The sun, already nearing the horizon, shone down on Liam’s open Bible. The stained glass that filtered the sunlight gave the aging page a whisper of color and life.
Liam sat with his eyebrows knit together in concentration, trying to figure out why it was important for Moses to write who was a descendant of who was a descendant of who.
“Hello, Liam.” A woman in her mid-twenties asked suddenly, breaking Liam’s train of thought. As she stepped into the church sanctuary, the smile on her face fell cold.
“Hi, Mrs. Barrett, how are you this afternoon?” Liam replied with a friendlier grin, standing up from his lying position on the wooden pew.
“I’m fine, thank you. Is your father home?”
“Yes. Want me to get him for you?”
“If you wouldn’t mind, I’d appreciate it.”
“Sure!” Liam said, his face lighting up with glee, “I’ll go get my dad now.”
“Okay, honey, thank you.”
Liam ran out the sanctuary door and through the long corridor to the side door of the church. He slowed slightly to open the door, and then sped up again. He ran until he reached his house—about a hundred yards away from the church—and opened the back door.
He entered the kitchen, stopping briefly to get a whiff of the delicious aroma of macaroni & cheese, his favorite, then continued toward his dad’s home office. He silently wished that his dad had chosen to have a downstairs office as he ran, out of breath, up the stairs.
“Dad,” Liam gasped, pushing the door open, hunching over, “Mrs. Barrett… is at church… and… she wants to talk to you.”
“Okay son,” Jonathan Stone said without looking at Liam, “Go tell her I’ll be right over. I have something I need to finish.”
“Yes, sir.” Liam started to walk away.
“Oh, and William David?” Jonathan called after his son.
“Yes, dad?”
“Knock next time you come in, do you understand?” He said, his voice firm.
“Yes sir. I’m sorry.”
Mr. Stone nodded and looked back to his work.
Liam retraced his path back to church. He went to the sanctuary and told Mrs. Barrett what his father said. She nodded and thanked him.
Liam left the church building, shoulders slumped. He hated that no one cared, seemed to care anyway, about his sensitiveness. He decided to stay outside for awhile. He went to the creek behind his house, his favorite place in the world, and kicked his shoes off. He waded out into the water and climbed onto the big rock that rested in the middle of the creek. He pulled the New Testament Bible out of his pocket and read John chapter three.
After a few moments of reading and being quiet, he set his Bible on the big rock and hopped down into the water. He bent over and picked up a small, smooth rock. He threw it at the tree on the side opposite his house. He smiled; it hit the bull’s eye someone carved into the tree… just like it always did.
“God,” Liam prayed aloud, “Why did you say in the Bible that David had five stones? It was pretty neat that he only had to use one, but why did Solomon write about having five? Just curious… after all, I was named after David. Kind of.”
He walked in circles around the big rock, occasionally seeing a craw fish or two. He picked up nice looking stones to add to his collection and after awhile, he heard his mother call him from the kitchen door. He grabbed his Bible from the big rock and walked to the edge of the water, careful not to fall down. He hesitated before placing his foot onto the lawn, knowing that the fresh grass cuttings would get all over his wet feet. He grunted, slightly agitated, and stepped onto the grass and started running, gathering up his shoes in the process.
