Read Online A Marriage Carol by Chris Fabry, Gary D. Chapman - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Chris Fabry, Gary D. Chapman
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said. “What will their lives be like in your version of the future?”
“Children struggle no matter what you choose,” she said.
“Their
choices matter as well. But I can assure you they will be affected by what you decide tonight.”
Something warm but terrifying spread through me, like hot chocolate … or more like radiation. And fearrose up with the fallout of my thoughts.
“I’ve been trying so hard. I’ve been working at the relationship for so long.”
“It’s not about trying harder. In the end, it’s not really about you doing the right thing or him responding in the right way. It’s letting go of your own limited vision. This is not about what you can dredge up from the floor of your imagination. It’s allowing God to do something you can’t. That’s what it’s always been about. For the two on the road two thousand years ago, and the men on the road tonight.”
“So I have a chance to get this right …” She shook her head. “Not get it right. It’s about making good choices. It’s putting one foot in front of the other on a good path, one that will lead you to a place down the road you can be proud of, no matter what response you get.”
“I’m confused. You’re not promising a husband who buys a dog and serves me soup? A man who wants to help other struggling marriages? You can’t be sure that will happen?”
“There are two futures and infinite possibilities ahead. You can move toward one or the other right now, withevery choice you make. But you will never know what might become of your marriage, what life you might give to others, if you don’t take a step.”
Rue sat up on the bed, his ears pricked again, looking out the window. Through the blinding snow I saw a hint of yellow flashers lighting the darkness.
“Who chose his name?” I said, nodding toward the dog.
“Jacob,” she said. “One of the regrets he had. Just shows that a regret can become a good thing when a good choice is made.”
I gave the dog a pat on the head and placed a hand on the woman’s arm. “I don’t understand all of this. But thank you.”
She smiled. “Now hurry along. Get to them. You’ve already made your choice. I can tell.”
I looked back once at the doorway, the dog spread out on the covers and her hand on top of its head. A picture that stayed with me as I ran down the stairs in the dark, the fire in the living room hearth nearly out. My shoes were dry, and I hurried and wrapped myself in my thin coat. I found the keys and managed to get the garage door up, hitting the manual release. The huge vehiclemoved through the deep snow like a turtle, then gained speed and went off the edge of the concrete driveway as I slipped and slid down toward the road. With the Suburban in four-wheel drive, I spun the wheels, trying to give myself enough momentum to move, but not so much that I would lose control.
The road was deserted, the previous tire tracks almost completely covered by the blowing snow. In my rearview mirror I noticed the soft glow of light coming from the second-floor window, and then the house disappeared through the trees and the curtain of snow. It took several minutes to find the main road, then I took the right turn too quickly and my back end fishtailed. I spun into the turn and slid, then regained control and moved back to the middle of the road and down the hill.
Her words, my words, echoed as I drove. One choice changes the construction of a life. You’ll never experience the joy and tenderness of a lifelong love unless you fight for it
.
Snowflakes, like choices, splashed on the windshield. I hit the high beams and the view was no better. It was actually worse, the flakes descending in waves now, the wind whipping them sideways across the covered road. I have never heard of a snow tsunami, but if there wassuch a thing I was in the middle of it.
I hit the brake down a steep slope and went into a
“Children struggle no matter what you choose,” she said.
“Their
choices matter as well. But I can assure you they will be affected by what you decide tonight.”
Something warm but terrifying spread through me, like hot chocolate … or more like radiation. And fearrose up with the fallout of my thoughts.
“I’ve been trying so hard. I’ve been working at the relationship for so long.”
“It’s not about trying harder. In the end, it’s not really about you doing the right thing or him responding in the right way. It’s letting go of your own limited vision. This is not about what you can dredge up from the floor of your imagination. It’s allowing God to do something you can’t. That’s what it’s always been about. For the two on the road two thousand years ago, and the men on the road tonight.”
“So I have a chance to get this right …” She shook her head. “Not get it right. It’s about making good choices. It’s putting one foot in front of the other on a good path, one that will lead you to a place down the road you can be proud of, no matter what response you get.”
“I’m confused. You’re not promising a husband who buys a dog and serves me soup? A man who wants to help other struggling marriages? You can’t be sure that will happen?”
“There are two futures and infinite possibilities ahead. You can move toward one or the other right now, withevery choice you make. But you will never know what might become of your marriage, what life you might give to others, if you don’t take a step.”
Rue sat up on the bed, his ears pricked again, looking out the window. Through the blinding snow I saw a hint of yellow flashers lighting the darkness.
“Who chose his name?” I said, nodding toward the dog.
“Jacob,” she said. “One of the regrets he had. Just shows that a regret can become a good thing when a good choice is made.”
I gave the dog a pat on the head and placed a hand on the woman’s arm. “I don’t understand all of this. But thank you.”
She smiled. “Now hurry along. Get to them. You’ve already made your choice. I can tell.”
I looked back once at the doorway, the dog spread out on the covers and her hand on top of its head. A picture that stayed with me as I ran down the stairs in the dark, the fire in the living room hearth nearly out. My shoes were dry, and I hurried and wrapped myself in my thin coat. I found the keys and managed to get the garage door up, hitting the manual release. The huge vehiclemoved through the deep snow like a turtle, then gained speed and went off the edge of the concrete driveway as I slipped and slid down toward the road. With the Suburban in four-wheel drive, I spun the wheels, trying to give myself enough momentum to move, but not so much that I would lose control.
The road was deserted, the previous tire tracks almost completely covered by the blowing snow. In my rearview mirror I noticed the soft glow of light coming from the second-floor window, and then the house disappeared through the trees and the curtain of snow. It took several minutes to find the main road, then I took the right turn too quickly and my back end fishtailed. I spun into the turn and slid, then regained control and moved back to the middle of the road and down the hill.
Her words, my words, echoed as I drove. One choice changes the construction of a life. You’ll never experience the joy and tenderness of a lifelong love unless you fight for it
.
Snowflakes, like choices, splashed on the windshield. I hit the high beams and the view was no better. It was actually worse, the flakes descending in waves now, the wind whipping them sideways across the covered road. I have never heard of a snow tsunami, but if there wassuch a thing I was in the middle of it.
I hit the brake down a steep slope and went into a
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