Robbins The Healer's Miraculous Discovery

1. Auflage 2022
ISBN: 978-1-6678-6562-1
Verlag: BookBaby
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: PC/MAC/eReader/Tablet/DL/kein Kopierschutz

E-Book, Englisch, 362 Seiten

Reihe: The Healers Miraculous Discovery

Thirteen-year-old Stevie Katz likes to spend his days working in the family's store with his dad when he's not in school. As he's stocking shelves, he finds a mysterious object hidden in an unlikely place. He soon finds out that the object gives him the ability to heal the sick and wounded. Soon, his special powers lead him to see himself as an all-knowing, all-powerful being, and his ego leads him down a path of destruction. Set in Cleveland in the '60s, this thought-provoking story is part historical fiction and part science fiction.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Robbins, Stephen

Leseproben

14 Giving Thanks The Wednesday before the Thanksgiving Holiday was the 23rd. As the date approached, Steve began to have misgivings about the visit he had promised. He had not discussed it with anyone, especially anyone in his family as the wounds of the summer riots and a lost business were still fresh. On Tuesday, Tim and Steve found themselves making plans to drive home together on Wednesday morning after an 8:30 a.m. class. “You aren’t still thinking about going down to Hough are you, Steve?” Tim asked. “Actually, I’m glad you brought that up. I want to ask you a favor,” Steve started to say. Tim extended his arms toward Steve as if to push him away. “Uh-oh. Here it comes.” “Look, I’m a bit out of my element here. I’m not comfortable going down there by myself anymore, and this guy is a well-known Christian preacher. I’m out of my league. Besides, what if he starts asking a bunch of questions that I can’t answer? How many times have you and I talked about religion, God, and…” “Okay,” Tim interrupted. “The truth is that I’ve been super curious about this whole deal since you first let me in on it, and I admit that I was half hoping you’d ask. Besides, someone needs to come along to protect you, you big coward.” Aside from being Steve’s best friend, Tim was also a world class smart-ass. The next morning, they set out around eleven and drove directly to the church, where a small group of volunteers had assembled to prepare for the Thanksgiving holiday meal for the needy of the community. When they entered the church, they were met with the overwhelming smell of the next day’s turkey dinner in the ovens. Members were hard at work setting tables in the great hall and preparing the meal in the community kitchen. The July riots had only made things worse for the area, and this year, the group of needy diners was expected to be larger than ever. As the only white people in the building, they drew stares from all the volunteers who, still reeling from the aftereffects of the riots, were very leery of outsiders. They got there early enough to be greeted privately by Reverend Wright in his office. Thomas Wright was a large, imposing man who could easily have passed for one of the players on the Browns football team. With broad shoulders and a narrow waist, at roughly 40 years old, he carried a certain gravity that went beyond his young age. His intimidating dark features gave way to a broad, warm smile that contradicted his physical appearance, and his soft, deep voice gave him an air of command. His office was warm and welcoming and full of books on all sorts of subjects. Behind his desk sat a football on a tripod stand and a framed Kent State football jersey with his name on the back. When they entered the office, the Reverend reached out his large, meaty hand and greeted both Tim and Steve, welcoming them to the church. Bernadette, who was sitting in a side chair in the office, rose and gave Steve a motherly bear hug. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought my roommate and best friend Tim with me, Reverend. “He’s my ride home from the U, and we came directly here. Tim’s also from Cleveland.” “Not at all! We welcome everyone here and we just want to talk and explore the mysteries of faith,” the Reverend replied. Steve felt a bit of a twinge as he was never too comfortable outside his own Jewish skin. Growing up in South Euclid was a different type of ghetto from Hough but in some ways the same. His neighborhood was uniformly Jewish, and his early grade school classes were almost all Jewish kids from first grade until the time he was in high school. There was also a sprinkling of Holocaust survivors in the area. During the summer months when bare arms could be seen in short sleeve shirts, the ink and the European accents identified the survivors whose forearm tattoos were visible reminders of the world’s hatred. Tim was the only person who was not Jewish that Steve had ever really had any deep philosophical discussions with, but his early Sabbath school lessons of the idea of “one God, one central source” led him to wonder why Christians could claim to be monotheistic yet pray to multiple deities. They frequently discussed how Tim was raised as a Catholic to pray to Jesus, to hold saints as holy spirits that could work miracles and how that all fit together in light of the commandment that said, “I am the Lord, thy God, thou shalt have no other Gods before me.” He couldn’t reconcile the logic that Tim gave him on the subject. “Different strokes for different folks,” he ultimately told himself. Still, he knew that he was only a few months from graduating from the U and going out into the wider world. He needed to expand his mind and his knowledge. And… this whole thing might be good to get some perspective on these strange occurrences that kept happening to him. The reverend closed the office door and sat in one of the side chairs arranged in a sort of circle so that they could talk without barriers. He ran his hand through a well-combed, short ‘Afro’ haircut as he started, “So, you boys are Akron U Zips! I went to Kent State myself, and we were big rivals in those days.” “We’re not much of a sports power these days,” Tim replied with a grin. “Well, I just wanted to thank you fellas for coming in. I know that you must be anxious to get home to your families and visit for the Thanksgiving weekend, so if it’s okay, I just wanted to know if you, Steve, would be willing to share your insight on what Sister Bernadette has told me about her strange experience with what sounds like a ‘miracle of healing’,” started the reverend. He went on to recount Bernadette’s story of both John’s fall several years ago as well as the July shooting, summarizing what he had been told. “That’s a pretty accurate summary, Reverend. I guess you are probably skeptical, sir. I would be too. The truth is that the story she shared with you really did happen, but if you ask me why or how, I’m clueless,” Steve offered. “I suspect you might go down some path related to religion to explain it, but I’m not so sure. There has to be some rational explanation.” “I can see you’re a man of science, Steve. But throughout history there have been occurrences that still defy explanation. In our faith, our Lord Jesus performed such miracles, and there were healing events that are eerily similar to the types of things that have happened to you, or through you, or by you. Certainly, it’s worth considering that you’ve been invested with something special and whether those couple of incidents were just some divine interventions or you have a power that can be used again.” “Reverend, I have to say, respectfully, that your questions are some of the same ones I’ve been struggling with myself. However, you do realize that I’m Jewish, right? I don’t accept the whole Jesus story.” “Yes, Bernadette let me know that your family is Jewish; but keep in mind that so was Jesus,” he said with a broad grin. That got a laugh from them all that broke the tension in the room. At that moment, there was a knock on the door, and a young black woman entered with a tray of mugs filled with hot chocolate. She was tall and slightly on the thin side, wearing a gauzy, embroidered peasant style blouse over a midi skirt that only went halfway down her thighs and inches above her long white go-go boots. She sported a stylish Afro haircut with a red band tied around her head and visible at her forehead. She had a light-colored complexion and dark green eyes. As she put the tray down on the table that sat in the middle of the ring of chairs, Steve took a long, deep breath to cool his reaction to what he thought was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. As she leaned over, he could see that she had the perfect figure, lean waist, broad shoulders, and tight full breasts. “Steve, Tim, meet Liberty. Liberty, these are our guests today,” Reverend Wright offered. “Liberty is a member here at the church and one of our rising stars. She graduated first in her class at Glenville High and is finishing her second year at Cuyahoga Community College. She’s planning to go into a medical field when she gets her Associate’s degree.” “Welcome and call me Lib for short if you wish guys,” she told them. Her face turned to Steve and their eyes locked. She smiled, most likely because he stood there with his mouth open. She was simply beautiful. Steve thought she looked like a female version of Jimi Hendrix in the outfit although he thought to himself that Jimi Hendrix looked like a female version of Jimi Hendrix when he dressed that way. “You may have noticed that we’ve got quite a crowd here for a Wednesday afternoon. We’re preparing a special meal for tomorrow for the homeless and poor in this area. We certainly have more than our share of needs down here,” she said. Gathering himself, Steve responded, “I know it well. My family was originally from this area, and I was born at Mt. Sinai down the block.” “Well, then, maybe you’d like to join us tomorrow. We can always use an extra pair of hands for our mission work,” she said with a curious, enticing smile that Steve could not quite decipher. As she turned to leave the room, he told her, “Maybe we will.” She gave him one last long piercing look and closed the door behind her. “Sorry for the interruption folks. Going back to our discussion, I’m not trying...