My sister, visiting the Okmulgee Cemetery prior to our father’s passing, had spied a lone leafy tree standing poised like a sentry keeping watch over her modest collection of ‘final resting places’ nearby.
“We want a spot near a shady tree”. Betty’s voice was resolute. Decades have passed at this writing. The same sentry remains faithful at her post, casting summertime shade over the added headstone marked, Clyde and Thelma Lout.
Oklahoma towns are known for their distinctive names. Ann and I selected a home in Broken Arrow, a community sitting a stone’s throw from Tulsa. Several colleges dotted the nearby urban landscape. We still had no specific ministry roadmap in place yet were drawn to locate at a spot in easy reach of international students.
Amy, our Africa-born, fish-out-of-water nine-year-old, assumed her stateside academic career in a virtually foreign environment – a region called the Sooner State.
We linked up with a church pastored by a brother of our missionary friend, Jon Stern. It was here, in a nondescript office adjacent to a hallway water fountain, I would take my first halting steps beyond emotional trauma traced back to early childhood. The layers of crippling secrecy would start getting peeled away.
My unhappy experience stretching back to pre-adolescent childhood days had featured a much older boy. The dark-of-night violation carried memories too distressing for a kid’s mind to process – much less to manage. Thus, the matter had been left undisclosed, its attending confusion and trauma kept under wraps. No one knew.
The secret would one day, through my own telling and to my immeasurable relief, come to light. Waves of hope would follow. But not just yet. It seems that God – his understanding and compassion, deep beyond measure – chooses to postpone bringing some things out of the shadows until a preferred time. The right time.
“Hi”. The gentleman’s smile was kind, disarming. He stood poised but relaxed at the entrance of the room whose doorway stood open, “I’m Steve”.
Until that day I had never drawn on the professional skills of a clinical Counsellor. Steve Blahut was the right pick.
©2023 Jerry Lout
