Have you ever felt like a square peg in a round hole? Well...
Kate is at a crossroads. A lapse in judgement has her clashing with management at Westbrook Community Justice Service, her offer to accommodate a client in her own home breaching department regulations. Not only does this infuriate her team leader, but it provides the clever, charismatic department psychologist, Dr Paul Leeuwin, yet another opportunity to heap scorn on her world view and rubbish her belief in God.
The pressure increases when she dares to question a church leadership decision to fund an extension, seemingly ignoring needy families in the surrounding suburbs. Her concerns dismissed, she falls out with friends when she suggests the community could be better served if the money was spent on a parachurch organisation. In conflict at work and at odds with fellow believers, what is God trying to tell her?
On leave, volunteering with a local charity, the same friends who’d been offended by her comments in the past now approach her, wanting to further investigate the idea of setting up a ‘not-for-profit’ outreach centre. Things develop in a way she could never have envisaged and when Dr Paul Leeuwin arrives at her door in a distraught state, a new chapter opens in both their lives, with lasting ramifications.
More Than Sparrows is not like other novels in that it is pulls no punches about the gospel message. The story tracks several characters on their journey towards God, others as they turn away from Him, their experiences of life causing them to stumble, their eyes firmly shut against Truth when it’s offered to them.
It confronts the issue of denominational division, illustrating how it is possible for churches to work together, unified by the desire to serve others rather than build ‘empires.’ It deals with social issues in a forthright and honest manner and questions the use of funding and whether current practices honour God or not. It is not a novel centred on romance though it is embedded in the story.
My favourite part of the book is the ending. Several difficult situations/relationships are resolved, loose ends tied up, and the lead characters conflicts and differences evaporate in the light of unexpected developments which neither one could have anticipated.
“Flaming hell, Carl! She’s gone and got herself pregnant! I... I couldn’t believe it when she told me. The first term is barely over, and she’s up the spout already!”
Carl watched Adam pacing the shop floor, a broom in his hand, but there wasn’t much sweeping going on. “Why did she tell you?”
He shrugged. “She needed money and she couldn’t think of anyone else to hit.” He glanced at Carl. “It’s not mine!”
“Did you give her any money?”
“No!” He looked down at the pile of dirt on the floor. “I knew what she was going to do with it.”
“What was that?”
“She... she wanted the money to get rid of it.”
“To have an abortion?”
“Yes.”
Carl’s face clouded over. “That’s... that’s not good; any way you look at it.”
“No, but what could I do?”
Carl jumped up on the counter, pointing to a spot next to him. “How do you feel about it?”
Adam grimaced. “Well, she’s in a tough spot. I wouldn’t like to be her, starting back at school, wanting to be a nurse. It’s not the right time for babies, is it?”
Carl frowned at his ‘laissez-faire’ attitude. “No, it’s not, but if you fool around, babies come along, regardless. What did you tell her?”
Adam rubbed both hands over his face. “I told her I wouldn’t help her do it; wouldn’t lend her the money. I felt lousy saying it…. I know she’s got no one else.”
Carl grimaced. “She has other options, Adam. She can tell her parents—the Wakefields as well. They’d stand by her and support her through the pregnancy.”
“But she’d have to go back home. Quit school and everything.”
“She can go back to school anytime. People do it in their forties and fifties these days. She could adopt the baby out; help someone who can’t have kids. At least, she wouldn’t be killing anyone.”
Adam stared at him. “Is it killing? I mean, is... is it a person when it’s only a bunch of cells? Like, it’s only early; a few weeks. She said eight weeks.”
“What does your heart tell you, mate?”
Adam rested his elbows on his knees, his chin on his clasped hands. “I read some pamphlets in the church on creation; how evolution says we go through fish stages in the womb, but the Bible says each person is a ‘one of’ ... God doesn’t repeat Himself. We’re like Him ... born with an immortal spirit. He knows the number of hairs on our heads and the days we’ll live, before we’re even born.” He turned to Carl. “Is that true?”
“You tell me; knowing what you know about Him, what do you think?”
Adam scowled. “Oh, give me a straight answer, will you? This is not a science test. I don’t need the third degree, Jacko!”
Carl grimaced and looked away.
Adam moistened his lips. “I reckon it’s right.” He pointed to his chest. “In here, I kind of know it’s the truth.”
“That’s what I believe about you and me, about Jeanie... about your Mum and Dad.” Carl nodded. “About all of us. God puts the same amount of thought and energy into every person’s design.” He jumped down off the bench and pulled a book out of his backpack, flicking through the pages. “I bought this book when we thought Jeanie was expecting, but it didn’t happen. Half the book is about the stages of development, the other half, boys and girl’s names. Read that.”
Adam studied the print of a tiny eight week old foetus and read the notes in silence, then he stiffened. “It says it has a heartbeat at four weeks and brain waves between seven and eight weeks. Its basic organs are formed, and it has a nervous system... it feels pain!” He dropped the book down on the bench. “I didn’t know it came together that quick. It’s like, that could be me in that picture, at that age… Kelly’s baby looks like that now!” He jumped down off the counter. “It’s not a bunch of cells… it’s already somebody. What can we do, Carl? What can we do?!” He began pacing up and down again. “I have to do something!”
“Do you think Kelly would change her mind if she read the book?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. She was pretty pissed off at me for not handing over the money. Said she’d have to find another way to ‘sort’ it if I wouldn’t help her.” He glanced at Carl. “She told me she’d get her mates onto me if I told anyone. I’m the only outsider who knows. I’ve betrayed her by telling you, but I had to tell someone.” He stopped pacing. “The thing is… she wasn’t at school today.”
###
“Hi, Mrs Anderson.”
“Oh, what a lovely surprise, Adam. Come on in, dear.”
“I brought some English notes for Kelly. We’ve got a test in two days and I noticed she wasn’t in class this arvo.”
“Well, that’s very nice of you, Adam. No, she hasn’t been well, I’m afraid. It came on suddenly and she had to come home from school.”
“I saw her this morning, but I didn’t get to speak to her.”
“I think she’s stressed about the break-in. Did you know we had a robbery while we were at church on Sunday?”
He tried not to look alarmed. “No. That’s weird. Like someone knew you weren’t home?”
“Yes, it was strange. It looks like they came in through Kelly’s window. She must have forgotten to shut it tight before we left. They took most of my jewellery. A couple of rings and one special opal Ted bought me at Coober-Pedy on our trip round Australia last year. It was the only one worth anything, but it was more the sentimental value. It was for our forty-fifth wedding anniversary. Still, it could have been worse. Kelly could have been home alone.”
“Gee, that’s rough. Did you call the police?”
“Oh, yes, but we’re not very hopeful. They didn’t find any prints on anything; it’s covered by insurance, anyway.” Mrs Anderson grimaced. “Yes, she came home at lunchtime. A friend drove her home. She had stomach cramps. I expect you know about period pain, do you, Adam? Learn about it in those sex education classes?”
Adam rubbed his head. “Yeah. Is she okay now?”
“She’s still in bed, but I think the cramps are a lot better. She’s had some Paracetamol, and that seems to have done the trick, although this one’s been quite severe. Go on down and knock on her door, dear. I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you.”
“Thanks, Mrs Anderson.” Adam stared at the tiny wall-tile fixed to the bedroom door with Kelly’s name written on it. He took a deep breath and knocked.
“Come in.”
The room was pastel pink, the curtains tied back with ribbons; the light muted by a fringed lamp on the bedside table. There were angel prints on the walls and soft cushions piled up on a bench seat under the bay window overlooking the garden. A feminine room, perfect for a girl like Kelly. She was sitting up in bed with a hot-water bottle on her stomach, frowning as soon as she saw him. “What are you doing here!?”
He closed the door and stood at the foot of her bed. “I noticed you weren’t at school. I wondered if everything was okay.”
“Sure you did.”
He unzipped his bag and fished out some sheets of paper. “I told Mrs Anderson I bought some English notes for you…. photocopied mine.” His hands lingered on the book Carl had given him. “And I brought you a book to read.”
“What about?”
He swallowed hard. “About babies.”
Her stare was stony. “I don’t need a book about babies, you idiot!” She stared down at the water-bottle on her belly. “There is no baby anymore. You’re too late with your baby book.” She closed her eyes and leaned against the pillows supporting her back.
His hands shook, and he turned away, dropping the notes down onto her study desk.
“I took care of it like I said I would; without your help.” She pulled a face. “I got the money.”
He zipped up his bag and swung it over his shoulder. “Yeah, I guess Mrs Anderson’s opal ring fetched a fair price at the hock shop.”
She hissed at him. “Get out of here, you loser. Get out, do you hear?”
He moved towards the door. “I could always lend you the money to get the ring back.” He looked straight ahead. “It might make you feel better.”
“What do you care how I feel? It’s none of your damned business where I got the money, Mr Perfect. Take off, will you!”
“See you.” He spoke loud enough for Mrs Anderson to hear.
“Are you off already, dear?” She was in the family room watching telly.
“Yeah. I think Kelly’s tired, and I promised Mum I’d get back to the Jacksons in time for tea. I’ll see you later, Mrs Anderson.”
“Call again, Adam. Nice to see you.”
He climbed into the VW and sat motionless, unprepared for the swell of emotion building inside him. Unbidden images of tiny fingers and toes, of delicate, translucent features, rushed to the front of his mind. He could see a fragile, vulnerable being floating in the silent blackness of the womb like a helmeted astronaut drifting weightlessly in space. Each frame clicked inside his head with the efficiency of a high-speed camera. “Sorry, little one,” he whispered, wiping his nose on his sleeve, leaning his head back against the headrest, his eyes closed. Okay... okay, so how come I feel so bad? I have done nothing wrong, have I? What are You getting at me for? It’s gone back to You, hasn’t it... gone back to where it came from?