Staring At God

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Everyday life was hard and there was no sign of it becoming easier anytime soon. Despite this, our little village in the valley of the majestic Corna Mountains and the Soft Hills is a beautiful place to live. It’s the place of my birth and is named Corna City. We usually have about a thousand residents, and most are native to this region.

What had made life so difficult? The local steel mill, which most of the men in town had worked, had closed a little over a year before. There was no place else to find employment without commuting an hour each way. Those that did quickly dried up the available jobs as there were not enough being offered. Many were forced to live on unemployment compensation and government benefits, but the time was fast approaching when this was scheduled to stop.

Of course, with the mill closing people’s health insurance was cancelled. The government did offer a plan but no one in town could afford the monthly premiums. So, most went without and prayed they would stay healthy. They couldn’t afford preventative care and many just ignored any health issues hoping for the best. A few died who otherwise would not if they could have afforded regular checkups. Some were saved by the local hospital and doctors but couldn’t pay and became a financial burden on the health care system. By the end of the first year after the mill closing, half the doctors in town had moved away and almost half of the nursing staff had left. No one blamed them as we all understood they needed money the same as we did. After that first year we learned the hospital would be closing the following month.

At first, politicians came to town promising all types of help. We were assured our town wouldn’t be forgotten. Naturally, it was an election year. We were in everyone’s thoughts and prayers. After the election, not so much.

Not only were there no jobs, but we were in the midst of a two-years long drought. It was to the point that we had to ration all water usage. It was hard remembering the last time we had seen measurable rainfall. Our Lake Bonnivich fell to twenty-five feet below normal and was shrinking every day.

I know I can be thick headed sometimes, but it finally dawned on me that not only were we losing people as they moved or passed away, but we were losing the town. The population shrank to just over seven hundred. Our town was dying and there was no savior on the horizon.

Who am I? My name is Joshua McCubbins. I’m the preacher of the Haven Memorial church. It’s a small church in the middle of our town. It’s the only established place of worship in the valley. This has given me the opportunity to personally know almost everyone living there. I know their families, their likes, dislikes, successes, and failings. It broke my heart to see such suffering among those I considered to be friends. I prayed and did the only thing I could do, that is, place the matter in the Lord’s hands.

My church and myself was greatly affected by the conditions that had been thrust upon us. With our members suffering financially as they were, the last thing they could do was support the church or even me with donations. There were countless times a husband or widow apologized to me for giving so little or giving nothing at all. I tried to reassure them there was nothing to feel bad about as we were all in it together. As for me, I tried to do any odds jobs I could find, but there were few available. Since we’re an independent church, I have no larger organization to reach out to for help. So, I continually reached out to other denominations in nearby communities, and they helped some, but their willingness waned as time dragged on. Those were dire times indeed.

It was a Monday when I left home to do my weekly rounds to visit as many people in town as possible. As usual, I walked to the farthest point from my house with the intention of working my way back by the time the sun would start to set. All my walking seems to keep me fit as I’m tall and lanky with light brown receding hair. I think I’m doing fine for a man in his late forties.

My first stop was at the Fleming’s home at the edge of town. I was looking forward to visiting as I hadn’t been able to stop by in several weeks. It was a beautiful morning with the sun shining, a small breeze blowing, and the warmer temperature making my heart a little lighter than normal.

Vince Fleming and his wife, Carla, are two of the nicest people. They’re in their mid-thirties, and both are about the same height, around five and a half feet. Vince is a cheerful and humorous guy always willing to tell a joke, tease someone, especially Carla, and laugh at a joke that’s told to him. He has red curly hair, though it’s starting to fade some like mind. Carla is a sweet person, with black hair and black eyes. I remember when they got married. It was one of the first ceremonies I conducted at our church.

They were hard workers, and they too, had suffered from both of them losing their jobs. It was especially difficult because Carla was pregnant when the mill closed. They already had two boys and suddenly were faced with raising them and their little sister on unemployment pay and no health benefits. Neither Vince nor Carla had been able to find a steady job and were faced with their unemployment payments coming to an end in the next couple months. I always tried to bring them a loaf of bread or something else to eat when I visited them. They were always so appreciative of whatever I gave them. Vince would always make a show of being embarrassed to accept a handout. I know it hurt him deeply not being able to provide properly for his family, but Carla would always give me a hug and a kiss on my cheek.

As I approached their house I noticed it was unusually quiet. On a nice day the two boys, Vinnie and Carlos, would normally be outside running and playing. At first, I wondered if the family was at home. I knocked lightly on the front door as I assumed no one was there. To my surprise, I heard shuffling inside and before long the door swung open.

“Oh, Padre, please come in,” Carla invited as she wiped her eyes with a tissue. I didn’t move.

“Carla, what’s wrong?”

She couldn’t hold her tears anymore and started weeping as she explained how their baby girl, Zhuri, was sick with a fever. It had been two days, and she wasn’t much better.

“I’ve been washing her down to help with the fever,” she explained.

“Is she drinking any fluids?” I asked.

“Yes, some,” she replied. “Thankfully, she’s able to keep water on her stomach. But, Padre, our little girl is so sick!”

I followed her as she led me to the baby in the bedroom. It was easy to see the feverish look on her little face. I felt her forehead and it was warm. She needed to see a doctor, but I knew why they hadn’t tried to take her. Too many families have faced similar situations because of a lack of money.

“Do you have any medicine to give her?

“I’ve been giving her baby Tylenol, and it helps,” Carla answered. “I only have enough left for today and tomorrow and then there is no more.”

I nodded my head and promised, “Tomorrow I’ll bring you more.”

“Oh, how are you going to do that? You have no more money than we do, and we have none,” she offered. I could tell she wanted to be hopeful, but reality was hitting her hard.

“That’s true, Carla, I’m broke, too,” I said with a weak smile. “But, I do have plenty of Tylenol, including for the baby. It was given to me by a pharmaceutical rep. He wanted to help.”

She closed her eyes in relief and whispered, “Thank you, Lord.”

About that time, it dawned on me that I hadn’t seen Vince. I had been too concerned about the baby to even notice. “Is Vince around?”

Carla picked up the baby from the bed and held her close. Finally, she blurted out, “Vincent is in a bad place right now.”

“Hmm…what’s happened?”

She gave a long sigh and explained, “He’s at the worst I’ve ever seen him. You know, Padre, men like him try and try and when they crash they fall so hard. He’s been so strong through all of this, but with little Zhuri getting sick it’s all he could take. I’m afraid, he’s a broken man.”

“This breaks my heart, Carla,” I said as I fought back my own tears.

“I know,” she agreed as she started crying again. “We thought we were going to lose her last night. It was awful. This morning when she was better he said he was going to the hills.”

“He’s gone to the Soft Hills?” She nodded her head and I wondered, “Why would he go there and leave you here?”

“I don’t know,” she answered. “He took the boys and said he would have the Fishers look after them so I could spend my time with Zhuri. Padre, I’m worried about him.”

“Me, too,” I offered. There was no doubt as to what I needed to do. “I’ll go to the Soft Hills and find him. Maybe talking will help him.”

“Padre, thank you so much,” she blubbered. “Don’t worry about me. I’m okay here.”

I bid Carla and the baby farewell and started my trek to the hills. The Soft Hills are on the other side of our town from Vince’s house, but it didn’t take me long to reach them. They’re not very steep and are only a few hundred feet above the village. It’s a nice place to go as you can see the whole town at once, and actually on a clear day you’re able to see for miles. I wasn’t certain exactly where Vince might be, but the hills are not so large as to hide for very long.

About an hour later I was at the top of the Soft Hills and immediately saw Vince sitting on a large rock looking out over the town in the valley. He made no move to indicate he saw me. I thought he must be in deep thought while admiring the beautiful view. Trying not to disturb him, I quietly approached and sat on a rock beside him. This was a dreadful time for him, and I thought a gentle approach would be the best.

We sat together for several minutes simply looking out over the town below. I glanced over at him a few times and realized he wasn’t looking at the town nor the valley. It appeared as if he was simply looking off into space. He never looked my way but finally said in a tired voice, “Hello, Padre.”

I simply replied, “Hello, Vince.”

After a few more minutes, I finally decided to talk to him. “Vince, Carla is worried about you.”

Still staring straight forward he sighed and offered, “I know.”

His sullen attitude caught me off guard. He had always been a man who enjoyed life and was always the friendliest person I knew. This was not the man I had come to consider a close friend.

“Well, I must say, I’m worried about you, too,” I declared.

He didn’t readily respond but continued to look off into the sky. Eventually, he mumbled, “I don’t want you to worry.”

“And Carla?”

He gave a slight chuckle and replied, “She always worries about me.”

Now, this was more like the Vince I knew, even though it was easy to see he was not his normal self. So, I had to ask, “I pray you don’t mind me asking, but what are you doing here?”

Taking a deep breath, he softly explained, “I’m staring at God.”

I must admit this was the last thing I had imagined he would say. In fact, I can’t recall ever hearing anyone else say such a thing. It took me a moment to process what he had said and what it possibly could mean. Even then I wasn’t quite sure.

So, I simply repeated, “You’re staring at God.”

“Yes, Padre, I’m staring at God.”

“Why Vince? Why would you do something like that?” I wondered.

He leaned back and propped himself with his arms against the rock as he continued to look off into the sky. After another deep sigh he said, “I’m hoping he will look back.”

“And if he does?”

“Then he’ll see the hardship and misery being forced on his servants,” he explained. “Maybe then he will show mercy on us and bring us relief.”

Sometimes dogma and humane understanding collide. I felt like this was one of those moments. So, I gently said, “The Lord is watching us at all times.”

He shook his head and countered, “I used to think so, but now I’m not so sure. How could he be watching us and seeing all our troubles and then do nothing to help us? I have faith that God is a God of love, and the only way a God of love would do nothing is because he doesn’t see us. So, I’m trying to get his attention.”

I remember thinking Carla was right, and Vince was indeed a broken man. He was at his wit’s end grasping for any help he could find. It made my heart hurt as I felt so bad for him. Trying to help him reason about the matter I said, “Well, that’s why we pray. He can hear our prayers and respond according to His will.”

“Padre, I have prayed and prayed and then prayed some more,” he responded in exasperation. “I have always prayed and in the past year I’ve prayed more than I ever have in my life. It is difficult for me to believe my Lord and Savior refuses to answer my prayers and my family’s prayers, my friends’ prayers, and the whole town’s prayers. Why would he act that way? I can’t believe he would. The only answer that makes sense to me is he’s simply not looking our way.”

“I can see how you would feel that way,” I surmised. “For me, I see things differently. We don’t know the mind of God, but I have faith that he’s always looking, and we simply don’t understand his plan for us. Many times, he uses times like these to teach us a better life.”

Still staring ahead, Vince said, “Padre, I find it hard to learn when I don’t know what’s being taught.”

“He will show us in his good time.”

Vince was quiet for a while. Finally, he offered, “What you say may be true, but it doesn’t make it any less hard. We almost lost our dear Zhuri yesterday! Our only daughter who we’ve been wanting to have for years. That was almost too much to bear.”

I agreed with him and said, “Yes, no parent should ever lose a child. It’s heartbreaking when it happens.”

He continued, “So, I must stare. If I don’t then I will lose my faith. I stare at God and pray he will look back.”

We sat there together for almost an hour, with Vince staring ahead and me lost in my thoughts. Eventually, I asked, “Is there anything I can get for you?”

“No, thank you,” he replied. “I have a bag here with water and snacks and a good blanket for the cool air tonight.”

“I’ll tell Carla I found you, and what you’re doing.”

“Thank you, Padre.”

I stood to take my leave when he spoke again, “Why did God make it this way?”

“What do you mean?”

He continued, “When he first decided to create things, why did he create a universe where bad and evil things could exist. He could’ve made everything any way he wanted, and he chose to make it this way. I don’t understand. The Lord could’ve made it where it would be impossible for bad things to happen. He could’ve made it where we would have free will and still be happy and contented with no chance of evil being done. Why didn’t he do that?”

I simply shook my head and replied, “I don’t know. Maybe one day we’ll learn the reason, but today, I have no answer.”

With that, I turned and headed back to town. I went directly to see Carla to let her know what I’d found.

“He’s staring at God?” she inquired in disbelief.

“Yes, he is.”

She grabbed her mouth in horror and asked, “What if he makes the Lord angry?”

“I don’t think he will,” I replied in an effort to calm her fears. “He’s not being belligerent or even challenging God. I believe it’s his intense way of reaching out to his Creator. Who knows? The Lord may respond in a good way.”

At that moment, there was a knock at the front door. Carla opened the door and invited some of her neighbors in. They were inquiring about Zhuri and eventually got around to asking where Vince was. We both explained where he was and what he was doing. I don’t know if they were more shocked at his behavior or simply amazed. Maybe a little of both.

It was starting to get late in the day, so I bid everyone goodbye and headed home. That night I prayed for God’s protection over everyone and especially Vince and his family. I also asked for guidance as to how I could help.

The next morning, I rose early and prepared for my day. I left home heading to the Soft Hills to check on Vince. On my way, I stopped by and gave Carla some baby Tylenol for Zhuri if needed. She said the baby was better and she no longer feared the worst. Finally, some good news.

In about an hour, I found myself at the top of the hills and immediately saw Vince sitting and staring exactly as he was when I had left him the day before, but he wasn’t alone. There were at least a dozen other men sitting with him. They all were silent and looking off into the distance. Evidently, word had spread about Vince staring at God, and others must have thought it was a good idea, or at least, like Vince, were desperate to try anything.

I knew most of the men sitting there, as I recognized Manny and his son Joel. Then, there was Leonardo, Morry, Julian, Caplan, and Thomas. A couple I had seen but didn’t know their names. It was understandable they had joined Vince because the only thing they had an abundance of was time.

It was another warm day with no chance of rain. I sat with them for an hour or so and we all stared off into the distance. We all were trying to get God’s attention.

The next day when I went to the hills there were even more men there joining in. More and more came each day as word spread, including some single mothers who had lost their jobs too. It was quite a crowd gathered with at least fifty or more people sitting on top of the Soft Hills staring into the sky. Some could be heard saying a prayer, but there was very little talking as everyone was intent on having God notice them and their despair. I usually sat with them for an hour or so before I would leave to check on other people in the village. Before I left, I always asked if I could bring them anything. They never wanted much, as they all seemed well prepared with provisions and warm clothing for the nights.

This ritual continued for the better part of three weeks. At that time, on a Monday morning, I once again made my way up the hills to see everyone and join in. To my surprise, there was Carla talking to her husband. From a distance I could tell it was an intense discussion as her arms were flailing around as she talked. Even through it all, Vince didn’t look at her, but kept his gaze straight ahead.

When I reached the top I could hear what she was saying. It was obvious her patience had grown thin, and she was upset with him.

“Vincent, I want you to come home, now!” she demanded.

“What for?” he smirked. “I’d rather die here trying than waste away at home.”

“Well, that’s good for you,” she almost yelled. “But, what about me? What about our children? Vinnie, Carlos, and Zhuri need you. We need you home!”

“I need to be here!” he asserted. “This is the best place to grab God’s attention and have him help us.”

“And how long will that take?”

“As long as it takes,” he answered.

She took a deep breath to calm herself and implored, “I know this is important to you, but I need you home with me and the children. Yes, we’re struggling, but we’re getting by. We’re living, Vincent. That’s all I want, to live with you and our children. It matters not what we have.”

Without looking at her, he said, “We’re barely living. It’s been so hard, and in a few weeks there’ll be no more assistance from unemployment. What will we do then?”

“The Lord will provide,” Carla offered.

“He must do more!” Vince blurted out. “Every day for the past year I’ve worked harder just to keep us surviving than I ever did in the mill. I don’t know if I have the strength to keep on.”

Carla started crying and all she could say was, “I know. I know.”

He continued, “And on top of all that, there is little water. Eventually there will be none.” She cried even louder and sobbed, “I’m scared, Vincent. I want you to come home!”

I could see tears rolling down his face as he refused to look at his wife and continued to stare at God. So, I spoke up and interrupted, “Excuse me for butting in, but Vince I’ll take your place so you can go home and be with your family for a few days. That way there’ll still be the same number of people here imploring God, and you can come back later, in a few days.”

He thought for a moment and then said, “I don’t want to abandon the folks who have gathered here. We’re all in this together.”

“I know,” I agreed. “But your wife comes first. This is a little thing she’s asking you to do, but it’s very important to her. Please, Vince, please do the honorable thing.”

Once again, I could tell he was deep in thought. Finally, he said, “Okay, I’ll go home. I want to. It will be good.”
Carla hugged my neck so hard it was difficult to breathe, “Thank you, Padre! You’re the best.”

“No, your husband is the best,” I objected. “You two go and enjoy each other. We’ll be here.”

Vince showed me his bag with the food and drink he had along with his blanket. I assured him I would do exactly as he had been doing. They left and I took my place on the rock and started staring at God.

That night I came to truly appreciate what the people on the Soft Hills were doing. They had decided to work in shifts through the night. A few would stay awake while the rest slept. After a couple hours they would rotate, and others would take their turn at staring. They had perfected the routine so there was always someone staring at God. I took my turn and then tried to get some sleep without much success. The rock I slept on was hard and the night turned cold. Even wrapped in the blanket I still felt a chill. Yes, I’ll admit it, I missed my warm cozy bed.

I woke shortly after sunrise and decided to eat a snack before taking my spot and resume staring. The wafers tasted the best I had ever eaten. Then I realized I hadn’t eaten anything since the morning before. Even the water I drank tasted great.

It was at this moment I heard shouting in the distance. I jumped to my feet and saw Vince running up the hill. He was waving his arms and saying something. I couldn’t make out what it was. Everyone who had not started their staring waited on him to reach us. It took him a minute to catch his breath, but he finally blurted out, “They’re going to open the mill!”

Our shock gave way to excitement. Everybody started talking at once, so I pushed my way through the crowd and got to Vince. “What are you talking about?” I asked. “Everyone, please let Vince talk and tell us what’s happening.”

All eyes were on him as he explained that the Amalgamated Malaise Corporation had bought the mill and were relocating here. The owner, Arthur Davidson, said he wanted to hire as many of the former steel mill workers as they can. He said the company thinks they will be able to hire everyone who worked there, and plan on hiring even more from the surrounding area. They want to be open within three months and will spend a month training all the new employees.

“They plan on paying more than the old mill did,” he continued. “It’s all over the news this morning on TV.”

His excitement was contagious. Someone shouted, “You did it, Vince. You got God’s attention!” Another person yelled, “It’s a miracle!”

In my excitement, I spoke up and said, “It’s the Soft Hills miracle. I think we should pray and give thanks to our Lord for hearing our plea and blessing us and saving us from certain calamity.” Everyone bowed their heads as I led them in words of thanks.

Over the next week the local news picked up on the story about the Soft Hills miracle. It even made the national news. Vince was interviewed and explained what led him to the hills and staring at God. Our town came alive again and there was a positive hum throughout the community. I was never prouder to be part of something in my life. These were good, honest, and decent folks who deserved to have this happen. I remember thinking the only way this could be better is if it rained.

That following Sunday my sermon was built around the events that had taken place on the Soft Hills. For the first time my church was at full capacity, as Vince was now a local hero. He and his family sat in the front row and beamed with pride at my summation of what he had done. Then I discussed miracles, what they were, ones that had happened in history, and the possibility that we had witnessed one ourselves. I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say we all left church that afternoon walking on air. It was a great feeling.

True to Arthur Davidson’s word, AMC started right away renovating the mill site and transforming it into a modern warehouse to support their stores all around the world. To kick things off, Davidson and our state governor, Dr. William Steinway, came to our town for an afternoon of celebration and ribbon cutting to officially open the new center. Our town declared the day to be “AMC Day” in honor of the new plant.

A stage was built in our town hall’s parking lot to accommodate the event. I was asked to give the invocation and then introduce our mayor, Greg Baker. It was my pleasure to do so. After welcoming all, Mayor Baker introduced Governor Steinway. In his remarks the governor said, “We’ve been courting AMC for most of the last year, and they finally graciously succumbed to our offers.” There was laughter and cheering from the crowd.

He went on to retell the events that happened on the Soft Hills and asserted that it surely shows that AMC moving to our town was part of divine guidance. He continued, “At this time I want to recognize one of your own, Mr. Vincent Fleming. Vince, please join us here on the stage.”

The crowd went wild, and Vince humbly made his way to the stage. His face was red with embarrassment. I was cheering as loud as anyone else. The Governor declared, “Now, I don’t know if what you did resulted in a miracle or not. I’ll have to leave that to the experts like Padre McCubbins to answer. What I do know is it was extraordinary. It bonded this community together and drew the attention of everyone in our state to what was needed here. The results speak for themselves. So, with that in mind, Vince, I want to give you the Governor’s Award for Excellence. Mrs. Fleming, will you join us and help me, please.”

Carla joined them and the Governor had her attach the medal around Vince’s neck. She gave him a kiss. Governor Steinway, Mayor Baker, and Arthur Davidson shook Vince’s hand and slapped him on the back. They all hugged Carla. Of course, the crowd was as excited as I’d ever seen one, as Vince and Carla were one of their own. No one was more pleased than me.

Then the Governor surprised us all when the announced, “Now, we don’t want what has taken place here to be lost to the ages. We want to make sure that generations to come know the story of Vince Fleming and his fellow townsfolk sitting on top of the Soft Hills staring at God until he turned his attention to the dire straits of this community. To that end, Arthur Davidson and AMC graciously purchased the land that makes up the Soft Hills and has donated that land to the state. So, it is my pleasure to announce to you that we are designating it as a state park.” The crowd gasped and then yelled with excitement.

He continued, “The park there will be named the Staring Hills State Park. It will be preserved and maintained by the state and will be available for all locals and all visitors from near and far to go and enjoy the scenery and learn of the miracle that took place there. This will ensure that our children, our grandchildren, and their children will always know how one man led a group to reverently stare at God. In addition, a modest monument will be erected at the spot that Vince Fleming sat for three weeks to explain for all the events as they happened there.”

As the crowd clapped, yelled, and cheered, I couldn’t help but think the Governor just assured that every voter in town would vote for him in the next election. At that, he turned the podium over to Arthur Davidson. The founder and owner of AMC explained their business mission and how thrilled they were to move to our town. He promised good paying jobs with great benefits and AMC taking an active role in making the community the envy of every town in the state.

That day was the talk of the town for the rest of the week. Everyone was thankful, praising the Lord for His mercy, and making optimistic plans for the future. The AMC center opened on time at the end of three months. A month before opening they started training the new hires in town. It warmed my heart to see everyone who wanted a job working again. Vince went to work, but they decided Carla would stay at home with their children. I told them I thought Vince had the easier job.

As for me, I had to readjust my schedule of visiting families. With so many unemployed it was easy to visit during the day as most everyone was home. Now, with them working I would need to make my visits in the evening or on the weekends. To help with that, I decided to purchase a bicycle. It was still good exercise, but I could move around quicker.

Life in our town quickly returned to normal. In fact, with the better income it was better than ever. People were busy and they were happier and more contented. Even with unemployment pay, being without work makes one feel dejected. Work brings a sense of pride and accomplishment. I must admit, the results for me were donations to the church greatly increased. They were used to make needed repairs to our building. I give thanks every day for the Lord’s blessings and the town’s generosity.

Everyone was locked into a normal routine, including me. Wednesday mornings after breakfast I would sit at my desk and start working on Sunday’s sermon. This gave me plenty of time to formulate and research a subject to be discussed. It was about three months after AMC opened when I was at my desk and deep in thought on the subject of forgiveness when my telephone rang. I answered and was surprised to hear Padre Austin on the line.

“Hello Josh, this is Matthew Austin,” the voice on the other end announced.

“Well, hello, Matt. It’s been a long time.”

I had met him some years ago when he came to visit a church in a nearby town. We had dinner together and talked theology and got to know each other as well as you can in one evening. After that, we didn’t stay in touch only seeing each other briefly every year or so. Therefore, I wasn’t expecting a call from him, and I surely wasn’t expecting what he wanted to discuss.

After chitchatting and catching up on what each of us had been doing, he got to the reason for the call. “I was thinking about you this week and what you and your town went through when your steel mill closed. I was curious as to how the closing affected the community and what you did to try to help.”

“Well, it’s interesting you ask that question as we had a writer come to town last week. She wants to write a book about the staring miracle that took place here. After interviewing me, she spent time with Vince Fleming and his family. I think she’s still in town talking to other people who were involved,” I detailed for him. It was probably more information than Matt wanted, but I never tire of talking about the Soft Hills events. “As I shared with her, the first few months life in town was fairly normal with everyone adjusting their lives to no more jobs at the mill. Folks altered their lives to live off unemployment pay and that mainly meant cutting back on luxury and leisure. I think they did very well in the beginning.”

“How did they do as time went on?” he asked.

“Things naturally got worse,” I answered. “You know that old saying, ‘Idle hands are the Devil’s workshop.’ Well, some got caught up in that and made some bad decisions. They paid a price. But I believe the courts understood our situation and many were shown leniency that they wouldn’t have received otherwise.”

“What about most people?”

“There again, they were okay for a while,” I continued. “About four months after losing their jobs I started to notice despair setting in. In fact, as no jobs could be found some became desperate. As I made my visitations I noticed tensions increasing, especially between husbands and wives. It even carried over to the way the children were being treated. What made matters worse was when winter came and people started getting sick. With no insurance coverage anymore, the sickness of a child or another member of the family caused a great deal of hardship. I quickly learned how much everyone was hurting, physically, emotionally, and even spiritually. Times were bad.”

“Were you able to help any?” he inquired.

“I tried,” I simply said. “At first, being here on my own, I wasn’t sure what I could do if anything. So, I determined the best thing for me to do was go out among everyone on a daily basis. By regularly visiting the families I was able to see firsthand what they were doing and by talking to them I found out their thoughts and concerns. The more they saw me the more at ease they became. Eventually, I found them willing to share their deepest thoughts and tell me things I would’ve never heard otherwise.”

“I see,” he offered. “That sounds like a good plan.”

“It wasn’t long before I realized I could do more,” I continued. “Our donations were drastically cut. People had to watch their money carefully and I understood that. So, I took the resources I had and tried to spread them among the townsfolk. I didn’t right out give them money, except on some rare occasions, but I always had a gift or something to give when I visited them. It could be a loaf of bread, or some flour, fruit, and in one case some baby Tylenol. Just some little gift and I’ll tell you, Matt, you should have seen the joy on their faces from just being given a little knickknack. Of course, not all the time, but sometimes they would insist on giving me something in return. I never refused. It made them feel good to be able to give something. I really felt like I was doing the Lord’s work.”

“That’s amazing,” he declared. “Out of sorrow you were able to raise up comfort.”

“Yes, I think that’s true,” I agreed. “But I wouldn’t wish those times on anyone. Things are so much better now. You know, people still have problems they’re dealing with, but they’re not struggling just to survive. The Lord has blessed us.”

“That brings me to something I’m curious about,” he said. “Do you believe it was a miracle that happened when the town was staring at God?”

I took a moment to gather my thoughts, and then replied, “I really don’t know. It feels like it was, but I want more than just a feeling to be sure. Does that make sense?”

“I think it does,” he asserted. “At the least, we can say events happened that we don’t see every day, in fact, we may only see once in a lifetime.”

“That is true,” I agreed. “Oh, pardon me for getting wrapped up in our situation here, but I failed to ask why you wanted to know all about this.”

He excused himself to get a drink of water but was soon back on the phone. “Sorry about that, but I was getting dry.”

“No problem here.”

“The reason I called and asked about the effect the mill’s closing had on your town and you is because we’re experiencing pretty much the same thing here,” he explained.

“Oh, I didn’t know,” I said being a little embarrassed that I hadn’t asked about this at the start of our conversation.

“Yes, we had a company that had been here for years to suddenly up and move away,” he continued. “Just like your town, almost everyone in our little town worked there. Now, they’re unemployed with little chance of finding a job anywhere near here. The few jobs available are low paying, so just about everybody is living off of unemployment pay.”

“Wow,” I exclaimed. “That is awful. That sounds exactly what we went through.”

“I agree,” he said. “But at least you’ve given me an idea of what our future is going to be and what I can do to help.”

“Well, it may sound minute, but my prayers tonight will be for you and your townsfolk,” I offered.

“Thank you,” he responded. “It appears to have worked for your town.”

Then I had a thought and asked, “What happened to the company to make them leave?”

“Oh, they found another town they liked better,” he explained.

Suddenly, I felt a chill run down my spine. Could it be? I couldn’t believe it, but I had to ask, “Is that company AMC?”

“Yes, it is.”

It was so obvious and yet I had missed it. “How could they do that? I mean it’s great for us but they’re causing all kinds of trouble for you!”

“That’s what companies like that do,” he said. “They were here for twenty-two years but they’re able to make more profits by moving.”

“How? The cost of relocating has to be high,” I presumed.

“Well, it is,” he agreed. “But after all those years here their employees were making top dollar due to longevity and all the raises and bonuses they had received. AMC moves to your town and pays everyone more than they were getting in the mill, but it’s still far less than the payroll here. It’ll take your people years to match what was being made here.”

“Wow,” is all I could think of saying.

“So, there is a tremendous payroll savings up front for the company,” he continued. “Also, I’ve done some research and found your state has given AMC tax relief if they maintain a set number of employees over a seven-year period.”

“I’d heard about that, but didn’t give it much thought,” I confessed.

“In addition, your county and town has waived AMC from having to pay property taxes for the same period of time so long as they meet the employee numbers,” he declared.

“That, I didn’t know.”

“Further, your state is going to let AMC keep any state sales tax they collect for seven years for any products sold in the state,” he continued. “So, with the great reduction in payroll expenses, no state income taxes for seven years, along with no property taxes, plus any tax credits they qualify for, and the additional income from collecting and keeping state sales taxes, there’s no wonder they packed up here and moved to your town.”

I felt like all the blood in my body was draining out. Why was this allowed to happen? Why had I not seen this?

“I’m so sorry, Matt,” is all I could think to say.

“Don’t be,” he declared. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. You and I didn’t cause this. AMC did. Now, I think it’s corporate greed, but they would tell you: ‘It’s solid business sense. It keeps the company viable for the future.’ They have a history of doing this every fifteen to twenty years. This is the sweet spot for AMC. Even if their revenue stays the same, their expenses are drastically cut, so their profits greatly increase. Their bottom line looks outstanding. The company and the owners are happy, your town is happy, and the dust they leave behind is so far away no one even gives it a thought.”

“Well, I don’t feel so happy right now,” I objected.

“Oh, Josh, there’s no need to feel that way,” he said. “Enjoy the good times. Your town deserves it as much as anyone else. But my suggestion is to spend these good moments preparing for the bad times because they are coming. Fifteen or so years from now you can guess what AMC will do.”

“They’re going to pack up and abandon us the way they did you,” I acknowledged.

“Yes, they are,” he agreed. “Your town needs to diversify, bring in more businesses and not put all your eggs in one company basket. I wish we had done that here.”

We talked a few more minutes before ending the call, but my mind was racing about what I had learned, so I don’t remember what was said. I sat at my desk for a long time trying to think through all this new information. Yes, I had been leaning toward believing a miracle had taken place on top of the Soft Hills. Now, I was having doubts. Instead of a miracle it seemed to simply be greed. AMC wasn’t motivated to move here by the Almighty as much as they were by the Mighty Dollar. Yes, I know in the past the Lord has used ungodly men to fulfill His will, and it was possible he did that here, but it simply didn’t feel that was the case. I was devastated. My soul ached and burned. Eventually, I became numb. I had enough sense about me to want to get outside and breathe fresh air. So, struggling to my feet, I went outside and stood with my eyes closed and breathed as deeply as I could.

An hour passed and I can’t tell you how it happened, but I found myself at the Soft Hills. Evidently, I had walked there in a daze. I was standing beside the rock where Vince had sat when he was there. Looking out over the town below, I wanted to cry. I felt terrible. With a thud I plopped down on the rock and started staring off into space. Yes, I was staring at God. I needed him to pay attention to what had happened. I needed him to pay attention to me. Surely, he didn’t perform a miracle for our town at the sacrifice of Matt’s. Why is AMC allowed to play such a shell game with people’s lives? What is God’s purpose in this? Was God even involved in any of this? Were we so anxious to believe that we were blinded to the obvious?

It was one of the lowest moments in my life. My faith in everything was at a crisis. The words have not been invented to describe how emotionally distraught and spiritually troubled I felt.

I sat there staring for a long time not noticing the sky turning darker with clouds moving in. Suddenly, I felt something hit my cheek. When I reached my hand to my face to wipe it away another hit the other side of my face. It was raindrops. Before I could hardly think more rain started falling until it was a light but steady downpour. I looked out over the town, and it was raining everywhere. It was as refreshing as I had ever felt even though I was getting soaked through and through. The drops to me were a slap in the face to snap me back to reality and wash away my gloom.

Walking back to town and to my house I gave a prayer of thanks for the rain. People were coming out of their homes just to stand and enjoy the shower. They were laughing and shouting at each other. Children started playing in the puddles that were forming. Most of them were the women of the house as the men were at work at AMC. Some waved at me as I walked by. One yelled at me and wanted to know if I needed an umbrella. I thanked her but declined as I needed the rain hitting my head to keep my spirits high. This was the end of the two-years plus drought we had faced. Every week for months now we’ve had a good rainfall. In fact, one-time Main Street was briefly flooded. No one complained.

Over the past year since AMC moved to town, I’ve come to grips with our reality. Of course, I’m not happy with everything that has taken place, but there is nothing I can do to change the past. Our town is thriving. Just like I did when there were no jobs I intend to help all I can with anything needed now that there are jobs. I’m spearheading a small group of townsfolk to work on securing our future no matter which company comes or goes. We know AMC will leave one day and we want to be prepared, just as Matt suggested.

The Staring Hills State park is now officially open. It’s a popular place for people to go and draws folks from all over the state. The small monument is in place telling the story of Vince and others staring at God until he turned his attention to our needs. Most people in town believe a miracle took place on that day. I don’t try to contradict them, it’s not for me to say, but I can’t stop thinking about how our blessing was due to the price Padre Austin’s home town had to pay. Indeed, one man’s miracle can be another man’s tragedy.

THE END