CLAUDE

"Jesus is why I am here.  I am not going to yell and scream about the pain and suffering the sinner has to endure for eternity in the fires of damnation.  What I want to talk about are the rewards of righteousness.
    Good people of Cantrell, open your hearts to Jesus.  Let him into every corner of your life.  Let his wisdom guide you in your every thought and deed.  For it is only then we can understand and appreciate fully the rewards of God's pure love.
    Most people turn to Jesus in the time of need.  One of his rewards for your belief is a strength to overcome grief and the other obstacles that jump up all too frequently in life.  Jesus is not a crutch.  Know Jesus through all your days and nights.  Live by Jesus’ rules and feel the joy of the giver."
    Jim's thoughts wander from his sermon.  He knows it by heart.  Looking at the people in the pews, he thinks to himself it is not his fantasy of thousands packing a huge cathedral.  That did not matter; in fact, he likes a small flock like this.  It is more intimate.  He can work on a personal level with each individual.
    He knows they will not always fill the pews like this.  Most of the men are here out of curiosity, or their wives made them come.  At least he will get to meet them today.  He will get Jesus’ word to them through his conversation and deeds, when he meets them in town.
    A little boy in the front row captures Jim’s heart.  Jim can feel the intensity with which this little boy listens.  The smile that appears on his lips now and then lets Jim know he understands.  The boy's eyes are covered with milky white cataracts.  The way he holds and moves his head Jim thinks he must have been born that way.  This boy is just like Jim’s own grandfather.  He remembers how swiftly the cataracts took his sight.  He also remembers after the operations the joy everyone felt when he could see again.  It was like a miracle to lose such a gift, and then to have it returned. He wonders if maybe he can help this boy.                             
      Outside the church after his sermon, he senses the excitement.  His first step into their lives has been a success.  He walks over to the blind boy who is standing off to the side listening to the other children play.
    "Hi, I’m the new preacher. My name is Jim.  And who might you be?"
    "Good morning sir, my name is Claude Mashell Bovair," the boy says, his voice full of pride.
    "Well, Claude Mashell Bovair, what did you think of my sermon?  I saw your reactions, and you seemed to approve," Jim gazed into the boy's eyes and thinks how much they looked like his grandfather's.
    "I liked it right fine, Reverend.  I have no eyes, but I see Jesus in my heart.  That makes my sight better then most," the boy says with surprising maturity.
    Right then the boy's mother walks up.
    "Good morning, Miss Bovair, I was talking to this fine young man of yours.  His insight into Jesus' love is refreshing."
    "Why, thanks very much, Reverend, he is a joy to all that know him, and his love for Jesus is inspiration to us all.  We enjoyed your sermon.  Claude said he especially liked the part about not seeking Jesus only in the time of need."
    "I am glad you all enjoyed it, can I could talk to you for a minute?" Jim takes her hand and walks over to a large tree a few yards away.
      "I don't want you to think I am interfering in your family, but how long have Claude's eyes been covered with those cataracts?"
    "No, not at all Reverend, I appreciate ‘ya all’ concern.  My poor little boy was born with those white eyes.  He never saw so much as one ray of God's sun, but he feels the warmth on his face.  We thank the almighty Jesus everyday for the blessings he gave my baby, and ain't bitter about the ones the Almighty in his infinite wisdom chose to hold."
    "Have you ever taken him to a doctor?  The reason I ask is my grandfather's eyes were the same way.  He had an operation, they actually cut the white, they call it cataracts, away and he could see again.  You see there was nothing wrong with his eyes; it was just the cataracts were like a film that covered his eyes and kept him from seeing."
    "We have no doctor here.  If Miss Ellie can't fix ya, we leave it up to the Almighty.  Besides we can’t afford no big city doctors."
    "I don't want to get your hopes up.  I don't know how this will work out.  It’s just that Claude's eyes look so much like my grandfather's it makes me think there might be a chance.  If it's all right with you, I would like to arrange through the Bishop for a doctor to look at Claude.  Don't worry, it won’t cost anything.
    "I've prayed for my baby to one day see all the beauty of God's creations.  If you think there's a chance, I want to try.  Maybe you are Jesus's tool for answering my prayers."
                                                      ************* *******
      The old car with Jim, Claude and his mother cuts across the early morning bayous.  The sun on the very beginning of its journey through the sky bombards their car in a strobe light as its rays break through the passing trees.
      Claude sits between Jim and his mother in the front seat.  His head is full of thoughts of sight.  Claude reaches over and takes Jim's hand as he thinks of all this man has done for him in a few short weeks.  In all his nine years nobody has given him so much as a hint that someday he might see.  This new preacher has given him something he will never forget:  hope. Claude wonders when and if he sees how the realities of the world will match the perceptions, he has created.  He thinks about his mother.  Until now she is a pounding heart when she holds him close, a softness and warmth that make all things good.  Could seeing her add to what is already everything?  Could the sight of a flower be more pleasurable than the sweetness of its smell?  He also thinks of the other side of the world, the dark side.  It has terrorized him since his earliest memories.  His mother in her love protects him from harm never realizing why he always stays so close, its not only love, but also fear.  Fear of the animals that are waiting to kill, and what she calls quicksand that swallows you down to the very depth of the earth itself.  Now instead of her just telling him about them, he will see for himself.  He wonders if the sight of them will be more horrifying, or somehow less.
    Walking through the church on the way to the Bishop's office Claude's mother cannot believe its size.  Even Claude in his darkness can sense the immensity of it simply by the sound of their footsteps.  Listening to his mother explain in such detail to Claude makes Jim envy for a moment the boy's reality, seeing through his mother's eyes that speak only of the beauty.
    The Bishop takes Jim into his office to talk privately after meeting Claude and his mother.  The Bishop has lined up one of the best eye surgeons in the state. He is stopping by within the hour.
    "Jim, I wasn't expecting to see you so soon.  We feel you are just what Cantrell needs; your youth and dedication will help these people strengthen their faith.  Sometimes you have to think those poor souls are damned.  Jim, please don't take this the wrong way and think I'm interfering, but I want to talk about swamp folk and their ways of looking at things."
    "Sir, I could never think of your guidance as interfering.  Any insight you feel can help me will be greatly appreciated.  I have been in Cantrell only a few weeks, but I can sense their want, and I love them already.  There's a misery in that swamp, and Jesus is the only good in many of their lives."
    "Son, the people of Cantrell are very important to me.  All God-fearing people in the state of Louisiana are important, but swampers like them have my heart.  I was born and raised in a town just like Cantrell.  Its like the swamp slows time, and the people's minds haven't come to the dog-eat-dog rat race we now call civilization.  These people live day to day in the hope their rewards come in the hereafter.  They don't expect much from life, it is like a buffer against disappointment.
    Men like us, the ones that get the calling, are just soldiers in God's army of love.  Make no mistake about it; the game is war.  Looking out over the battlefield, I am the first to admit that the war could be lost.  I anguish sometimes over our strategy; is turning the other cheek a weapon?  Can we keep taking a stand against the monsters of greed, bigotry and lust and try for victory with only love?  Mark my word, victory; not just stem the tide, and save a few.  Then before I depress into madness I look back through history.  What I find confirms and strengthens my faith and helps me endure.  I realize that victory is assured, for we have triumphed over evil many times.  Just as it looks like the darkness will control our minds, the spark of God's love springs forth and saves us from eternal damnation.  Our way sometimes looks impossible, when in reality it is the only thing stronger than the darkness.  It is up to us, God’s front line soldiers, to win the people and save their souls.  We do this by not succumbing to the easy ways of evil.  We do this by showing them the deepness of the peace for those who live righteously."
    Jim has great respect for the old man who now sits across from him expounding on the strength of God's love.  It is very well-known he has the reputation for the long wind when he gets started.  He got there by the powerful persuasion of his words of God. 
    "Before I get to the point of no return, let me get back to the good people of Cantrell.
    These people clutch at the simplest of hope, for any kind of easing of the harshness they endure everyday.  You my son didn't just offer them hope.  You tell them of miracles.  Your need to help and align with these people is very commendable.  It could turn on you if this boy remains blind.”
    "I understand your concern.  I thought about what weighs heavily in your heart right now.  This is not some grandstand play to try to win the people.  My own grandfather's eyes were the same way, and with an operation, he could see again.  This boy, it is hard to put into words, is not just some boy who needs help.  He is a true believer in the good, born in blackness, sightless of the evil that surround us.  A mother's shield that only beauty penetrates, and yet this little boy sees God's love better than most.  This little boy seems to feel despair for those who have lost their way.  This might sound strange, but you sir I think will understand.  It's like Jesus told me that this boy will see.”
    "Never let it be said that Jon Vincent Lamar questions the Lord's wisdom," the bishop says while thinking how much he likes this young man.
                            **********************
    The week that follows starts like a ripple and grows to a wave that carries all the people of Cantrell to hope.  Jim senses the relief.  It is a feeling like now there is light enough for all.
    Jim thinks this week has been the most rewarding of his life.  The way everyone got behind this endeavor is a miracle unto itself.  The doctor refused to charge not even one red cent.  The Bishop let Claude's mother stay with them while Claude recovers from the operation.
    Sittings on the railing, he drinks in the fellowship that is swirling and dancing through the early afternoon air.  God’s grace is so abundant you can almost reach out and feel it.  Watching all the people of Cantrell putting together a welcome home party for the little boy, is more than Jim even hoped.
    Jim thinks about the doctor, a man of wealth and political power.  Nevertheless, he takes not only the time but also a sense of caring to help a little boy.  A boy he did not know from Adam.  Jim did not have much respect for the rich.  He feels that they turn inward and wall out those who have accumulated less.  Now after all the doctor has done, Jim realizes that some like the doctor have become rich because they have a need to help others.  A man like him having money seems somehow fair.
      Watching the women work makes Jim wonder at their inexhaustible strength. They all pitch in, no general or boss needed here; their natural harmony will get the job done. Today the job is cooking and turning the starkest of deep swamp camps into a place decorated to cheer, embracing the very meaning of celebration.
    The siren and the flashing lights get everyone's attention, and they congregate on the side of the road.  Here comes the guest of honor.  Jim thinks how nice it was of the sheriff
to pick Claude and his mother up in New Orleans.  That just holds true to the unselfishness of everyone involved in this miracle.
    First, it is his mother, than Claude comes out of the car to a spontaneous crack of applause. The rest of the day is one of those days that will be cherished in a special place, long after it is history.  Even the sweltering heat of the afternoon is lulled by a gentle breeze.
                                                        **********************
      Claude sits in the overstuffed chair by the window.  He loves this chair.  It embraces him with a feeling of safety.  He rubs in gentle circling motions the halved carved wood alligator.  It was what his father was whittling for him when the swamp took him away.  Though his mother said Jesus wanted him in heaven, and we would all be together there some day, Claude cannot extinguish the pain of not having him with them.  As his fingers wander to the jagged teeth he remembers when his father whittled he would always stop and let him feel the progress.  When he showed him the teeth, he grabbed Claude and said, watch out, he bites ya.  He smiles when he thinks how his father howled with laughter.  He remembers his mother telling his father to stop teasing and scaring him but Claude was never scared.  When he thinks of his father, he remembers his kindness.  One of the first things I'm gonna do when I can see is finish this gator, Claude thinks.
    The thought of sight opens an avalanche of wonder for Claude.  Since the homecoming party two days ago he is still overwhelmed by the unity and joy of the whole town.  Sight must truly be a wonderful thing if it can make so many rejoice.
    He can tell the time called night is approaching.  The way the air ever so slightly cools, and the smell of his mother's crab cakes.  He is comfortable with the night because the darkness blinds all people.  Thinking what his mother says about the stars and the moon, he struggles to understand the color yellow and a big ball of light.  It truly must be magnificent.  Another way he knows that the day is ending is the animals start to sing their songs.  It is as if they are awed as the light slips away, and hope that it will return.
    "What is that?  Mommy, did you hear that?"  Claude’s attention is focused on the strange sound.
      "I don't hear nothin, baby,” Monique says, flipping the crab cakes.
    Claude hears sound differently than most.  Sound is what gives him a familiarity with his surroundings.  Why, he thinks, with all the sounds doesn't this one seem to fit?
    "There!  Mommy did you hear it?"  His uneasiness grows.
      "Baby sweet baby, all I hear is the sizzle of these cakes that will melt in your mouth,”  Monique says, oblivious to his concern.
    A putrid stink enters the window, surrounding Claude. "Mommy, mommy what's that?"
    "What's the matter sweet baby?  Something bothering!"  The stench encases Monique, striking her mind blank for a moment.
    "Lord oh lord sweet Jesus what foul dead thing washed up on our bayou this day?"  Monique says heading for the porch.
    "What is it?"  Claude is agitated as his bewilderment grows.
    "I don't know sweet baby.  Whew lord, the devil himself can't smell as foul."
    The smell overpowers the golden gray of twilight, as Monique scans the bayou for the source.  She senses something behind her, and turns around.  The sight of its chest and shoulders that is covered with open sores, hypnotizes her.
    Only for a moment can she look into the burning red, encased in black pools that are the Beast’s eyes.  She looks down in total surrender.  Her one thought, wake up, rocks her gently into shock.
    This will not do, it thinks, shaking her back to the moment.  One word bloats her mind sending thoughts cascading and smashing out of control.  Claude!  Warn him, no don't give him away, my baby, my baby.  What to do comes to her, like a scream rumbling across a vast nothing.  WARN HIM, and with that, the die is cast.
    Claude hears a gushing sound.  Born blind with only imagination for eyes, He could go far beyond reality, not anchored with sight like the rest of us.  Even without boundaries, he cannot conjure up a vision of what is happening on the porch.
    The Beast has torn Monique's head off with effortless ease.  Then it squeezes her and squeezes her sending the blood squirting through her opened neck, only to come down like red rain around the dancing Beast.
    "Mommy, mommy what's goin on?"
    "Don't worry Claude.  Everything is all right."
      The strange voice turns Claude's fear to curiosity.  "Where's mommy?  Who are you?"   
      "Your mother is outside looking for the smell.  I am Doctor Cain.  I am here to show you the world," it says enjoying the slow simmer of the torment this boy will soon know.
      "I don't understand.  Mommy, come here."
    "Now listen little boy, it is time to see reality.  I am here to take off your bandages."
    "No, no sir, next Wednesday.  Where is Doctor St. James?  Mommy, mommy,"  Claude suddenly feels sick inside.
        It drinks the desperation that is consuming Claude.  It can hardly contain the excitement fed by anticipation of what is to come. " Doctor St. James is dead, and your mother wants to wait outside, she is nervous.  I am very busy, boy.  I don't have time to waste.  Do you want infection to rot your eyes?"  It steps closer to take off the bandages.
    Instinctively Claude tries to push the hand out of the way.  Feeling the hot and sticky flesh adds panic to the confusion that already fills his mind.  He must be wearing gloves, Claude thinks, easing his fear, letting in thoughts of sight.
      The thought of sight overpowers the stench, the death of Doctor St. James and his confusion.  He feels the bandage unwinding around his head like steps taking him closer to the dream.  In a few seconds the dam will give way sending his imagination flooding into reality.
    The Beast relishes it's good fortune for soon it will be the first vision in the birth of sight.  There will be no joy in the realization of this boy's dream, it thinks as the last of the bandages comes off.  "Open your eyes boy and see where your prayers have led you."  Wave after wave of wonder fills Claude.  He does not know what the color gray is, but it is a variation from the darkness.  "I can see.  Thank you, Jesus, I can see."
    "Look closely boy, and see the rewards of your devotion," the Beast says bending down until they are eye to eye.
    First it is the hint of a twinkle, then another, and another.  The beauty awes Claude, as it halos the shadows.  "Oh God I see the light," he yells as his eye absorbs more of the vision. Focusing on the Beast's face leaves Claude confused.  I thought we were smoother, he thinks touching his own face to reassure himself of the difference.  The doctor must be one of those other people about whom his mother told him.  Maybe he is a black man or an Indian.  No time for that now.  Let's put vision to the names.  He slowly looks around the house.  Door, was just as he thought.  The window he imagined differently; he could not comprehend that it is there but invisible.  Table, chair, his mind runs wild with questions searching for answers.  Looking back at the doctor, his size and oozing flesh has no similarity to Claude's perception.  Looking at his own arm, he feels a touch of shame in being glad he is different.
    The Beast holds up Monique's head in front of the boy. The Beast’s mouth is frothing with thoughts of the feast this boy will provide.
    Claude knows it is his mother, for it is the face he touched many times.  The thought, she left me to fend for myself, pops into his head.  The thought is quickly consumed, by the anguish of forever missing her.
      It feels like a thud deep in his heart when he finally understands his terror.  He bolts from the chair, escaping his only thought.
    The Beast grabs Claude and shakes him with bone crunching force, to enhance the struggle.  It picks him up and holds him squirming to its sticky chest.  The puss burns his eyes like fire, and the vile taste gags him like invisible fingers clutching at his throat.  Claude abandons his dream of escape; going limp in total surrender.
    Out in the night, the Beast stands tall, satisfied with Claude's sorrow.  Claude, held in the hand of the Beast, holds his mother's head.  God, you gave me eyes only to cry, Claude thinks as the Beast takes off into the swamp dragging him along like a broken toy.