She felt she should tell him how she really felt. "No! She shouldn't," said another part of her. But she obeyed the first
impulse, and once she started talking she couldn't stop the words . . . or the tears!
Jill poked at her food after lunch. Her father had taken them all out to a nice steak restaurant after worship, and everybody else was hungry. Jill was too, but she couldn't eat. She was thinking about what had transpired that morning: being forced practically to play hide and seek with her older cousin, finally cornering him at the end of worship when they were all heading toward the car. She was hurt and peeved that Bill had chosen to sit with her parents, not with her! But she also had enough of a Christian conscience to know she was idolizing Bill over God! Why else had she been so unable to concentrate on all of the other good things about the worship service that morning. But Jill knew this was wrong, and it left her in an emotional turmoil.
She had been lectured before by her dad about the importance of paying attention in worship. She remembered his words well, almost line by line: "Jill," he'd said. "I won't always be around to talk to God for you or to listen for you. You have to learn to do that on your own. The best place for that is in worship."
Jill had learned on her own how important it was for each one to participate throughout. A few years before when the youth group attended a revival, she had had her own conversion experience with Jesus Christ. She believed Him to be truly alive and living for her. It was then Jill began to understand why her parents had raised her to learn to listen expectantly to the preacher's sermon.
On this particular Sunday, she had tried hard to do this, really she had. But Jill kept thinking of Bill and all that she wanted to say to him. He would be there another full week, but she wanted to get some things out of her heart and put them squarely before him without delay. It might be wrong, but Jill
felt she had to tell him what her true feelings were for him. She knew she couldn't rest until she had spoken to him.
Gene asked for a box from the waiter, and packaged up her club sandwich which had hardly been touched. "Uncle Gene," said Bill, sitting next to Jill and Danny in the back seat. "Would it be all right if I went fishing this afternoon?"
"No!" blurted Jill, but then covered her mouth and turned red. She'd wanted to say, "No, not until we've had a long talk," but couldn't say it in front of everybody else.
Gene looked at his daughter strangely in the rear-view mirror. "Fishing sounds like a good idea, Bill. I might join you over at the creek later in the afternoon myself. After my nap. Help yourself to any of the extra fishing gear in the garage. And I think you know you where we go to for worms."
"I know that, Sir! And thanks!" Jill gave him a hurt look, and he knew she wanted to talk. But about what? Bill suspected he would find out soon enough . . . .
When he had changed clothing and rested a few minutes himself, he came down stairway only to find Jill and Danny waiting for him in the room below. They were trying hard to act nonchalant; but of course, they failed. Jill's eyes were glued to him from the moment he emerged from his room at the top of the stairs. Bill knew as he descended that something else
pretty important stood between him and his afternoon of fishing. He saw she was wearing the same pretty polka dot dress she had worn to Sunday School. Bill was puzzled by that. Had she been so obsessed that she couldn't think to change? Or did she just feel like looking pretty. If it was the latter, she succeeded -- big time.
The girls quickly intercepted his path toward the back door.
"Hi, Jill, what are you guys up to?" he asked with a forced grin. "We're up to no good, Mister," said Danny trying to sound serious (but breaking into a giggle).
"Oh, hush!" said Jill, not even looking at her sister. "I want to talk to you first -- if I may."
"S-sure," said Bill.
"Hi, Mom," she said, casting a glance at the kitchen door, where her mother sat, looking at the Sunday paper and sipping iced tea.
"Jill, you look like you're going somewhere special -- still got your Sunday dress on," Margaret remarked.
Her daughter looked down and blushed. "No, I just didn't feel like changing yet. Bill, don't you like this dress?"
His cousin did look fairly stunning.
"I like it a lot." He was aiming for a polite compliment without sounding committed. He wasn't sure if he'd succeeded. "You shouldn't go out to the creek dressed in your nice Sunday clothing," added Bill. Margaret silently nodded.
"I know," she said. "Let's sit over on the bench in the shade."
"I'm going to get Jack and play some frizbee," said Danny, skipping past them all and out the back door.
When they came out onto the porch, Jill motioned to one old, green-painted park bench her father had bought at an auction. It stood away from the house about 30 feet, but under the
shade of some tall mulberries. Bill looked at the bench, then at Jill. "I'll meet you there. I'm going to pick up that fishing rod, a shovel, and some other gear in the garage first." She frowned, but headed toward the bench and sat down.
When Bill returned with the gear, he saw Jill sitting there, looking down. She looked sad, and Bill suddenly thought, "well, here I am, about to catch it for not sitting by her during worship. I guess I'll never do that again," he said to himself with a shrug. He took a seat beside her, but not too close. To his surprised she sniffed and sobbed just a bit. He could hear Danny and Jack playing frizbee just around the corner of the house, but they were out of sight.
"What's the matter, Jill?" he asked, fearful of what the answer might be.
"You don't even know! You can't even guess." Her shoulders vibrated gently with a sob.
"Well, -- er -- maybe it's that you're disappointed that I didn't sit by you in the worship service. Jill, I was trying to keep from getting cornered by those older girls. I thought the best way to
avoid them was to take the long way around the building and just go sit by your parents. I figured you'd join us there."
"I should have. But I didn't think of it. I was already seated in the back, and I didn't want to make a scene."
"You wouldn't have. But anyway, I am sorry I hurt your feelings, Jill," he added.
"It's okay. Anyway, that's not it. Not why I am crying."
He took out a handkerchief he had just shoved in his pocket, reached up and gently wiped her cheek. "What's the matter, Jill? You can tell me."
This statement sent a wave of emotion through her, and a convulsion of weeping. "I want to. But I - I'm not sure I c-can."
Against his better judgement Bill put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. She put her head on his shoulder and sobbed freely, dabbing at her eyes with her own tissue.
"Jill, Jill. I hate to see my cousin sad."
Jill felt comforted with her head on his shoulder. She was in fact sad, but she wasn't even sure of all the reasons why. Bill would be with them at least through the next weekend. But she couldn't keep on playing games or hiding her feelings.
"Bill, I don't even know if I'm sad or not. All I know is, is, -- I --"
He let her take her time; a gut feeling told him this was really important to her.
"Bill, I -- do you have any idea how I feel about you?"
He pulled away just a bit and looked at her. She still had her head on his shoulders but was looking up into his eyes. Jill looked like she was swooning. The impulse to laugh out loud welled up within him; he stifled it quickly and successfully.
"I'm guessing you sort of like me," he answered her, tentatively, but keeping his face as straight as an arrow. Jill clouded up with tears again.
Several seconds and sobs later, she said, "Oh, I have always liked you. Always! But now, this whole last year, when I began to think about your coming to see us again, I looked at some of your recent pictures. I realized what a nice, handsome guy you had become. I began to see some things about you I never noticed before. Maybe it was also the changes in me too," she added tentatively.
He knew what she meant. Puberty. He nodded gently. "Yeah, I'm sure that has something to do with it." There was silence again for a few seconds. Her head was still on his shoulder. "Bill, I have to say it. I can't hide it, I want to get it out, no matter what. I think I love you."
Bill had the intelligence not to jerk away in surprise. He knew this, or something like it was coming. He had really expected her to say, "I have a crush on you." What she actually said was a little more intense.
"I love you. There! I've said it," she repeated. A sense of contentment welled up within her breast as she sighed deeply. Jill suddenly felt light-hearted, but also tired. She had kept her feelings locked up inside for months, and now had let them out. It felt good, but also a little exhausting.
"Well," he began, but stopped. He knew he had to be careful from this point on. He certainly didn't want to encourage what he felt was purely "puppy love", but he also did not want to hurt his cousin's feelings. "Well, you know it is proper for family members to love each other . . . as family, of course."
She raised her head up at this and looked at him. "Bill, of course I love you as a family member. You're my cousin. I've always felt fondly towards you, and I guess I've always had family love for you. But that's not what I mean!" She was clouding up again. Hastily he added, "Okay, okay, I know that. You mean . . . . You don't mean that you love me like, er, a boyfriend?"
Her head fell on his neck again. "You don't see it. And you don't feel the same way. I should have known. I did know. You don't love me, like I love you!" Here came the sobs. She was still clinging to him. He just let her cry.
"I'm sorry, Jill, I really am. I can't help it. I don't want to hurt your feelings. I got to be truthful to you; I can't lie. You know I love you as a cousin, but I -- I just don't feel the same way. I really am sorry . . . ."
She finished crying, and sat up straight looking at him. Jill sniffed one more time. "Well, I had to tell you. I was pretty sure you didn't feel the same way, but anyway I said it. And as far as I know it's true. I'm not sorry I said it either."
"I'm not either, Jill. We're good friends. I hope you know you can always tell me anything you want." He was looking into her pretty brown eyes, still wet with tears.
But Jill wasn't finished. "So, Bill: do you . . . do you think you could ever feel the same way towards me?" she asked. She seemed to be hanging on the edge of her seat. It was another time to tread carefully, he thought. He remembered well her father's advice from the night before.
"Jill, honestly I don't know what the future will bring. I don't. I can't tell how I'll feel later. All I know is we've been good friends ever since we've know each other. And that's always been enough. I hope it always will be."
She straightened her dress out front. "But is there a chance, it could change?" she asked, holding out a thin ray of hope.
He swallowed hard. He really didn't know what to say, so he just took a plunge. "Sure, -- er -- I guess there's always that chance." He gave her a friendly hug -- just a quick one.
They sat in silence for a few more minutes. She leaned forward away from his encircling arm. "Well, I guess I'm keeping you from your fishing." With that Jill got up and walked back to the porch steps. He sat there in awe, watching her with his mouth hanging open. "What just happened?" he asked himself.
LBC
 |
| Jill was hungry but just couldn't finish her club sandwich. |
Jill poked at her food after lunch. Her father had taken them all out to a nice steak restaurant after worship, and everybody else was hungry. Jill was too, but she couldn't eat. She was thinking about what had transpired that morning: being forced practically to play hide and seek with her older cousin, finally cornering him at the end of worship when they were all heading toward the car. She was hurt and peeved that Bill had chosen to sit with her parents, not with her! But she also had enough of a Christian conscience to know she was idolizing Bill over God! Why else had she been so unable to concentrate on all of the other good things about the worship service that morning. But Jill knew this was wrong, and it left her in an emotional turmoil.
She had been lectured before by her dad about the importance of paying attention in worship. She remembered his words well, almost line by line: "Jill," he'd said. "I won't always be around to talk to God for you or to listen for you. You have to learn to do that on your own. The best place for that is in worship."
Jill had learned on her own how important it was for each one to participate throughout. A few years before when the youth group attended a revival, she had had her own conversion experience with Jesus Christ. She believed Him to be truly alive and living for her. It was then Jill began to understand why her parents had raised her to learn to listen expectantly to the preacher's sermon.
 |
| At the youth revival she had gone to Jill learned about the importance of regular worship . . . . |
felt she had to tell him what her true feelings were for him. She knew she couldn't rest until she had spoken to him.
Gene asked for a box from the waiter, and packaged up her club sandwich which had hardly been touched. "Uncle Gene," said Bill, sitting next to Jill and Danny in the back seat. "Would it be all right if I went fishing this afternoon?"
"No!" blurted Jill, but then covered her mouth and turned red. She'd wanted to say, "No, not until we've had a long talk," but couldn't say it in front of everybody else.
Gene looked at his daughter strangely in the rear-view mirror. "Fishing sounds like a good idea, Bill. I might join you over at the creek later in the afternoon myself. After my nap. Help yourself to any of the extra fishing gear in the garage. And I think you know you where we go to for worms."
"I know that, Sir! And thanks!" Jill gave him a hurt look, and he knew she wanted to talk. But about what? Bill suspected he would find out soon enough . . . .
When he had changed clothing and rested a few minutes himself, he came down stairway only to find Jill and Danny waiting for him in the room below. They were trying hard to act nonchalant; but of course, they failed. Jill's eyes were glued to him from the moment he emerged from his room at the top of the stairs. Bill knew as he descended that something else
 |
| She still wore her pretty Sunday dress . . . . |
The girls quickly intercepted his path toward the back door.
"Hi, Jill, what are you guys up to?" he asked with a forced grin. "We're up to no good, Mister," said Danny trying to sound serious (but breaking into a giggle).
"Oh, hush!" said Jill, not even looking at her sister. "I want to talk to you first -- if I may."
"S-sure," said Bill.
"Hi, Mom," she said, casting a glance at the kitchen door, where her mother sat, looking at the Sunday paper and sipping iced tea.
"Jill, you look like you're going somewhere special -- still got your Sunday dress on," Margaret remarked.
Her daughter looked down and blushed. "No, I just didn't feel like changing yet. Bill, don't you like this dress?"
His cousin did look fairly stunning.
"I like it a lot." He was aiming for a polite compliment without sounding committed. He wasn't sure if he'd succeeded. "You shouldn't go out to the creek dressed in your nice Sunday clothing," added Bill. Margaret silently nodded.
"I know," she said. "Let's sit over on the bench in the shade."
"I'm going to get Jack and play some frizbee," said Danny, skipping past them all and out the back door.
When they came out onto the porch, Jill motioned to one old, green-painted park bench her father had bought at an auction. It stood away from the house about 30 feet, but under the
 |
| She had a certain park bench in mind for this special appointment . . . . |
When Bill returned with the gear, he saw Jill sitting there, looking down. She looked sad, and Bill suddenly thought, "well, here I am, about to catch it for not sitting by her during worship. I guess I'll never do that again," he said to himself with a shrug. He took a seat beside her, but not too close. To his surprised she sniffed and sobbed just a bit. He could hear Danny and Jack playing frizbee just around the corner of the house, but they were out of sight.
"What's the matter, Jill?" he asked, fearful of what the answer might be.
"You don't even know! You can't even guess." Her shoulders vibrated gently with a sob.
"Well, -- er -- maybe it's that you're disappointed that I didn't sit by you in the worship service. Jill, I was trying to keep from getting cornered by those older girls. I thought the best way to
avoid them was to take the long way around the building and just go sit by your parents. I figured you'd join us there."
"I should have. But I didn't think of it. I was already seated in the back, and I didn't want to make a scene."
"You wouldn't have. But anyway, I am sorry I hurt your feelings, Jill," he added.
 |
| Clearly Jill was suffering over something . . . but what? |
He took out a handkerchief he had just shoved in his pocket, reached up and gently wiped her cheek. "What's the matter, Jill? You can tell me."
This statement sent a wave of emotion through her, and a convulsion of weeping. "I want to. But I - I'm not sure I c-can."
Against his better judgement Bill put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. She put her head on his shoulder and sobbed freely, dabbing at her eyes with her own tissue.
"Jill, Jill. I hate to see my cousin sad."
Jill felt comforted with her head on his shoulder. She was in fact sad, but she wasn't even sure of all the reasons why. Bill would be with them at least through the next weekend. But she couldn't keep on playing games or hiding her feelings.
"Bill, I don't even know if I'm sad or not. All I know is, is, -- I --"
He let her take her time; a gut feeling told him this was really important to her.
"Bill, I -- do you have any idea how I feel about you?"
He pulled away just a bit and looked at her. She still had her head on his shoulders but was looking up into his eyes. Jill looked like she was swooning. The impulse to laugh out loud welled up within him; he stifled it quickly and successfully.
"I'm guessing you sort of like me," he answered her, tentatively, but keeping his face as straight as an arrow. Jill clouded up with tears again.
Several seconds and sobs later, she said, "Oh, I have always liked you. Always! But now, this whole last year, when I began to think about your coming to see us again, I looked at some of your recent pictures. I realized what a nice, handsome guy you had become. I began to see some things about you I never noticed before. Maybe it was also the changes in me too," she added tentatively.
He knew what she meant. Puberty. He nodded gently. "Yeah, I'm sure that has something to do with it." There was silence again for a few seconds. Her head was still on his shoulder. "Bill, I have to say it. I can't hide it, I want to get it out, no matter what. I think I love you."
 |
| Jill was pretty. He had to watch himself to keep the whole relationship in the right perspective. |
"I love you. There! I've said it," she repeated. A sense of contentment welled up within her breast as she sighed deeply. Jill suddenly felt light-hearted, but also tired. She had kept her feelings locked up inside for months, and now had let them out. It felt good, but also a little exhausting.
"Well," he began, but stopped. He knew he had to be careful from this point on. He certainly didn't want to encourage what he felt was purely "puppy love", but he also did not want to hurt his cousin's feelings. "Well, you know it is proper for family members to love each other . . . as family, of course."
She raised her head up at this and looked at him. "Bill, of course I love you as a family member. You're my cousin. I've always felt fondly towards you, and I guess I've always had family love for you. But that's not what I mean!" She was clouding up again. Hastily he added, "Okay, okay, I know that. You mean . . . . You don't mean that you love me like, er, a boyfriend?"
Her head fell on his neck again. "You don't see it. And you don't feel the same way. I should have known. I did know. You don't love me, like I love you!" Here came the sobs. She was still clinging to him. He just let her cry.
"I'm sorry, Jill, I really am. I can't help it. I don't want to hurt your feelings. I got to be truthful to you; I can't lie. You know I love you as a cousin, but I -- I just don't feel the same way. I really am sorry . . . ."
She finished crying, and sat up straight looking at him. Jill sniffed one more time. "Well, I had to tell you. I was pretty sure you didn't feel the same way, but anyway I said it. And as far as I know it's true. I'm not sorry I said it either."
"I'm not either, Jill. We're good friends. I hope you know you can always tell me anything you want." He was looking into her pretty brown eyes, still wet with tears.
But Jill wasn't finished. "So, Bill: do you . . . do you think you could ever feel the same way towards me?" she asked. She seemed to be hanging on the edge of her seat. It was another time to tread carefully, he thought. He remembered well her father's advice from the night before.
"Jill, honestly I don't know what the future will bring. I don't. I can't tell how I'll feel later. All I know is we've been good friends ever since we've know each other. And that's always been enough. I hope it always will be."
 |
| Bill gave her a friendly hug . . . and hoped that it wouldn't be misinterpreted. |
He swallowed hard. He really didn't know what to say, so he just took a plunge. "Sure, -- er -- I guess there's always that chance." He gave her a friendly hug -- just a quick one.
They sat in silence for a few more minutes. She leaned forward away from his encircling arm. "Well, I guess I'm keeping you from your fishing." With that Jill got up and walked back to the porch steps. He sat there in awe, watching her with his mouth hanging open. "What just happened?" he asked himself.
LBC
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Hey, thanks for reading. Enjoy AND USE God's world to the full (otherwise you'll be disobeying Him!) Seriously. I'm serious, Mon!! Get your big shovel, and start digging in the ground . . . find oil, gas, coal, burn it, use it; refine it, and travel and function by it! It's God's will, AND we can now do it cleanly! It is time to obey God's orders from Genesis 1!