Episode #3: The Weekly Mercies of Pam Ellis

The euphoria from last week hadn’t lasted long. My list and mercy notebook looked like a juvenile idea. My list of things to do to help build back my joy seemed pointless.

I plunked a bag of chia tea into my mug and moped back to the front desk to prepare another curbside order for Mrs. Kingston. She put in an order about once a week and usually canceled them. When she did pick them up, she usually quibbled and tried to get the price reduced for stupid reasons. Why did I have to deal with her today?

You’re so self-righteous

I don’t understand how you have any friends.

It’s probably a good thing Evan left before he figured out you like him. You have a lot of growing to do.

If only covering my ears would block out the words flung at me over the months of trying to repair things with my friend.

I’m sorry, Pam. We just can’t be friends anymore.

Over and over again the words from Jessie played in my head. It felt like glass shards cutting at my heart every time. I missed her so much. I had tried so hard, even when a lot of people had told me to write her off. Even though I had said the week before I was done letting her steal joy from me, I didn’t know how to practically do that.

No mercy notebook – not a cute little list – would fill the hole my friend left or heal my heart from the damaging words.

“Pam!”

I turned and smiled. It was hard to not smile when Lacie’s nieces came to visit. Molly and Anna were growing so fast. Molly was entering her teen years with the same joy she had in childhood. Anna followed her older sister most of the time, but more frequently these days was venturing on her own.

“What are you reading?” Molly asked, coming behind the desk.

I usually had my current read behind the desk. I sighed. “I’m between books.” I hadn’t read a book in a couple of weeks. I was to depressed. I had let myself binge-watch Andy Giffith episodes. Why when you are depressed, does reading feel like such a chore?

“I can read all on my own!” Anna announced proudly. “I read More Stories from Grandmother’s Attic.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “That was one of my favorites growing up.” It was. I loved the whole series by Arleta Richardson. Too bad I outgrew those books. I stopped with my tea mug halfway to my mouth. Why had I outgrown them? A good story was a good story. Maybe the simplicity of something written for a younger audience was what I needed.

I looked at the books in my hand. The whole series of Grandmother’s Attic was in a large plastic bin underneath my bed. My eyes wandered over the titles that had enthralled me in my childhood. Suddenly, I just wanted to read all of them over again.

Why couldn’t I? I might be grown, but there was no law against me reading these books, was there? I felt a surge of giddiness like I did when finishing the candles last week of diving into these books once again. I grabbed a mug of lavender vanilla tea and put on a lavender candle. I grabbed the first book by Arlita Richardson.

The first lines of In Grandmother’s Attic pulled me back into my happy childhood and into Mable and Sarah Jane’s world; log cabins, one-room school house, and the hilarious hijinks. Oh, I had forgotten the hoopskirt story! I laughed so hard.

Before I knew it, I had devoured three of the books and had started the fourth.

“Pam?”

Mom stood in my doorway. I jerked up. “Oh, I’m sorry! I was supposed to finish cleaning the kitchen.”

Her mother smiled and entered the room. “I thought it might have been a hard day at work? Did that fellow come and yell at you again about not carrying his books?”

I snorted, thinking of the young man who had demanded we carry his books so our shelves would have more diversity. He wrote books that he called Christian, but went against God’s moral code. I don’t know why he thought coming in every few months and making threats and demands would make us want to carry his work, but it didn’t

I shook my head. “It wasn’t that. It was just…I was struggling with all the stuff from last year.”

She nodded. “I’m sorry things have been so hard. I’m hoping this year is full of good things.”

I swallowed. I wanted to believe it could. I had tried to push through my feelings and find healing, but my plans seemed silly and kiddish at the moment.

“I got something for you.” She held out a white bubble mailer.

I took it and ripped it open and found a bible study on the life of Elizabeth. The subtitle caught my eye

Dealing with Disappointment.

I looked up at my mom and tears sprung to my eyes. “Thank you.”

She nodded. “I know this year hasn’t been easy, but I want to see your joy return.”

I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to burst into tears…again. I was so tired of sadness and crying.

“Your dad and I are headed to our counseling session. You’ll do the dishes?”

I nodded. I sighed after she closed my door. She had reminded me of yet another burden on my heart, my parents. I glanced at the study and then at the ceiling. I couldn’t pray aloud, but I sent a silent prayer upward.

Jesus, please help my parents be okay. And please, help me to be able to feel joy again.