Saving Memories

I looked at my old Sunday school teacher's stricken expression, frozen on the other side of my front door. I wondered what had brought this ultra-religious old bat all the way to my doorstep. I was sure a church-related topic appealed to her but I tried to keep my distance anyway. To her credit, though, I suppose she felt that it was important to try as many different people as possible if it meant keeping our titular church from shutting down on account of a lack of attendance.

I didn't go to church. God was nothing more than a word to me. Of course, I hadn't heard the word in over a decade so who was I to say? Plenty of people did. Most of them were somewhat religious because it was what their parents told them. But some of them didn't care because they didn't want to be controlled, and I'm fairly sure I wasn't going to be falling into that group.

Even so, I opened the door.

She looked up at me apologetically. I figured she felt bad for bumbling into me like this. I know it was a bother to have to track me down to ask me to help out with a church.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I just couldn't get anyone else to help me."

I made a dismissive gesture with my hand.

"That's fine," I said. "Whatever you need."

"John, you can't do this," she said. "I have done this so many times before and it's never worked out. Sometimes I have to face the fact that I can't save them all."

Her voice was wavering and I knew that this was a fight for her as much as it was for me. But as a member of society as a whole, I had to speak up.

"I would do anything to help you, any time, any place!"

She looked relieved. I figured I had been the savior she had been praying for all this time.

"Thank you, John," she said. "You've brought me a great gift."

"I am just glad that I could help you, Marty," I replied.

"Thank you," she said. Then she opened her bag and pulled out a small box. She held it out to me.

"I know that you're not really a religious person. But it will always mean a lot to me unless you can legally give this back to me."

I took the box and noticed that it looked like a very expensive ring box. I had had enough experience with jewelry from worldly people that I knew the ring inside must be well-made and expensive. Being a novice to the subject, I knew I had never seen a ring like it. But when I opened the lid, I saw that it was a beautiful, delicate gold ring with an engraving on it.

"Marty, I..."

"Please John," she said. "Take it. I know the reverse side is written in the language that the ancient people once used so that you can keep those memories too. This will always be the ring that you give me to give to my god."

Here she was talking like I was going to do something illegal. This was just too much to process.

"This is not legal," I said. "I am not going to steal from you. It's just a personal item. I am giving this back to you."

"I know," she replied.

She barely got these words out before she began to dissolve into tears. I had lost track of the conversation. I was still staring in disbelief at the ring. I didn't know what to do. After she finished crying, she breathed in and she looked up at me.

"When you told me about the church, I worried that I might have gotten the wrong person. But now we have a chance to rescue our church, but haven't all those people done so much for us? I don't think I could accept that my efforts all for nothing. I need for you to take it. A token of our appreciation. I know that it means nothing to you. But it's all I have to give."

"But Marty, it means something to you."

"I have this."

She held up a small cross.

"You're not afraid of death."

"I still think I can get you to understand that you have done so much," she said. "You are a very important person to me. You deserve to be rewarded."

I stared at the woman. I didn't do anything to save this church. The only thing that I had done was agree to try to help with something I knew nothing about.

"I can't accept this," I said.

She looked at the cross, kissed it and closed her eyes. Then she looked at the worn wooden box and sighed.

"Thank you, John," she said. "You have done so much for me, and you were so brave. I wish we could be friends."

And she leaned in to give me a hug. I didn't move at first. I thought maybe she was going to try to strangle me. Then I realized she was giving me a hug, and I stood there dumbstruck. But she suddenly pulled away and turned around.

"Thank you," she said. "You have become my friend. Thank you for everything."

And then, as she stepped onto the steps and I was left still standing there with walls of the house behind me and the pitch black of the night. I was left empty and without a clue as to how I had treated a friend.

I sat on the steps of the church, staring into the night sky, lost deep in thought. I couldn't decide if the ring could stay in my possession or not, but was finding it hard to imagine exchanging it with an outsider to whom I'd just met, with no legal reason to do so.

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