October 13, 2019. Sunday. 10:25 AM.
“The Mysterious Love of Nancy Drew for Frank Hardy”
She drew him to her by the power in her eyes.
She wrapped her love around his heart
And told him:
“I’ll never let you go, my darling.”
“You’re all mine, my mystery boy.”
“Nancy, what has ga ga gotten into you?”
“I must have you,” she told him.
“I’ll give you a mystery every day for the rest of your loving life, Frank Hardy!”
“Wa wa what kind of mystery, my la la lady?”
“Spiritual mysteries, Frank.”
“What is a spiritual mystery, Nancy?”
“The mysteries of the heart, Frank.”
“Nancy, I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”
Nancy took out her Bible
And turned its pages till she found what she was looking for.
And she asked Frank if he would sit down with her at the park bench “On the street where she lived.”
So, they sat down together.
And Nancy began to read to Frank from her spiritual book.
“There be three things which are too wonderful for me, yea, four which I know not: The way of an eagle in the air; the way of a serpent upon a rock; the way of a ship in the midst of the sea; and the way of a man with a maid.” [Proverbs 30:18, 19. KJV]. And Nancy stopped and shut the book.
“Nancy, why did you stop so abruptly? That was captivating me.”
“The next verse, Frank. I couldn’t read it.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t say.”
“What’s wrong, Nancy?”
“Please, Frank, let’s just change the subject, now.”
“Nancy, are you trying to bewitch me?”
“Whatever gave you that idea, my little pretty?”
“The very mysterious way you’re talking to me is giving me that idea, Nancy Pantsy.”
“How dare you speak to me that way, Frank? Don’t you get fresh with me!”
“Nancy Pantsy pudding in the pie/Wouldn’t say yes/wouldn’t say why.”
“What does that mean, Frank?”
“I don’t know, really. It just came to mind.”
“Is anything else coming to mind, dear?”
“Yes.”
“What is it, Frank, that is coming into your mind, friend?”
“I’m imagining it would be loverly to walk with you, Nancy.”
“Loverly? You mean like walking with my fair lady, as in the musical?”
“Yes, Nancy.”
“Let’s do it, Frank. Let’s walk together. Would you hold my hand while we walk, Frank?”
Frank took Nancy’s outstretched hand into his and they began to walk together.
After a silent few minutes of walking, Nancy said, “Frank?”
“Yes, Nancy?”
“I feel like dancing with you, dear.”
“What kind of dancing, darling?”
“Romantic dancing, darling.”
“I don’t know much about dancing, Nancy. Don’t know much about romance, either.”
“I’d be honored and pleased to teach you dancing, Frank.”
“OK Nancy. Teach me how to dance with you.”
“First Frank, please understand there is more to it than the moves of our bodies.”
“What else is there to dancing with you, Nancy?”
“Harmony of movement.”
“And is that all?”
“No Frank. There is even more.”
“What more, Nancy?”
“Harmony of hearts.”
“And is that all there is to it?”
“No Frank.”
“What else is there to dancing with you, Nancy?”
“Harmony of soul.”
“And is that all there is to it, Nancy? Harmony of movement, of hearts and of souls?”
“No Frank.”
“What else is there, dear?”
“There is also harmony of spirit and trust and mystery and trust in the mystery, Frank. You like mysteries, don’t you, Frank?”
“Yes, Nancy, You know I like mysteries. I’m a hardy boy, after all. The love of mystery is in my heart and soul and mind and spirit. Doesn’t Nancy Drew love mysteries, too?”
“Yes, she does, Frank. And I love you, too. May we enjoy the mystery and the wonder of love together in a love story that never ends?”
“Amen, Nancy. ‘What God has brought together let not man put asunder.’ Aren’t those words in that Spiritual Book we believe, Nancy?”
“Yes, they are Frank.”
“Nancy, just walking with you is a dance to me, a dance in Love with you and me. Isn’t God Love, Nancy?”
“Yes, Frank, God is Love.”
“Frank?”
“Yes, Nancy?”
“Just don’t call me Pantsy. OK?”
“OK, Nancy. What about ‘Grace.’?”
“Grace?”
“I have a book of names for babies. And the name Nancy means grace.”
“There is already someone named Nancy Grace.”
“What about Lady Grace?”
“What about ‘Nancy’?”
“What about Lady Nancy?”
“Frank, just call me Nancy. OK?”
“OK Nancy.”
“Not: ‘OK Nancy’. Just Nancy.”
“Just Nancy.”
“No! Not ‘Just Nancy.’ ‘Nancy’.
“Nancy.”
“You are So literal, Frank! How did you get that way?”
“Maybe my mother did that to me, Nancy.”
“How could your mother make you so literal?”
“She was always talking. I mean ALWAYS.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. But, I’ve thought about it a lot.”
“And what are your thoughts about that?”
“I wonder if she had a demon.”
“A demon?”
“Yes. A demon of talk. A talking demon.”
“What was it like to listen to her non-stop talking?”
“It was difficult. It was overbearing. And it tormented me every day for many months after listening to it; so that I wondered if I had been infected by sickness associated with a demonic spirit.”
“What do you mean by overbearing?”
“I mean it was aggravating/tormenting/maddening/repressing/depressing, like being buried under an avalanche of tons of words. It made my ears drums suffer from constantly being innervated by the vibrations from the sound of her non-stop talking. Her verbosity gave my ear drums no rest. And when I was little she used to say to me: “Mind me.” And she used to strap me often with a leather strap. It was like a leather belt with one end cut into strips.”
“Well, you must have been a bad boy if your mother strapped you.”
“When I was in my 50s, she told me I had been a good little boy. And I wondered silently: Then why did you strap me so often?”
“Did you ask her?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I didn’t want to get into that subject.”
“Why not?”
“It seemed not to be a good thing to talk about. And because she ALWAYS talked so much, I had no enthusiasm for adding more words to our conversations that already had too many words. I felt fed-up with by all the words in her non-stop one-sided conversations.”
“Sounds like you didn’t have a good relationship with your mother.”
“Nancy?”
“Yes, Frank?”
“I appreciate your understanding.”
“Frank, why do you suppose your mother was like that with you: hitting you so often when you were little; and then treating you to her verbosity when you were older?”
“Well, I wonder, if, perhaps I had been very bad in an earlier life – and so, God sent me into this life with a hard mother to punish me and bring me into a more lowly state of heart and mind and soul and spirit – so that I would know better than to be bad anymore.”
“Do you know of any Scriptures that might support your idea?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me.”
“You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it; you do not take pleasure in burnt offerings. The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.” -Psalm 51:16, 17. NIV Study Bible.
“Is there anything else you’d like to add to your testimony, Frank?”
“Yes, Nancy.”
“What is it, Frank?”
“About that quotation. It is from Psalm 51. I was born in 1951. And there are exactly 19 verses in that Psalm. It just seems fitting.”
“And Psalm 23 also seems fitting.”
“Were you born on the 23rd Frank?”
“No, but I was born at 8:23 AM. I like to think it was just in time to hear the morning school bell ring.”
“I love you, Lady Grace.”
Mark's Imaginings 