Read Online A Marriage Carol by Chris Fabry, Gary D. Chapman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Chris Fabry, Gary D. Chapman
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slide to the right, pine trees by the edge of the road coming dangerously close. I let off the brake, thinking I was headed over the embankment, but the car held and righted itself. I was concentrating so hard on keeping my momentum without plunging over the edge that I didn’t see the yellow flashers until I was on top of them. Only two choices—I could swerve or hit the brake and hope. Instinctively I hit the brake pedal.
The road dipped to the right and as soon as I put my foot down, the car slid toward the curve, toward the flashing yellow. Windshield wipers going full tilt, my front end pulled to the right and my headlights shone on the overturned car in the field, more flashing yellow.
In a split second, through the deluge of snow, I saw faces of my children, my mother and father, my sister and brother-in-law praying, and my husband. Jacob peered through the driver’s side window of the car. Beside him was Jay, the older, wiser, more compassionate version of him. They shrank back and braced for impact, and their two faces became one.
“No!” I shouted, unable to steer or stop the car. I threwup my hands, covered my eyes, and for the first time in as long as I could remember released a prayer from the heart. “God help me! Show me what to do.”
Chorus
That prayer was the last thing I remembered before opening my eyes. The surroundings blurry, I recognized a voice before I saw any face.
“Mom!” Becca shouted. “She’s awake! She’s back!”
Becca wasn’t older with a crying baby, she was my daughter again. David and Justin were beside her, held back from the hospital bed, wide-eyed and struggling to get to me. They hugged me as best they could, through the wires and monitors. My head felt like it had been twisted around and smacked with a tire iron a few times. I lifted a hand to my face and felt a bandage that wrapped around my forehead. My mouth was parched and I reached an IV-laden hand to the nightstand to get a drink. Instead,Becca got the glass and held the straw to my lips. The flash of memory was all I needed for my eyes to go blurry again, this time with tears.
“We were worried, Mom,” David said. “The lights went out and when you didn’t come home we were all alone.”
“Becca did a good job of taking care of us, though,” Justin said.
Becca’s eyes twinkled as she stood watching, pulling her hair behind one ear and feigning disinterest at what the boys said. It was like looking in a mirror at myself.
“You guys did great,” I said. “Bringing those covers downstairs and pulling the couches together.”
“How did you know that?” Justin said.
I paused. “Well, I just figured you did that.”
A nurse came in and the children moved back to let her check my vital signs. She wore a name tag that said, “Amanda.”
“How do you feel, Mrs. Ebenezer?” She strapped something onto my arm, listened with her stethoscope and looked me in the eyes.
“Really good, considering,” I said. “Really good. How long have I been out? What day is this?”
“It’s Christmas Day,” David said. “You need to comehome so we can open presents.”
“We’re going to check out your mom and make sure she’s okay first, big guy,” Amanda said. “Pulse is good. Blood pressure is good.”
“They say you have a percussion,” David said.
“Concussion,” Justin corrected.
“Is that so?” I said. “Well, my head feels more like a drum that’s been whacked, so percussion sounds right to me.”
“How’s the pain?” Amanda kept looking at my eyes. “On a scale of 1 to 10.”
“I’m about a 5.” I sat up slowly and my head spun. “And I think I want to go home.”
Amanda smiled. “We’re going to take care of your percussion first. Just lay back.”
I took her advice and put my head firmly on the pillow, turning to the window and watching a lazy snowfall
The road dipped to the right and as soon as I put my foot down, the car slid toward the curve, toward the flashing yellow. Windshield wipers going full tilt, my front end pulled to the right and my headlights shone on the overturned car in the field, more flashing yellow.
In a split second, through the deluge of snow, I saw faces of my children, my mother and father, my sister and brother-in-law praying, and my husband. Jacob peered through the driver’s side window of the car. Beside him was Jay, the older, wiser, more compassionate version of him. They shrank back and braced for impact, and their two faces became one.
“No!” I shouted, unable to steer or stop the car. I threwup my hands, covered my eyes, and for the first time in as long as I could remember released a prayer from the heart. “God help me! Show me what to do.”
Chorus
That prayer was the last thing I remembered before opening my eyes. The surroundings blurry, I recognized a voice before I saw any face.
“Mom!” Becca shouted. “She’s awake! She’s back!”
Becca wasn’t older with a crying baby, she was my daughter again. David and Justin were beside her, held back from the hospital bed, wide-eyed and struggling to get to me. They hugged me as best they could, through the wires and monitors. My head felt like it had been twisted around and smacked with a tire iron a few times. I lifted a hand to my face and felt a bandage that wrapped around my forehead. My mouth was parched and I reached an IV-laden hand to the nightstand to get a drink. Instead,Becca got the glass and held the straw to my lips. The flash of memory was all I needed for my eyes to go blurry again, this time with tears.
“We were worried, Mom,” David said. “The lights went out and when you didn’t come home we were all alone.”
“Becca did a good job of taking care of us, though,” Justin said.
Becca’s eyes twinkled as she stood watching, pulling her hair behind one ear and feigning disinterest at what the boys said. It was like looking in a mirror at myself.
“You guys did great,” I said. “Bringing those covers downstairs and pulling the couches together.”
“How did you know that?” Justin said.
I paused. “Well, I just figured you did that.”
A nurse came in and the children moved back to let her check my vital signs. She wore a name tag that said, “Amanda.”
“How do you feel, Mrs. Ebenezer?” She strapped something onto my arm, listened with her stethoscope and looked me in the eyes.
“Really good, considering,” I said. “Really good. How long have I been out? What day is this?”
“It’s Christmas Day,” David said. “You need to comehome so we can open presents.”
“We’re going to check out your mom and make sure she’s okay first, big guy,” Amanda said. “Pulse is good. Blood pressure is good.”
“They say you have a percussion,” David said.
“Concussion,” Justin corrected.
“Is that so?” I said. “Well, my head feels more like a drum that’s been whacked, so percussion sounds right to me.”
“How’s the pain?” Amanda kept looking at my eyes. “On a scale of 1 to 10.”
“I’m about a 5.” I sat up slowly and my head spun. “And I think I want to go home.”
Amanda smiled. “We’re going to take care of your percussion first. Just lay back.”
I took her advice and put my head firmly on the pillow, turning to the window and watching a lazy snowfall
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