Gateway

Royal rolled over. He tossed and he turned, scrambling his bedding. His animated feet disturbed his dog Maximus, who was asleep at the foot of his bed. The boxer shifted trying to recover his comfortable position. Maximus yawned widely, as Royal repositioned himself in his twin size bed. Royal sighed as he fluffed his pillow. He was desperate for a good night's sleep. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to shut out the odd visions that plagued him. Frustrated with his inability to slumber, Royal began to pray as he had done on many other nights. "Precious Lord," he began speaking out loud." Hear my cry. I thank you for giving me the rest I need, so I might do your mighty work. Amen." he prayed. As always the prayer comforted him and quelled his frustration. Royal laid still in his darkened room with his mind wondering. He believed that prayer changed things. His faith was strong. He knew that it was just a matter of patience before his God removed these visions that plagued his sleep. He believed that God would not have elevated him to Assistant Pastor of his church, and leave him physically depleted. He could not hope to continue to minister at Gateway Baptist without sufficient rest. Though he had been praying about his sleep condition for years, he still believed in his deliverance from insomnia and nightmares. However, Royal had to admit to himself that he was becoming impatient. This was because he thought it was a disgrace to be in the pulpit with his father with red eyes and yawning. Unfortunately, it was a situation his sleeplessness had placed him in too often, since he assumed pastoral duties a year ago. Prior to that time, he prayed with his father in the rectory before service. Supporting his father that way, his fatigue was not an issue. Now, he was right in front of the congregation with his father ministering to the flock. From the pulpit, he was having a hard time hiding his fatigue from the congregation. At the age of 16, he felt like he should be bursting with energy, not struggling to stay awake. One Sunday he had even fallen asleep in the middle of his father's sermon. An usher had to nudge him back to his senses. He remembered opening his eyes and having half of the congregation looking at him, instead of paying attention to his father's delivery of the Word. Their disapproving eyes made a knot curl up in his stomach. Royal was embarrassed. After service he was apologetic to his father. However his father did not chastise him. Reverend Monroe smiled instead and placed a reassuring hand on his son's shoulder. The elder Monroe was more sensitive to his son's sleeping problems than Royal was. "No harm done," Reverend Monroe assured Royal before attending to his post service functions: saying goodbye to the flock; tending to the trustee board; and checking in with the Deacons. The Pastor's simple words had soothed his son. Yet, Royal had still secretly considered asking his father to release him from his pastoral functions. He wanted to do this until he got his insomnia under control. However, he never got up the nerve to ask his father. He chastised himself for putting his own comfort before his ministerial duties. His father relied on him to be there in the pulpit. Sleep or no sleep, he would not let God or his father down. Patience, Royal silently reminded himself. He was an ordained minister. He believed in the power of prayer. He had to have faith that it would heal his insomnia and the nightmares that haunted him. He had to see this as a test of his faith and his character. He could not become so big, and think he was not to be tested like his Savior was. Needless to say, members of the congregation were sure to remind him of that. Those Sunday mornings when he was visibly tired, someone from the congregation was sure to comment. "You alright," Sister Jenkins would ask with a concerned face. "That father of yours ain't working you too hard?” She would ask, feigning concern. Sister Jenkins was one of a number of congregants that was more interested in spreading the news of the day than the Gospel. "No." Royal would shake his head." I am alright." he would assure her." Blessed and able, doing the work the Lord has ordained me to do." He would add. "Jesus!" He whispered to the darkness of his room." Please touch my mind, Oh Lord. And please let these visions be removed. I need the rest, so I will be prepared to serve your people this Sunday morning." He prayed." Lord let me sleep." He begged the stillness of his room as he closed his eyes. Hearing his voice, his dog looked up at him from the edge of his bed. The old Boxer looked at his master with red eyes filled with sleep. The dog yawned wide mouthed, baring more empty sockets than sharpened teeth. "Well Maximus I'm happy one of us can get some sleep," Royal chuckled at the sight of his companion. Maximus came to his feet and stretched. He scratched at the covers. Kicking Royal as he moved, Maximus walked around on the edge of the bed. He settled his burly seventy pounds into the covers and faded off to sleep. Royal shook his head and smiled. He could not help but smile when he looked at Maximus. He loved his dog. Maximus had been with him all of his life. Royal felt the dog was as much a part of his family as his Aunt Grace or Cousin Simon. He could not imagine waking up and not finding Maximus at his bedside.