The Road Show: Prologue
(Note: The Road Show is about members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Like every group, members of the Church have their own terms and lingo that may not be familiar to readers from other backgrounds. For this purpose, there is a glossary of terms and explanations which might need further explanation.)
He slammed the power button and stared numbly as the images vanished. Anonymous, pixellated partners in a virtual transgression—all gone now. He was alone. The pale blue light from the monitor faded slowly from his haunted face, leaving him in profound darkness. Then the shame and guilt began to burn. He flushed deeply, feeling hot and feverish. His pulse was still racing, but now from anxiety instead of excitement. Frequency had not numbed the exquisite pain.
After a long silence, an anguished groan boiled up from deep inside.
Not again. Oh no, not again.
His head sank into his hands as sobs, far too powerful for sound, racked his body.
Dear Father, please, help me. I’m so sorry. Please, please, help me.
***
Sitting on her couch, she wiped the last tears away. Feeling guilty, she picked up the crumpled piece of paper. She smoothed it out and looked at it again: beautiful calligraphy on pink paper, trimmed with white lace, a strip of black glued on the back. Sister Keller had clearly spent a lot of time making this refrigerator magnet.
Something’s wrong with me. That’s the only answer.
Staring up at her was the proof, in bold lavender ink. “Motherhood is the most divine calling of any on this earth.” Her hands clenched, crumpling the visiting teacher’s memento once again. She brushed a stray strand of blonde hair away from her drawn face, then cringed as she felt the oil. Stepping over the toys, she picked her way through the small room and into the kitchen. Ignoring the piles of unwashed dishes, she turned into the tiny bathroom and shut the door.
She sighed deeply. At least today I’ll get a shower.
Her hand was on the hot water knob when an infant’s cry pierced the silence, followed immediately by the crying of a larger child.
Her tears started again.
Dear Heavenly Father, please help me. I really need your help.
***
“Yes, Mr. Kent, thank you, sir. I’ll do my best. I won’t let you down. Yes, sir, thank you again. Good-bye.”
His starched white shirt crackled crisply as he put the phone down. With a self-confident smile, he adjusted the perfectly dimpled knot of his new silk tie. He spun around in his chair and indulged in another look at the new car in the parking space—a parking space that would soon be much closer to the building.
He picked up the neat stack of papers, leaving the smooth surface of the large desk completely clean. He adjusted the sleek, twin picture frames and flicked some dust off of the glass. His beautiful wife and their two beautiful children smiled back at him.
My life is perfect, he thought. Then the nagging doubts crept back and pushed his eyebrows into a soft frown. So why do I feel so empty? What is wrong?
He paused for a moment; then bowed his head somewhat formally.
Dear God, what is wrong? I should be happy, but I’m not. Please help me.
***
She tugged the door of the rusty, dented mailbox open and reached inside. Her swollen, knobby fingers felt paper, and a bright smile lifted the heavy corners of her mouth. Carefully, she removed the envelopes and then held each one up close to her eyes. Slowly her wide smile deflated. Jus’ bills again.
The smile rushed bravely back to her face as a young, well-dressed woman pushed a stroller past.
“Mornin’, dear!” She called out and raised a wobbly arm.
The young woman smiled a plastic smile squeezed out a friendly voice. “Hi, Sister MacDougal. How are you today?”
“Well, my fibromyalgia’s botherin’ me again. ‘Course I was tellin’ my Joey the other day that what with the change in the weather and all it sure gets to hurtin’ sometimes. At least my kidneys aren’t so bad today, and the doctor says my leg is healin’ up fine.”
“That’s great, Sister MacDougal. Well, we’d better be going….”
“Oh, let me jus’ see that baby real quick now.” She took a few slow steps and grunted as she leaned over. “She’s jus’ gettin’ so big! You know, I remember when my Missy was that age, she was jus’ crawlin’ and droolin’ all over. How’s her diapers? Everythin’ all regular? She doesn’t have the diarrhea does she? I heard that was goin’ around. Jus’ last week, I was down with a bad case….”
The young mother’s smile tightened, “You know, we really have to be going now.” She started pushing the stroller briskly. “Have a nice day Sister MacDougal.”
“Goodbye, dear! You have a lovely day. You come back any time, now. Any time at all.” She stared after the quickly retreating figure, watching until she turned a corner, waiting until there was no chance she would return. She winced at a sharp pain in her back, looked at the bills in her hand, then stared hungrily once more down the empty sidewalk. For a moment, her ample chin quivered and a single tear rolled down her cheek.
Dear Lord, please help me. I hurt so bad. Inside and out. Please help me, Lord, please help me. With that, she turned and began the long journey back to her dilapidated house.
***
He opened the door, shook his hair out of his eyes and slipped his feet out of the sandals. He sat down on the futon, looked again at the flyer in his hand and laughed bitterly.
The Priesthood camp-out? Oh, that will be fun. In addition to the bugs, dirt, and smoke, it will give me an opportunity to spend uninterrupted time with the other men while they politely ignore me. He smirked. Well, at least on a camp-out they can’t disapprove because I’m not wearing a tie. His bitter laughter ended and a dark look crept over his face. Dear Father, please help me. I don’t know how much longer I can go on like this. Please, please help me.
***
Date: 13 January 2009
To: All Bishops
From: J. Johnson, Stake Activities Chairman
Re: Road show
Dear Brethren:It’s time once again for road shows! The Stake Presidency has approved 14 March 2009 as the evening on which the road shows will be performed. This year’s theme is Our Savior’s Love. This is a wonderful opportunity to magnify the talents the Lord has blessed us with and to enjoy a wholesome activity and fellowship one with another. Please take a moment to look at the items below. This will help everything run smoothly and will ensure that everyone has a wonderful time. Please contact me if you have any questions.
• Each unit needs to call a road show director. He or she should contact me as soon as possible.• Participants should be careful to observe copyright laws.
• Each unit should spend no more than $150.00 on the road show. This is inclusive of all costs—props, costume, and so on.
• Participation is open to all members, but we hope that leaders will encourage the road show specialist to try to involve the youth.
• Please keep costumes modest.
• There will be a strict time limit of 15 minutes per unit, including set-up and takedown.
• Scripts need to be emailed for approval no later than 5 February, 2009. Scripts can be sent to: jjohnson@jergco.com.
We look forward to sharing an entertaining and inspiring evening with you and the members in your unit.
***
“Well, that leaves one last thing on the agenda.” The bishop looked from his two counselors down to the stacks of paper on his untidy desk. “I got this a few weeks ago, but I’m afraid it found its way to the bottom of one of my piles.” He cringed slightly and held up a piece of paper. “It’s a letter from Brother Johnson about the road show. We need to call someone to be the director. Any ideas? They needed to have the script to Brother Johnson last week.” He cringed again.
The three men pondered silently for a moment.
“What about Brother Horton,” one of the counselors asked. “Doesn’t he study drama or something?”
The bishop paused, his head tilted to one side, a thoughtful frown on his face. After a moment, he smiled softly and nodded. “Yes, yes, he does. And he’s the one for this calling. Brother Williams, you’re over activities—can you please talk to him? Thank you. Let’s skip our closing hymn. Sacrament meeting starts in fifteen minutes.”
***
To go to Chapter One click here.
If you want to buy the book, click here
He slammed the power button and stared numbly as the images vanished. Anonymous, pixellated partners in a virtual transgression—all gone now. He was alone. The pale blue light from the monitor faded slowly from his haunted face, leaving him in profound darkness. Then the shame and guilt began to burn. He flushed deeply, feeling hot and feverish. His pulse was still racing, but now from anxiety instead of excitement. Frequency had not numbed the exquisite pain.
After a long silence, an anguished groan boiled up from deep inside.
Not again. Oh no, not again.
His head sank into his hands as sobs, far too powerful for sound, racked his body.
Dear Father, please, help me. I’m so sorry. Please, please, help me.
***
Sitting on her couch, she wiped the last tears away. Feeling guilty, she picked up the crumpled piece of paper. She smoothed it out and looked at it again: beautiful calligraphy on pink paper, trimmed with white lace, a strip of black glued on the back. Sister Keller had clearly spent a lot of time making this refrigerator magnet.
Something’s wrong with me. That’s the only answer.
Staring up at her was the proof, in bold lavender ink. “Motherhood is the most divine calling of any on this earth.” Her hands clenched, crumpling the visiting teacher’s memento once again. She brushed a stray strand of blonde hair away from her drawn face, then cringed as she felt the oil. Stepping over the toys, she picked her way through the small room and into the kitchen. Ignoring the piles of unwashed dishes, she turned into the tiny bathroom and shut the door.
She sighed deeply. At least today I’ll get a shower.
Her hand was on the hot water knob when an infant’s cry pierced the silence, followed immediately by the crying of a larger child.
Her tears started again.
Dear Heavenly Father, please help me. I really need your help.
***
“Yes, Mr. Kent, thank you, sir. I’ll do my best. I won’t let you down. Yes, sir, thank you again. Good-bye.”
His starched white shirt crackled crisply as he put the phone down. With a self-confident smile, he adjusted the perfectly dimpled knot of his new silk tie. He spun around in his chair and indulged in another look at the new car in the parking space—a parking space that would soon be much closer to the building.
He picked up the neat stack of papers, leaving the smooth surface of the large desk completely clean. He adjusted the sleek, twin picture frames and flicked some dust off of the glass. His beautiful wife and their two beautiful children smiled back at him.
My life is perfect, he thought. Then the nagging doubts crept back and pushed his eyebrows into a soft frown. So why do I feel so empty? What is wrong?
He paused for a moment; then bowed his head somewhat formally.
Dear God, what is wrong? I should be happy, but I’m not. Please help me.
***
She tugged the door of the rusty, dented mailbox open and reached inside. Her swollen, knobby fingers felt paper, and a bright smile lifted the heavy corners of her mouth. Carefully, she removed the envelopes and then held each one up close to her eyes. Slowly her wide smile deflated. Jus’ bills again.
The smile rushed bravely back to her face as a young, well-dressed woman pushed a stroller past.
“Mornin’, dear!” She called out and raised a wobbly arm.
The young woman smiled a plastic smile squeezed out a friendly voice. “Hi, Sister MacDougal. How are you today?”
“Well, my fibromyalgia’s botherin’ me again. ‘Course I was tellin’ my Joey the other day that what with the change in the weather and all it sure gets to hurtin’ sometimes. At least my kidneys aren’t so bad today, and the doctor says my leg is healin’ up fine.”
“That’s great, Sister MacDougal. Well, we’d better be going….”
“Oh, let me jus’ see that baby real quick now.” She took a few slow steps and grunted as she leaned over. “She’s jus’ gettin’ so big! You know, I remember when my Missy was that age, she was jus’ crawlin’ and droolin’ all over. How’s her diapers? Everythin’ all regular? She doesn’t have the diarrhea does she? I heard that was goin’ around. Jus’ last week, I was down with a bad case….”
The young mother’s smile tightened, “You know, we really have to be going now.” She started pushing the stroller briskly. “Have a nice day Sister MacDougal.”
“Goodbye, dear! You have a lovely day. You come back any time, now. Any time at all.” She stared after the quickly retreating figure, watching until she turned a corner, waiting until there was no chance she would return. She winced at a sharp pain in her back, looked at the bills in her hand, then stared hungrily once more down the empty sidewalk. For a moment, her ample chin quivered and a single tear rolled down her cheek.
Dear Lord, please help me. I hurt so bad. Inside and out. Please help me, Lord, please help me. With that, she turned and began the long journey back to her dilapidated house.
***
He opened the door, shook his hair out of his eyes and slipped his feet out of the sandals. He sat down on the futon, looked again at the flyer in his hand and laughed bitterly.
The Priesthood camp-out? Oh, that will be fun. In addition to the bugs, dirt, and smoke, it will give me an opportunity to spend uninterrupted time with the other men while they politely ignore me. He smirked. Well, at least on a camp-out they can’t disapprove because I’m not wearing a tie. His bitter laughter ended and a dark look crept over his face. Dear Father, please help me. I don’t know how much longer I can go on like this. Please, please help me.
***
Date: 13 January 2009
To: All Bishops
From: J. Johnson, Stake Activities Chairman
Re: Road show
Dear Brethren:It’s time once again for road shows! The Stake Presidency has approved 14 March 2009 as the evening on which the road shows will be performed. This year’s theme is Our Savior’s Love. This is a wonderful opportunity to magnify the talents the Lord has blessed us with and to enjoy a wholesome activity and fellowship one with another. Please take a moment to look at the items below. This will help everything run smoothly and will ensure that everyone has a wonderful time. Please contact me if you have any questions.
• Each unit needs to call a road show director. He or she should contact me as soon as possible.• Participants should be careful to observe copyright laws.
• Each unit should spend no more than $150.00 on the road show. This is inclusive of all costs—props, costume, and so on.
• Participation is open to all members, but we hope that leaders will encourage the road show specialist to try to involve the youth.
• Please keep costumes modest.
• There will be a strict time limit of 15 minutes per unit, including set-up and takedown.
• Scripts need to be emailed for approval no later than 5 February, 2009. Scripts can be sent to: jjohnson@jergco.com.
We look forward to sharing an entertaining and inspiring evening with you and the members in your unit.
***
“Well, that leaves one last thing on the agenda.” The bishop looked from his two counselors down to the stacks of paper on his untidy desk. “I got this a few weeks ago, but I’m afraid it found its way to the bottom of one of my piles.” He cringed slightly and held up a piece of paper. “It’s a letter from Brother Johnson about the road show. We need to call someone to be the director. Any ideas? They needed to have the script to Brother Johnson last week.” He cringed again.
The three men pondered silently for a moment.
“What about Brother Horton,” one of the counselors asked. “Doesn’t he study drama or something?”
The bishop paused, his head tilted to one side, a thoughtful frown on his face. After a moment, he smiled softly and nodded. “Yes, yes, he does. And he’s the one for this calling. Brother Williams, you’re over activities—can you please talk to him? Thank you. Let’s skip our closing hymn. Sacrament meeting starts in fifteen minutes.”
***
To go to Chapter One click here.
If you want to buy the book, click here