Sparkling Waters: A Tricia Gleason Novel

By Dr. Mark Henry Miller

The title of this novel, Sparkling Waters means nothing. Has no connection with any event in the novel. Truth is I love the title. Came from one of my dearest friends, Art Johnson in San Marcos, Texas. He read a blog in which I talked about fishing on the Sol Duc River out of Forks, Washington, even included the novel cover picture. Art, on his own, which is who he is, always learning and sharing, looked up SOL DUC and learned it means, SPARKLING WATERS. Wrap it.

The title though, has EVERYTHING to do with the tone and full measure of love in the novel. My hero, Tricia Gleason and her husband, Nathan Spark walk a sharp learning curve for their infant child, Caleb Yale Gleason Spark. The Yale is the last name of their mentor and dear, dear friend Creighton Yale, known for his wit and cynicism. At times, hes nasty. He asked if Nathan and Tricia would call their son, Yale. For after all, Creighton baptized this lovely and armless child. Tricia smiled and gave it her best Creighton jab, Why yes, we call him Yale when hes fussy and uncooperative! Creighton smiled, sort of.

The novel brims over with sparkle, the content has a tone and attitude that refuses to spell wine with an h. Sure, there are shadows and unanswered questions abounding. The main one is would Tamisha, godmother of Caleb, ever find her identical twin, Tanisha, whom she didnt know even existed. And would Nathan stay in ministry? The warmth and caring. almost each chapter, until the final three chapters, bring value and humor and up for almost everyone, even the reader. One reader who wanted to be the first to read, Sparkling Waters, said, Dont let anyone read the last three chapters first. When I finished this 8th Tricia Gleason novel, I laughed harder than I could measure. The ending? What a surprise. A yikes surprise.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Sep 14, 2018
• ISBN: 9781546257783

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-

They planned, but not well enough. Never figured it was newsworthy. Never figured last Easter’s attendance paled. No announcements were offered in advance, beyond the church newsletter.

It may have been the second biggest event in the history of Tillamook County. Second is related to the first: the birth of Caleb Yale Gleason Spark, son of Nathan Spark and Tricia Gleason. The birth was relatively uneventful, other than to the mother and father. Caleb was on time, didn’t even murmur. Certainly didn’t wave his arms. For there were none.

They knew that at the 5th month of Tricia’s pregnancy. Fussing and worrying and trying to learn as much as they could to be parents of an armless child. They did the research but knew down deep, even deeper than Crater Lake in Oregon which has no measurable depth, experience would be the best teacher.

Well, that would be part of it. Certainly parenting by committee, certainly learning from people who found not having arms a fact of life but not a burden or punishment. Fret that theology, like the church member who bolted from worship when Tricia and Nathan announced their child would be armless. Her shriek shook the windows but didn’t break them, What have YOU done to cause God to do this to you?

Much to Tricia and Nathan’s relief, such fundamental religious thinking to them was thoughtless, not the least of which indicated a horribly lame understanding of God. For their God didn’t have a referee’s whistle and wasn’t the author of armlessness. God was the author of life, the Creator of all life, arms or not.

The day was more than Easter. One of the janitors, Clem the Ironman [he was a welder] figured they’d need outside speakers and video. He was right and used his skills to back up his hunch the attendance would set world records. The video screen was ten feet high and wide, a perfect square. They borrowed chairs from the Catholic Church. Not a problem, because the day was a warm summer day when church attendance might set a record for them, the Tillamook Congregational Church.

Jeb Magna, the Tillamook County Sheriff, cooperated with Tricia and Nathan, to scoot away [his euphemism] the network television cameras and trucks gathering, Folks, this is a religious event. You can attend, but this isn’t a television spectacle. This is the baptism of a child. Nothing more; nothing less.

Well, he was wrong. But only in a sense. Tricia and Nathan visited with the baptizing minister, the irreplaceable and irascible Creighton Yale, to have the baptism of his namesake, which is how he considered it since Caleb’s second name was Yale, be like any other baptism. Caleb was not to become a social event. He was a child of God.

They had no idea how their wishes would splash like the ocean tide on the jetty rocks. None.

The Sunday worship had the Sacrament of Holy Baptism after the offering, to indicate Baptism was a way to give thanks to God, to offer their son to a life that was blessed and holy, arms or not.

Had to be 500 gathered, inside and on the front lawn. The video worked to perfection.

Tricia and Nathan took a different route for godparents. They didn’t choose someone from the congregation. Rather, they asked Tamisha and Margie to be godparents. They knew what it meant, even though they grew up in different traditions, still Christian, to help with Caleb’s religious development. They were honored beyond words. Both had trouble wiping the flowing tears…the event was so beautiful.

Tricia and Nathan had explained to the church’s Executive Council about Tamisha and Margie, that the previous two years they had become close. Tricia had been a homicide detective for the Oregon State Police before becoming a fishing guide then a licensed minister. Margie was a homicide detective also and worked with Tricia to solve two cases. Tamisha, the spouse of Margie [both Nathan and Tricia believed with their whole heart their marriage shouldn’t be put in quotes]; they believed sexual orientation was not a decision but a discovery. They also believe marriage can be experienced and celebrated with same-sex couples. Tamisha was a professor of foreign religion at Willamette University.

Yes, Salem, where Margie and Tamisha lived, wasn’t in the next block. But, their relationship was so profound, no other godparent choices made sense. The Executive Committee agreed, but said We’d like to have some responsibility in raising Caleb…please? They shared that with Creighton and asked him to be creative. Little did they realize how creative Creighton could be. Very little, but very amazing. He told them, I’m your baptizing minister, will come up with two dynamics that will make this a unique baptism. Trust me.

They never had a problem trusting Creighton Yale. Including the Yale name in Caleb’s full name was better than exclaiming their love for Creighton. He was the one who mentored Tricia through seminary, at least most of it, and her two summer and licensed ministry positions. He had been their Oregon Conference Minister in the United Church of Christ and was Nathan’s predecessor. He introduced Nathan to Tricia…so, linking Creighton, Margie and Tamisha made all the sense in the world. The Executive Council smiled and nodded. Still, the hope for some inclusion.

The Sacrament of Holy Baptism for Caleb Yale Gleason Spark was at hand…and even more, in heart and joy and hope.

-2-

Tricia asked Tamisha to hold Caleb, who was dressed in a white gown. He didn’t sleep; but he didn’t squirm or wail either. Almost like a perfect child. Almost. Which everyone knew might have been only that moment. A child is a child, an infant an infant. Wailing might happen when Caleb reaches for his milk bottle and has nothing to reach with. That, of course, wouldn’t happen right away…maybe more than a few months. Not to worry today.

In fact, Creighton had taken magic marker and put, very large letters, the initials, NTW, on the parsonage master bathroom mirror. For Nathan and Tricia to see each morning. It was his counsel, NOT TO WORRY. For as Creighton shared, He will be great. Having no arms doesn’t mean he won’t lift your spirits. You won’t be alone. I’ll see to that. Just wait ‘til his baptism.

Unlike Creighton, he said nothing more. As for the baptism, he said, to excuse the phrase, was at hand.

Creighton was able to stand without a walker…his adrenalin was high-present, he said later, to make sure he was up to the task, what would be the most exciting baptism in his more than 50 years of ‘dunking or splashing in baptisms. Creighton somehow had different verbiage, not disrespect, but in his self-acclaiming words, My way…okay?" Yes, he liked Frank Sinatra.

He told Tricia and Nathan he would say a few words before the actual Sacrament of Baptism. They knew that in their Protestant tradition the Sacrament was a covenant they made with God they each would commit themselves fully to the relationship with God and God’s relationship with them. That was celebrated in the two Sacraments for them, Baptism and Holy Communion.

The few words were direct and clarifying…even more wishful hope, to everyone, but looking at Nathan and Tricia, Tamisha and Margie, You are here today because of the uniqueness of this child. Whoever would think a child today would be born armless. Truth is no one knows why. But, that’s not the point. The fact that Caleb has no arms is not the point. And, as he looked around and waved with both hands, "That shouldn’t be why so many are here. Hopefully at the deepest level, although truth holding probably wishing on my part, we are here to celebrate the birth not the condition of new life.

Oh, we’re tempted, as the national news has made prominent day after day, this is an exceptional child because of his physique. Well, trash that. This child is not unique because he has no arms. This child is unique in his creation, and the point I make is this, so I will say it slowly, THIS CHILD IS UNIQUE, NO DIFFERENT THAN ANY OTHER CHILD BECAUSE HE IS CREATED BY GOD AND WILL LIVE WITHIN AND BEYOND HIS GIFTS OF LIFE AND LOVE AND CARING FOR OTHERS.

Creighton choked, such a rarity, it was this important to him. Then swallowed. Tricia grabbed his hand and kissed it, Creighton? You’re the man!

He smiled, cleared his throat and said, nodding and winking wet eyes at her, I agree. Let me continue. Caleb will have challenges. But don’t make him special. Don’t treat him differently. And. All you parents here today who will be having children, or who have children now who will be his classmates. GIVE HIM A CHANCE TO BE HIMSELF. He has the best parents in the world; I know that. He has the best godparents in the world. I know that. He has the best nurturing church in the world. I know that. And. As for the community and state and world…to be the best? That’s up to all of us.

He coughed, Okay, I’ve said my spiel, let’s celebrate the Baptism.

Creighton knew the words by heart, and asked, Who wishes for this child to be baptized?

Nathan and Tricia indicated they wanted Caleb to be baptized. Tamisha and Margie said they were fully committed as godparents. The congregation, when asked by Creighton, rose in unanimity to their feet, even two people helped up by their caretakers and promised their love and devotion in caring for Caleb and his parents.

Tamisha then handed Caleb to Creighton. Creighton looked at Tricia and Nathan, Please name your child.

In unison, the most unified any couple could be, Caleb Yale Gleason Spark.

Creighton dipped his finger in the water in the baptismal font, Caleb Yale Gleason Spark, with joy and thanksgiving I now baptize you in the name of God, the Father and Son and Holy Spirit. May God embrace you with love, strengthen you in the new day and be with you as you celebrate life."

He then touched Caleb’s brow, making the sign of the cross, the symbol of Christ and the presence of God and the Holy Spirit.

He then walked up the center aisle holding Caleb—it was as if Caleb had taken calming pills—and said to Caleb, Caleb, these are your new guardians. Yes, they are friends, but they have just made a promise. Today—we will tell you about it. And then, we’ll do our best, unlike every child of God, to be loving and supportive. These are good people…and you can tell good people because they keep their word.

He looked at the congregation, most wiping their eyes at the beauty of the moment, Friends, Caleb doesn’t have a clue what is happening today. Less than a month old, he only knows the needs of, I shall call it, early living? But, when he grows, when he learns how to live with his heart and mind and when necessary, his feet, we can tell him about this day. Do you accept that responsibility? If so, please say, yes, with the help and presence of God.

Maybe the only time a fully unanimous vote in a church, echoed by those outside watching the full screen. Not wanting the outsiders to remain in that spirit, Creighton made another decision. He perhaps was the chief priest of spontaneity, wanting serendipity to not be absent.

Because it was a beautiful 75-degree day in Tillamook, Creighton walked with Caleb to the front steps of the church, held him up, ‘People, this is a child of God. So are you. Our commitment is to live like that every day. Be good to our promises."

He returned to the altar where Tamisha and Margie and Nathan and Tricia waited.

Tricia cradled Caleb in her arms; he fell asleep immediately. Perfect.

-3-

Creighton then reached to the pulpit, grabbed a surprise, a copy of the Sunday morning Oregonian. He held the paper up, This is today’s newspaper, the date of Caleb’s baptism. This is a record of the good and evil that is evident in our world. The day of his baptism, the holy moment. May he know this day and as he grows, with your understanding and supportive love, be a full exception to any darkness that pushes against any of us. For his life can be filled with goodness and value. In spite of what the headlines say about today. Amen.

He handed the newspaper to Nathan.

Not finished, but a promise to keep, Creighton read the names of the seven Executive Council members, holding eight envelopes.

Nathan and Tricia were clueless, what was this about? They had forgotten they asked Creighton to somehow include the Executive Council in the baptism service.

The seven came forward. This wasn’t a surprise to them, beaming with no scowls or furrowed brows.

Creighton lifted the seven envelopes. As we’ve discussed, you, the Executive Council, are also charged with special responsibilities in nurturing Caleb. On this envelope, and I did it random with no priority, is your name and a number, one to seven. That number marks the years of Caleb’s life, and on his birthday, first through seventh, you each are asked to meet with him personally and affirm his life and your caring for him.

To say the congregation was hushed was an understatement. Creighton them smiled. And, don’t wonder. When Caleb has his seventh birthday, the 7th person to affirm Caleb and your Executive Council will then make seven more envelopes but start them two years from your 7th year. For as long as you and Caleb shall live. That means in the very least, he’ll….

Creighton then got choked up, knowing in his heart, his own health limped, more than he’d ever admit. He then caught himself, coughed and said, Oh, I forgot. As his baptizing minister I’m taking the liberty of an envelope for his 8th birthday. I believe I can at least do that, as he held up the 8th envelope and slipped it in his pocket under his chasuble

Dry eyes were absent; joy and gladness and love poured in and through everyone.

He asked the congregation to stand, raised his hand and said, Go forth into the world in peace, be of good courage, hold fast to that which is good, render no one evil for evil, strengthen the faint-hearted, support the weak, help the afflicted, love and serve the Lord rejoicing in the power and presence of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

-4-

A beautiful time? No one could remember any other. The reception was unlike any that could be planned. Toasts with coffee and iced tea went on. Nathan wasn’t going to be caught up in the merriment, nor was Tricia. They had agreed that Caleb needed feeding and rest, the pace they had kept his first month. A steady pace, at least early in life, was of most importance.

At first Tricia was disappointed she couldn’t breast feed Caleb, but her obstetrician who was also her pediatrician, Dr. Vanessa Bright said that wasn’t a problem. The right formula would work just fine, which meant Nathan could share, which didn’t prevent him from mid-early-morning feeding. Full parenting. They even worked out diaper changing, coining finder’s keeper as the go-to-formula. You sniff? You’re on!

Nathan loved sharing the parenting role, took a sleepy and cranky Caleb and went to the parsonage. Tamisha followed him, Hey, let a godparent help here.

Okay, Tamisha, as he handed Caleb to her, You’re on. Let me show you the ropes.

Wow, what a multi-purpose guy!

Their focus, Caleb, was their caring purpose. They didn’t see everything. Let alone think anything would be different.

Jubilation was on the throne, at least for Creighton, who never disregarded royalty-referencing. Claimed that, boastfully never to deny.

He had shared with Tricia and Nathan that their lives and the life of Caleb was like a river…each flowing with purpose. But, he said, because God gives us freedom and responsibility, the river, every river, has tributaries. Some feed the main river and other start and flow out of the main river. What he didn’t know is a river is not always clear and providing. Sometimes it gets muddy, because a clay bank collapses along a tributary and the muddy reality fills the river. No one could know when that would happen. No one. Well, truth in focus, one did. Creighton loved the exuberance of a river most of all. He called them sparkling waters, the joy and beauty of God’s creation.

-5-

If it hadn’t been for CNN and USA TODAY, she never would have known. A shock to see the picture of an armless baby. But even more. To see SHE was to be a godparent. What was this all about?

She had been told her sister had died at birth. But, when she saw the picture of her mirrored image, truth not suspicion, it blew her away. She had managed to get a cup of coffee from the Willamette University Refectory, disguised as a janitor, knew someone in Idaho who could do DNA analysis. The confirmation was shocking. Research was necessary but it was clear. HER DNA came up on the test. She had used a glove for the coffee cup Tamisha had left on her table. The janitor simply was cleaning up. That was the visible purpose, but the REAL purpose lurked in the shadows.

She didn’t know what to do to witness the baptism of a child without arms. That child was nothing to her. She had another purpose, to see for herself. Managed to dress in white, covering every inch of skin, including a white veil and a large cross hanging on her chest. Sat in a car and used binoculars to verify. Yep. Make that a double-yep. She could hear, a good outside speaker system. In fact, not being religious or knowing why, she did breathe the words of agreeing to help. Actually a whisper. Didn’t know why, but other matters to deal with.

She saw Tamisha—that was her name in the news items—walk with the minister to the house next door. Didn’t know what it was called, but figured that’s the home of the minister.

She took off her veil, started the car and drove away…at slow and deliberate speed. Same DNA. Same. Everything was the same…except.

The exception made it clear…Tamisha’s identical twin sister needed to stay off the charts, which could be done outside of Burley, Idaho. She only hoped no one saw the picture of Tamisha. Well, someone did and commented, Tanisha, that woman looks so like you—almost identically like you.

Tanisha flipped her hand and played her nonchalant card, Ah, just a similarity. After all, many people cannot tell one black person from another.

She laughed to herself, knowing that was painfully true, but her flippant attitude remained, helped to be distracting.

Her question was, Did Tamisha know she had a living identical twin sister? The name made sense, now, for they WERE both born and given almost identical names. But, why? Why was she told her sister died at birth? Why was she raised in a foster home? Why hadn’t anyone told her the truth? She was never okay inside. Never. The USA TODAY cover picture, made it clear. She was glad no one paid attention to that newspaper in Burley. Very glad.

The truth lurked, and Tanisha knew her background would be trouble. She was no professor of other religions. She didn’t even know what a Torah was. She knew the dark side of life. She knew the prison life. She knew…and it hit her heart, her