Moments
Adam McFadden pulled the truck onto the gravel parking area and slid the vehicle into park. A quick glance at his watch reassured him that he had managed to ferry his family to church with almost ten minutes to spare before Sunday school began.
Success! He was batting a thousand!
His brothers tumbled out all around him but stood patiently in a semi-circle beside the driver's door as he had methodically trained them to do in the past months. Breaking their habit of taking off and scattering the second their boots hit the ground nearly exhausted him. Yet he persevered, and now they knew to stay put until he actually dismissed them.
He harbored no inner motive. Adam simply wanted that last opportunity to check for clean faces or to issue instructions or reminders- a closure, of sorts.
There in front of him, though, stood proof that he had won.
Adam smiled approvingly. "Good job, guys."
Six faces responded with grins.
"Everyone have your Sunday School money?" Adam narrowed his eyes.
Six heads nodded, and Guthrie gripped a dollar in his dimpled hand. Adam worried that he baby would pop loose change in his mouth so he always handed him paper money instead. Of course, an alternative existed in not sending Guthrie with any cash at all, but Guthrie nixed that idea. When the youngest realized Adam's plan set out to exclude him he protested- loudly.
And won.
Adam crossed his arms over his chest. "Best behavior, right?"
Six voices responded, "Yes!"
"Ok," Adam tugged Daniel to him and tucked the back of the child's plaid shirt into his navy pants and straightened the belt. "Everyone have good manners."
He stooped down to pick up the baby, but the toddler backed away and declared defiantly. "No, Guthrie only." He held his chubby fist out so that Adam could see the crumpled dollar.
Adam took a second look. The edges on one side of the bill appeared a bit ragged.
Guthrie had probably bitten it.
Resigned, Adam regarded the stance of the tiny body and Guthrie's expressive green eyes. "Ok, then, that means you have to cross the church yard, climb the steps to the classrooms, and then take yourself to the nursery. Can you handle it?"
Guthrie's face lit and he hastened to toddle away but Evan grabbed his shoulder to restrain him. "Wait Guthrie, wait for Adam to say for us to go ahead and go."
Adam surveyed the group before him with a sense of pride and satisfaction. If he did say so himself, he had a very handsome family. He smiled agreeably. "Go ahead. I'll see you in a bit."
All of them took off, no doubt hoping to meet with church friends before Sunday School officially began, and Guthrie's legs pumped to keep up with his brothers.
Adam watched discreetly as the toddler fell behind. Instead of stopping in frustration, however, Guthrie kept going. Adam felt a stab of pride as his 2 ½ year old launched himself up the steps and into the white wooden annex building.
Adam followed the progress until he witnessed the baby physically turn into the nursery.
Adam glanced again at his watch. His own young adult class would begin momentarily. He quickened his step down the carpeted hall, pausing briefly at all classrooms which McFaddens populated.
He satisfied himself that the normally rowdy boys sat quietly and attentively with peers.
Chelsea Carter slipped up behind to tap him on the shoulder. "Hey, Cowboy," she whispered.
Adam grinned and pulled her around to face him. "Hey yourself!"
Chelsea had reappeared in his life that winter and they acknowledged the sparks that once flew between them in high school had not extinguished.
Their bond gave credence to the yin and yang philosophy.
Her vivacious nature had always balanced Adam's more reticent one. Physically her blond hair and blue eyes differed from his dark hair and dark eyes and he stood several inches taller than she. As a couple, the relationship's strengths had blossomed from the unmistakable fact that Adam and Chelsea were such opposites.
"Sit beside me in Sunday School?" she invited.
Adam licked his lips, "Well, I'd be delighted…."
"Take a raincheck on that, you two." Their pastor's voice interrupted.
Adam pivoted in surprise. "Good morning, Reverend Samuels."
A blushing Chelsea moved away from him.
The preacher smiled. "I certainly didn't mean to interject myself in your plans but Adam, I want to speak with you this morning."
Chelsea hurriedly offered her goodbyes and excused herself.
Reverend Samuels motioned Adam and they crossed two corridors and entered the pastor's office. The older man gestured. "Take a seat, Son."
Adam slipped into a plaid armchair directly in front of the desk, more than a bit confused. "Did something happen?"
Reverend Samuels shook his head no and held up a hand to signal a pause.
The pastor poured two steaming cups of coffee from a carafe on the side table. He handed one to Adam before taking his own seat.
"A perk with my position," the pastor grinned, holding his cup above him. "no pun intended, of course! Help yourself to sugar and cream." Reverend Samuels indicated to the supplies beside the coffee pot.
"Thank you for the coffee," Adam spoke. "But Sir, Sunday School is starting."
"Correct. Today we have skipped, or we intend to skip, both Sunday School and Church."
"I don't understand."
The reverend's expression softened and he lowered his voice. "Adam, the anniversary of your parents' deaths will arrive shortly, and my conscience has nagged me incessantly because I have not reached out to you enough this past year. You are an incredible young man, Adam, a young man who stepped up all those months ago and shouldered the responsibility of rearing six brothers."
Adam slid back in his chair and took a sip of coffee. He rested the cup on the chair's arm and waited.
"I owe you an apology. Other than snatched conversations here at church and occasional visits to the ranch I have not supported you the way I should have."
Adam contradicted, "No sir, that is the furthest from the truth. You and this church, along with neighbors and friends, made it possible for me to lead my family."
Reverend Samuels leaned forward and rested his forearms on the desktop. "You have achieved the nearly impossible at eighteen."
"Nineteen," Adam corrected. "I had a birthday in January."
"Eighteen when you lost them," Reverend Samuels corrected gently.
A brief flash of pain clouded Adam's features.
Reverend Samuels toned down his expression. "As I said, I have examined myself and found I have come up short where you are concerned….."
"No, I won't agree to that," Adam interrupted.
"Let me finish." The preacher smiled to ease the sting of the reprimand. "Today I have arranged to have another parishioner lead my own Sunday School class, and one of our deacons will conduct the church service. If you consent, I'd like to spend the next two hours conversing-just talking and catching up with you."
Adam rubbed his chin. "You'll have to stretch to make two hours. Really my life is pretty routine."
Reverend Samuels regarded him thoughtfully. "Far from it, Son." He leaned back in his chair and examined the strong features of Adam's face. Truly, the fact that the young man had kept the family intact defied logic. "In a nutshell- tell me how you have managed to parent, lead, teach, mature- how you have managed as the head of household all these months."
Adam slowly inhaled a deep breath. He picked up his coffee cup and exhaled as he tried to decide where to begin a response. Finally he smiled ruefully at his pastor. "Truthfully? Yes, well…Well, it took a minute."
"Which part?"
"All of it."
"Ok, well now that makes sense." Reverend Samuels leaned back in his seat. "Talk to me about the beginning. What comes to mind?"
Adam glanced at his hands self-consciously. "Stretched so thin that I couldn't see straight or breathe right. Short-tempered. Exhausted."
"Yet here I see a man I admire," the pastor spoke sincerely. "What took a minute? Talk to me about how you have done this."
"Ok," Adam replied simply.
In the first months after he grabbed the reins of the family Adam McFadden fell into bed so exhausted each night and with his subconscious so depleted it wouldn't expend enough energy for him to even dream.
Adam felt he functioned robotically, only capable of dealing with one chunk of each day at a time.
After the first two months he had practiced the routine long enough to relax his fear that his orphaned household barely clung to life. Somehow he had managed to keep all seven of them fed, clothed, in school, and emotionally stable.
All that while he struggled to operate the ranch.
As time passed those first couple of months the nights reluctantly returned to invite opportunities to lose himself in dreamland. Only while there did he feel the tension and iron grip of terror around his heart begin to dissipate.
He took stock.
Notoriously hard and unforgiving as he was on himself he still could not deny the fact that he had not failed. He hadn't failed himself, and he hadn't failed his brothers.
Still, he acknowledged he needed to progress and to do better. Though his self-control improved after a few weeks, he still reacted all too often with a frayed, short temper.
Maybe sometimes the response could be justified.
Then again, maybe not.
A clear illustration involved Daniel, who had developed the habit of repeating himself to the point that Adam would finally snap irritably at the seven year old.
Once Daniel zoned in on an idea it was difficult to make him desert the topic.
Daniel decided he wanted a radio controlled car after he played with one at another child's party in July.
He advocated for himself, reminding all listeners of how he would embrace the toy.
Daniel would flip any conversation into an opportunity to insert a plea for the car. He would ambush Adam at meals, at bedtime, in the car, or just anywhere and beg repeatedly to get one.
Adam replied patiently (dozens of times) that Daniel might want to save the car for his Christmas list.
However, Daniel did not want to wait.
One quiet late spring evening Daniel bombarded him as Adam picked ripe vegetables from their home garden.
He directed the little boy to sweep the porch and steps.
Daniel regarded him shrewdly. "Will you buy me a radio controlled car when I sweep the porch?"
"No, 'fraid not."
"Why not"
"You don't get a reward for completing chores."
"What if I worked really hard?"
"No, listen Daniel…."
The child interrupted. "You said you would get me one!"
Adam put his hands on his hips and leaned backwards to stretch. His back protested. "Don't interrupt me."
Daniel's face morphed into a scowl and his transformation into a small combatant escalated.
Adam continued. "No, I told you already I don't have the money and you will need to wait and ask at Christmas."
"But Adam, I want the radio car now! I can play with it all the time."
"Daniel stop!" Adam ordered. "Stop talking about that car! You're not getting one before Christmas and if you keep bringing the car up you won't have a chance of getting it Christmas either. Understand?"
"You don't know. Maybe Santa…"
Adam raised his voice. "Stop whining about the car right now, Daniel! Not another word had better come out of your mouth." He narrowed his eyes. "Not one word."
Daniel's eyes filled but Adam ignored the tears and ordered, "Now if that porch is not finished in ten minutes you will be going to bed when Guthrie does tonight."
Despite the threat, Daniel opened his mouth and Adam shook his finger. "Not a sound, Daniel."
Later Adam chided himself for snapping at the child. Daniel was just a seven year old, after all.
A little over a decade earlier he had devilled his parents for an elaborate racetrack for his Matchbox cars.
More than likely his incessant whining had driven his parents to distraction, too.
Daniel wasn't the only source of Adam's guilt.
Evan-he of the normally laid back, happy go lucky, extroverted nature, could sabotage Adam's best intentions with his frustrating eating habits. Depending upon his mood and whatever timetable existed in his six year old head, Evan either cooperated or he did not.
He did not respond to happy in-betweens.
First of all, Evan refused to allow any food item to touch any other food item on his plate. So for example if Adam ladled a spoon of butterbeans onto the plate and the beans touched the child's potatoes, Evan would balk. The meal would turn into a battle zone with Adam insisting the little boy eat anyway and Evan's just as insistent response that the food was messy, or he was full, or any other rationale he created to offer as his reason for not eating.
If that weren't enough to cost Adam his sanity, Evan compounded the torture by methodically eating one food item off of his plate at a time. As an illustration, he would eat his entire helping of chicken and nothing else. Then he would eat all of his peas. Once none remained he would turn his attention to his rice.
Despite his inner resolve to extend more patience towards Evan, Adam often fell below the mark. He found Evan's culinary approaches deliberate ploys to destroy his sanity some days, and he found himself snapping at the little boy and hurrying him to finish.
Did Adam have second thoughts later and wish he'd reacted differently? Absolutely!
Where the family was concerned Adam felt stretched too thin- every single brother deserved his attention but some days he barely managed to acknowledge them all as he confronted one responsibility after another. Though it leveled over time and he was able to juggle, organize, and schedule, he still felt he shortchanged some of the boys some of the time and all of the boys all of the time.
Of all his brothers, he worried he slighted Brian most often. Common sense told him that he could attribute most of that to the fact that Brian was so much older and so much more independent. And to be fair, Adam ferried all of the boys to all of Brian's football games, even those out of town.
Adam always presented a solid show of support and recognized the importance of his presence. Despite his age, Brian would search the field for Adam several times each game.
Losing their parents had pretty much destroyed inner security for all of them.
During fall and spring schoolwide conferences he presented himself at Brian's parent conferences and routinely checked on Brian's academics throughout the school year, as well.
But because Brian was so self-sufficient, and even Crane to a certain extent, Adam did not have to check behind them or supervise them as diligently as with the younger siblings.
That, in itself, caused him to feel he slighted Brian. For example, as he double checked Ford, Evan, and Daniel had bathed, brushed their teeth, and chosen school clothes for the next day he interacted with them conversationally. Reading them bedtime stories also provided additional opportunities for heartfelt chats or simple check-ins.
Crane still allowed Adam to read to him sometimes, but only a page or two of whatever book Crane had borrowed from the school library.
The same couldn't be said for Brian.
No matter what, though, Adam always stepped in to wish both Brian and a Crane good night.
And of course Guthrie routinely usurped the lion's share of Adam's attention simply because of his age and availability. As a toddler he was the only child left at home all day once Ford entered kindergarten. Thus, Adam had him twenty four hours a day, whereas with the others, it was more like fifteen hours minus the bedtime hours.
And stretched thin didn't just apply to his brothers. He had sacrificed his social life- no, maybe all others had understandably given up on him after so many declined invitations. When he did fraternize it generally occurred at public events, like church or the county fair.
Adam's reunion with Chelsea had renewed some sparks, or perhaps the better conclusion was the reunion reignited the sparks. Other than Church, nearly all of the time they spent together happened because Chelsea drove out to the house to visit. Even then, spending any private time would not occur until after bedtime for the Itty Bitties.
They did snatch some moments, and in the past months had actually enjoyed two bona fide trips out of town for supper and a movie. It had demanded a bit of wrangling and scheduling dependent upon times when at least two of the boys spent the nights with friends, but the planning and effort had been worth it.
Adam allowed himself to relax enough to enjoy Chelsea's company, to appreciate the fact that they could slip into the comfortable atmosphere surrounding two teenagers upon a date.
Chelsea understood Adam's familial role, and it pleased him that she interacted with the younger boys with patience and genuine affection.
Deep inside Adam struggled within himself. She wanted more from him, more commitment than he offered and on the surface his heart leapt. To have a love interest who accepted his brothers, who agreed with his pledge to rear them, and who still sought a relationship with him despite his
duty should fill him with hope, with love and joy.
He wanted to feel that way.
But he couldn't.
They were eighteen-and now nineteen- years old, just babies when it came down to it. Decades of life lay before them both. Adam had considered his personal decision to sacrifice college and future the only avenue open to him for the sake of his family. Adam'sheart alternated between appreciation that she wanted him, and fear that once she had him she would resent him for prioritizing his brothers.
Reverend Samuels stood and stretched before resuming his seat. He smiled at Adam, who sat quietly, forearms resting on his thighs.
"Adam, you have a life, too, and you need to cut yourself some slack."
Adam rubbed his chin. "Yes, I know that." He smiled shyly at the pastor. "I work hard to do the right thing but sometimes it just gets muddled."
"Son, I see a young man stretched thin between tending to his boys and who worries about his exhaustion and temper. Good for you for actively addressing your own perceived short comings. Your daily path circles around the welfare of your family, though, and you need to remind yourself that the mistakes that you have made and that you will make have not been forged in malice. I promise you right here that there is not a parent on this earth who will not provide you with a list of mistakes, wrong conclusions, and missteps occurring through interactions with their kids."
Adam nodded, "Okay."
"And rest assured there will be plenty more. But Adam, forgive yourself. Think you can handle that?"
Adam smiled. "I'll try."
Reverend Samuels drummed his fingers on his desk. "Does Adam the brother still exist, or is Adam the parent the one at home?"