by
Max Ross

The sun had begun to set over the trees which marked the far western boundry of the town of Hastings. Motorists had switched on their headlights in the twilight, for darkness was not far off. The small boy clad in corduroy trousers and a wool plaid jacket with a plaid cap pulled down low over his longish, corn silk hair, stood on the corner. He was an insignificant figure to the motorists who saw him waiting for the light to change so he could cross the wide avenue. If a motorist had been curious and watched the boy's progress they would have seen him hurry to the large front door of Saint Anthony's Church and, with some effort, pull open the heavy door and enter.

Two middle aged women were seated separately in the rear pews when the boy entered, Father Roul Gomez, coming out of the vestry, thought the child might be with one of the women. The boy removed his cap to shake his yellow hair and look around the interior of the church, Father Gomez waited for the child's parents to appear from the front entrance, when they did not he walked toward the boy.

"Good afternoon, young man, are you waiting for some one?"

The boy looked up at the smooth, brown face, wearing a quizzical smile. He saw no threat here and spoke with his soft, child's voice, "Do you work here?"

The young priest had never been asked about his vocation in just this way and he found it amusing. He smiled. "Yes, I am Father Gomez. Are you with your parents?"

"My name is Daniel Scoba and I came to ask you something, if you work here." His small face was set and he made no attempt to answer the priest's question. Roul Gomez was a novice priest, still eager to cure the sins of the world. When he looked down at the tow haired lad he became aware he might have a problem here. "Perhaps you would like to come to the front pew, by the alter, and tell me about it."

Daniel raised his face to look at the high, beamed ceiling and at the sculptured plaques that decorated the wall just below the lofty, stained glass windows. He felt in awe of the grand surroundings. Especially small and insignificant, at the same time, he felt satisfaction at being closer to his goal. He went with the man in the black clothing to the front of the church.

"Daniel," the priest began, "or do they call you Danny?"

"They call me Dan--same as my father." The boy corrected as he took a seat on the front pew next to the man in black.
Roul was impressed with the boy's sincerity, he also thought he was mature for his size, which led him to ask, "How old are you, Dan?"

"I'm six and a half. I'm in the second grade at Lincoln School."

"You told me you came here for information. Is it that you are trying to find some one?"

With a serious nod, the boy spoke firmly, "Yes, I came here to find God. When I asked my Aunt Martha where I could find God she told me to ask in a church. That's why I'm here." He raised his small face. "Do you know where I can find God?"

The priest had never been asked this question; he assumed everyone knew the answer. Wasn't that why this edifice was here--why he was here? Yet, he hesitated because he found it difficult to give this child an answer. Finally, he said, "Dan, God is all around us, he is everywhere. This church is the house of God."

The small boy looked skeptical. "Sir, how can that be? There are so many churches in Hastings, can they all be God's home? Maybe God could have a couple of houses, but why so many? If this is God's house, why are there so many other churches? What are they for?"

Roul thought it was time to change the topic of conversation. This six year old was working him into a corner and he saw no way out. He said, "Tell you what, Dan. I feel like a cup of hot cocoa, how about you? We have some in the ladies kitchen." A cup of hot cocoa was welcome, and Dan rose to follow the priest into a side kitchen. He felt more comfortable in the homey atmosphere. When he took a seat at the long table the boy looked over at the church man putting two cups of milk in the microwave.

"Sir, I must find God. It is very important."

The priest stirred a heaping teaspoon of instant chocolate into each cup and brought them to the table, thinking of the boy's insistence. "Drink this, Dan, and you'll feel better. You must remember God is very busy, he has an entire world to keep his eye on, not just Hastings."

"Thank you, sir. Then, God doesn't really live here?"

"He does. This is God's house and we represent God here."

Again the skeptical expression on the young face as he asked, "Why do you say 'he'? Is God a man?"

A question which might might have been asked at Sunday school. Gomez tried to recall if it had even been asked of him. He did his best. "He is not a mortal man, but the teachings of the Christian Church say that God is in the image of man. His only son certainly was."

"You mean the baby Jesus, my Mom reads me stories about him. But how do you know God is a man? Have you ever seen God?"

Roul suppressed a smile, the lad was so serious. "Not as you express, Dan, and I can't guarantee God is in the image of a man. It is simply that the Church accepts that truth based upon ancient teachings."

Dan stared into the bottom of his empty cup. "Sir, do you think God is good? Will she help me?"

Once again the priest felt himself in a awkward position. "Yes, God is good and God will help you if you call upon him." He leaned across the table toward the boy. "Dan why did you call God 'she'?"

"Because I want God to be like my Mom--kind and gentle. Maybe God is in man's image, but it would be better if God was a woman because it is men who make all the wars and badness. But, sir, I'm in a hurry, how do I call upon God?"

Father Gomez looked into the ice blue eyes of the pale, yellow haired child. This simple conversation had become a revelation to him. How was this child so wise, so astute? The idea that the deity might be in a female image had never occurred to the priest No one had ever suggested this to him, but the thought held enticing possibilities. Was not the boy right? Were not all the sins of humanity that he, Father Roul Gomez, had vowed to fight, caused by vain, greedy, and corrupt men?

"Dan, you pray to God in his house, this church, and your prayers will be answered."

The boy was quick to retort. "I don't want to do that, sir. I must speak to God in person. This afternoon when Aunt Martha told my sister and me to take a nap I was looking out the window and I had a dream in color with my eyes open. It was very clear and I saw God. She had on a long, gray dress and her hair was all fuzzy. She didn't speak to me, but I know it was God and I want to find her. I must ask her about my Mom and my Dad."

"You had a vision? You saw this person clearly?" The priest pressed.

For an instant the child looked confused. "I don't know what a vision is. I had a dream and I think God is near to Hastings. I think she knows I want to speak to her."

Gomez looked at the boy with newly acquired respect. "Dan, are your parents in some trouble?"

The boy looked surprised that he should be asked. "My Mom is. She has cancer of the cervix and the doctors are operating on her in the Omaha hospital tomorrow morning. I heard my Aunt Martha say God will take her because she has only one chance in a hundred." He wiped a tear from his eye. "Because I don't want God to let my Mom die."

So this was the reason for his anguish? Gomez had lost his father to the dreaded disease and he knew the futility of hope. In spite of the family's prayers and his mother's daily visits to the church and all of the medical treatments, the man had wasted away and died before their eyes. He lay his hand gently on the boy's shoulder in a sign of understanding as he said, "Dan, I'll call your Aunt Martha and we'll inquire how your mother is. The name is Scoba?"

The boy made no comment as the priest went to a small table by the door where the telephone was to make a call. In a few moments Gomez returned, his placid, brown face held anguish for the child. He tried a reassuring smile. "Dan, I called the hospital in Omaha and they told me your mother is under the very best medical care and they have the highest hope for a successful operation and her complete recovery."

"They told Aunt Martha there wasn't much hope."

Roul's voice was soft. "Dan, let us both pray together. There is strength in two prayers and God will hear us."

The blue eyes caught and held the priest's dark eyes. "It's not strong enough to pray. I must find God before it is too late."

The priest sighed in resignation, he felt unable to cope with this child's will. "Very well. Is your Aunt Martha at your home now?"

The boy nodded absently, "She's there with my sister."

Saying nothing, Gomez again went to the telephone where he opened the book and ran his finger down the page of S's until he found Daniel Scoba. There was only one and he dialed the number. He held his voice low as he gave the message to the woman who answered on the other end. He cradled the phone and turned to smile at the boy sitting at the table.

The child was gone.

Outside of the church it was fully dark with the slight chill in the air darkness brings. The boy turned off the wide avenue to head south toward the river. Here there wasn't the headlights and the noise of the cars. First it was along tree lined streets where the families living in the small, neat homes were turning on the evening television news as they prepared for supper.

Soon the small houses gave way to larger, scattered dwellings, then small farm holdings where several dogs barked at the boy. Beyond this lay the uninhabited area of the river and he walked toward the darkness of the mass of tall trees that lined the river.

It wasn't a large river, not in water content, but at run-off time it was broad for a few weeks. On the other side lay the large farms which supported Hastings. In the darkness the river bottom was a lonely and forbidding place, but it was here that the boy thought he may find his quest. He liked the priest, but he didn't believe him.

Why would God be in a house, no matter how fine, when there was the whole world to look after? No, God would be on a high mountain top to survey the world or on a river where it was quiet and the water ran south. The priest had made it sound as if it was man who controlled God when, in fact, it was the very opposite.

The three-quarter moon, rising over the distant, flat plain, gave the boy enough light to find his way beneath the trees and around the small brush as he headed toward the river. Ahead, and a little downstream, he saw the flicker of a small fire. This whetted his curiosity, for why should anyone be down here in the darkness? It seemed improbable.

He crept forward through the bush, being careful not to step on branches which might snap and give him away because he didn't want to come in contact with people who would only delay his quest. The smell of cooking meat whifted to his nostrils making the boy remember his hunger, but he refused to let hunger stand in the way of his quest.

When he began to go around the fire he saw there was a person seated on a large rock near the fire. Light from the low flames flickered upon a tall, thin figure clad in a long, loose robe. The light reflected off steel frame eye glasses and a dark face. The hair was a dirty white and hung down to the shoulder in tresses. The person sat on a boulder facing the river.

Could this be whom he sought? Not likely, but he didn't wish to be discovered so close and he darted to the next tree when the husky voice rang out, "What are you doing here, boy. Did you come down to the river to see me?"

There was no point in running, besides he was curious. He backed up and stared into the clearing. The small fire with the pot hanging over it looked warm and welcome. The strange looking figure hadn't turned and Dan wondered how the person had seen him at all. He tried to make his tone confident. "I'm sorry I disturbed you. I am looking for someone."

"Who?" It was a command.

He hesitated. "I'm looking for God."

"Then bring yourself over by the fire, boy."

The command had a strong drawing power. Dan took three steps toward the fire. This person was like his dream, his small voice was curious, "Are you God?"

"I am. Stand by the fire where you can warm yourself. Are you hungry, boy?"

The voice was neither male or female, but husky and well modulated. When Dan got up to the fire he saw the blackened pot suspended over it was boiling and emitting a delectable smell. The figure sitting on the rock had turned to face him and the boy saw nothing to fear. He nodded. "A little bit. I had no supper because I've been too busy searching for God."

There was a laugh, more of a cackle. "And now you've found me. There's a fine, plump chicken in that pot, along with potatoes, onions, and carrots. It will soon be ready. Sit yourself down on that rock by the fire and tell me why you came all this way to see me."

When Dan sat on the rock he could see the person more clearly and he sensed it was, indeed, a woman--a female. Her skin was very dark, he couldn't see her eyes because of the steel rim glasses, but her nose was long and straight and her mouth wide. It was her long, fuzzy hair which was so strange. It looked like a big bird's nest.

He gathered his courage and asked, "If you are God, why aren't you living in one of fine churches in town that are called the houses of God?"

Again, the cackle. "And who calls them such, boy? The churches are nothing but man's puny effort to save his own conscience. Why would God reside in such confinement?" A long arm, covered with gray cloth, waved in a circle. "God's house is the entire world... out among nature and the wild things, for man has already spoiled his world and how dare he ask God to be a part of it?"

Dan was impressed and, while he did not fully understand, he was certain that no one else could speak in such a commanding and confident manner but God. Part of what the person said worried him and he had to ask, "I know that man is bad, but have you... has God turned from him?"

"You have been listening to too many ministers of the false gospel, boy." The person picked up a metal spoon with a long handle and stirred the contents of the iron pot. The small was delicious. "Now, shush. It's time to partake of this fine stew. When your belly is full your worries will be less."

The boy watched as the steaming hot stew was ladled out into two metal bowls, one of which was handed over to him, along with a large, soup spoon. The person broke two pieces of bread from a hard loaf and handed one to Dan. "When you fill your belly we will talk about what God can do for you."

Dan was agreeable to such a suggestion for he suddenly realized how hungry he was. When he dipped his spoon into the rich, brown mixture and tasted the first bite, it brought to mind the words of his father when his mother prepared an especially good meal... "Ah, 'tis nectar of the gods." Well, this was all of that and more. As he ate, Dan thought that this was the nectar of the real God and it was the finest he had ever eaten.

When Dan scrapped his empty bowl with the piece of hard crust bread he looked up to to find the person sitting on the opposite side of the fire watching him. "You ate the stew like a hungry wolf pup. Do you feel better now?"

He nodded. "Yes, thank you. It was delicious."

"It was my pleasure to share with you. Let me have your bowl and spoon, and when I wash up we will talk."

Ten minutes later the person in the long, gray robe returned to the flat rock to take a seat. Dan had learned in school that every living thing must have a gender and he was still puzzled as to the gender of his benefactor. He decided he would call her a she--even if he was not certain. A coyote yelped in the distance and she spoke,

"You came a long distance in the darkness to confer with God... tell me why you came."

Without fear or inhibitions, the six year old boy opened up about his mother having cancer of the cervix and how she was in the hospital for an operation and his father was there with her.

The tall, thin person, in the gray robe, listened intently and then spoke, "You have no faith in the doctors who are operating on your mother?"

He shook his head in confusion. "I don't know the doctors, but my aunt told my sister and me that there is only one chance in a hundred the operation will cure the cancer. That's why I want to ask God's help because I don't want my mother's life to depend on such a small chance."

"Does your sister agree with you, that you should ask God's help?"

"Sheila doesn't think much--she's only three and a half."

"Then, you are the man of the family at present."

"Yes, because Aunt Stella gets rattled and my father is at the hospital with my mother." As he spoke he tried to see her eyes, but the fire light still glinted off her thick glasses.

"Why do you think God can do anything to help your mother?"

Dan was surprised at the question. "Because somebody must be in charge of this world. Father Gomez, at the church, told me that God was in man's image, but I didn't believe him because, if this is true, God must be a bad person." He inquired boldly, "You are not in man's image?"

This time the cackle was nearly a laugh. "I am surely not. Did Father Gomez help you to find God?"

"How could he when he doesn't know." Dan nearly yelled. "He's a nice man and he told me what he believes, but it is all lies. He said that God lives in his church and I can only reach God by praying to him."

The tall, thin person rose to stand by the dying fire. She gazed down at the boy. "This is not strange for we live in a world of lies. It is sad that you should discover this when you are so young, but you must learn this truth eventually. Tell me, boy, what is the name of the hospital where your mother is being operated on, and what is her name?"

"The Good Samaritan Hospital in Omaha." Dan's young voice was eager, "Her name is Nora Scoba. Can you help her?"

The tall person raised her dark face to the sky and as the fire reflected from her glasses, she spoke, "Perhaps. You have heard that when a loved one dies it is said to be God's will--this is another untruth. It is Nature's will and this is not the same thing, at all. God does not interfere with the life cycle, this is controlled by the Laws of Nature. Yet, there are times when God can make a recommendation to save a life. We shall see. Let me go and put my hands in the water of the river and offer a powerful prayer for your mother's well being. You wait here by the fire for me."

She turned and dissolved into the darkness.

Dan's immature mind held little concept of time. It might have been ten minutes or two hours that he anxiously waited for the strange person, who claimed to be God, to return. The embers of the fire had ceased flickering, so that the area of the small camp was nearly in total darkness. The boy did not fear the darkness. He considered it his friend as did the coyote who he listened to bark in the distance. He felt a comradeship with the coyote.

The boy sat by the dying fire, thinking that he had accomplished his mission, but not completely, for God had not made an absolute promise that she would insure that Dan's mother survived the operation. She had said she would do all she could. This was not enough--Dan resolved to ask her about this.

These thoughts were interrupted when Dan sensed he was not alone, then the odd, female voice of God, saying, "You have been very patient, boy. I have sent out a powerful prayer concerning Nora Scoba at the Good Samaritan Hospital."

Dan rose to face the tall, dim figure that had materialized before him. He spoke with excitement, "Then my mother will be all right? The cancer will stop and she will not die? You promise?"

"Alas, little is guaranteed in man's unstable world, but I have transmitted a very powerful prayer. In order that it may be successful you, too, must have strong faith for your mother's fight against death... you must believe."

Dan was elated--he had God's word. "I do believe, but I must get back to our house and tell... "

He was interrupted by the strong voice. "No, you will lose your way in the darkness and you are very tired. You shall rest here for the night and return on the new day. Come, we shall both rest."

He followed the tall, robed figure to a nearby clump of trees where, in the darkness, he could make out the outline of a makeshift camp. A market shopping cart which supported a tarpaulin, that was tied on both corners to a small tree. The tarpaulin provided cover for the bed on the ground beneath.

Dan's young body was too tired for him to argue. In the darkness, the rough bed looked inviting and he quickly stepped out of his sneakers to crawl beneath the quilt. When his head rested on the small pillow, he mumbled,

"When I told the priest that I thought God was a women, he said I was wrong. That God must be in man's image... he was wrong, wasn't he?"

He sensed the tall figure sat on the quilt next to where he lay, then he heard her speak. "Yes, he was wrong, but it understandable that man must think of the creator as being in his own image because of his ego and vanity. The human male has always thought of himself as superior, where, in fact, it is the female who is superior. For is there any doubt that the female is the propagator of life? Therefore, since the female is the creator of the life of her species, is it not common sense to believe that the supreme creator is female?"

Just before Dan lapsed off into deep slumber, he heard the words in the darkness. "It is logic--God cannot be other than female. Always remember this, boy."

The bright morning sun bathing the flat river bed woke the boy. He sat up, finding the heavy quilt gone, with a light, tattered blanket in it's place. The reason the sun shone so brightly on him was because the covering tarpaulin was gone, as was the market cart. He realized the entire camp site was gone--including God.

Dan was not alarmed, for he knew that God must have business elsewhere. He stood up, facing the rising sun, to orient himself. The river was south of his house and if he was to go in the right direction he must keep his right side to the sun. He folded the thin blanket neatly and tucked it under his arm before he started walking. It was twenty minutes past ten o'clock when Dan went up the front steps of his home and opened the front door. His sister stood in the living room with her back toward him. She turned when he shut the door and came running up to throw her small arms around him and squeal, "Oh, Dan, you're home. Aunt Martha was so worried and mad, too. Oh, Dan, Mommy is okay... she's okay."

Dan was about to give the little girl a kiss when he heard his aunt's voice. She was trying to sound stern. "Daniel Scoba, where in the devil have you been? You've been gone the entire night. Why, we had the police out, looking everywhere for you. I must call and tell them you're home."

The woman turned toward the telephone on the buffet and paused to sniff. "You deserve a sound spanking, Daniel, but I can't be mad at you because of the wonderful news we had this morning. Doctor Pakus, from the hospital in Omaha, called and said when they operated on your mother late last night. It was just in time and he said it was a miracle they were able to remove all the malignancy. Isn't that wonderful? Your mother is going to be all right."

Martha wiped her eyes with her handkerchief and made the call to the police station. She paused to hold up the phone and turn to Dan. "They want to know where you were all night."

Dan had his arm around his little sister. "Tell them I was down at the river with God."

She shook her head. "You're a crazy boy, Daniel."

[end]