Chapter Twenty-Two
Christmas Eve morning dawned bright and sunny. Mari stood at the bedroom window and gazed out at her backyard. The world was covered in a blanket of freshly fallen snow that glistened in the bright sunshine. Mari loved having a white Christmas. But her heart was heavy this morning. Without Joe here to share it, the holiday had become a time of sadness and fear of the unknown. She turned back into the room, sinking down on the side of the bed. She was so tired today, more so than she had been in the last couple of months. Her lower back ached with a dull pain, her feet were swollen, and her heart was bruised. Mari ran her hand over her large, swollen belly. “I love you, baby,” she whispered. She had been talking to the baby every day, reading him Bible stories and telling him about his father. It helped get her through the long days and nights without falling into total despair.
Mari pushed herself up from the bed. Today was Christmas Eve. Although she did not feel her best, she refused to mope around the house on the day of the night before Christmas. She and Joe always went shopping on Christmas Eve, roaming the mall, people watching and buying presents for each other. She would keep that tradition going this year even though Joe was not here. She pulled out the new outfit she had purchased on a whim last week. The Christmas red tunic clung to her torso to fall gracefully over her rounded stomach. She stood in front of the mirror and eyed herself critically. The top fit more snugly today than it had been just last week when she bought it, emphasizing the bulge of her tummy. “I look huge,” she sighed and turned her back on her reflection.
The drive to the mall was difficult. Last night’s snow made the roads slippery. That and the fact there were a ton of people out and about made Mari extremely cautious. Plus, it was very cramped behind the wheel, her stomach seeming to fill any space between the seat and steering wheel. She could not help but grin at the sight she made. “I will be so happy when you get here, baby,” she chuckled as she tugged herself out of the car after finally finding a parking spot. “It will be nice to be able to fit in the front seat again.”
The mall was crowded and Mari was jostled as she walked through the throng of people. The backache that had been nagging her most of last night and this morning intensified as she made her way from store to store but she pushed the uncomfortable sensation out of her mind. She picked up small gifts for her friends and a couple of items for the baby. She would wrap these and place them under the tree along with the other gifts she had purchased over the last couple weeks. Happy with her purchases, she was just about to leave the mall when she spotted the perfect gift for Joe.
She was passing the card store when a small statue of a man sitting on a stool caught her eye. His head was bowed, hands resting on his thighs, and he appeared to be staring at the small bundle resting at his feet. Mari moved to the window to get a closer look and found that the small bundle was, in fact, a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes. The name of the statue was “Resting At His Feet”. All the man had to do was choose to pick up the child. In essence, he would be picking up Jesus, choosing Jesus.
Tears pricked Mari’s eyes. It was a poignant message not just for Joe, but for Mari also. She had been resting in her own strength for too long but her grip was slipping quickly. What a fool I am, Mari thought as she walked into the store. I can see Joe’s sin so well, but I’ve totally ignored my own. In the time since Joe had been gone Mari had been relying on her own strength to get through the days. Yes, she prayed, she read her Bible, she spoke to her friends about what she was facing. But in her heart she knew she was not trusting God to provide the best for her and the child she carried.
She took the statue up to the counter where the salesperson proceeded to wrap it. After paying for the gift, Mari left the mall and walked to her car. The winter sun had been replaced by low, gray clouds. Snow flakes were floating down from a slate gray sky. Looking up Mari stood still and let the icy flakes fall on her upturned face. Feelings of hurt and anger fled in the face of the beauty of the minute ice crystals falling from the sky. She held out her hand and watched as the snow drifted softly into her mitten covered palm. Just like me, Mari thought. Resting in the hand of God.
Mari stowed her packages in the back seat of her SUV and got in. Staring out at the white world in front of her, Mari spoke. “I’m sorry, Father,” she said softly. “Sorry for not trusting you with my life, with Joe’s life, with my parent’s life. I miss them, but they’re happy with you. I know they loved me. But I know they loved you too. You had a plan for them and you have a plan for me. Help me, Lord, to find that plan and to live it fully for your glory, not my own.”
Joe stared unseeingly out the window of the high rise apartment he had called home for the past two months. Christmas carols played softly in the background and a fire burned cheerily in the fireplace. He should have been concentrating on preparing for the next group of meetings he had, but he just could not summon the energy. It had been over eight weeks since he last saw his wife and his heart still ached. He had come to Houston
He remembered the sadness in her eyes when he told her he was leaving to go to Houston
Turning away from the glowing skyline, Joe walked over to the couch and threw himself down. It might be Christmas Eve but his heart refused to respond to the warmth of the holiday as it had in times past. This season he felt cold and alone, abandoned by the Savior whose birth was being celebrated. In an effort to get through the evening he grabbed his Bible off the end table and flipped it open to Matthew. Although most people read Luke when they read the “Christmas story” Joe preferred Matthew’s depiction since it told more of Joseph’s side of the story. Being a Joseph himself, he had always felt a kinship to the human father of Jesus, if only in name.
Joe read about Joseph’s finding out his bride-to-be was pregnant and his plan to divorce her quietly. Sitting back, he put the book down a moment, thinking how similar their situations appeared to be. Although he knew Mari was not a virgin, they’d been married ten years after all, she was with child, one he was sure could not be his. And like that Joseph of old, he was thinking of divorcing Mari quietly, even though the thought of leaving her permanently was almost impossible to bear.
He knew the rest of the story by heart, of course, since he had memorized it the first Christmas after he became a Christian. “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is through the Holy Spirit.” When he came to those words, Joe stopped reading and gave serious thought to what Joseph might have felt upon finding out about his fiancée’s condition. Here was a man, a righteous man, learning of his fiancée’s pregnancy, then being told by an angel that the child in his fiancée’s womb was the son of God. What extraordinary faith Joseph must have had to take Mary as his wife, be with her when she gave birth, then raise the child as his own, knowing the child was not his biological son. What responsibility he faced and shouldered to rear the Son of God.
Tears of repentance welled in Joe’s eyes and fell down his cheeks. How foolish and arrogant for him to believe he was the only person to ever face such a dilemma. Blinded by his own anger and pain, he had totally failed to consider what Mari was going through. She had been so very sick in the beginning when they had both thought she had a stubborn case of the flu. Then after she told him about the pregnancy, he had totally withdrawn from her both to punish her and to salvage his pride. He refused to listen to her insistence that this was his child. Instead he ignored her for the next two months then ran off to Houston when he could not handle it anymore, planning on not coming home until after she gave birth and then only to retrieve his belongings.
Then a thought hit him sending him straight up in his seat. What if she died? Women still died in childbirth, he knew, although it was rare in this day of advanced medical care. She had seemed so fragile when he left, her face pale and her body so thin, except for her rounded belly.
“I have to see her,” he cried out loud. Jumping up from the couch, he stumbled into the bedroom in his haste. He grabbed his overnight bag out of the closet. He tossed a few items in, not bothering to fold them. Striding over to the nightstand, he opened the drawer and picked up the picture of Mari in her bridal dress, holding it gently in his hands. The wedding picture of his wife was the one concession to his love he had made when he left home. “I’ll be home soon,” he whispered, willing his thoughts across the miles to Mari. Tucking the picture gently between some shirts to protect it against breaking, he zipped the bag and headed out the door.
He had to cool his heels in the Houston airport for almost an hour before the service representative at the counter was able to find him a seat on a plane headed to Detroit
When his flight was called, Joe hastened back to the gate. Thankful he was able to get a seat at all, he cheerfully accepted the seat in the middle of the coach section. His was the center seat, and he found himself between an overly cranky adolescent and his equally cranky mother. Joe offered to let them sit next to each other, but the mother said it was probably better that they did not. Watching the teen, Joe could see her point. They both appeared tired and the woman explained that her son’s father had decided he did not want to see his only child over the Christmas holiday. When she finished speaking, she turned her head to stare out the window before dozing off.
“Sorry about your Dad,” Joe said to the teen when he saw the mother was sleeping. He felt totally inadequate but could not just let the boy sit and stew over something that was clearly not his fault.
The teen gave a sad sigh. “Not your problem,” he commented.
“True,” Joe replied, “but it isn’t yours either.” When the boy looked at him in question, Joe continued. “Your dad made a choice, one that he may regret later. I’ve made a couple of those myself lately.”
“You not want to see your kid?” the boy asked, a note of accusation in his voice.
“Something like that.” Joe replied. He felt an inordinate urge to reach out to this sad and angry young man. “You know, my dad left my mom and me when I was just a little younger than you. I’ve actually only seen him twice since then.”
The boy looked at him in wonder. “Wow, that’s a long time.”
Joe hid a grin. Thirty-six probably was old to a teenager. “I’ve been angry about my parents for a long time but just today I realized that God had a plan for me. And even though my earthly dad wasn’t around for me, when I finally accepted Christ, I saw that my heavenly father was always there.”
“That’s what my mom keeps telling me. She told me it wasn’t my fault that they split up but I shouldn’t blame my dad either. She says he’s lost.”
“Are you a believer? I’m sorry, I don’t even know your name.”
“I’m Joey.” The boy held out his hand in a very adult attempt at introducing himself. “And, yeah. I believe. Kind of.”
“That’s my name too,” Joe said, gripping the boy’s hand firmly. His smiled widened. “And I kind of believed for a long time, too. I finally stopped fighting today.”
“I’m really mad at my dad.” The words practically burst from Joey’s lips.
“I know you are. But God can help you with that.” They spoke for a few more minutes then, exhaustion finally winning, the boy leaned his head back, and a short time later drifted off to sleep. Joe sat silently between mother and son and marveled at God’s providence. To sit next to a youngster who was actually going through almost the same situation Joe had go through had to be divine intervention. Joe just was not sure who had actually helped whom.
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