Robert Whitlow - Deeper Water

There was silence on the other end of the line.

"What am I going to do?" I asked as tears now threatened to break to the surface.

"Have you talked to the law firm about starting work on Tuesday? I could try to change my schedule at the plant and ask off on Monday."

"I just found out tonight. I could call the law firm tomorrow. But what if they're not willing to be flexible?"

"Call anyway." Daddy paused. "I know you want to honor the Lord's Day and keep it holy."

"With all my heart. It's just hard when there are other people involved."

"Every test is an opportunity," he replied.

It was one of Daddy's sayings, a call to be optimistic about any problem. It always sounded more convincing in theory than in practice.

We agreed to talk in the morning. Daddy would delay going to work until I talked to someone at the law firm. After the call ended I didn't have the heart to continue packing but did so by faith. The Lord commanded the Israelites to prepare to leave Egypt even though the way to the Promised Land would be fraught with perils.

I spent most of my prayer time early the following morning asking for God's favor upon my call to the law firm. I debated whether to appeal directly to Joe Carpenter, but since I'd never talked to him I asked for Gerry Patrick instead. It was barely 8:01 a.m. Fortunately, Ms. Patrick was in.

"Good morning, Tami," she began in a chipper voice. "Christine Bartlett is thrilled that you're going to be staying with her mother. It sounds like you really impressed both of them."

"Yes ma'am, but there is a problem with my move from Athens to Savannah."

"What sort of problem?"

I explained the delay due to the death of Mrs. Fairmont's friend. "Would it be possible for me to start work on Tuesday?"

"When did you say Mrs. Fairmont will be home?"

I hadn't mentioned the day. I swallowed. "Sunday afternoon."

"Can't you move in on Sunday?"

"I'd rather do it on Monday."

"The firm has arranged a special catered luncheon for the summer clerks on Monday. All the partners and associates will be there, and with vacation schedules, it may be the only time this summer when everyone will be together," she continued with emphasis. "The one day you need to be here is Monday. A key part of the summer clerk program is the opportunity for the partners to get to know you."

I remembered Zach Mays' rules. "Yes ma'am. I'm aware of that. I want to meet people."

"Good. Then you'll be here?"

In desperation, an idea was born. "Ms. Patrick, are you Jewish?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Do you keep the Sabbath?"

"Not as strictly as my rabbi uncle in Fort Lauderdale would like me to," she said after a brief silence.

I took a deep breath. "I'm a Christian, and my family keeps Sunday as our Sabbath. We don't do any work on Sunday and spend the time after church services in rest and spiritual reflection. It would violate my religious convictions to move my furniture on Sunday."

"I'm not familiar with the New Testament teaching on the Sabbath."

It wasn't a question, and the inflection in Ms. Patrick's voice didn't sound like a request for a biblical explanation.

"Are you asking for a religious accommodation under the federal antidiscrimination laws?" she continued coldly.

"No ma'am," I answered hurriedly. "I'm not raising a legal issue or trying to put the firm in an awkward position. I'm appealing to you as a person. I've agonized over this ever since I received the news from Mrs. Bartlett last night."

"And I don't question your sincerity. But I'm not sure I can give you an answer. I'll need to check with Mr. Carpenter and let you know what he says."

My heart sank. No matter how well Ms. Patrick tried to explain my position, the reaction of one of the senior partners to my predicament was easy to imagine.

"Could you talk to Zach Mays instead?" I asked. "I realize he's an associate, but he understands something about my background."

"Zach Mays? How do you know him?"

I had no choice but to mention my brief visit to the office.

"Can you stay on the line while I see if he's in the office?" she asked.

"Yes ma'am."

While I waited on hold, I listened to classical music. It was a Bach organ concerto, composed to the glory of the God, whose laws the world now tried to ignore. It was a moment of musical irony. Ms. Patrick returned.

"I mentioned your dilemma to Zach. He thinks you should definitely be at the luncheon on Monday and offered to solve your religious objection by meeting you at Mrs. Fairmont's house on Sunday to unload the furniture for you. He also suggested that you read a verse from the New Testament about an ox falling in a ditch on the Sabbath and the owner pulling it out. I wrote down the reference-Luke 14:5."

"Is he also willing to load the truck in Athens?" I asked, chafing at the young lawyer's advice. "My ox is in two ditches at once."

"He didn't mention it. Do you want me to connect you to him?"

"No ma'am. I'm sorry. It's nice of him to offer to help."

"Zach is a fine young man and an excellent lawyer. There's no pretense with him."

"I'll call my father and get his advice. He's the one who will be helping me move. Oh, and please don't mention this to Mr. Carpenter. I wouldn't want to trouble him."

"I can't promise confidentiality," Ms. Patrick responded stiffly. "Everything related to personnel issues is an open topic for the partners. That's a part of my job."

"Yes ma'am. I understand. I'll call back later today."

I ended the call. People who didn't want to honor the Sabbath used Luke 14:5 as an excuse for just about any activity. I phoned home. Mama answered.

"Is Daddy still there?" I asked.

"Yes, I'll get him."

"We're both here," Mama said after a few moments.

I told them about my conversation with Ms. Patrick, leaving out Zach Mays. Daddy spoke.

"We prayed about the situation last night and this morning," he said. "Your mother and I both agree that this is a Luke 14:5 situation. The ox represents your livelihood, and now that you tell us about the Monday luncheon, it's clear you need to be there. If the only way to make sure that happens is for us to move your things on Sunday, then that's what we'll do. I'll be at your apartment by ten in the morning. Try to have all your boxes ready by sundown on Saturday."

"Yes sir," I mumbled.

"What?" Mama asked.

"Thank you," I said. "See you then."

WHEN DADDY ARRIVED, I THREW OPEN THE DOOR OF THE apartment and ran out to greet him before he turned off the motor. I threw my arms around his neck as soon as his feet touched the asphalt.

"Well, that's a nice welcome," he said.

"It's good to see you, Daddy," I said. "Sorry about what I'm putting you through."

He kissed the top of my head in the usual spot.

"Don't mention it again. Let's get your ox out of the ditch and load him on the truck."

All the stuff going to Powell Station was loaded in the front of the truck. To the rear was the furniture I would use in Mrs. Fairmont's basement apartment, my summer clothes, pots, pans, and dishes, toiletries, and books to occupy my free time in the evenings. Daddy's foot was bothering him, so I jumped in and out of the truck to arrange the load. When we finished, Daddy tied a blue tarp over the top of the pile and lashed it down.

"There's a chance of rain this afternoon as we get near the coast," he said.

WE LEFT TOWN and followed the same route I'd taken to Savannah. Being with Daddy, my spirits lifted. I liked riding with him in Kyle's truck ten times better than driving an expensive convertible with the top down. As we rolled along, I asked question after question about the family.