The Everborn - Nicholas Grabowsky [63]
Jacob Bradshaw resided with his wife Ellen and three sons, not including one particular daughter, across the church parking lot diagonally from the sanctuary, sharing a duplex with his fourth and eldest son, Jacob Bradshaw Jr., whose wife had recently given birth to twins.
If one were to venture deep within the hearts of each member of the Bradshaw clan, saunter straight right smack forward past their pasty-white English Anglo-Saxon identities and along the straight-and-narrow ramparts of their souls, one would come across an inspiringly wide breadth of space in which dwelled the simple yet earnest philosophies of their hearts. These were good people, the Bradshaws. And unlike the lords of the stereotypic evangelical world, a world, which they loved and prayed for but could not respect, the clan never bit off more than their fair share of offerings and contributions. To make a full and honest living, the Bradshaws owned a reputable landscaping business which also provided a place of employment for homeless bodies willing to work.
If homeless bodies were not willing to work but proven nevertheless capable of doing so, they would soon find themselves to be homeless bodies back on the streets and it would be their own damn fault. The Bradshaw philosophy was both simplistic and unclouded: they shared the deeply pervading responsibility of tending to the needs of the poor, and as long as they reached out in doing so, their ambitions were appeased. But in accepting the Bradshaws’ helping hands, the poor shared a responsibility also, the responsibility of catching a firm grip and lifting themselves up and into new and stable lives. It went beyond the old saying that God helps those who help themselves. It went more on the lines of God helps those who need His help, but limits help for those who abuse it.
The Church on the Rock’s example of servanthood and devotion to God and to neighbor had spawned an aura of foremost reputation, drawing members from as far as Burbank and the San Fernando Valley. Food and shelter was abundant and in heightened spirituality there was even more profound a wealth. Through experience and conviction, the Bradshaws were convinced that a relationship with God proved a deterrent against irresponsibility, homelessness, drug abuse, teenage pregnancy, and even illness. There was something about the power in the goodness that hid behind the traditional scheme of things and although the Bible was by all means a source of explanation, the power itself was admittedly a mystery not entirely solved.
Then again, a good thing going should not be questioned too much, once it gets going.
As for bad things....
...they are another story.
***
The last several years had seen the wretch of a man who now called himself Scratch as a mere street vagrant, a vagabond of sorts, a fellow American who’s down on his luck and would like to borrow a few quarters for a cup o’ coffee. Everything before this, even to himself, was nestled under the umbrella of enigma and uncertainty. This past was something he cared to share with no one; he was not the kind of person loose-lipped over what kind of a person he was and the past had a great deal to do with all that. He was introverted and secretive. He always had been.
There was a certain section of the sanctuary building, an extension of what had been the auto center, constructed along the flank opposite the parking lot and facing the street. This extension was composed of two floors and a storage attic. The first floor served merely as an expansion for the sanctuary, a necessity evoked by a thriving service attendance rate. The floor above occasionally provided sufficient space for choir practice, particularly when the sanctuary was occupied by other interests, such