The Road to Damascus

August 23, 1945

Sundays, as of late, were the worst in the McCoy household.

Morning would begin like any other day of the week, peaceful and quiet. Maria McCoy would rise out of bed as the bells of her alarm clock rang, quickly pressing the button on top before her husband could wake. The sky was still dark, a cool navy hue tinting the landscape of their farm, even with the curtains drawn. The air in the bedroom was still and lazy, shadows from the beginning of a new day cut jagged angles across the dark floorboards of Maria’s room all seeming to point at something that was invisible. She sat on the edge of their large bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and letting her bones adjust. Rob let out an occasional snore from somewhere in the depths of the covers reminding her that she had to get moving.

When the minute hand on her clock reached five minutes after eight, she forced her feet to find her slippers which had been set next to each other, purposefully, in front of the nightstand next to her side of the bed. Slowly, she inched her small feet into her baby pink slippers and trudged to the bathroom across from the foot of the bed.

Despite the tirade that she received every Sunday for the past five months, these mornings were her favorite. Sunday was the Lord’s day and a time to fellowship with other believers. No matter what, she always ended up having a smile on her face and a fullness in her heart by the time the sun set at the closing of the day. At the thought, she felt her lips being tugged upward into a small smile she could not contain as she squeezed toothpaste on her toothbrush and began brushing her teeth.

Smiling, thinking, singing inside her head as she got ready was sort of a preparation for what was to come in precisely (Maria snuck a peek at the clock) half an hour. It was now 8:30 in the morning, after brushing her thin, blond hair, lotioning her skin, spritzing the hollow of her neck, stepping into her favorite black, Sunday dress. Now, there were only a few sweet, short minutes of peace and quiet left.

Standing in the bathroom doorway, she moved her eyes from the clock to the sleeping form of her husband. Rob was a good man and he desperately needed his sleep. He worked late nights (Saturday nights too) but he still got up every Sunday morning and that was something she admired. It reminded her of how much she loved him. She just wished little Paulie was the same. This morning she let him sleep an extra thirty minutes. He deserved every second.

The sun had risen and the light in the room turned from navy to a robin’s egg blue. The sharp shadows had faded and became blurred around the edges.

Hooking a fake ruby earring into her ear, she tiptoed over to Rob’s side of the bed and crouched down to face level. That familiar smile of hers made an appearance as a snore ripped from Rob’s mouth the moment she reached for his unshaven cheek. He would trim his beard when he awoke but he never completely sheared it off. A beard, he claimed, was a symbol of manhood and it made him feel closer to Jesus and the people back in Bible times.

Stroking his cheek with the back of her hand, Rob’s eyes slowly began to open. Their comfortable shade of blue gave her peace for a moment again. As he fluttered his eyelids and adjusted to the morning light, the smile lines around his eyes and lips deepened as he stared at the love of his life. What a breathtaking view to wake up to after a long nightmare! It had been so real and seemed as if it lasted for years but The Great Comforter calmed his heart as soon as he opened his eyes through the beauty and spirit of his darling wife.

“Come ‘ere.” he whispered placing his large hand over top her delicate fingers that were still stroking his cheek. Sweetly, he placed a kiss on her lips.

“Good mornin’ to you too.” She giggled after they pulled apart. Their eyes met and didn’t move away.

“What?”

“You’re so beautiful.” Rob sat up on his elbow and admired her from above. Maria was over fifty and five years older than Rob but grace was within her age.

Gray streaked her natural blond curls; crow’s feet and smile lines were highly visible but he had never seen her more beautiful than now in the new daylight with a hesitant smile on her face. Her skin was aging but her light blue eyes were as vibrant as they were when he knew her in high school. To him, she was still that bubbly cheerleader who would wink at him from across the classroom or who would blush at any compliment as she was now.

“Such flattery.” She said modestly. A blush colored her cheeks and she slapped his arm as she got to her feet. The slippers were still on her feet making a silly pairing with the dress she had on. On the other side of the room, with her back to him, she kicked off her slippers and placed them back where they were this morning. Slipping on a pair of black two inch heels and buckling the strap over top her foot, the blush dissipated.

Letting it go, Rob struggled to get out of bed, his bones cracking and his back popping. He let out a healthy groan as he straightened his body and stretched his arms above his head.

“Good mornin‘, Lord. It’s gonna be a good day, huh? That’s right.” Maria chuckled as Rob began to have a conversation with the Lord out loud as he made his way to the bathroom. Another thing which made her fall in love with him.

God, he loved her, he thought as he came out of the bathroom to find her sitting on the edge of their bed with her Bible on her lap, deeply saturating herself with His Word. Rob had given that Bible to her only after one date. He thought if she was going to choose him, she would have to choose Him as well. Him and the Lord were a package deal. When she opened the present, which was carefully wrapped in newspaper, her eyes lit up like the star above Bethlehem.

Secret: when Rob gave her that Bible she knew he was the one God had given her.

Shrugging his black suit jacket over his shoulders, Rob thought of Paul and almost groaned.

“Sweetheart, have you tried to get Paul outta of bed yet?” The dread was evident in his voice. With her finger on the word she read last, she looked up, the smile gone. She had completely forgotten about their thirteen year old son who was still sleeping in the room across the hall of their one-story ranch house. The Bible on her lap was open to Psalms and the words she had been reading had completely taken over her world where nothing else entered her thoughts…until Rob had spoken.

“No…but it’s gonna be like every other mornin’. Ya know that.” She said. “Besides, it’s your turn.”

“Nuh uh. We flipped a coin last night and you got tails, remember?” Rob reminded her gently as he tightened his black tie around his neck.

Unfortunately, she remembered.

As she slipped out of their bedroom door, Rob yelled after her,

“And to knowledge, self-control; and to self-control, perseverance; and to perseverance, godliness.”
-2 Peter 1:6

Leah was already in the kitchen making breakfast as Maria padded down the hallway. She could smell bacon and hear the pans banging against the table and counter tops. Her eldest daughter loved cooking and did whenever the chance presented itself. Their second, Scott, was outside in the barn feeding the animals and tending to the pasture. On Sunday mornings, Scott took all responsibility off his father’s shoulders.

But, their third. Oh, their third was still in bed.

Even before she tried opening Paul’s door, she knew this Sunday would be no different from the rest. However, something had changed. A piece of scrap paper was taped to the wood of Paul's bedroom door with a blunt message scrawled in his messy, 13 year old handwriting.

‘Don’t bother. Nothing’s changed!’

Paul’s handwriting was sloppy but he had won his school’s spelling bee five times in a row and knew every rule for grammar. It was more than his entire family knew and they believed him a sort of protégé. She repeated the verse her husband reminded her of while she gently moved the paper to the side and tapped on the door. It always started out this way, her being gentle. Underneath the calm, was a rising dread. She knew the ending before it began.

Getting no response after three light knocks, she tried the door. Locked, which did not shock her. However, she continued to rattle the doorknob and rap the door with more force than she had the first time, losing her patience a fraction.

“Pauly, sweetie, you have to wake up. It’s church time, baby and you know the rules.” She put her lips near the wood, her left hand still on the door handle and the other fisted against the wood of the door. She faintly heard a muffled cry from the other side.

It had begun.

A small part of her had been hoping that this morning would be different. She gave everything she had into her bedtime prayers that God would grant her a smooth, calm Sunday but it was beginning to look like the answer was a firm no.

“Open the door now, Pauly. I don’t wanna have to get your father. He’s tired and ya know he don’t like to be stressed on the Lord’s day. Please, Pauly, obey?” A slight begging quality dragged out her last word. To her surprise, the door opened from underneath her and she almost fell into Paul’s bedroom.

“No! Read the note. It saves trouble.” Paul yelled and stomped his foot on the ground before slamming the door back in her face.

Her patience disappeared the moment the door smacked her nose. Red blotches appeared on her face as her lips pursed in frustration. Rob came out of their bedroom latching the leather bands of his watch around his wrist. He wasn’t looking at what he was doing as he approached her. The process was mechanical. Maria threw her hands up as she began to feel hot pools of tears in her eyes.

“Never have I in my life seen such a disrespectful child, Robbie. Please deal with him. He wont listen to me and I have to deal with him every Sunday. He just doesn’t listen to me. Maybe he’ll listen to a man…” Robbie brought her into his arms, hugging her quickly, before sending her off into the kitchen to help Leah tend breakfast that they would have to eat in the pick-up.

He heard her crying in the kitchen, probably leaning on Leah’s shoulder, and he wondered what he had done raising Paul to make him hate going to church that badly. None of his other children acted in that manner. They both loved church and planned everything else in their life around it. Discipline was encouraged in the McCoy household and spankings were often but Paul never took to it. He would always find a way to get out of a punishment or make an excuse to get out of a day of worship. Rob's palm against Paul's bare behind simply did not work. Robbie was certain there had to be a way to turn him around.

Turning the door handle, finding it unlocked this time, he charged into the room with the intent of punishment for making his beautiful wife cry. Disrespecting authority was a big rule violation under that roof.

“Paul Samuel McCoy. Get outta bed this instant.” He said sternly stalking toward the side of his bed where a large bundle of blanket lay in the middle. It quivered for a moment and went still. A light sniffle could be heard.

“Now…” He started. “1...2...don’t make me get to three. You know what happens when I get to three and ya know I hate spankin’ you kids.”

Paul slowly emerged from the blankets and sat up rubbing his eyes. Tear stains streaked his cheeks and his eyelids were puffy. Robbie hated seeing his children cry. His heart immediately softened.

“Daddy, I can’t go to church. I don’t like it there. I don’t like it at all.” Paul wailed, another tear slipping out. This shocked Rob and he immediately sat himself on the edge of Paul’s bed. Never in his life did he think something this that would come out of his child’s mouth.

“What on earth would make you say that, Paulie?” He asked. Paul hiccupped and wiped the tears from his cheeks messily with the backs of both hands.

“Travvie from school says your shoving it down my throat. You arent giving me my own choice.” He wailed again making his father recoil.

No words could come from his throat as he stared at his younger son who, only a few months ago had been tugging on his daddy’s sleeve asking him if he could live at the church on Old Mill Road. He said he wanted to live there because Jesus lived there. About five months ago, these fits had come out of nowhere each getting worse as the weeks dragged on. It felt like their family was being dragged, anyway. He and his wife dreaded Sunday, a day which should instill peace and delight in every man’s heart. Paul had come home from school one day and immediately went into his room. Usually, Paul would not go into his room until it was time for bed. He would stay out in the family room, play spades with his brother and watch his mother and sister cook supper together. As the sun set behind the oaks, Paul would usually go out into the field and catch fireflies, putting them in a mason jar. His favorite part was letting them out, watching them float up the stars.

Happy-go-lucky.

That was the word his father would use to describe him to his church and work buddies. He was always happy but on that day a few months back, he was changed somehow. Then, every Sunday from then on was a fight. The first two months, Rob and his wife managed to get him out of the house with nothing but a few remarks that he did not feel well or he was tired but as time went on, he started his fits. Kicking, screaming, banging on the doors, hiding in the stables. Every excuse that existed, Paul used and it hadn’t worked (Rob and Maria insisted that Paul attend church no matter how he acted up)…until now.

Rob slowly rose from the bed with a blank expression. Shoving it down his throat? Such a thing never occurred to Rob concerning his children. God was a part of the McCoy family. He was in their blood and bones. God was always real and never a subject that was questioned or doubted.

“You…can stay…”

Leaving the bedroom, Rob closed the door until it softly clicked. He entered the kitchen with his face cast down and a stricken look in his eyes that Maria noticed immediately. She took her head off Leah's shoulder and looked after her husband who walked briskly out of the house. The screen door slammed against its frame with a hard slap making Leah and Maria jump. Her daughter, who was a younger, spitting image of her mother, glanced at Maria, worried.

Laying atop the covers in the morning light, Paul turned over on his side facing the window with a smirk on his face.