His shock of red hair and green eyes were the first thing you would notice—and the grin that lit up the room. He was a pleasant lad, and always on the go. His two-wheeled scooter was the “terror” of his neighborhood. But, Sammy Johnson, age eight, was the love of his neighbors and his family. He had a quick wit and was always a helping hand.
Mrs. Tuttle, the widow across his street, looked forward to his bringing in her mail every afternoon. Her steps were slow and unsteady, and this short trip had become a long journey. Sammy noticed that her mail had begun to pile up, so he knocked on her door one day to be sure she was o.k. That’s when he started bringing in her mail. There were other neighbors that he helped, and never asked a penny for payment. His parents were quite proud of him.
One afternoon, Sammy noticed that the house next door, the one that had been empty, was now getting a new family. He watched curiously as the movers brought in furniture—tables, and chairs, sofa and lamps, beds and bureaus. He looked for, but didn’t see, any signs of toys. A strange feeling came over him. He ran in and told his mother they were getting new neighbors. She said, “Leave them alone and let them get settled.” So he watched, and then the moving van left.
Sammy ran over to the house next door and knocked on the door. A lady about age 35 answered the door. She was about the same height of Sammy’s mom, but she had a distant look in her eyes. Sammy was used to the quick glitter of light in his mother’s eyes, and didn’t quite know what to make of this. “Hi, I’m Sammy Johnson. I live next door.” The lady came back, “I’m Mrs. Jesup, Sarah Jessup. We’ve just moved in.”
Sammy said, “Yes, I know. I watched. My mom said I shouldn’t bother you ‘cause you just moved in.” “That’s right. We’re kind of busy.” Mrs. Jessup returned, starting to close the door. Then Sammy stepped forward and asked, “Can Janie come out to play?”
Mrs. Jessup’s face turned pale, and her lip quivered. “There’s no ‘Janie' living here.” Sammy looked her over carefully and said softly, “There’s supposed to be a 'Janie' living here.” And he went home with a confused look on his faced.
Sammy asked his mother if she had ever gotten an impression that something was wrong, but couldn’t describe his feelings to her. His mother said, “Sometimes God gives us messages that we don’t understand. If He does, then we’re to pray about it and ask God to clarify things for us.” Sammy decided that God had given him a message about “Janie Jessup” and he would pray about it. From the first day onward Sammy was fascinated by the Jessup home, and seemed to spend a lot of time on his scooter going round in circles watching the house and the Jessups. Strangely, in little over a month, they moved away. He had never had another conversation with Mrs. Jessup, just watched her. When she saw Sammy, she would scoot back into her house and close the door.
Sammy prayed about “Janie Jessup” for a while, then, he said he must have been wrong, and got back into his routine of scooting around his neighborhood, doing helping errands for the neighbors.
……..
Sammy Johnson played Little League baseball and was very good at it. He eventually played on the Junior and Senior Varsity ball team in high school. He was even offered a scholarship for college when he was ready to graduate from high school. However, one Saturday afternoon when he was biking from high school to the baseball field, his bike had a flat tire and Sammy crashed into a ditch. Lying there in intense pain, Sammy saw that his leg was broken. Soon sirens were heard, and an ambulance took Sammy to the hospital. His parents met him there and explained that he had a terrible break in his leg. He didn’t seem too worried about it. He said, “I’ll have a cast that I can get the team to autograph. That’ll be cool!” “No, Son,” his father replied. “It’s not that simple. The doctors say you won’t have the strength in your leg to play ball anymore.” This was a hard thing for a teenage boy to accept. Even though Sammy had been to church all his life, and knew God and Jesus, and was saved for eternity, it was the here and now he had to be concerned about. “What about my scholarship?” he asked. His father just shook his head.
And this break changed a lot for Sammy and his family. Sammy spent a couple of weeks in the hospital, and was discharged just in time to “walk the line” at his graduation leaning on two crutches. Imagine his surprise when the School Superintendant, reading out his “bio” read his name, and the scholarships he had won, including the one to his dream college where he was supposed to go play ball. After the ceremony, Sammy, now “Sam” to his friends, asked his father about the scholarships. Mr. Johnson said, “We got a letter from the university saying you could transfer the scholarship to the “Fine Arts” department and go for your degree in English, writing. You will have to work on the college paper, and some other duties, but you get to go, if you want.”
“If I ‘want?’” Sam exclaimed. “I’d jump for joy if I could get off the ground. He knew his parent didn’t have the money to send him to school, and his choice college was very expensive. Sam spent the summer recuperating, and planning, and made a visit to the college. He found he would have to “work” for his room and board, but his college tuition and books were paid for. Two days after Labor Day, Sam’s parents moved his trunk and bags into a dorm room at Amherst College in the middle of Massachusetts. He spent the next day registering for classes and obtaining his books. His roommate was a sophomore, majoring in psychology.
Sam’s schedule included Algebra 1, English Comp 101, Earth Science and U.S. History. It was a “full load.” His mornings were algebra and English three days a week, with his other classes Tuesdays and Thursdays. He felt like he would be busy but not overloaded. Sam had a good head for math, but English, specifically writing, was his ‘dessert.’ This broken leg was going to allow him time to hone his craft, and his hobby would become a way of life.
Each class began with the professor taking roll, and putting a face with the names on his list. Algebra was predictable, and the hour went by quickly. English Comp had a lady professor, Ms. Brown, a tall, gray-haired woman with her hair in a bun. Though she appeared ‘timeless,’ she had a light lilt to her voice, and she gave the impression that she could put the red ink to a paper quickly, but carefully. She started down her list: Adams, Joseph – here- Bannister, Gene – here. Cordell, Alice – here - …Jessup, Janie - - - Jessup, Janie - - - Sam’s head snapped up abruptly, and he looked around the room for ‘Jessup, Janie.’ Again, Ms Brown called out, “Jessup, Janie - .” No answer. She marked “A” beside the name and continued her roll. After the class was over, Sam went to Ms. Brown and asked about Janie Jessup. “She’s on the roll, but absent. Maybe she’ll be here next time.” “What will happen if she is absent again?” asked Sam. Some gut feeling told him she wouldn’t be there. “Well, after missing three classes, I sent a note to the office that she didn’t show up. They take it from there. After three days, I close MY books on her.” Janie Jessup never showed up.
Sam had an excellent time at college. He devoted his time to his books, his writing, and the college newspaper. Started out on the sports, and graduating to general journalism, Sam soon had the AP Style writing down pat. He led with intriguing openings that captured the readers’ interest, and gave a good account to whatever topic he was covering. The year, and the three that followed, flew by. Sam’s broken leg had left him with a discernable limp, but that didn’t slow down his writing, or quick wit he had held as a child of eight.
……..
When Sam graduated with a degree in English, he was accepted in a college in Denver for his Master of Fine Arts. This position came with a television video-journalism job. His career in writing was assured. However, Sam wanted to go home. After receiving his Doctorate of Education in English, he returned to his local college to teach. His life was full of work, and his family, and kids at college, many he would mentor. While he never married, he was the favorite uncle to his sister’s three children, two boys and a girl. He taught at Sunday School, and helped the children put on plays at different times of the year.
Sam’s red shock of hair turned gray. His limp got more pronounced, and his home on the corner by his old high school became more vacant as the niece and nephew finished school and left for college. An old chocolate lab dog, Bones, was his constant companion. One day Bones was sited lying on the front step with his muzzle resting on his front paws. The mailman came by and called out to him. “Come on, Bones, up and at ‘em.” But the dog just laid there. The mailman went to the door and knocked. No answer. “Hey, Bones, where’s Sam?” Bones got up and stretched, then paced back and forth. Police were called and they found Sam on the floor in his living room. He had a grip of papers to correct, and his reading glasses were on the floor beside him. Sam was gone.
………
A soul winged its way to heaven, the soul of a happy, caring, witty, but lonely Sam. He had lived his life on earth to the best he could. He hated no man. He loved, and was good to children. He never married. But, somewhere – somewhere there had been someone, or a spirit of someone that had caught his heart. He couldn’t put a face to her, but he thought, “I would know her anywhere.”
And then, there she was – Janie Jessup. “Janie…” Sam called out. “Sam!” “Janie, where have you been?” “I’ve been here – waiting – waiting for you.” “Janie, what happened?” “Well, I was – I was – coming, and then I wasn’t. Then I was here.” Sam looked around and there were hundreds, no, thousands or more, like Janie. “What happened, Janie? I don’t understand.” “Well, some here are here because when their journey began, something happened, an illness, or something, and I guess God decided their struggle would be too great down there on earth, so He brought them here early. Others - - others, like me…” her voice faltered, “Others who had mothers, who weren't close to God, who didn't trust God, who didn’t want them, who thought they would be inconvenient, who thought they were coming at the wrong time, well they…” Sam stopped her sad tale with a spiritual kiss and hug. “I’ve been looking for you all my life.” “Yes,” Janie answered. “I was watching you. I felt we connected when my parents moved next door to you. I almost got word to you in college…” “I knew it!” exclaimed Sam. “Yes,” Janie continued. “I tried to get word to you different times. The best I could do was breathe near you and whisper in your ear.” “Or whisper in my soul.” Sam concluded. “Your journey was interrupted, but now we are here—together.”
When two souls meet in Heaven, each gives something to the other, and neither remains the same.
Guest Writer
Fiction by Charline Whitman
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