Chapter 36

Much too Much

I'm not a stranger; no I am yours. With crippled anger, and tears that still drip sore. A fragile frame aged; with misery. And when our eyes meet, I know you see. I do not want to be afraid; I do not want to die inside just to breath in. I'm tired of feeling so alone; relief exists, I find it when I am cut. ~Cut, by Plumb.

xXx

Renesmee

Since that little breakdown I had at school, and the fight I had with Jake, nothing's changed. I'm still having sleepless nights, and I'm still drowning in Denial. Although, Ana was right. This sleep thing was a God-thing. He was the reason why I couldn't sleep anymore; ever since that first night. I decided to start going to youth group with Ana every week, hoping that it would help.

So far, nothing.

Mom's now seventeen weeks into the pregnancy. There's no doubt about it now, I'm going to be a sister. She's actually starting to show, too. It's interesting, really, to be a senior in high school, and watch my mom progress in her second pregnancy. It seems all surreal, even with the pictures they bring home after an appointment. I just can't believe that after all these years, I'm finally going to be a sister.

With a week before Spring Break, I was so close to being caught up; I was going to graduate. I also learned at my last appointment that I wouldn't need any more surgeries, unless something happened. Finally, it seemed as if everything was going back to normal; now if only I could fish myself out of this ocean.

xXx

Easter Sunday; probably one of my favorite Sundays ever since I was little; waking to find a little basket filled with chocolate, and a toy, having the biggest family dinner we had all year, alongside Christmas and Thanksgiving, and just the fact that it was a day filled with family. I remember going to little Easter egg hunts when I was four, and tackling other kids to get to the obviously placed eggs, and then complaining about how they weren't very well hidden, like they ought to be. I also remember once, being so afraid of the guy in the Easter Bunny suit, that I had kicked him in the shins.

This year, one of Mom's nurse co-workers in the Peds ward, Kiana (Ana's mother, as I found out later), had invited us to her church's Easter service. Mom decided that we'd give it a shot, so early Sunday morning, we got dressed in Sunday's finest, and headed to Generation Church.

"Hey," Ana smiled, finding us in the parking lot. "I'm glad you could make it."

"Yeah," I nodded. "Me too."

"How are you doing, by the way?" Ana asked, as we walked up the steps to the church entrance.

"This marks my twelfth week without sleep," I said, as we walked into the building. We smiled and thanked the ushers at the doors, as they handed us programs.

"Still?" Ana asked. "Nessie, you really need to get help. This isn't normal."

"Technically, I guess you could say I'm sleeping now, because now I get in about half-an hour."

"Still..." Ana looked concerned, but didn't question me further. Looking around the auditorium, she began to look surprised.

"Nessie, isn't that Jake?" She asked, pointing out someone who did look a lot like my boyfriend. I looked closer, and found Rose, Emmett, and my cousins.

"I didn't know your brother went to church," Mom said.

"Neither did I," Dad said.

Emmett noticed us, and waved us over, showing that there were a few empty seats by where they were sitting, somewhere in the middle of the left side of the sanctuary.

"Jake, you should sit next to me," I heard Genesis, now thirteen, say, as we walked closer.

"No, Jake, sit next to me," Genevieve (twelve) argued.

I chuckled lightly, hearing my cousin's argument over a boy who was five years older than them.

"Hey, Ness's here," Hayden said, pushing Hyatt out of his seat. Hyatt retaliated by pushing the other Terror out of the seat.

"Boys," Aunt Rose raised her eyebrows, and they instantly stopped fighting over the seat.

"Sorry," They mumbled.

Ana laughed. "Interesting family," She commented.

"Ana, I'd like you to meet my cousins," I smiled. "There's the girls, Genesis and Genevieve, and then the Little Terrors, Fred, and George, better known as Hayden and Hyatt." I pointed them out, and Ana greeted them.

"There's also the sweetie, Aimee," I nodded over towards the stroller that held the six-month old.

"And my aunt and uncle, Rose and Emmett," Ana shook each of their hands.

"Little bro, you didn't tell me you went to church," Dad said, as we all found seats.

"We go on Easter and Christmas Eve," Rose answered. "I've grown up going every few Sundays, and I want the kids to at least a little well-rounded."

Dad nodded, and the service opened with a song, called Forever Reign. There was a welcome message after the first song, and then three more were sung. So far, it was just like another youth group.

"Once again, let me just thank you all for coming out today, and if you are a guest to Generation, I would just love to welcome you. As I said before, I am John Czech, lead pastor here."

I felt Jacob's hand on my leg as John continued in his sermon. I grabbed onto it, and out of the corner of my eyes, I saw him smile.

"Now, today is an amazing day. Today is the day that Jesus rose from the grave, the day we celebrate that He is alive." He walked over to the cross that was set up a few feet away from him.

"This cross here," He said, resting his hand on it, "is a symbol of the Christian faith. It's on necklaces, earrings, bracelts, hanged in people's houses as decoration. But, that's not what the cross is. This cross represents what Jesus did for us.

We've kept the cross so far away from us, that we've forgotten that it's not this sweet little piece of jewlery, but the worst death imaginable." He picked up the cross, and carried it closer, to the center of the stage he was on.

"I've done a little research, on some of the horrible, gruesome torture devices used to kill prisoners. According to researchers, this cross right here is the worst by far.

Imagine, for your birthday, you get this little bear-trap of a box, and inside is this necklace; it's a gold chain, and attatched to it is a diamond-encrusted eletric chair. Not a pretty picture, is it?"

I glanced over at Ana, who was fingering her tiny, silver cross necklace. Her eyes were wide.

"That was supposed to be for us. The whipping, the crown of thornes, hanging on the cross. That should have been our punishment. But instead, Jesus took our place. What do you think held Him up there? The nails that were hammered into his palms?" He shook his head.

"We were the ones to keep Him on the cross as He died the most painful death. Did you know, that for the people on these crosses to actually breath, they had to lift themselves up, putting pressure on the nails in their hands and ankels? Then, they'd collapse, until they had the strength to take in another breath. These people hung there for days, weeks, sometimes, even months, slowly suffocating.

He did that for us. He took our place. If you could stop, for just fifteen minutes, and mediate on that; on what Jesus did on that cross, then it's better than going to one hundred church services, days of psalms singing, or even a whole year of fasting. Fifteen minutes is all it takes."

Why would He do that? I wondered. Why not just let us have what we deserve?

"This brings me back to a story in John, that you all have probably heard a thousand times by now; as you know, it is one of my favorite stories." He grabbed his Bible, and turned to the story he wanted. The screen filled with the story he was about to read.

John eight.

"At dawn," He read. "He went to the temple compex again, and all the people were coming to Him. He sat down and began to teach them. Then the scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman caught in adultry, making her stand in center. "Teacher," they said to Him. "This woman was caught in the act of commiting adultrery. In the law, Moses commanded to stone such women. So what do you say?

They asked this to trap Him, in order they might have evidence to acuse Him. Jesus stooped down and started writing on the ground with His finger. When they persisted in questioning Him, He stood up and said to them, "The one wihtout sin among you should be the first to throw a stone at her" Then He stooped down again and continued writing on the ground. When they heard this, they left one by one, starting with the older men. Only He was left, with the woman in the center. When Jesus stood up, He said to her, "Woman, where are they? Has no one condemed you?"

"No one, Lord," She answered.

"Neither do I condem you," said Jesus. "Go, and from now on do not sin anymore."

"Does anyone know why I read this?" He asked, looking up from his Bible. He looked around the room.

"This story came to my mind while I was researcing the curcifixtion, and Easter Sunday. We are just like that woman. We've commited sin that we should be punished for. Yet, Jesus took our place. He did this because He loves us. It's like going to Starbucks to order a coffee, and you pull out your wallet to pay the five dollars, to find out that the person in line before you already paid for you. This is a free gift. We did nothing to deserve this amazing gift that He has given us. This was out of love. But, we have to act on it. We need to understand that the cross isn't just a piece of jewlery, but what He did for us. It's not just a symbol of what He did; it is what He did."

Was I really that woman? I wondered. I thought back on the retreat, when Josh had used that in his sermon. I wasn't like her. I remembered how Josh had asked us to put ourselves in her positon, what it would feel like to be forgiven.

I still couldn't wrap my mind around it. I just…couldn't. I wrestled with it, for the rest of the sermon, until the sound of the closing song brought me out of my thoughts. The service had ended.

There was a social hour after the service had ended, but I kept to myself, like always. I didn't want to risk someone asking me for the umpteenth time how I was doing. I kept wrestling with that story; now, not only was I apparently like her because I keep to myself about the shit that's going on, but because Jesus forgave her for something that she should have been stoned for; because Jesus took our place on that cross.

Why was I being compared to this woman, who's nothing like me? I'm not an adulteress; I've never cheated on anyone. Leave that to my last two ex-boyfriends. So what about this woman was similar to me? That she was forgiven?

It's just a story. I should just forget about it.

Right?