Prayer Request

Becka hung up the phone, her mouth still spread in an oval of shock. This was big. Really big. Leslie Barker’s son was gay. According to Stephanie, Leslie had tearfully shared the earth-shattering news with the ladies prayer group at her new church just yesterday morning. Stephanie knew about it because her cousin Val attended that particular prayer meeting. Steph said that Val said that Leslie just broke down sobbing, then poured out all the sordid details while her Christian sisters fed her tissues.

Leslie discovered the horrific truth when she became concerned about some odd behavior and read her son’s emails while he was at school. Turns out he’d been frequenting gay chat rooms, emailing a school counselor about his feelings, and corresponding with some other teenaged boy with whom he was having a relationship.

Becka thought about Donny Barker, his high-pitched, somewhat feminine voice, his delicate hands and girlish gait, not to mention his talent for drama and art. She might’ve guessed.

She topped off her mug, warming the coffee that had grown cold, forgotten during the phone call. She smirked, remembering how Leslie used to brag about her Donny when she still attended Laurel Bible Church. Donny was on honor roll. Donny was almost an Eagle Scout. Donny was thinking about going into missions. Becka’s Trevor and Carter were only average students, but at least they weren’t gay.

Once, when the boys were going through a rough time, Leslie had the nerve to suggest Becka read some book on parenting. Becka had smiled, then ignored the advice. Who was Leslie to judge Becka’s mothering skills? It occurred to Becka now that she could have taught Leslie a thing or two. Maybe if Leslie had been a little more laid back, like Becka, Donny wouldn’t be involved in such immoral behavior.

Becka set her coffee down. Leslie mustn’t feel so high and mighty now. She and her deacon husband with their perfect family that did nightly family devotions, took mission trips to Haiti, and home schooled rather than be sullied by public education. Ha, Leslie Barker! Looks like your son got sullied anyhow.

She pulled her address book from a shelf and took it, along with the cordless phone and a fresh pack of double-stuff Oreos to the kitchen island. She parked on one of the stools, then pointed the remote at the small countertop television, changing channels until she found what she was looking for—General Hospital. She thumbed through the address book.

Top layer of the cookie neatly munched off, Becka licked the white middle and watched TV. On screen, an actress wearing a red negligee rolled around in a king-sized bed with the muscular husband of another character. The scene aroused her and she licked the frosting harder, riveted.

“Hey mom,” The door slammed as Carter trooped in from school. He leaned his skateboard in the entry and dropped his book bag beside it. “We got any ice cream?”

Becka wiped black cookie crumbs from her lip. “Fudge swirl. Just a little left.”

On his way to the freezer, he paused to retrieve a clean spoon from the dishwasher. Becka watched his eyes linger on the TV screen. The actress’s skimpy attire had shifted during her wild mattress dance, so nearly her entire breast was exposed. Carter swallowed. His Adam’s apple bobbed. No, she didn’t have to worry about him being gay.

Suddenly Ronald McDonald’s face filled the screen and Carter lost interest. Once he grabbed the gallon ice cream container, he headed for his bedroom.

Taking advantage of the commercial break, Becka started dialing. Leslie wasn’t her favorite person; that was for sure. But she was a sister in Christ. The least Becka could do was call all the ladies at church so they could pray for her during this difficult time.

Mary Herman picked up on the other end of the line, and Becka muted the TV before speaking. “Hello Mary, this is Becka. I haven’t caught you at a bad time? Good. I’ve got a prayer request. It’s just awful…”