SALVATION RANCH, Episode 1: Architect

100 GPs for correction suggestions will be added to automatic reward of 100 for a review.

          “Sir, the limousine has returned.”
          My secretary’s announcement broke through my scrutiny of the building plans for a new gymnasium.  Something about the plans nagged at me.  A potential for disaster lurked in them somewhere and I couldn’t see it.  I realized I needed some outside help.
          “Thank you, Phyllis.” 
          I closed the plans and picked up the file for the arriving visitors.  Jim Lewis, an architect for a successful construction company, was making enemies due to overwork and relational stress.  He had been sent with his wife and two children for an imposed vacation at our retreat center.  I closed the file and sent Father Paul out to meet our new guests.
          “Good morning to you all,” he greeted them.  “I am Father Paul O’Malley, a counselor here at San Salvador Dude Ranch and Retreat Center.  As the old saying goes: Mi casa es su casa.  My house is your house.  Welcome.”
          The family took in his round head of thinning grey hair, his black outfit with clerical collar, his slightly stooped posture, and his welcoming smile.
          Jim carried a moderate build on a five-foot-ten frame.  Sandy, short hair topped most of his scalp though patches were showing through.  A frown and lines of fatigue marred his pleasant face.
          His wife, Doris, stood a bit shorter with a slender figure.  She held her brown hair off her neck in a chignon.  Worry lines around her eyes detracted from an otherwise pretty face.
          The priest saw miniatures of their parents in the boy, Charles, and the girl, Helen.  Chuck, twelve, scowled, looking at one tennis shoe as it scuffed the hard ground.  Helen, at ten, gazed with little interest at the desert setting, her pretty face blank.  She obviously didn’t want to give anything away.
 
          Father Paul sent the family back to my office where I greeted them in my business suit.  “I am John O’Malley, the administrator here.”  I shook their hands and sat behind my desk.
          “The primary purpose of this retreat is to promote rest.  Therefore, the first order of business is to cease activity.  You have had a long trip to get here.  We’ll get you settled into your rooms then leave you to take naps.  Our valets will be on the lookout for watches and clocks, cell phones, video games, and other electronic devices.  They will lock these all away for you to reclaim when you leave here.
          “While here, you will be expected to follow our methods of handling situations.  We hope you will learn from our example.
          “Supper starts at 5:00 but you are not to come down until you awaken from your naps.  Jim, you especially must sleep.  Clear your mind and relax.  Doris, we will care for the children.  Set your mind at ease and rest.  Kids, at least lie down, even if you don’t sleep.  Come down when you feel hungry.  There will be things to do after supper.”  With that, I dismissed them to their rooms.
          The kids, of course, came down first.  Charles sauntered in, followed twenty minutes later by his sister.  After they ate, Andy, our Farm Director, came around dressed like the working cowboy he is.  He coaxed them into some quiet card games.  At first, Charles kept wishing for a video game.  Eventually, he entered into the fun.
          Samantha, our ten-year-old, asked to join them.  I told her I didn’t want to expose her to the kids too soon.  She sighed and went in search of Dragonslayer, her special friend.
          Doris came down late in the evening and ate while watching the kids play.  She kept glancing at the television then her naked wrist.  We kept its power off for the first two days of a visit.  Complete rest forbade discord from the outside world.
          I learned the next day that Jim didn’t get anything to eat until after midnight when the night watchman warmed up leftovers for him.  With nothing else to do until morning, Jim returned to bed.
          The next day, the Lewis family straggled in for breakfast.  Doris joined the children and Andy for a couple kids games until Jim finished his meal.  At that point, Andy said I would like to meet with them in a few minutes.
          “Why don’t ya’ll go freshen up an’ meet in th’ office when yer done.”
          Jim asked, “What, in ten minutes?”  He glanced at his naked wrist.
          “Oh, whenever ya’ll get there.  Theh’s no rush.”  Andy bared his lop-sided grin.
          I greeted them in my shirtsleeves when they arrived.
          “How are things going?  Is everything satisfactory?”
          The others looked at Jim who appeared rather less fatigued than the day before.  He frowned.
          “I’m worried about things at the office.  I had to leave important projects behind to come on this…this…vacation.”
          I nodded briskly.  “I certainly understand.  I have many projects in progress here and often can’t work on them when I want.  Surely you have people to whom you delegated various tasks?”
          He shook his head.  “I’m of the mind that if you want it to be done right, you have to do it yourself.”
          I nodded in agreement.  “I have felt that way myself.  However, if you’re not there, how will they know what to do – let alone how to do it?”
          I shifted position to shift the conversation.  “But that is not here.  You seem less fatigued.  A couple more days of rest will put you back in good shape to handle other issues.”
          “Doris, how are you doing?”  Her brown hair hung down in a thick braid.  Her face sported fewer lines.
          She replied, “I feel all right.  I keep wishing the TV was on.  I’m missing my favorite shows.”
          I nodded.  “I know how it is.  Samantha would watch television all day if we let her.  However, there are too many other things to get done.”  I refrained from voicing my opinion of most programs on television.
          “You seem more rested,” I told her.  “Do you feel slept out?”
          She looked thoughtful a moment then shook her head.  She also glanced at her husband.  “I could sleep more.  And I want to be there for Jim.”
          “Good, good,” I replied.  I turned to the kids.  “How are you two doing?”
          Charles sneered.  “No video games, no computers games.  What kind of a place is this?”
          I held my temper.  It was an oft-asked question.  “This is a dude ranch and retreat center.  Here we help people rest and come to grips with the problems they face.  We use the desert environment, the animals, and various activities to accomplish this.
          “Tell you what.  I’ll have Andy take you down to the corral and let you see the horses.  Would you like that?”
          “Whatever.”  He made it a groan.
          “Charles,” his father growled.
          I held up a hand to forestall him.  “Please, let us take care of your kids for you.  You rest and face your own issues.  Then you can better deal with theirs.”
          Jim blinked at me then glanced at his wife before glaring at his son.  He sighed in frustration and sat back.
          Helen had been sitting passively throughout all this. I turned my attention to her.  “And now, milady.  How are you doing?”
          She shrugged and looked down at her hands.
          Again, I held up my hand to forestall interruptions.  I could wait her out.  Warily, she looked up at me.
          “I’m OK.”
          Again, I waited.
          Finally, she blurted, “Can I…”  She glanced at her father.  “May I meet Samantha?”
          I sighed as I sat back.  “Samantha is a very special little girl in a special situation.  We have to be careful with whom she meets and talks.”
          Helen nodded and looked down in disappointment.
          “What else would you like to do?”
          Again, she shrugged.  “Whatever.  I suppose I could go see the horses with Charlie.”
          “If that suits you,” I replied.  “Remember, if any of you has something you want to talk about, call on Father Paul.  It doesn’t need to be confession.  He’s good at just listening to people’s problems.  If you want to speak to a Protestant minister instead, Andy is ordained as well.”
          With that, I stood to dismiss them and to send Andy to entertain the kids.
          Later that afternoon, Doris Lewis sought out Father Paul for a talk.  They sat down in the small chapel where he had been praying.
          The priest leaned toward her comfortingly and asked, “How may I help you, dear?”
          She looked at her hands clasped in her lap.  “It’s my husband, Father.  I sometimes think he doesn’t love me anymore.”  Tears welled in her eyes.
          Father Paul made a sympathetic sound.  “What makes you think that?”
          “He won’t talk to me.  I try to get him to talk about his work and he just tells me I wouldn’t understand.  I’ve never been good at math, so I wouldn’t understand about his projects but he won’t tell me how he feels about things.”
          Her companion nodded.  “So he rebuffs your attempts to help him.”
          “All I want to do is comfort him and help him deal with his troubles, and…and…he won’t let me close!”
          Father Paul laid a comforting hand on the woman’s heaving shoulder.  The pain of his own emotional traumas had taught him the need for being comforted.
          Doris blew her nose on a tissue from a box kept nearby and looked up.  “I wish I could tell you how things are in bed, but I don’t want to offend your…umm… holiness.”
          Father Paul replied, “My dear, as a priest, I have heard many sordid things.  As a young boy, I was even forced to endure such things.  And my holiness – as you call it – comes from the One who set me apart to comfort the brokenhearted – among other things.”
          “Oh.  Well, I guess that’s true.”  She sniffed thoughtfully.  “Well, it’s just that I want our time in bed to be a comfort to Jim…to both of us.  He’s competent enough for my pleasure but then he turns away and goes to sleep.  There’s no emotional content to the act.”
          “So you feel used?”
          “No, it’s not that.”  She paused and thought.  “It’s more like I don’t feel completely satisfied emotionally.  I feel he doesn’t love me.”  She hung her head and wiped her eyes.
          Father Paul sat back to ponder how best to respond.  After a moment, he said, “Are you OK with giving your love without receiving back?”
          She sniffed.  “Yes, to an extent.  Our church teaches about unconditional love.”
          “Good, good.  Do you have others who do give you emotional support?”
          “Yes.  I have friends from church and the neighborhood.”
          “And you know God loves you more than anyone else could.”
          “Well, I believe that.  But it’s hard to feel it most times.”
          “Hmm, yes.  I’ve known how that is, myself.  The best I can do for you right now is to pray for you and ask you to keep loving your husband. 
          “You could also seek out God.  He is most willing to give you His love.  Imagine, as you pray, that you are a little girl inside.  Reach up to Him as a child and He will love and comfort you.  What happens to you inside is very real.”
          She nodded and rose to go.  “Thank you, Father.  I feel much better.”
          “That is why this place is often called Salvation Ranch.  I thank God I was able to help.”
         
          The next day, Andy appeared at the Lewis breakfast table in his cowboy outfit.  He wore a Stetson hat on his round head of graying hair.  He had on a long-sleeved shirt, dungarees, and dusty cowboy boots.  At his side was a small revolver in a holster.
          “Cool!” young Charles enthused.  His parents looked askance at the weapon.
          Andy gave the boy his lop-sided grin and turned to his parents.  “With yer permission, I’d like ta take yer kids out ridin’ this morning.”
          Charles crowed, “Yes!”  Then he glanced at his father.  “Please,” he pleaded.
          Jim looked at his wife, whose hair was in a ponytail, then at his children.  “OK.  I guess you’ve been taking riding lessons long enough.”
          “All right!” the boy cried.
          His sister beamed.
          Jim looked sternly at his son.  “You be sure to follow instructions.  Don’t go riding off by yourself.”
          Charles grimaced.  “Yes, sir,” he said sullenly.
          Andy introduced the kids to Maria Colombo, the young woman who would be riding with them.  He then led them along a popular trail.  “We’ll see th’ prairie dog town an’ th’ saguaro cactus forest today.  Now, it’s important, ‘specially as we pass th’ prairie dog town, that ya not wander offen th’ trail.  People or animals c’n get hurt otherwise.”  He pointed out various features and creatures of the desert as they passed.
          As they approached the expanse of the ground squirrel mounds, Charles pushed his horse forward in his eagerness to see.  Andy laid a hand on the horse’s bridle to restrain him.  The boy angrily jerked the reins, causing his horse to shy sideways.  Andy raised an eyebrow at him but the boy merely turned away, a rebellious look on his face.
          Near the edge of the field of mounds, the riders stopped and waited.  Eventually, a prairie dog raised its head out of one of the many holes that made up the town.  As the group sat quietly on their horses, several rodents came out to sit on top of their mounds.  Then the stomp of Maria’s shifting horse sent them scurrying into their burrows.
          Further along, the riders had stopped at the crest of a rise, admiring the dense expanse of saguaro cacti, when a roadrunner stepped onto the trail ahead and looked at them.  It turned tail and ran which proved too much for Charles.  He spurred his horse with a whoop and tore out after the bird.
          Andy yelled back over his shoulder, “Stay with Maria!” and galloped in pursuit.
          The roadrunner kept to the trail until the boy was close then darted among the giant plants.  Charles turned his horse and galloped after it.  He brushed past several thorny branches, unmindful of their needles.
          His mount suddenly reared and sprang aside.  The boy landed on his back with a thump that knocked his breath away.  As he lay panting, an ominous buzzing sounded to his left.  A turn of his head showed a rattlesnake coiled not two feet away.
          The rattler’s head exploded from a pistol shot.  Then Andy was kneeling over the boy, holstering his weapon.
          “Ya OK?”  The man looked concerned.
          Charles went limp, breathing hard, then winced as tears sprang in his eyes.  “My arm hurts.”  He lifted it to find several cactus needles imbedded in the flesh.
          Andy placed a restraining hand on his chest.  “Don’t move yet.  Can ya wiggle yer fingers an’ toes?”
          “Yes,” the boy whimpered.
          “OK, does anythin’ hurt besides th’ thorns?”
          “Uh…no.”
          “Good.  Let’s get ya up.”  The man stood and extended his hand.
          By this time, the others had ridden up.  Helen’s face streamed with tears.  Maria trotted after Charles’ mount while Andy poured water from a canteen on the boy’s arm and wrapped a bandage loosely over the spines. 
          “Ya’ll will be OK ‘til we c’n get ya back ta th’ retreat center.  Then Doc can remove those.”  Andy helped the boy remount and led everyone back to the trail.
          The rest of the family met me outside the ranch’s medical office where Doctor Wallace was treating Charles’ arm.  Helen snuggled against her mother’s side as the two of them watched Jim pace angrily back and forth.
          “When I get my hands on that boy…” he muttered angrily until I stepped in front of him.
          “Jim, I know you’re angry at the boy.  He disobeyed instructions and got himself hurt.  I would ask you to control your actions.  Charles is suffering as a natural consequence of his disobedience.  We prefer to let such consequences be the punishment for his behavior.  What he needs is a father who is kind and concerned with his injuries.  Can you do that?”
          The man glared at me.  “That boy has caused problems – again! – with his disobedience.  What he needs is a good kick in the behind!”
          I shook my head slowly while looking sympathetically at the distraught father.  “You may feel the need to kick him, but what he really needs is to know you are more concerned about his hurts than about his behavior.
          “I understand your anger.  I’m a little angry myself.”  I inhaled deeply to quell my own feelings.  “Tell you what.  Why don’t you come to my office later or seek out Father Paul and talk about how you feel?  In any case, I don’t want you to punish the boy.”
          His shoulders slumped as he nodded his agreement.  I gestured toward his wife and daughter who rose and came to embrace him.
          “Yes,” I murmured.  “They need this, too.”
          In a few minutes, Doc called the family over.  “He’s a little sore despite the local anesthetic I used before removing the cactus spines.  I cleaned the wounds and bandaged them.  Here are some antibiotics he should take over the next few days.  And some medication for pain.”  He handed two medication bottles to Doris and led them into the office.  I returned to my own duties.
         
          That evening, Father Paul stopped in the doorway of the lounge and studied the family.  Charles played Cribbage with Maria while the adults talked quietly in a corner.  Helen sat with a book but she wasn’t turning the pages.  Instead, she occasionally thinned her lips in a grimace.
          Father Paul went over and spoke softly to her.  “Hello.  May I join you?”
          Helen looked up, startled, then set the book aside.  She nodded and he sat facing her.
          “You seem unhappy.”
          She glanced at her brother then her parents.  She dropped her eyes to her lap.  “I am.”
          “Do you want to tell me about it?”
          She shrugged.  “What good would that do?  Nothing ever changes.”
          Father Paul blinked in surprise.  “No?”
          “No.  Daddy is always away at work or watching TV and doesn’t want to be disturbed.  Mommy’s always talking on the phone.  Charlie acts up and causes trouble.”
          The priest nodded sympathetically.  “And you get caught in the middle?”
          “No.  But I don’t like it.  I wish everyone would get along and be happy.”  She clenched her fists in her lap.
          “I see.”  Father Paul paused a moment.  “You don’t think God can change things for your family?”
          The girl shrugged again. 
          “I have seen God change things in many people’s lives because they came here.  I have had many things change in my own life because people prayed.  Are you willing to ask God to change things for your family?”
          She shrugged again.
          “Well, you think about it.  I’m willing to help if you want to learn how.”  With that Father Paul stood and went to chat with the others.

          That night we had a meeting of the Family to discuss how things were going.  We gathered in my internal living room and sat in our usual seats.  Father Paul and Andy took the sofa – the priest in a black suit but without his Roman collar, and the cowboy in dungarees, flannel shirt, and boots.  Samantha skipped in, wearing a pink jumper outfit.  She sat in the child’s rocker next to the empty over-stuffed chair set aside for Dragonslayer.  I, of course, took my recliner.
          I called the meeting to order and Father Paul invoked the presence and wisdom of God for us.  Then I began with a report on the business aspects of the ranch and about up-coming cases.  Andy talked about the status of the animals and upkeep of the buildings.  He mentioned he had something he wanted to discuss later.  Paul related the progress of our current clients.  Samantha quietly drew on an artist’s pad as she listened.
          Finally, I turned to Andy.  “Brother, what was it you wanted to bring up?”
          He sighed and clasped his hands, obviously disturbed.  “John, I need more time out ta do th’ things ‘bout th’ ranch th’t need doin’.  Now, I don’ wanna unfairly deprive ya’ll o’ yer own time but there’re things I need ta git done.”
          Samantha lifted her head at that, a look of desire on her face. 
          I said, “Samantha?”
          “I want more time, too, so I can play an’ talk ta people an’ see the animals.”
          I scowled and tightened my grip on the pen I was using.  There was only so much time in a day and we all needed to rest some of it.  We needed to take time to eat and bathe and do other things.  Then there were our various responsibilities around the ranch.  I suggested we all think about it and talk more later.
          The next day, I was out with Andy, looking over the stable, when I heard Jim was looking for me.  When I returned to my office, he was seated, looking rested and showered.  He smiled when I came in.
          “Well,” I greeted him, “you must be feeling better.”
          “Yes.  I realize I needed the rest.  And now I’ve had exercise.  Doris and I just played a few sets of tennis.”
          “Excellent!  So how may I help you?”
          “You said I could come talk with you about Charles.  What can be done about him?”
          I raised my eyebrows at him.  “You say that as if he’s the problem.  What about your part in all this?”
          His jaw clenched and his posture stiffened.  “Listen, don’t try to put any of this on me.  I have enough problems at work.  I don’t need my son causing problems or my wife nagging at me about how I feel.”
         I sat and looked at him, trying to project understanding and sympathy.  With my own sense of efficiency and organization, I easily saw others as causes for my problems.  However, I knew better.
          “Jim,” I finally said, “your family has been talking with Father Paul about you.  Now, he keeps such conversations confidential.  However, I have ways of knowing what is being said.  Basically, your family wishes you would spend less time at work and more time with them.
          “I realize that as an architect you don’t like to deal with the non-physical aspects of a situation.  You see a problem and you want to fix it.  Believe me, as an administrator, I can relate.  I am at heart a problem-solver, myself.  However, your problems, as I see things, are essentially relational.
          “Your wife loves you and wants to give you emotional support as you struggle with work.  She wants you to tell her about your interactions with people and how they effect you emotionally.  She wants you to know she cares as much as you do.
          “Your children are being deprived of a father’s love and are showing it in their behavior.  Charles is acting out because unpleasant attention is better than none.  Helen is compliant because she wants people to get along and be happy, but she’s building up to an explosion of fury.  I would not want to predict what could happen when she decides to make things change.”
          Jim sat back, stunned.  “Oh, God!  What have I done?  Jesus, I can’t seem to do anything right!”
          I nodded with more sympathy and waited as he poured out his frustrations over Charles’ behavior, Doris’ nagging when he wanted to rest, how hard he worked at the company to make things right and wasn’t appreciated by the people there.  Finally he wound down and slumped in his chair.
          I grinned at him.  “Feel better?”
          “No.  Was I supposed to?”
          “Getting things off your chest like that often helps.  That’s how Doris wants to help you.” 
          I looked him over.  He seemed drained.  “Between tennis and your umm…belly-aching just now, you’ve had some strenuous activity.  I would suggest you have some lunch and take some more rest.  We can talk again tomorrow, if you wish.”
          “What about this evening?”
          “No,” I shook my head.  “Your children need you to spend time with them.”
         
          That evening, Helen approached Father Paul to ask about praying.
          “I thought you would be spending time with your father tonight,” he replied.
          “He and Charlie are off doing guy things and Mom is watching TV.  I want to hear more about God changing things for our family.  And I want to meet Samantha.”
          That startled the priest and others who were about.  “As I said, we’re careful to whom we expose her.  Her appearance can be rather startling to people who don’t know her.”
          “Is…” she hesitated.  “Is she…ugly?”
          Father Paul laughed.  “No.  She’s no uglier than I am.  However, she does look rather different than one would expect of a little girl.”
          “How old is she?” Helen persisted.
          “She’s ten and a mighty prayer warrior for one so young.”
          I thought, Did he have to say that?  The girl in front of him seized on the information.
          “Then she can help teach me about prayer!”
         Father Paul grimaced at his blunder.  “We’ll have to see.”  He turned to call to Maria.  “Will you join Helen and me in the chapel, please?”
          The young woman put down the book she was reading and went with them.
          Father Paul took a chair from the altar area and brought it to where Helen and Maria sat in the front pew.  The priest straddled the chair and laid his arms on its back, facing them.
          “The Bible says that those who come to God must believe He exists and will reward those who diligently seek Him.  So, the first question is: Do you believe in God?”
          The girl nodded.  “We go to church and I have believed since I was eight.”
          “Do you believe He cares for you and your family?”
          She frowned skeptically.  “The way things have been going, I wonder.”
          The priest pondered a moment.  “In the book of Ephesians, St. Paul talks about God’s great love for all of us and about His cosmic plan for the Church.  In Romans, Paul said that nothing can separate any of us from God’s great love but that he makes everything that happens to harmonize for us who love Him.
          “In my own life, people have done things far more terrible than I think you have yet experienced.  Still, I believe with all my heart that God loves me dearly.  I also believe I survived those things by God’s grace in order to bring His love to other suffering people.  People prayed for me and I began to pray for myself and for others.  And here I am.”  Father Paul spread his hands to indicate everything around them.
          The girl absorbed that for a moment.  “So, you believe even terrible things become OK when God is involved in making them work out?”
          “I don’t know about OK but God can and does put a positive spin on everything when we seek His ways and His purposes.”
          She nodded her head slowly.  “OK, how does it work?  What do we do?”
          Father Paul held out a cautioning hand.  “Now, you must realize we’re not dealing with a cake recipe.  There’s no formula and results aren’t guaranteed to be as we would expect.  We are opening ourselves to know God and to seek His will.”
          “OK,” she said.
          Father Paul talked about opposition from evil forces and following God’s guidance in fighting them.  “In the end, all we do is talk to God.  We tell Him how great and wonderful He is and how much we rely on Him.  We listen to what He says about a situation and what He wants us to do.  And we ask Him to accomplish it all as we cooperate with Him.  While doing all of this,” he said, “you must believe God is doing what He said He would.  OK?”
          “OK,” she replied.  “I’m ready.”
          The priest and Maria began to pray, calling on God’s presence and work in lives of the Lewis family.  As she caught on to their method, Helen joined in with her own child-like manner.  It wasn’t long before she spoke freely and enthusiastically to the Lord of Creation.
          Then Samantha showed up.  Startled to hear a high-pitched voice, Helen opened her eyes and stared at the large body of the girl.  She glanced at Maria. 
          The young woman nodded and murmured, “This is why we are protective of her.  We would ask you to tell no one about her.”
          The girl nodded and watched as Samantha pranced about, shouting praises to the one she called “Dragonslayer”.  After a time, the strange girl settled down and talked to Him about the Lewis family and the many problems they were facing.
          “Daddy God, give Mr. Lewis the rest he needs.  Show him the cause of his fear at work.  Show him that his working so much does more harm than the good he thinks. 
         "Help Mrs. Lewis to faithfully endure.  Help her to believe You will make things right between her and her husband. 
          “Dragonslayer, reveal Yourself to Charles.  Cause him to know Your love is better to have than even his father’s.  And make Helen here Dragonslayer strong.  Show her how to fight for Your will to be done in her family.
          “And, Daddy God, I would like to be friends with Helen.  Could I, please, write to her and have her write back.  I want more friends from out in the world.
          “Thank You, Daddy God.  Thank you, Dragonslayer, for all Your love.  Amen.”
          Samantha beamed at the other girl then disappeared.  Helen goggled at Maria as the older female told her some of Samantha’s history and why she was in such a strange body. 
          In the end, Father Paul nodded his head in confirmation.  “If you wish, we can let you two write back and forth.  As she said, she needs friends from out there.”  He pointed out the chapel door.  “But for her own protection, we ask you not to tell anyone about her.  OK?”
          Helen nodded slowly, “OK.”
          The next time we met as a Family, I returned our attention to the need for time to do our various tasks.
“Let me ask you each some questions just to clarify our thinking.”  They nodded.
“Paul, what do you need time out to do?”
The priest rubbed his chin thoughtfully.  “My main function here at the ranch is to counsel with clients at their need and to celebrate Mass on Sundays.  Occasionally, I would want to keep up my reading.  Otherwise, I simply work to meet the needs of the clients.”
“Is there any part of that you could delegate to someone else?”
“I’m sure one of the employees could be tapped to meet clients needs.  Maybe Maria?”
I made some notes on the legal pad I kept handy and looked at Andy.
“I need ta see ta th’ care o’ th’ animals an’ th’ runnin’ o’ th’ ranch.  I s’pose I don’ hafta do so much o’ th’ work but I need ta see that it’s done right.  Roscoe an’ th’ others could do the actual work.
“I allus lead th’ horseback ride.  An’ I take people ta church in town Sundays.”
After I made more notes, I said, “I need time to run the administrative side of the ranch: soliciting new business, going over client files, ordering supplies and the like.  I could turn details like ordering supplies over to Phyllis.”
“Samantha, what do you want time for?”
She tapped a finger against her chin.  “I wanna be able ta talk ta people.  I wanna get out an’ see the animals, play with kids that come.”
“OK,” I said.  “I can understand that.  We’ll just have to be careful how we go about it.”
I turned back to the others.  “For now, here’s what I’ve come up with.  Each of us now deals with things as they come up.  It would be more efficient if we each had a part of the day to see that things get done.
“For example, Andy, you get up before breakfast to help with morning chores.  You could then spend the rest of the morning with handling farm issues.  Paul, clients are relaxing most in the evening.  That seems to me to be the best time to offer counsel.  That leaves me the afternoon to do administrative work.  What we can’t get done ourselves we delegate to employees.”
Andy lifted a hand.  “Uh…afternoons is when we ride ta th’ prairie dog town an’ saguaro cactus forest.”
“Hmm.  Ok, are you willing to split your time?  Do chores before breakfast and other work in the afternoon?”
“Shore.”
“Then I’ll do office work in the morning after breakfast.  Oh!  And whoever is available when clients come can greet them but I’ll need to talk with them before they go off to their rooms.”
They all nodded and we went our separate ways.
          The next morning, Jim Lewis returned to my office for another talk.  He moved energetically and grinned more than when he first arrived.
          “I feel much better,” he replied to my observation.  “I’m not so tired and things look much better than they did.”
          “Yes?  And how did things go with Charles last evening?”
          He shook his head in amazement.  “That boy can be a lot of fun when he wants to be.”
          “When he wants to be or when you pay attention to him?”
          “OK, I admit I was at fault there.  I’ve even written out some action plans to work on in my interactions with the family.  You know, spend more time with Charlie, pay more attention when Doris speaks to me, talk with Helen about what bothers her.
          “What amazes me was Doris’ response after watching TV all last night.  I thought she’d be as cranky as when I came home from work late.  Instead, when I told her how well things went with Charlie, she was all over me with compliments and what she wanted to do for me – in bed.”
          “Well, good for you!  I have learned that often all a woman wants is for her family to interact well together.  Then she is secure enough to give love all around, but especially to her husband.”
          “So,” Jim beamed and rubbed his hands together, “when can I go back to work.”
          I sat back in my office chair and peered at him.  “Do you really want to go back to work?”
          “Well, yeah.  Wasn’t that what this vacation was all about?  So I can return to work and be a better company employee?”
          “And how has this vacation done that?”
          He goggled at me.  “Well, now that I’m rested and things are going better with my family, won’t I be better able to do my work?”
          “Oh, I’m sure you will be.  But is that all?  You’ve started to change how you do things with your family.  What changes will you make in yourself at work?”
          “You think I need to change things at work, too?”  Jim bristled.
          “No,” I replied calmly.  “I think – as is true with most cases – things need to change with you at work.”  I peered at him intently.  “What are you afraid of at work?”
          “Afraid!”  He jumped to his feet, his fists clenched.  “I’m not afraid of anything!”  Jim turned and began to pace around the office.  He punched a fist into the other palm with loud smacks.
          “Jim, it looks to me like you still have some stress over work.  Why don’t you go work it off with Doris… um…playing tennis.”
          He grinned at me and snapped his fingers, playfully frustrated.  He sobered.  “OK, I hear what you’re saying.  I need to figure out what I need to change about what I’m like at work.”
          “Actually, I think you’ll do even better if you ask God to change you – at work as well as at home.”
          He looked at me sharply then nodded.  “Yeah.  I hear you.  OK, I’m off to see if the tennis court is open.”
          I grinned at him.  “For you, it will be.”
          When he left, I returned to the gymnasium building plans in front of me.  I still couldn’t see the flaw but continued to have a growing feeling of potential disaster.  “Dragonslayer,” I said, using Samantha’s favorite label for God, “what am I missing here?  Why can’t I see the problem as well as I usually do?”
          I was not much surprised to hear a quiet reply; I was surprised at what I heard.  Ask Jim the next time he comes in.
         
          After lunch, Charles and Helen watched Maria as she brushed down the horses in the stables.  The girl sat on a bale of hay; the boy climbed on the gate of a stall.
          “When are we going riding again?” he asked.
          The young woman glanced at his bandaged arm.  “You think you will be allowed to ride again after the last time?”
          The boy looked abashed.  “Yeah, well.”  He raised his head in eagerness.  “I can handle a horse with just one arm.”
          “But can you handle yourself?” she retorted.  “Do you have the control of yourself needed to follow instructions?”
          “Jees!” he grumped.  “You’re just like everyone else!  Nobody lets me do the things I want!”
          At this outburst, Helen got up and edged nervously toward the door.
          Maria called to her, “Stay in sight, please.  I need to keep an eye in you.”  She turned back to the brother.
          “It seems to me that many times, your safety is an issue.”  She indicated his arm.
          “OK, but many times, I can do the things I want to.  But people won’t let me.”
          “Then what do you do?  Get mad and yell and stomp your feet?  People don’t like to see that kind of behavior.”
          “And what am I supposed to do?  Let others just ignore me and not do what I want?”
          “They certainly won’t do what you want while you behave like that.”  Maria thought for a moment.
          “Tell me.  Do you know the difference between aggression and assertiveness?”
          “No.”  Charles scowled.
          “Aggressive people tend to argue and fight with others, seeking to force them into desired actions.  The others resist that kind of behavior, either ignoring it or fighting against it.  That is what causes wars.”
          Maria looked at Helen who had returned to the hay bale.  “Compliant people, like your sister, tend to let others ignore them or walk all over them and not give them the things they need.
          “Assertive people have learned how to tell people what they want in such a way as to not offend.  Instead, they let others know what is important to them.  Then they allow others to comply or ignore their requests.
          “For example, when Helen was starting to walk away, I politely told her what I wanted and why.  I didn’t accuse her of anything.  I was assertive with her.
          “By contrast, when I questioned your going for a ride, you got mad and attacked me as a person.  That was aggressive.  Do you see the difference?”
          Charles hung his head.  “Yeah,” he scowled.  “You sound like my mother.  She says I should be nice.”
          Maria shook her head.  “You still have it wrong, for two reasons.  One: I don’t believe in being ‘nice’.  Too often, people act nice and polite but harbor malicious intent.  I prefer to say people should be kind.
          “Two: You’re still attacking me with ‘You sound like…’.  A better statement would be ‘That sounds like something my mother would say.’  Or maybe ‘I feel like you’re telling me to be nice.’  You see the difference?”
          The boy nodded.
          Maria concluded, “So, why don’t you try ‘I feel like…’ statements and ‘I want…’ statements?”  She looked at Helen.  “You both could try that.  I assure you.  People will respond more positively to you.”
          With that, she finished the brushing and took the kids to the kitchen for a snack.
         
          Meanwhile, Jim stopped in my office again.  “How’s it going?” he asked.
          I shrugged.  “Oh, as well as usual.  Some things are going well.  Some things aren’t.  How was your tennis game?”
          “That was interesting,” he replied, looking thoughtful.  “I thought I would be nice to Doris and hold back so she could have a chance to beat me.  She called me to the net early on and made me confess that to her.  Then she said she didn’t mind losing to me.  She said that I play so well she enjoys watching me even when she is on the receiving end.  I guess I showed off after that and beat her with finesse instead of aggression.  And she called me her champion.”
          “Well, good for you…both of you!  But what about the stress?”
          Jim looked at me sidelong for a moment.  “You were right.  I felt really good after the game.  I decided things at work weren’t as important as I used to believe.”
          He held up a finger.  “Now, mind you.  I don’t think I’m the only one that has to change there.”
          I grinned at him.  “I’m sure.  However, at least you recognize your need to change.”
          I looked at the building plans I had ready then back at my guest.  “I wonder if you might help me with something.”
          He sat up.  “Sure.”
          I pulled out the plans, spread them out for him, and explained the problem.  He studied them broadly at first then in more detail.  Then he frowned and looked more closely.  His face paled and he looked up at me accusingly. 
          “What is this, some kind of trick?”
          “No,” I said, shaking my head.  “These are the plans we developed.  There is something in them I can’t see but I just know will lead to disaster.”
          Jim got up and began to pace again.  “Oh, yeah!  There’s a flaw, all right!  It’s one I’ve seen before.”
          I opened my mouth to ask what was the flaw but felt a restraint from within.  Not yet.  I watched as he paced back and forth.
          He turned to me, his face grim.  “This is just the sort of thing that keeps me at work late and makes me rough on other employees.  This is the kind of architectural mistake that gets people killed.”
          “I knew it!” I replied.  “So, you have seen this before.”
          “Oh, yeah.”  He looked at me intently.  “Can I trust you with a confidence?”
          “As much as with Father Paul.”
          He sat and put his face in his hands.  First, he began to shudder.  Then his shoulders heaved as sobs tore from him.  I drew up a chair and laid a hand on his shoulder just to let him know I was there for him.
          “Oh, God!  Oh, God!  Please, forgive me!  So many people killed!  Oh, God, I’m so sorry!”
          At that point, I asked Father Paul to take over.  He came and began speaking the words of the Rite of Reconciliation.  This flipped a switch within the sobbing man for a flood of words surged forth.
          Several years before, Jim had watched the television in horror as the news reported the collapse of part of a building he had designed.  Subsequent investigation had revealed a flaw in the design that everyone involved had missed.  The company took responsibility for the error but Jim took it to heart personally.  That was when he began to work late to search out such mistakes.  He neglected his wife and children and became harsh with their failings.  He confronted other employees with errors, though these were far from life threatening.  In fact, he saved the company from some costly mistakes.
          The day came, however, when the company president called Jim into his office and gave him a choice.  Either take a vacation at San Salvador Dude Ranch and come back reformed or find another place to work.
          Father Paul waited for several moments to make sure Jim had finished his confession.  In a gentle voice, he spoke, “It is true you are guilty of the deaths of ‘many people’ as you called them.  Christ has already borne the punishment for your guilt and, in Him, God has called you ‘Forgiven’.  You recognize that you have offended your wife and children and the other employees at work.  You are also guilty of – and forgiven for – that.  You are absolved of all your guilt.
          “However, I think you need to make restitution and acts of reconciliation toward those you offended.  Go to each of them and confess that you were wrong in how you treated them.  Ask them for forgiveness.  Those who love you will gladly do so.  Those who do not…well, God will tell you how to handle each one.  Now, go in the peace of Christ.”
          With that, Father Paul left again and I returned to finish with Jim.  The man beamed with joy as he gripped my hand.
          “Thank you!  Thank you!  I feel so much better now that I’m rid of that burden of guilt.”
          “Don’t thank me,” I protested.  “God is the one who brought you to this opportunity for reconciliation with Him.”
          “That may be true,” he replied, “but you were His channel of forgiveness.  Thank you!”
          He went over to the building plans and circled a place where several beams came together.  He pointed to it and said, “This is the design flaw.  This joint will have to be redesigned or the building will fall.”
          With that, he shook my hand again and exited, laughing with joy.
         
          A rested, happier family assembled at the limousine the next morning for their trip home.  Their sun-deepened skin and relaxed postures proclaimed their improved mental health. 
          Jim’s sandy hair glistened with the ointment soothing the sunburned patches on his head.  He looked around.  “I wish John were here to say Goodbye.”
          “He’s around,” Father Paul replied.  “I was sent to say Farewell in his place.”  He shook the man’s hand.
          Doris’ hair hung around her shoulders except for the frontal locks held by a clip at the back of her head.  The priest feigned shading his eyes from the brilliance of her smile.
          “God is good, is He not?”
          She replied, “He certainly is!”  She kissed him on the cheek.
          Charles twirled on his finger the cowboy hat Andy had given him before Father Paul came out to send them off.  He now stood still as the priest rested a hand on his head and closed his eyes for a moment.  Then they smiled at each other.
          Helen smiled as Father Paul chatted animatedly with her.  She patted her pocket where she kept Samantha’s email address.  Her fists raised above her shoulders and a murmured, “…Dragonslayer strong” were followed by a hug.
          Father Paul’s manner then changed and he raised his hands in benediction.  “Go in God’s peace, my friends.”
           With that, the Lewis family piled into the car and were driven away.