Your Brother’s Blood (9)

“And that gave you your courage?” Al asked.
“No, that taught me when I was scared out of my skin, which I often am, I’m not alone. I was really scared when I came to seminary, but by then I wanted to know what this God thing was all about.”
“I remember when I first saw you. You were standing toe to toe with the dean demanding that he look into the wages that the seminary was paying the cleaning crew. You looked so righteous, like a prophet from the Bible; I almost felt sorry for the dean.”
Carla stood up. I can’t stand cold coffee. She refilled her coffee cup. When she was seated, she looked at Al and said, “I first noticed you in a New Testament class, arguing with the professor. You were citing different passages and referencing different Greek and Hebrew words. I thought you might be the smartest person I’d ever seen. I promised myself I would never get in an argument with you about anything biblical.”
“Words are my best weapon. I always feel comfortable when it is an intellectual argument.” Al said. “How about that? Each of us were intimidated by the other right off the bat. How did we get to be friends?”
“Cautiously, I think.” Carla said. “Though, I was impressed with the fact that you always treated me kindly and with respect. You didn’t seem threatened by the fact that I was a woman, which is more than I can say for some of our other male classmates, and yet you also didn’t hesitate to challenge me when you didn’t agree.”
“So what finally tipped the scales and brought you to seminary?” Al pressed.
“I think,” said Carla, “it was the stories that my dad used to tell me about Caesar Chavez and how centered he was in his faith. I wanted that type of courage and if faith could get me there, then I wanted to give it a try.” She sat up straighter and said, “Hey, I’ve bared my soul to you, now it’s your turn. Did you always know that God was calling you?”