Mack knew instantly what he wanted to do and headed for the shack to see if he could find Papa.

13 A MEETING OF HEARTS

As Mack neared the cabin he could smell scones or muffins or something wonderful. It might have been only an hour since lunch due to Sarayu’s time-dimensional thingy, but he felt like he hadn’t eaten in hours. Even if he had been blind he would have had no trouble finding his way to the kitchen. But when he came in the back door he was surprised and disappointed to discover the place empty. “Anyone here?” he called.

“I’m on the porch, Mack,” came her voice through the open window. “Grab yourself something to drink and come join me.”

Mack poured himself some coffee and walked out on the front porch. Papa was reclining on an old Adirondack chair, eyes closed, soaking in the sun. “What’s this? God has time to catch a few rays? Don’t you have anything better to do this afternoon?”

“Mack, you have no idea what I’m doing right now.”

There was another chair on the opposite side, so he stepped over to it and as he sat down she opened one eye. Between them on a small end table sat a tray full of a rich-looking pastry with fresh butter and an array of jams and jellies.

“Wow, this smells great!” he exclaimed.

“Dive in. It’s a recipe I borrowed from your own great-great-grandma. Made it from scratch, too,” she grinned.

Mack wasn’t sure what “made it from scratch” might mean when God was saying it and decided to leave well enough alone. He picked up one of the scones and bit into it without anything on it. It was still warm from the oven and fairly melted in his mouth.

“Wow! That is good! Thank you!”

“Well, you’ll have to thank your great-great-grandma when you see her.”

“I’m rather hoping,” Mack said between bites, “that won’t be too soon.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Papa said with a playful wink and then closed her eyes again.

As Mack ate another scone he groped for the courage to speak his heart. “Papa?” he asked, and for the first time calling God Papa did not seem awkward to him.

“Yes, Mack?” she answered as her eyes opened and she smiled with delight.

“I’ve been pretty hard on you.”

“Hmmmm, Sophia must’a gotten to you.”

“Did she ever! I had no idea I had presumed to be your judge. It sounds so horribly arrogant.”

“That’s because it was,” Papa responded with a smile.

“I am so sorry. I really had no idea…” Mack shook his head sadly.

“But that is in the past now, where it belongs. I don’t even want your sorrow for it, Mack. I just want us to grow on together without it.”

“I want that too,” Mack said, reaching for another scone. “Aren’t you going to eat any of these?”

“Naw, you go ahead; you know how it is-start cookin’ and tastin’ this and that and before you know it, you used up your whole appetite. You enjoy,” and she nudged the tray toward him.

He took another and sat back to savor it. “Jesus said it was your idea to give me some time with Missy this afternoon. I can’t begin to find words to thank you for that!”

“Ahh, you’re welcome, honey. It gave me great joy too! I was so looking forward to puttin’ you two together I could hardly stand it.”

“I wish Nan could have been here for that.”

“That would have made it perfect!” Papa agreed with excitement.

Mack sat in silence, unsure what she meant or how to respond.

“Isn’t Missy special?” She shook her head back and forth. “My, my, my I’m especially fond of that one.”

“Me too!” Mack beamed and thought of his princess behind the waterfall. Princess? Waterfall? Wait a minute! Papa watched as the tumblers fell into place.

“Obviously you know about my daughter’s fascination with waterfalls and especially the legend of the Multnomah Princess.” Papa nodded. “Is that what this is about? Did she have to die so you could change me?”

“Whoa there, Mack.” Papa leaned forward. “That’s not how I do things.”

“But she loved that story so much.”

“Of course she did. That’s how she came to appreciate what Jesus did for her and the whole human race. Stories about a person willing to exchange their life for another are a golden thread in your world, revealing both your need and my heart.”

“But if she hadn’t died, I wouldn’t be here now…”

“Mack, just because I work incredible good out of unspeakable tragedies doesn’t mean I orchestrate the tragedies. Don’t ever assume that my using something means I caused it or that I need it to accomplish my purposes. That will only lead you to false notions about me. Grace doesn’t depend on suffering to exist, but where there is suffering you will find grace in many facets and colors.”

“Actually, that’s a relief. I couldn’t bear to think that my pain might have cut short her life.”

“She was not your sacrifice, Mack. She is and will always be your joy. That’s enough purpose for her.”

Mack settled back in his chair surveying the view from the porch. “I feel so full!”

“Well, you’ve eaten most of the scones.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he laughed, “and you know it. The world just looks a thousand times brighter and I feel a thousand times lighter.”

“You are, Mack! It’s not easy being the judge of the entire world.” Papa’s smile reassured Mack that this new ground was safe.

“Or judging you,” he added. “I was quite a mess… worse off than I thought. I have totally misunderstood who you are in my life.”

“Not totally, Mack. We’ve had some wonderful moments, too. So let’s not make more of it than it is.”

“But I always liked Jesus better than you. He seemed so gracious and you seemed so…”

“Mean? Sad, isn’t it? He came to show people who I am and most folks only believe it about him. They still play us off like good cop/bad cop most of the time, especially the religious folk. When they want people to do what they think is right, they need a stern God. When they need forgiveness, they run to Jesus.”

“Exactly,” Mack said with a point of his finger.

“But we were all in him. He reflected my heart exactly. I love you and invite you to love me.”

“But why me? I mean, why Mackenzie Allen Phillips? Why do you love someone who is such a screw-up? After all the things I’ve felt in my heart toward you and all the accusations I made, why would you even bother to keep trying to get through to me?”

“Because that is what love does,” answered Papa. “Remember, Mackenzie, I don’t wonder what you will do or what choices you will make. I already know. Let’s say, for example, I am trying to teach you how not to hide inside of lies, hypothetically of course,” she said with a wink. “And let’s say that I know it will take you forty-seven situations and events before you will actually hear me-that is, before you will hear clearly enough to agree with me and change. So when you don’t hear me the first time, I’m not frustrated or disappointed, I’m thrilled. Only forty-six more times to go. And that first time will be a building block to construct a bridge of healing that one day-that today-you will walk across.”

“Okay, now I’m feeling guilty,” he admitted.

“Let me know how that works for you,” Papa chuckled. “Seriously, Mackenzie, it’s not about feeling guilty. Guilt’ll never help you find freedom in me. The best it can do is make you try harder to conform to some ethic on the outside. I’m about the inside.”

“But, what you said. I mean, about hiding inside lies. I guess I’ve done that one way or another most of my life.”

“Honey, you’re a survivor. No shame in that. Your daddy hurt you something fierce. Life hurt you. Lies are one of the easiest places for survivors to run. It gives you a sense of safety, a place where you only have to depend on yourself. But it’s a dark place, isn’t it?”