Head Over Heels. Gail Sattler

thought he was going to tell her she spent too much time at the center, and she was ready to give him a strong rebuttal. If Marielle read Russ right, all he did was work. At least what she chose to spend her free time doing was to benefit others.

      But after a few seconds of silence, he said, “I’ll be back tomorrow then, at three o’clock.”

      He walked with her to the door, and after they exited, waited while she locked up. They made their way to the cars, and without saying anything else, he flicked the remote lock for his SUV, removed the bar and drove away rather fast, Marielle thought, for being in a parking lot.

      As the taillights disappeared around the corner, Marielle couldn’t help but wonder what had happened that Russ figured he didn’t have any more miracles left.

      The next afternoon Russ pulled into the parking lot right on schedule. Marielle’s car, dented roof and all, was already there, along with another older model sedan that had seen better days. He applied and locked the bar on the steering wheel, slid out, hit the remote switch to arm the alarm system, then walked toward the building.

      Church or not, he’d seen too many buildings like this when growing up—it was both old and run-down—and he didn’t ever want to see another one, unless it was on a heritage Web site he was designing for a client.

      This would have been his last choice, hands down, of any place he wanted to be. He’d almost told his boss that he really was going to take his doctor’s advice, lie down and not leave the house for a couple of days.

      But Russ had given his word that he would get the computers set up, and Grant had given his word as the corporate sponsor that the job would be completed. Russ was obligated. A man was only as good as his word, and he’d given it. Besides, he had yet another debt to pay, and God would have him make good on it.

      So here he was, the third day in a row.

      On the third day, He rose, according to the Scriptures.

      The words echoed in his head. Russ had heard that statement over and over when he was growing up, when his mother had dragged him to church. He’d believed it then, and he still did. Except now, Russ could look at it more realistically.

      He glanced up at the tarnished steeple. God was out there, all right, but God had only made a difference in his life once, and he’d been paying for it ever since.

      He knew all about trusting God and His miracles. Since then, Russ had grown a little older and a whole lot wiser.

      Russ did all he could so he wouldn’t ever have to pay again, and until his recent incident at the window, he’d had everything under control. For the past few years he’d been able to move forward with his life without owing anyone, including God. He’d worked, and he’d worked hard, and he was successful.

      When he walked into the basement meeting room, he found Marielle sorting stacks of colored paper into piles, each accompanied by a ruler and a few miscellaneous pieces of white paper already cut into odd shapes. She made quite a comical picture, like she was getting ready for little kids, not a group of rough and rowdy teens.

      He scanned the vacant computers, then looked back at Marielle. “What in the world are you doing?”

      “I got a call from a friend who leads the Sunday school. The preschool level teacher was called away on a family emergency and they need someone to take over Sunday’s class. I’m going to ask one of the girls to help me, but first we need to cut out a bunch of shapes so the kids can glue them together. They’re too small to cut things accurately, and I’m not sure how good they are at gluing, but I don’t know what else to do.”

      “You do this,” Russ said, extending one arm to encompass the youth center room, “and you’re going to teach the preschool on Sunday, too?”

      “It needs to be done and there’s no one else, so we have to make do. How are you feeling today?”

      “A little better. I can’t believe how long I slept. It must be the medication. I don’t usually sleep over six hours, especially not on a weekday. Here comes Jason—I’d better get started.”

      But instead of joining him with the group at the computer, Jason sat with the girls who were cutting out colored shapes, guided by the white papers Marielle had already cut out, which Russ had figured out were templates.

      Russ left what he was doing and joined the preschool table. The only chair available was in the center of a group of girls, so he stood behind Jason and rested one hand on Jason’s shoulder. “How’s it going, Jason?”

      Jason turned and smiled up at him. “It would go better if you helped.” He motioned with his head toward the one empty chair. “We’ve got to have lots of stuff ready for the little kids to make sure they’re good and busy.”

      Russ stared in disbelief as the girls shuffled out of the way, making room for him at the last empty chair, and worse, obligating him to join them.

      One of the girls sighed as she slid one of the piles toward him. “I can’t believe that I’m spending Friday night cutting out colored paper.”

      “It’s for a good cause,” Russ replied before anyone else could. If he had had someone to make him cut out paper circles on Friday nights, his youth would have been a lot different.

      To his surprise, the rest of the boys filtered over to the table and began cutting out shapes, though they remained standing. When they finished, Russ figured they had the biggest pile of shapes, miscellaneous circles, squares, rectangles and triangles, he’d ever seen, and they’d finished in record time.

      Marielle stood to address the group. “We did great. I think I’ll order pizza for those of you who are allowed to stay.”

      In any other group, Russ would have expected all the teens to cheer, or at least show some enthusiasm, but in this group, showing appreciation was probably a sign of weakness. All they did was shrug, and no one said a word. At that age he’d had exactly the same bad attitude, until he saw that appreciating someone’s extra effort was a way to get noticed by the right people, which ultimately helped him accomplish what he had to do. Still, he couldn’t help but feel that these kids should have been more appreciative—after all, they were being rewarded.

      “Do we get beer? It’s Friday night,” said a boy whose name Russ couldn’t remember.

      Marielle crossed her arms. “You know better than to ask that. First, you’re underage, and second, this is a church.”

      The boy grinned. “I had to try.”

      “No, you didn’t. Now clean up and I’ll order. How many are staying?”

      Not a single teen raised a hand, which of course Russ had expected. Marielle made a count just on slight nods or head shakes, then stopped and looked straight at him. “What about you, Russ? You helped cut the shapes, so you’re invited to stay, too.”

      “Me?” He pressed one hand over his chest. “But…” He glanced around. The boys wouldn’t look at him, but a couple of the girls did, and he could see by their imploring expressions that they wanted him to stay. “Yes, but only under the condition that you let me help pay.”

      Her relief couldn’t have been more pronounced if she had a neon sign above her head. “That would be great. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be right back.”

      One of the girls approached him. “My brother once got his nose broken, except he couldn’t go to the doctor. He’s got a big bump now. Are you going to have a bump?”

      Russ raised one hand to the bandage still covering his nose. “Probably, but the doctor told me it would be minimal.” The bump he could handle. The doctor told him that while he was still out cold, they’d surgically straightened his nose, and because they’d done it right away, any permanent damage aside from the bump wouldn’t be noticeable. He was just required to keep the bandage on for ten days to brace his nose until it healed sufficiently. While the bandage was ugly, he knew the bruise