Everything’s Coming Up Josey by Susan May Warren Read Free Book Online Page B

me first? Is this a good or bad sign?
    On his sixties-era desk sits a family picture. A tall, lanky boy and a little girl in ringlets. His wife is thin, and her smile seems tired. Dwight sits down and I realize he’s aged, a lot, since the picture. Rail-thin, his hairline is defecting from his forehead leaving behind a smattering of age spots. He’s wearing a dark green cardigan—I guess that’s the uniform around here. I’m wishing I had a cardigan as the fine hairs on my arms stand on end. I think I’ve lost feeling in my (still unpolished) toes.
    â€œSo, Ms. Berglund. You made it okay. Thank you for taking the time to travel down to Iowa. We have quite a weekend planned and I hope you will enjoy it as we get to know one another.” He folds his hands on his desk blotter. I notice it is neat. No doodles. To his left on a tiny table, a black Corona typewriter indicates a nod toward the twentieth century. This, I think, is good, but I’m giving myself kudos for not bringing the black skirt. See, I can be a missionary. I can be conservative.
    I cross one leg over the other (mostly in an attempt to stay warm, but it also looks relaxed) and begin to field his questions.
    Why do I want to be a missionary? “I want to change the world, of course. I want to follow the Matthew 28 Great Commission.”
    Why Russia? “Because I’ve always been fascinated with the Soviet Union, and I want to help them in this new era.”
    How do I respond under pressure? I blink at this, just a second before I smile and say, “Well, I try and look for the positives. And of course I read my Bible.” Which is true, but also sounds really, really good, don’t you think?
    Can I work on a team? “Sure, as long as I am the leader.” Ha ha.
    He’s not laughing. Whoops. I stop laughing. “Of course,” I say. “I think teams are essential to good ministry. Everyone has something to add.”
    Hey, that sounded pretty good. Where did I come up with that?
    Tell me your testimony. Aha, I was prepared for this one. I had to write it all out on my application, but long after I sent it in, I pondered this.
    I admit my testimony isn’t very flashy. Born into a churchgoing family, baptized at age twelve, went on a short-term mission trip once to inner-city Minneapolis. Mostly I remember learning to play the guitar, spending a lot of time braiding hair and friendship bracelets, and sleeping on a church pew. “I’m hoping I get a real bed in Russia,” I say. Again, no laughter. What’s the deal? I’m really funny, doesn’t he know that?
    I fold my hands in my lap and I’m wondering if they turned the temperature up because my hands are sweating. Dwight has dark inscrutable eyes.
    This is where my testimony really picks up speed, and for a second I wonder if I should gloss over the two years where I chucked religion into the street, opting for the party life. But, this may be important, so I sum up. “After high school, I spent about two years wondering if my parents’ faith belonged to me. I admit, I did a few things I wasn’t proud of.” Wow, I got a hint of a smile with that confession. I lean into my story. “In fact, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be alive right now if God hadn’t intervened.”
    He nods, and his expression gentles. Maybe Skin-and-Bones has a past of his own.
    â€œI guess it was in my junior year that I hit the wall. I got depressed and wondered why we were all here. What is the meaning of life?” Good grief, I sound like Forrest Gump. Life is like a box of chocolates….
    â€œI guess God used that emptiness to remind me that when I was following Him, I didn’t feel so empty. I felt useful and whole. And by this time I was keenly aware of my sins—”
    He chuckled! It was small and guttural, but I definitely heard it. I smile, wipe my palms on my pant legs and lean back.
    â€œSo