Chances Are... Stories of Hope Lara's Chance by Andrea Lena DiMaggio

Previously...Church of the Redeemer...Gresham, Oregon

“Faker!”

“Lara? We need to talk, okay?” Jeff said and Al smiled and nodded in agreement. Lara just kept crying.

The Parsonage Kitchen…a short while later…

Lara had stopped crying, but her face was red with embarrassment. Jeff had put on a pot of coffee and was just sitting down at the table. Al sat across from Lara, a sheepish grin on his face. Lara faced him and her embarrassment abated only somewhat.

“Why didn’t you just tell me you were going to tell them everything? I thought we agreed that would be something we’d get into slowly.” Lara shook her head, feeling betrayed.

“You put me in an awful bind, Lara. I’m sorry, but for your sake, Jeff and the church needed to know.”

“You mean the board already knows? Al, how could you?”

“He did it out of the goodness of his heart, and you should really be thanking him.” Jeff said; his words almost a rebuke. Lara almost felt like Jeff and Al were ganging up on her. Jeff frowned.

“I’m sorry, Lara, but the whole process was hurried since we felt we needed to replace Jack since his passing was so sudden, and the need to have extra help just grew exponentially this month.”

“What? I don’t understand.” Lara turned and looked at Al, who had nodded at Jeff’s words.

“I’m going to have to cut back; the cancer took its toll, and while I’ve been free for nearly six months now, I don’t have the energy to work here full time. We need a senior pastor, and Al felt you were the best candidate, but that meant accelerating the process, including getting all the information about you.”

“I don’t understand.” Lara had begun to mist up once again. None of this made any sense.

You still are and always will be the best candidate. You have experience; God knows how much love and compassion you have. But it has to be straightforward and open. There was never any need to keep your past secret, Lara. Jeff and I go back further than us, and you can believe me when I tell you that he was the best person to know about you.' Al looked over at Jeff and back to Lara.

"I know it seems unfair, and maybe it is, and for that I apologize for that. But I’ve been killing myself trying to figure out a way to help you understand that your past doesn’t matter…not to me….and certainly not to this church, obviously, or they wouldn’t have hired you to take Jeff’s place in the pulpit.”

“Take his place? What?” Lara shook her head. It was all coming way too fast, and she was overwhelmed.

“We weren’t interviewing you for Associate Pastor; that will be my new role with my semi-retirement. We want you to shepherd this flock, Lara.” Jeff smiled warmly and put his hand on her wrist.

“Al explained all about you…I know you may feel betrayed, but keep in mind that you haven’t been quite honest yourself…”

“Or with yourself.” The voice came from behind. Rachael stood there, her warm smile almost a beacon in the room.

“You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of; we all have a past. I’ve chosen to let go of mine; the hopes and dreams and plans I had with Eric are gone, and I could dwell on them; feeling sorry for myself. But I have to move on for my sake and for everyone else.”

“You don’t understand…I’m not who you think I am,” Lara said as if they hadn’t already known.

“Lara…they know about Danny…” Al said, trailing off. He had tried to walk the couple through their loss, but between Dante’s inability to get past his own feelings of guilt and Nancy’s devastation and final surrender to her grief, the family literally had been destroyed. He felt he had failed them, both as a friend and as a pastor, and now that Lara sat there, Al finally felt hope for his friend growing inside himself.

“We all make choices, Lara.” Al stood up and walked over. He squatted down to see her face to face, almost like a father would a child.

“Nancy, God rest her soul, wasn’t strong enough, and we can’t fault her for that. What did she say to you before she died?” It was very hard to put it in the framework of the past, to reach back to the person Lara had been only a few short years before, but she really was still the same person.

“Don’t…please Al…I can’t,” Lara protested as tears streamed down her face. Even after the memory of her last days with Nancy, Lara still felt ashamed and unworthy of forgiveness.

“Lara…come on…you can’t beat yourself up forever. She told you…” Lara cut him off.

“No…I don’t deserve this ….it’s not fair…it’s all my fault.” She went to stand up and felt a hand on her shoulder, not pushing her down so much as urging her to stay. Rachael took Lara’s left hand in both of hers and held it, like a friend would for a friend. A new friend, perhaps, but someone to rely on and trust.

“It’s okay.” No words of correction or argument; just reassurance as one who knew.

“Lara…it’s going to be okay. Nancy left you with something that you’ve neglected. A gift that you seem to have lost. I found it myself after Jessica passed, and I think you can find yours once again. What did she say, Lara? What did Nancy leave you with?” Al shifted into a genuflect position and put his hand on Lara’s arm. Jeff stood up and walked over and was joined by Callie; standing behind Lara as she bowed her head, sobbing.

“We all have needed it, and we all have received it, Lara. Let me speak the words you told me…the words that gave you comfort then…you set them aside, like you didn’t deserve them, but that’s what a gift is, isn’t it? Freely given?” Al knew she couldn’t speak but she grabbed his wrist and squeezed softly, giving him permission.”

“I know it almost by heart; I’m sorry if I get some of the words wrong, but I know you’ll forgive me, since she was my sister, after all, okay.” By now, Al was struggling to speak as well, and the words came haltingly and with much effort, but he managed to repeat what Lara needed to hear.

“She didn’t call you Dante’ or even Dan or Danny, did she?” Lara shook her head no, struggling to keep from losing it altogether.

“’Lara?’ Isn’t that what she called you? She knew…She told me that she had known for some time.” Lara’s shoulders began to tremble.

“’Lara…’” Al swallowed hard and continued.

“I am so sorry…. blamed you for Danny...Danny's death. My baby…grown up and it was your fault…he wanted…to be like you…and he was. He loved you and he missed you.” Al bit his lip as he closed his eyes and recalled his nephew’s face.

“’He loved you and I think if he was here he still would even though you’re changing….I wanted…’” It was almost too painful to speak; Al recalled his sister’s bitterness that had consumed her even as obsession and a fear of failure had consumed her husband.

“’I wanted my husband and he never came back…and my son…’ Lara.” Al touched her cheek softly.

“Lara, what did she say…what did she do…what was the gift?” Al struggled to keep from sobbing himself. Lara lifted her head and smiled even as the tears fell.

“She forgave me….and….” She bit her lip as her shoulders began to tremble again, but she finished,

“She called me by my….she called me Lara…the first one to….the first one to…see me…” She put her head down on the table and wept, leaving behind years of guilt and shame and finally picking up and holding the last gift that Nancy Apsche’ Cercierra would ever bestow; acceptance.

The church was full for the first time ever on a July Sunday. The usual folks had postponed weekend excursions or in some cases returned early from vacations. Alongside the members and frequent visitors sat the curious and the skeptical; new ways supplanting old as even progressive folks discovered just how much they still had to learn.

Callie Decker played the last notes of “You’re All I Want” as Jim Olsen bade the congregation to be seated. His broad grin beamed with pride as he gave way to the pastor, newly installed and preaching the first of many sermons to come. Making the way to the lectern for the inaugural message, the pastor nodded slightly; an unfamiliar face to many, which evoked a few murmurs and some applause. Instead of the usual casual slacks and button-down shirt and tie of the previous shepherd, the pastor wore black slacks and a teal silk blouse under a white jacket. She smiled.

“Good Morning,” Lara spoke softly, demonstrating a humility that would be a familiar and welcomed part of her ‘pulpit voice,’ as some put it.

“I am honored to be a part of God’s plan for us all. I’ll be reading my text from The Message today, since I believe it speaks to me, and hopefully through me to you, okay?” She bowed her head slightly and said a silent prayer, her shoulders shaking only a little; another DiNapoli ‘trademark’ that would be a familiar part of her ministry.

"The Book of the Prophet Isaiah…Chapter Forty-Three…Verses One through Four...

But now, God's Message, the God who made you in the first place, Jacob,
the One who got you started, Israel:

"Don't be afraid, I've redeemed you.
I've called your name. You're mine….”

Next: Alicia’s Tale