This morning I broke the schedule. Scheduling is important. I have appointments to keep, planned recreation and planned meals. The schedule is as follows:
7:00 wake up. This is not under my control. The sun blares into my room between 6:47-6:56 year around.
7:15 morning poop. Health begins in the toilet.
7:45 Breakfast. Dried fruit, canned milk, and rice. Sometimes I make rice pudding, but that's only for special occasions.
8:00 Prayer hour. Simple enough. I pray for the lost souls of my community and the global community at large.
9:00 Evangelize. At this time every day I go out into my community and post signs and tactfully insert boards througout the town.
11:00 Lunch. Rice, dried fruit, and water. There was a time in our community's past that water was scarce, but these days the water is ample. God is Good.
12:00 Prayer hour. In this time I pray for my own strength to provide for my community. I pray to be led in the direction my community needs.
1:00 house maintenance. I used to share the house with 6 other people. It was actually a boarding hosue, but God has provided and I was able to buy the house for basically nothing!
3:00 Nap. The arid environment is difficult on the house. It is laborious to keep the house in tip top shape, but I want my community to know that I take pride in what God has provided.
4:00 hunting. I am not especially good at it. I ran out of ammunition about 3 months ago. So far I haven't caught anything alive, but I have come across some recently deceased birds and rabbits. Meat is always a pleasant treat.
6:00 Dinner. Canned milk, dried fruit and rice.
7:00 2 hour scripture reading.
9:00 bed.
So, why would I disrupt such a well oiled machine? Typically I check my post box once a week, when I ride to the nearest town and grab supplies. I buy canned milk, rice, and dried fruit. I decided to buy more in bulk recently and went 2 weeks without needing to make the trip. I went to the nearest town on Tuesday this week, and checked my box. There was a memo stating that I'd spent my inheritance and that no more money would be deposited into my accounts. In that same letter my sister told me it was time to come back to St. Louis. She's never understood my need to retrieve the lost lambs of our world. She insists that she come to Boomtown and help me gathher my things. Because I hadn't checked the post in 2 weeks, she was due any day.
Sylvia:
I left my family behind and took the train to Santa Fe. From Santa Fe I had to charter a mini caravan of 3 wagons to carry enough supplies to make it to Boomtown. The name is a joke. It's not even it's real name. People call it Boomtown because there was a population "boom", and then much like a "boom" the town echoed briefly and then died out.
My delusional brother is the only person there.
He had a family once. We were raised in money. We weren't embarassingly wealthy, but we are both educated and were certainly prepared to continue our quality of life. Mark met Beth, and instantly fell in love. She wasn't quite as well off as we were but she wasn't a pauper by any means. He wanted to establish his career first, and did so easily. He was accepted into a local law firm and made associate in less than 5 years. He and Beth married. Four years in, everyone was beginning the lack of pitter-pattering feet and I asked Beth about it. She was upset, but said that God would do it on His terms. In the meantime, a man visited with Mark and proposed a Gold mining operation. Mark was eager to expand his income. I don't know why. He was doing fine enough at the law office. Any who, he gave the man money, and then apparently gave him 3 money wires. The total was over 20,000 dollars. The man never sent any bonds, or land rights. The man swindled him. Beth told him that God had told her to go take care of her dying father. We never found out where she went, but we know that her father died a year ago under the care of hired nurses.
I think he came out here to find her. I don't think she's out here, but in any case he landed in Boomtown in the middle of the "boom". Housing was hard to come by, and he asked us for money to get a law office started. My husband and I gave him the money. He took to a boarding house and that's the last we heard of him for two years. I received a telegraph from the Doctor in Morgantown, the nearest town to Boomtown, around Mark's 29th birthday. He wrote in concern for my brother's mental fortitude. He said that Boomtown had basically been abandoned and that Mark insisted on staying to "tend the flock". This was particularly odd because my brother never received training in ministering. We are Presbyterian, but only loosely. Beyond that, one would think that tending a flock would mean a flock was present.
Our mother died when we were in grammar school, and Father died when we were away at boarding school. We were left with a decent inheritance. Mine allowed me to finish school, and provide a dowry for my now husband. Mark didn't have access to his inheritance until he was 25, which made law school difficult for him financially, but he worked hard and did a lot with our family's reputation. The bank made monthly deposits into his account, unbeknownst to me he'd increased the deposit amounts, thus taking a 25 year inheritance allotment to 8 years.
The boarding house was abandoned, so I know he didn't pay money for it. I have no idea what he's spent the money on. I have no idea what I'm getting myself in to when we arrive.
Mark:
I saw the first wagon approaching midday. They moseyed but dust flew up like they were in a sprint. It was really dry outside of town.
I grabbed my hat and walked out to meet the wagons. My sister was shrugged up to a weasely looking man. He got down first and offered a dirty hand, which my sister delicately and sparingly used to descend the rickety steps. She wiped her hands and straightened her clothes for a moment. She looked up at me with a flash of disdain, erased the expression, and replaced it with an endearing head turn. We embraced. I took her by the hands and led her back to the house. I released one hand when we got to the steps of the house. Her eyes combed the outside, painfully seeking out flaws, to which there were none.
"Mark, it's a lovely home"
"Thanks. I've worked hard on it but it is a great haven for weary souls." I put my hands in my pockets and rocked back ony my heels. "So Sylviva, what brings you out? You didn't have to come all the way out here. You easily could've corresponded by letter. Can I help you with anything?"
"Is that a joke? What could I possibly need help with that you could help me with?! Will you pray for me? Ha! You are the one who needs help! That's why I'm here! To bring you out of this dillusion!"
"Sylvia I have a very important job. I know my calling now. I am meant to bring these people to God. I know I've been slow going but-"
"Mark, you are alone here. What people are you bringing to God? Do you see people?"
"Of course I see people! The town name is BOOMtown!"
"When was the last time you saw another soul?"
--waiting--
"Awhile."
"Weeks? Months? Mark you can't keep this up.You've wastd all your money! Come back home! Start practicing again! Beth isn't coming back, but you could find someone else. No one back there knows what you've been doing out here. Just come back and start over!"
"I'm not leaving my flock."
Up until this point Sylvia had been angry but tolerant. When the last word left his mouth she went into a rampage. She turned on her heels and walked out the front door. She walked across the street and up to the door of what appeared to once have been a saloon. She knocked. She kicked the door. She walked to a window and swung her change purse into it, breaking the glass. She hit it a few more times until the window was completely open and she stuck her head in.
"Hello? Anyone here? My dillusional brother wants you to find Jesus! As soon as you become a Christian I can go home!"
Silence.
Then she walked over to the post office; also boarded up. She wiped the window with her glove and peered in. She turned to look at me, swung back the change purse, and proceeded to break the glass. She continued down the road until she'd broken 7 windows. No one responded. No one flooded the streets to take down the vandal. She was right.
How had I missed that? Why did God send me to an abandoned town? I sank to my knees and watched dust roll around in the wind. My sister started walking back to me. She was sweaty and covered in dirt. She walked past me and into the house. She left the door open and I heard her lightly tapping on the stairs.
I looked over at the wagons. The men were dirty but seemed honest. They'd had plenty of time to abandon my sister here but they were setting up camp for the night. One man was sitting on the wagon cleaning his fingernails. The other two were working on unloading the equipment.
I walked over to the men. They were further away than I'd figured and by the time I reached them all three men were standing, arms folded, waiting on me.
"Hi, I want to offer a room in my home for you. It was a boarding house so you can have your own space. There's plenty of water. I don't have a lot of food, but you are welcome to use the kitchen for your own meals."
"Why do you want to let us in there? Do we look like the kind of man you want sleeping in the same house as your sister?"
I hadn't thought of that. "I don't see why that should be a problem. You can have a bed if you want. Or you can sleep on the ground. I just wanted to offer the bed to you"
Realizing I wasn't getting anywhere, I nodded my head and turned away. I walked back to the house but just as I reached the first building of town, one of the men yelled out, "Can we shower?"
"Yeah. Please do."
"Ok, We'll be right in."
