that moment it wasn’t crazy. In that moment I realized you were more than meet the eye and the heart and the mind and the soul.

He then bent on one knee, put a hand in his pocket, lifted his hand out, closed. He looked up at her and opened his hand, which held the most beautiful diamond she had ever seen. It had spark and that was more than his last name! Tricia, I love you as much as you counting the waves. Will you marry me?

He hoped he could put the ring on her finger. [He had taken one of her rings she wore on that finger to the jeweler for measurement…no time for taking chances.]

She didn’t smile. She beamed. Her tears rolled as she held out her hand. The ring slipped on as smooth as their relationship had been. He lifted her up, she gave him the world’s best hug and shouted, YES!

Suddenly applause. Lots of applause. They hadn’t noticed the kite flyers realized something was happening, and also some people in a group had come from behind them with dogs.

Such a joyful moment. Someone broke out in song, off-key, O Happy Day! It could never have sounded better to toast the moment.

They sat on the sand, watching the waves, saying hi to the seagulls, asking them to send their best to Jonathon. No blanket. It didn’t matter. The sand was soft and the hug kept the chilled air unnoticeable. As the sun set, Nathan said, Why here? Well, I had thought about it and then Yahoo confirmed it.

Come on, mister. Yahoo?

Yes, just last week I saw an article of the most romantic place in every state. And guess. Where is the most romantic place in Oregon?"

Tricia laughed like there was no tomorrow, Damn, fella, you are something.

He jumped on that, Only good, right?

Yep, Tricia exalted, "Just think. We’ll have to take a selfie and send it to Yahoo and tell them, You are right!"

Just then a couple walked by, almost in chorus, You look so happy! Almost like she was 20, which wasn’t the case, age didn’t matter, Tricia held up the diamond.

She answered, Yes, just got it. If you look at it, you’ll need sunglasses.

They did and smiled in agreement, Beautiful.

Then the man said, How about a picture for this moment…about the newly engaged standing in front of Haystack Rock and the sun?

Multiple pictures…for one memory. That would work.

The sand was dry so it didn’t stick. Tricia thought of that and trusted, which was partnered with love and belief, their love would be different: it would stick.

-4-

They drove back. Quiet. No music. The setting sun was the great affirmation. Their love was so real…dinner didn’t matter.

She knew Nathan, who worked with 47 churches in Oregon, had a post-Easter retreat at the church Camp Adams just south of Portland, on Tuesday, so he’d have to get back. She also knew you don’t say Yes to marriage and move on without plans.

They had talked about the future, but not in these terms. Although down deep she was elated. She felt the same way…Nathan was it! Period. End of conversation. A wrap.

Still, the future lacked definition. Not that it didn’t before, but now a visit once a week didn’t exactly fuel the fires of marriage. He was in Portland and had an apartment in Beaverton, she was committed to the Tillamook Church, had signed a 2-year contract. She was not a contract-breaking lady. Not for a breath.

So, time to talk. AND. They needed to tell Creighton. She wondered if Nathan had tipped off Creighton. He said he didn’t. She trusted that. He had an idea. Hey, beautiful bride-to-be, do you have any meetings early this next week?

She said nothing planned, except she had to meet with her Council, the church governing board on Thursday night.

He smiled, ‘Hey, how about this? How about we drive to Portland tomorrow and visit Creighton tomorrow night? Then on Tuesday you join me at the minister’s post-Easter retreat, it’s Tuesday noon to Wednesday noon. Then on Wednesday we drive back to Tillamook for your Thursday meeting. I have an idea beyond that…"

Oh, do I get 20 questions?

He laughed, No, let me explain. We’ve been having some trouble with the Lincoln City Church. They’re about to push their pastor through the Exit door. One of my thoughts, if that happens, and I’ll work to not let it happen, but I don’t have the authority I’d like, then that church will need a minister. Hint?

Immediately Tricia liked it, Oh, Nathan, Lincoln City isn’t that far from Tillamook. Maybe we could exchange pulpits.

Exchange pulpits, Nathan measured quickly, Not necessarily. But we might explore exchanging showers.

Oh, Mr. X himself…hey, I’m not complaining.

Let me fasten down a meeting in Lincoln City, so this could work.

Well, that’s a few days ahead, as they arrived at the Tillamook parsonage.

Tricia jumped out, scurried to the driver’s side, opened the door, held her diamond-hand, Sir, I believe in fully mutual, reciprocating relationships. My turn to lead you to the parsonage.

As she helped him up, she took her other hand and tasseled her hair, Yew…lots of sand. I better shower that out.

‘Oh? Could reciprocity be in our future tonight?"

She loved it, Oh, I’ll never tell.

He couldn’t resist, Hey, who’s using words now getting the sand out of your hair!

Good. Better than good. If it would only stay that way. Tricia had never been to a church retreat and didn’t know what happened when a church threw out their minister. She never thought it might not be reciprocally helping. She was wrong. But, for her no matter. She’d keep her engagement ring on and her love steadfast. For now. And in her heart, now could be forever. The waves would never stop.

-5-

Creighton must have known something…his instincts were good, but not that good. As Nathan and Tricia entered his home, he had on a bathrobe and a towel over his hair. Maybe just out of the shower. But, no.

Tricia didn’t look, she blinked in puzzlement. Sitting on a table aside Creighton’s easy chair was a crystal ball.

He never said a word as they came in. Which was more than uncharacteristic for Creighton Yale. He had been the Conference Minister in Oregon, had served churches here and there as he put it, and was Tricia’s BFF. Or, at least used to be. He was gracious and accepting that he now was the second BFF to Tricia. He was her go-to guy for ministry, from the first word of entering seminary. That continued through two years of seminary, a summer internship in Breckenridge, Colorado and a Licensed ministry in Snoqualmie, Washington. He also helped, although not pushing timidity aside he called himself Tricia’s Senior Negotiator in she becoming the half-time pastor in Tillamook.

He had a blank face, almost spooky, pointed to the couch for Tricia and Nathan to sit. He waved his hand over the crystal ball and said, as if ghosts would jump out, Karnack wants to know when the wedding will be?

Their eyes saucered, as Tricia gulped, "Creighton, why would you suggest such a thing. If that ever happened, and if…is the operative here, we’ll let you know."

Nathan squeezed her hand, whispered, He must know.

She looked at Nathan, closed her lips and squinted, body language that accused him of letting Creighton know.

He didn’t play innocent; he was innocent and said, No, what about you?

Karnack jumped in, Hey, only playing a hunch cause you guys are a definition of being in love.

He then took off his towel and bathrobe put the towel over the crystal ball, and sat back, with a smile that reached his eyes.

He was fully clothed, to everyone’s relief.

Tricia thought maybe his hunching was true, so she wanted to put an end to that.

She jumped up and almost ran to him…let’s call it a quick walk…and took the towel off the crystal ball, Oh, Sir Karnack, keep thinking in that direction, at which point she leaned toward him, her left arm behind her back.

She said, "How about a hello how are you kiss?"

He smiled. She kissed his cheek, and then before he could see her hand, she put her left hand on the side of his head, and rubbed past his ears and on his cheek. She then turned her hand and scratched his cheek.

He put his hand over the crystal ball, Karnack thinks the scratch was as good as a diamond.

Nathan got up, hugged Tricia and she showed Creighton the ring.

Creighton beamed, he didn’t whisper, WOW! DOUBLE-WOW!

The group hug made joy manifest.

They sat back on the couch.

Creighton had to know, Tell me when and where did this happen?

They shared most of the scenario, for some of it could only be experienced between Nathan and Tricia.

Creighton loved it, This is great news. Yes, Haystack Rock. I saw that same note in Yahoo that Cannon Beach is Oregon’s most romantic place. Not back Reverend Spark, not bad.

The had brought lunch so eating together, almost like communion, was perfect. In fact, in the middle of lunch, Creighton raised his glass of Chablis and invited them to join him, toasting, To Nathan and Tricia, may your love grow and your bonding get stronger with each sunrise.

Lovely.

They remained at the table. Creighton asked, Okay, when do I get to get the nuptials official?

Tricia kidded him, "What? Nuptials? Do you mean when will we get married?"

No, Creighton responded, I was really asking if I can marry you two!

Neither Nathan nor Trisha said a word, because there was no one else to officiate and they knew he would ask. Then, on cue, because they had worked it out, they pointed to him, and Nathan said, We’d only get married if the Very Reverend Doctor Creighton Yale would officiate.

He scowled, Hey, cut out that Reverend Doctor bullshit. Always make it Creighton and yes, I accept.

Another toast.

Nathan looked at the clock over the oven, ‘Oops, got a meeting in the conference office."

Creighton held up his hand, "Not yet. Wanted some information, because I saw in the conference newsletter you’re having a clergy retreat at Camp Adams this coming week. Might you share the game plan? I ask because at times when I had those retreat, smooth never happened."

He didn’t continue, which pricked Nathan’s conscious. Still, he figured if super important Creighton would warn him.

Nathan explained the main purpose of the retreat was for strengthening friendship among the clergy. Their 47 churches spread from Medford to Astoria to Enterprise. With a new church start in Bend, Oregon. He said he’d invited some clergy to share their faith journey and limited them to 15 minutes. But, most of the scheduled time was in smaller group visiting, sharing their current situation. There were 25 clergy signed up, not counting Nathan and Tricia. He indicated Tricia would attend with him since she was officially a pastor of the conference.

He then asked Creighton, Yes, this is not structured in cement, but do you have any suggestions on how to increase friendships?

He paused, which meant two things. One, should he respond? And two, what should he say?

He decided, "I don’t want to be prescriptive, Nathan, which has been a key for my ministry…that is I never—and I’m good for this—entered a situation and gave the minister or the church a should-upon list. I never told them what to do. Rather, I was always descriptive, trying to point out the various dynamics, because every local church situation is different.

Ah, one way to help them understand that is show them a cantaloupe. And ask them, when you go to the store, how to tell which cantaloupe to choose? Of course there are many options, which has made the case for me that a minister must always consider the options before choosing a cantaloupe.

He didn’t push that, but continued, "Also I have used a getting-acquainted game that has worked. Hey, this is descriptive, okay? Count off, 1-6, so no one can link up. The purpose is to learn something about the others and not only your best clergy buddy. Then, have six tables, in a couple of rooms so noise isn’t a problem. Have each, including the both of you, write down three things about your life that is interesting. One of which is untrue. Then, answer questions from the other 5 as if the three points are true. Then have them vote.

I remember once, was in Lakewood, Colorado, I tried that game with new members. Joseph was a Native American, married to Lucy. He joined the church in support of her. I didn’t know Joseph, but he was game to play. One of his points was he trained American Astronauts how to walk on the moon. Well, guffaw here. We all said that was a lie. Of all things it wasn’t! Joseph was a Master Geologist and taught the astronauts on moon walking, which was well before Michael Jackson, in Arizona. How about that?"

Nathan loved it, That sounds really creative. All right, Creighton, give us your three.

He shook his head.

Tricia pointed