The Christmas Mural

The following tale is my Christmas gift to you. It is my prayer that it will touch your heart in some way.

Merry Christmas and may the New Year be filled with God's blessings in abundance.



Jolene hated being in such a conundrum, but that’s where she found herself.  With exactly one week before the Christmas program, the new pastor dumped a daunting assignment in her lap. He’d asked several church members and it seemed that no one else was up to the task of painting a huge, stage wide mural that must capture the essence of the true meaning of Christmas, but they’d all told him that Jolene Jeffers was the one who could do it. She was furious, but tried her level best not to show a trace of it. Heaven knows, the struggling church was blessed to find a new pastor and so she didn’t want to make waves. Jolene did tell him that she’d be hard pressed to get the job done on time, but he assured her that he had every confidence that she could pull it off. She smiled, but was pretty certain it didn’t look genuine.

She stomped her way out of the Sunday morning service without talking to another living soul and got into her car to drive home. The sun was shining brightly on the snow that had fallen overnight. It was a beautiful pristinely white winter scene straight from a box of Christmas cards, but it was all wasted on Jolene. It was as though that one request had sucked the Christmas spirit right out of her. To make matters worse, she didn’t have a single idea for the mural. Her creativity apparently took a hike along with the Christmas spirit.

As she pulled in the drive, she noticed a car with out of state plates parked behind her husband’s pick-up truck. Jolene cut the engine, got out and eyed the black car. She had no idea who it belonged to, but hoped whoever it was didn’t intend to stay long. Her husband, Frank, stayed home from church due to an oncoming cold, so she didn’t think he’d invited anyone to their home for lunch without asking her first. She walked around to the mudroom and went in through the back door where she removed her boots and hung her coat in the closet. When she went into the kitchen, she smelled the aroma of French vanilla coffee, so she poured herself a cup and decided to track down her husband and the mystery guest.

She found them in the living room drinking coffee and engrossed in conversation. The mystery guest had tears in his eyes and her husband looked upset too. Jolene thought about trying to back out of the room unnoticed, but it wasn’t to be. The elderly man caught sight of her immediately.

“Is this your wife?” he asked Frank.

“Yes, it is,” her husband answered. Then he addressed Jolene in such a somber tone it made her nervous. “You’d better come sit by me,” he said and patted the vacant spot on the loveseat.

“What is wrong?”

“Believe me; you need to sit down for this.”

She asked no further questions, sat down next to her husband and took his hand in hers to wait for some kind of explanation.

Frank began, “This man claims to be my father.”

“What? I thought you said your father died when you were two years old?”

“That is what my mother told me.”

The old man broke in, “Your mother was trying to cover up the truth. I deserted both of you. She didn’t want you to feel the pain of being unwanted.”

“Eloise wouldn’t lie. I knew her for twenty years and she never lied about anything. She’s gone now, so she can’t defend herself against what you’re asserting, but if you don’t mind my saying so, I think you’re lying. Why would you show up now after all these years?” Jolene said in an angry flurry.

“I’ve come to make things right,” stated the old man.

“It a little too late for that now,” whispered Frank hoarsely.

“Look, sir, I don’t know who you are, but I think you should leave,” Jolene declared.

“I’ve come a long way to be here. Couldn’t you both at least hear me out?”

“No. My husband isn’t feeling well.”

Jolene glanced worriedly at her husband’s face and saw that he was quite flushed.

“Leave now, please. I think Frank has a fever.”

The old man stood to his feet. “I will see myself out.”

Jolene got up from the loveseat and said, “I’ll walk you to your car.”

Her husband blurted, “Jolene, you don’t know anything about this man. Just show him to the door. He doesn’t need you to walk him to his car.”

“It’s slippery outside. What if he falls?”

“If he does, call 911. He’ll be okay,” said Frank firmly.

“Yes, he’s right. You don’t know me,” agreed the man.

Jolene walked the man back to the kitchen.

“Do you have any real proof that you’re Frank’s father or not?” she asked point-blank.

“Yes. I’ll bring it by after he is feeling better.”

“Don’t you have to get back to South Carolina? I did notice the plates on the car.”

“At my age I don’t need to be in a rush to be anywhere,” he said and smiled.

“What have you come here for at this late date?”

“Forgiveness, Jolene, forgiveness,” he said quietly and went out the back door.

She called out after him, “What makes you think he’ll agree to see you again?”

“It’s not what; it’s who,” he answered without turning to look back at her.

He walked slowly to his car and got in. Jolene watched as he drove down the drive and out of sight. Great. This is just what we need, she thought. She shut the door and went to the living room to check up on her husband.

 

To be continued...




 

 

Frank’s fever was soaring and he was uncharacteristically uncooperative. When Jolene asked him to let her take his temperature, he sullenly refused. He said he’d be alright in a few hours, so she made him take a couple of ibuprofen and told him to keep drinking liquids. He promised to do as she ordered.

Before she left the room, she asked, “Would you like me to make a chicken soup? There’s nothing more soothing for a cold.”

“Don’t bother,” he answered.

“Look, I don’t know why I consulted you. I’m going to make one anyway. You are in no condition to know what’s best for you. That old man shook you up, didn’t he?”

“I was wondering how long it would take for you to ask, but my answer is yes. Let’s drop it, Jolene. I’m not in the mood to discuss it at the moment.”

She looked at him long and hard before responding. He looked dreadful, so she said gently, “I think what he’s saying is the truth. If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t be so rattled, but I’m not going to press you on it now.”

He smiled feebly and said, “Thanks.”

She went into the kitchen and began preparing the soup. It wasn’t what she’d planned to do on a Sunday afternoon following church, but it would allow her to sort of zone out for two or three hours. It suddenly seemed shallow and funny that she’d been in a tizzy over the Christmas mural she’d been asked to paint. It would be the least of her problems this Christmas season, but she still didn’t have a clue about the direction she should take. As the chicken began bubbling in the pot, she peeled, sliced and diced the vegetables and thought about possible themes for the mural. Nothing seemed quite right. She silently prayed about it, but the instant inspiration she’d hoped would descend from on high didn’t come. What did settle on her slim shoulders was a heavy burden. She couldn’t stop thinking about that old man and her sick husband and wondered if in some strange way the three things were connected. She glanced out the window over the kitchen sink and noticed it was starting to snow again. Hopefully it won't turn into a full-fledged blizzard, she thought apprehensively.

When the soup was ready, she went to the pantry and got out the bed-tray as well as a box of saltines. She placed the tray on the island in the kitchen; then arranged several saltines on a small plate and put it on the tray. She went to the stove and ladled up a helping of chicken soup into a white bowl and set it on the tray next to a soup spoon. She folded a Christmas napkin and placed it on the tray, too along with a tall glass of water.

Jolene carried the tray into the living room was relieved to see her husband had perked up a little. He was watching a Christmas movie on TV and didn't look as flushed as before. Maybe it’s just the ibuprofen, she thought. She placed the tray on the coffee table and sat down next to him.

“You seem a little better, dear.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right. That soup I didn’t want smells pretty good.”

She replied, “Sit still and I’ll put the tray over your lap.”

She stood and gave him the tray.

“You always go the second mile for me, Jolene. You’re a miracle.”

She smiled and said, “I wouldn’t do it for just anyone.”

“I think you would. That’s what makes you special.”

“Eat,” she answered and went back to the kitchen to eat her own soup.

Around six that evening, Frank took a turn for the worse. The raging fever was back with intensified ferocity and he’d developed an odd sounding cough. He was delirious and ranting about things from his childhood; things that Jolene had never heard and didn’t know if they were real or imagined. She was scared and decided to rush him to the nearest emergency room. She tried to get him ready to go, but he was a large man out of control. She rushed to the front door and peered outside. It was snowing harder. The drive to the hospital would be tricky, especially with Frank hallucinating, so she finally gave up and called an ambulance.

When they wheeled him into the ER on a gurney, the attending physician began examining him. He immediately ordered x-rays and it was quickly determined that Frank’s cold was, in fact, a bad case of pneumonia. It was in both lungs. He was admitted into the hospital and pumped full of antibiotics via IV. Once he was situated in a private room, Jolene was told there was nothing left for her to do at that point.

The doctor said, “Your husband is out of it, so you might as well go home and get some rest. Check back on him in the morning. He’s not going anywhere.”

She wanted to stay there and argued with the doctor over it. He presented a strong case for going home, so she finally relented and left. She drove slowly home and thought, People do die from pneumonia. She chastised herself for being morbid and lacking in faith. She prayed that God would bring peace to the situation and to her heart, but no peace came. Then as she turned into her drive, she saw the old man’s car. She burst into tears.

To be continued…

 

 

She tried to pull herself together, but wasn’t having much success. It’d been a long day filled with minor annoyance and major concerns. One of the concerns was sitting in his car waiting for what she didn’t know and furthermore didn’t want to know, at least not tonight. A sense of frustration mixed with fatigue swept over her. Why, in God’s name, did that old man come back here tonight?  If punching the dashboard would help the situation, she’d have done it, but what good would that do. Considering the way things went, she’d probably break every bone in her hand. The thought was so ridiculous that she smiled a little, got a tissue out of the center console, dabbed her eyes, and opened the car door.

As soon as she got out, the old man rolled his car window down and called, “You must’ve taken him to the hospital!”

She waded through the mounting snow and approached his car. “Yes, I did. He was burning up and delirious.”

“Well, I’m glad you did. What’d they say is wrong?”

“Pneumonia.”

“I thought as much. He’ll be okay.”

“I hope you’re right. It’s a rough night to be out on the road. Why did you risk it to come back here tonight?”

“I wanted to check up on Frank, but I also wanted to talk with you.”

“I’m exhausted. I want to get some sleep. Besides, I don’t even know you.”

“Jolene, you and I both know that you’re so worried that you won’t sleep anytime soon. This is important and I promise that I’m harmless.”

Jolene was touched by the intensity of the old man’s plea and by the sadness in his eyes.

“Okay, come on in,” she said as she fumbled in her purse for the house key. He got out and she took his arm to help steady him on the way to the back door. Somehow she failed to notice how frail and feeble he was earlier, but it was quite apparent now.

“What is your name? I can’t keep thinking of you as ‘the old man’ forever.”

“Nelson,” he said quietly.

She turned the key and they went inside. Once in the warmth of the kitchen, Jolene switched on the lights.

“How about having a cup of decaf or hot cocoa?”

“I’d love some,” replied Nelson.

“Well then, let me take your coat and go sit down at the table.”

She took his coat and hat and hung them up in the closet.

“Which is it, cocoa or coffee?”

“Coffee, please.”

She went to work making the coffee, but glanced back at the unwanted visitor warily from time to time. He looked so thin and pitiful.

“When did you eat last?”

“Yesterday, I guess,” he answered.

“Good Lord!” she exclaimed.

“I know. I kind of forgot about food in my rush to get here.”

“Well, just coffee won’t do. I made a pot of chicken soup today. I’ll heat some up.”

“Don’t go out of your way. That’s not why I came.”

“You won’t have strength enough to tell me anything, if you don’t eat something. Besides, it’s no bother. I’ll have some too.”

“I can see why Frank married you. You’re a keeper.”

“Thank you. You are a charmer,” she said and smiled.

“I’m afraid your husband doesn’t agree.”

“We’ll discuss it over soup and crackers.”

Jolene bustled about the kitchen and in a short time had everything on the table and sat down to join Nelson. What happened next came as a bit of a surprise. The old man bowed his head reverently and said grace.

When he finished and raised his head, she asked, “Are you a religious man or was that for show in an effort to impress me?”

“I wouldn’t describe myself as ‘religious’. It’s more natural and organic than that. God has been a part of my life for a long time.”

“You might as well begin telling me whatever story you came to share,” she stated with a strong note of skepticism.

“From your tone, I’d say you’ve made up your mind not to believe me.”

“I’m sorry, but your natural and organic relationship with God statement left me cold.”

“How would you describe yours?”

Jolene thought for a moment before speaking. “I’m not sure. I was brought up in the church and didn’t know any other way to live, I suppose. Sometimes, I must admit, I’m just going through the motions. Maybe, playing church would be a better way to put it. I think I do what I do more out of a sense of duty than anything else.”

“How sad.”

She sighed and said, “Enough about me. What did you want to talk with me about?”

“I want to tell you the truth about Frank, his mother and me.”

“Go on. I’m listening.”

“I loved Frank’s mother dearly, but she had serious problems.”

“I find that difficult to believe. I knew her for twenty years and saw no glaring problems.”

“No, you wouldn’t. The problems were when she was younger, before you knew her.”

“What kind of problems?”

“Mental, Jolene. She was schizophrenic. You know, she saw and heard things that weren’t real. She accused me of all sorts of things, things I didn’t and wouldn’t ever do. It all started about a year after we were married. Our first year together was wonderful, but the next few were like something out of a horror story. I tried to convince her to get help, but she didn’t think there was anything wrong. Instead she thought I was out to put her away in a mental institution. After a while, I knew that it was our only hope.”

Jolene broke in, “How can you sit there and expect me to swallow such a far-fetched yarn? I told you that I knew the woman for twenty years. She was solid as a rock.”

“What has Frank told you about her?”

“Nothing, really, he’s let me draw my own conclusions.”

“Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”

“I don’t see why it should.”

“Does he ever talk about his childhood?”

“Rarely.”

“And you, did you tell him about yours?”

“Yes, of course, I did.”

“Didn’t you ever wonder why he was so secretive?”

“Well, I never really thought it over,” she said slowly.

“When I was here earlier, I noticed that something was missing from your home.”

“What?”

“There were no children and no photos of children on display. Why is that?”

“We chose not to have kids.”

“Whose idea was that?”

Jolene was beginning to feel irritated. “You’re asking too many personal questions.”

“This is personal to me. Again, was it his idea or yours?”

“Actually, it was his. He said he didn’t like kids much and didn’t want any.”

“Did he give a reason?”

“He said they’d get in the way of our relationship and ruin our dreams and plans.”

“How did you feel about it?”

“I wanted a family, but I respected his wishes.”

“Now that you’re older, how do you feel about his decision?”

Her face flushed and she blurted out the truth, “I feel sad and robbed, if you must know, especially this time of year, when family is even more important.”

“You said that Frank was hallucinating earlier. What was he talking about?”

“I’d rather not go into the ramblings of someone temporarily out of his gourd. There’s no way I can give what he was saying any credence.”

“Then let me tell you. I don’t necessarily know any specifics, but it probably had something to do with physical abuse by Eloise.”

She looked down at the table and tears began to trickle down her cheeks.

“I know this is hard, but you’ve got to hear me out.”

“I’m listening.”

“When I said, I deserted Frank, it wasn’t true. That’s what she told him, so I used what she’d said as a way to at least begin the conversation with him. We were married about four years when Frank was born. She was becoming more and more out of control with every passing day. She was thoroughly convinced that I was having an affair with another woman and that the other woman was going to take the baby away from her, so she began locking him in a dark room for days to keep Ilene, that’s what she called the imaginary woman, away from him. Nothing I could say or do helped. She called me a no-good whoremonger and finally filed for divorce.”

“What did you do?”
“I didn’t want a divorce. I wanted my wife back, but to avoid trouble I told her I’d leave. She agreed to drop her divorce plans, if I’d go and send money to support Frank, so that’s what I did.”

The old man took out his wallet and showed Jolene photos of Eloise and him. He even produced some with them and the baby. Then he placed several school photos of Frank at various stages of his childhood on the table. Jolene had to admit that what he was telling her must be true, but she had a lot of questions.

“If you left, where did you get the school pictures?”

“She’d send them like she was tossing a bone to a dog.”

“How do you know she abused him? It’s not like you lived there.”

“I stayed in contact with people I knew and they told me things. They didn’t know for sure, of course, but they saw things and they were suspicious. I should’ve come back and confronted her. I might’ve been able to have her institutionalized sooner and saved my son from years of torture at her hands. I was weak. I still loved her and prayed she’d change.”

Tears were coursing down Nelson’s face now and Jolene could sense his pain. It was real and palpable.

“Did you try to ask Frank about the abuse today?”

“Yes, but I didn’t get far. I think he’s tried to block it from his memory.”

“Well, your visit must have jarred some of them back into focus because he was ranting about it before I called for the ambulance. I never would’ve guessed about any of this. He always talked about his mother as though she was a pillar of moral virtue.”

“She was when she was rational, Jolene. That is partly what made her frightening.”

“You said that if you’d done something she might’ve been institutionalized sooner, so what happened? She must’ve obtained help because she seemed perfectly sane to me.”

“When Frank went off to college, she went to pieces. It became obvious to everyone. Frank’s the one who finally had the guts to do something about his mother and thank God it did bring results.”

“So, if you supposedly loved her so much, why didn’t you come back?”

“I went to see her whenever I could, but she didn’t stop believing that I cheated on her. That was the one lie she wouldn’t let go of. I think she used it to help exonerate herself of blame concerning most of what she’d done. It made her feel better to blame everything on me. It seemed like my visits only served to impede her fragile recovery, so I gave up and stopped going. It was the only option I had.  ”

“If all this is true, how could Frank love his mother the way he did?”

“It was to mask his pain. I am sure of it. It happens often to kids in abusive situations or so I understand.”

“I guess, it does make sense and explains many of his decisions.”

“I am certain that it’s why he didn’t want children of his own. Many abused children fear that they will become abusers.”

“Why did you tell me all of this? I know you must expect something from me.”

“All I want is forgiveness.”

“How can I help with that?”

“As soon as Frank is feeling better, I’d like to visit him. I want you to go with me.”

“That’s asking a lot. What if he thinks of me as some sort of traitor?”

“He loves you. I saw it in his eyes. If you can forgive and believe in me, you can persuade him to.”

“I’ll have to think about it.”

“I would suggest that you pray about it. Perhaps it would make your relationship with God more real,” he said and paused, then continued, “Maybe you’d cut through the surface to find something deeper, more natural and organic.”

Then he got up from the table, took his hat and coat from the closet, put them on, and walked out the door into the snow without saying another word.

To be continued…

 

 

Sleep didn’t come easy. After Nelson left, Jolene kept mulling over what he’d said. It was too much to take in and she wondered how much of what he’d told her was accurate and how much was embellished or worse yet flat out lies. If her husband had been abused as the old man claimed though, it would explain a lot. She tossed and turned for hours and finally got up and went downstairs to the kitchen to make a cup of chamomile tea in the hope it would help her become relaxed and drowsy.

Sitting at the table with a teacup before her, she considered more of what Nelson said about his relationship with God. As she thought of hers, she became anxious. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d really talked to God. Oh, she prayed occasionally, but her prayers were almost always superficial. They were like the kind of ‘now I lay me down to sleep’ prayers that a child says by rote without even thinking about it or what it means. Her face burned in shame. It was as though Nelson saw right through her and knew something wasn’t quite right in her spiritual life. She’d become so busy, so caught up in the cares of life, that she’d pushed God aside as though he didn’t matter, but now at this time of uncertainty and great need, suddenly God mattered more than anyone or anything else.

With her fingers wrapped around the teacup and with tears streaming down her cheeks, she poured her heart out to God as she’d never done before. She prayed for her husband, for Nelson, and for direction. She had no idea what to do. Faith never came naturally to Jolene, it was an ingrained trait to question and doubt, but now faith was all she had to hang onto and she prayed it would be enough to see her through. She asked God to forgive her for being distant, neglectful, and cold toward him. For perhaps, the first time in her life, she talked to God out of a sincere heart, then she did something she’d never thought of before. She asked him to speak to her and she actually stopped to listen for his voice. She’d heard preachers say that it was part of prayer and friendship with God, but she’d thought it was complete nonsense. She sat there for a few moments feeling somewhat foolish, and then it was as though a soft whisper spoke straight to her heart.

It said, “Before you can be forgiven, you must learn how to forgive. You must forgive Nelson for all he’s told you is true. I will soften your husband’s heart. He will believe and forgive too. Listen for my guidance and be sensitive to the leading of the Holy Spirit. He will give you the right words to say at the proper time.”

Jolene was speechless. Finally she said aloud, “How do I know this is really you, Lord, and not just an overactive imagination?”

What happened next was so strange that it nearly defied description. She felt like a vial of warm, fragrant oil was poured over her head. She could smell the spicy scent. It was unlike anything she’d ever run across. With the warmth, came an uncanny peace. It filled her spirit to overflowing and buoyed her with joy. She knew everything would turn out all right. Then she felt something akin to the flutter of angel wings and then the phenomenon began to fade, but the odd warmth remained. It was the first real encounter she’d ever had with God, but she determined in her heart not to let it be the last.

She looked at the clock. It was 3:00 a.m., so she went back to bed. This time there was no tossing and turning. Sleep came sweetly. When dawn broke, her eyes fluttered open and although she’d only slept a few hours, she felt refreshed and fully rested. She turned back the covers and swung her legs out onto the cold floor. Its coldness made her shiver, so she slid her feet into her slippers, then reached for her robe and put it on tying the belt around her slim waist. She scurried to the adjoining bathroom to get ready to face the new day, a day that didn’t seem as depressing as before.

When she was fully dressed, she went down the stairs and into the kitchen to make coffee. As she looked out the window over the kitchen sink, she noticed that the snow had stopped and the sky was clear. The wonderland quality of the scene made her smile. She toasted a bagel and spread a thin layer of cream cheese on top, poured a mug of coffee and sat down at the table. She thought back to the night before and marveled at the miracle that transformed her soul.

After breakfast she called the hospital to check on her husband. The nurse said he’d put in a difficult night, but seemed a bit better this morning. He was awake and asking for her. Jolene told the nurse she’d be coming by to see him in an hour or two. She hung up the phone and wondered how she could reach Nelson. With no idea where he was staying, she didn’t have a clue. Seemingly, from out of nowhere, the thought struck her to call the local hospice, so she got out the phone book again and looked up the number.

She listened as the phone rang on the other end of the line four times. She was just about ready to hang up, when at last, someone answered.

“Good morning, this is Pine Valley Hospice. How may I help you?”

“This is Jolene Jeffers. Is an elderly man by the name of Nelson Jeffers staying there by any chance?”

“Yes, he came to us a few days ago. Is he your father?”

“Father-in-law. Could I speak with him, please?”

“I think he left a little while ago. Should I tell him you called?”

“Did he say where he was going?”

“No. He’s a sweet, but quiet man who keeps to himself.”

“Well, there’s no need to tell him I called. I have a hunch that I’ll see him soon enough. Good-bye.”

“Good-bye and have a nice day.”

Before she found the time to process her thoughts, she heard a car pull into the drive. It was Nelson and came as no surprise. Since the drive was still unplowed, she ran outside to help him through the snow to the house. Once they were inside, she took his coat and hung it in the closet.

“Did you have breakfast at the hospice?” she asked.

Nelson looked stunned. “No, I didn’t take the time. How did you know I’m staying there?”

“I don’t know. It just came to me.”

“Well, you’ve probably figured out that I’m dying too.”

“No, I’m sorry. I’ll make you some breakfast while you tell me about it,” Jolene said sadly.

“My appetite isn’t much. Just some toast and coffee will be fine,” he said as he shuffled to the table to sit down.

“That’s not much. Are you sure you wouldn’t like something more substantial?”

“I’m sure, but thanks for the concern. To make a long story short, I have stage four cancer. I’m terminal. That’s why I came. I had to try to make things right and ask forgiveness, but the trip here took so much out of me that I don’t think I’ll make it back to South Carolina. To be honest, I don’t care if I go back there or not. I’d rather be buried here near Eloise. As crazy as it may sound, I never stopped loving her. She was sick and couldn’t help it. I forgave her long ago and Frank needs to forgive her too.”

The old man’s hands began to tremble and tears welled up in his eyes. Jolene was moved with compassion and didn’t know what to do, so she turned her back and poured some coffee into a mug. She took the coffee and toast to the table and placed them in front of Nelson.

Then she sat down in the chair directly opposite and stated, “I took your advice.”

He smiled and said, “I thought so.”

“Why?”

“The moment you said that where I was staying just came to you, I knew you had a real talk with God. That’s the sort of thing the Holy Spirit does. It’s his guidance.”

“Well, here’s something else that keeps coming to me: everything will work for our good. I know in my spirit that it will be fine.”

“I know some things too. I know that I’m going to die soon and I’m not upset about it. I welcome it because I made my peace with God long ago. My dying wish is to make peace with my son. That is all that’s important to me now. Do you understand, Jolene?”

“Yes, I understand and I know that God will grant that wish,” she declared as she reached across the table and patted his hand reassuringly.

“Have you called the hospital?”

“Yes, I called there before I called the hospice.”

“How is Frank this morning? Do you think he’ll be up to seeing me?”

“I don’t think so. Not yet. Let me see him first and talk to him. I will pave the way for your visit.”

“Okay, I trust your judgment.”

“Thanks. Now eat.”

“Okay.”

They smiled at each other.

He asked, “What did you and God talk about last night?”

“Forgiveness,” she answered.

“It must’ve been quite a chat. Your face is glowing.”

To be continued…



 

 

 

After Nelson left to return to the hospice, Jolene hurried off for the hospital to visit with her husband. Initiating the subject of his long lost father wasn’t a task she was excited about, so on the drive she prayed for wisdom. The warm fuzzies from the night before were gone now and suddenly, all the old doubts and fears began rising in her spirit like a flood tide. She clamped her fingers around the steering wheel so hard they started to ache. Her jaw was tightly clenched too. It was an idiosyncrasy that hadn’t reared its ugly head in several years and only then when she felt as though unusual pressure was levied against her. She pulled into a parking space in the hospital lot that was nearest the main entrance, got out, and made her way inside.

On the elevator ride to the fourth floor, she was alone, so she spoke out loud, “I’m not going to put up with this anymore. I know where the source of it comes from, so be gone in Jesus name.”

The tormenting feeling she’d experienced on the trip to see Frank lifted immediately. It was miraculous and she was glad that she’d listened to a few sermons after all. She stepped out of the elevator with much more confidence than she possessed when she stepped in. She went to the nurse’s station to check in with the head nurse before seeing her husband. The head nurse directed her to room 417.

Jolene rapped gently on the door, and then opened it slowly. Frank was sitting up, but didn’t look as though he was ready to run a marathon anytime soon.

“Hi, sweetheart. You look a little better than you did last night. How are you feeling?”

“Lousy, but seeing you helps,” he said in a raspy voice.

“I’m glad. Did you eat anything this morning?”

“I had some kind of nasty tasting gruel that I managed to eat between coughing fits.”

“Well, hospital food isn’t known as fine dining, dear. At least you ate something and I think they probably want you to cough.”

“Yes, they do, but it hurts.”

She pulled a chair up next to the hospital bed and sat down. Frank reached out and held her hand.

“I’ll be one happy guy when they remove this IV,” he said and smiled weakly.

“Has the doctor been in to see you yet this morning?”

“No, but he’s due soon. I want out of here as soon as possible. I don’t intend to spend Christmas away from you.”

“You won’t have to. I’m sure you’ll be better before then. It’s over a week away.”

“You never did tell me what when on in church Sunday,” stated Frank.

She replied, “Nothing out of the ordinary except that I was asked to paint a huge mural for the Christmas program. I’d forgotten about it with everything else that went on Sunday.”

“What are you going to paint?”

“I don’t know. I may call the pastor and tell him there’s no way I can do it.”

“Do you even have any ideas about the direction you’d take with the mural?”

“None, but I haven’t been thinking about anything else other than you.”

“I know and I’m sorry. For some strange reason, I feel like this mural is important. I don’t think you should back out on it.”

“You shouldn’t feel sorry. It’s not like you planned to get pneumonia and if you think this mural is that important, I'll go ahead with it.”

“I do.”

“Okay, maybe I’ll work on it later today.”

The doctor arrived and it interrupted the flow of their conversation, but he did deliver a piece of positive news. He declared that Frank could go home by Friday, if everything went well and he behaved himself.

After the doctor left, Frank was the one to open the topic she’d been dreading like the plague.

“What did you think of the old man?”

She looked down at her hands in an effort to stall. Then she looked him directly in the eyes.

“He’s telling the truth, isn’t he?”

“Yes. I didn’t want to accept the things he said, but I know it’s true, all of it.”

“Is it true that your mother abused you?”

“It is. I’ve kept it a secret my whole life.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know. I guess I couldn’t face up to it. I didn’t want anyone to know. I loved my mother, but when I was a child, I thought of her as a monster. I didn’t realize she had mental problems until I was older. Somehow the pain she put me through made me love her more, but that seemed so stupid and twisted. I couldn't begin to understand it and it made me feel like less of a man in a lot of ways. Maybe that is why I couldn't bring myself to tell you about it. Besides, she'd pulled it together by the time you got to know her. ”

“That’s what Nelson told me. I might as well admit that I’ve seen him again.”

“You have?”

“Yes and he told me that he didn’t desert you. That was something your mother told you and he just used it to begin a conversation with you. He told me something else too.”

“What?”

“He’s dying, Frank. That’s why he came. He said he had to make it right with you, so he could die in peace.”

“My God, what’s wrong with him?”

“Stage four cancer. He’s staying at the hospice here in town and doesn’t think he has the strength to make it back to South Carolina.”

Tears sprang to her husband’s eyes and he looked away in an effort to regain his composure.

He spoke in a hoarse whisper, “If he cared about me so damned much, why has it taken him so long to show up?”

“I don’t know. I think it had a lot to do with your mother.”

“Well, she’s been dead for four years. He could’ve come. It looks to me like he just wants to be let off the hook, Jolene.”

There was a harsh, angry edge to his tone that made her flinch almost as though she’d been slapped.

She said softly, “You need to ask him your questions, not me.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you that way.”

“I know. Will you agree to see him?”

“I suppose so.”

“You know what I think?”

“Tell me.”

“I think that if you forgive him, you’d be letting yourself off the hook. Whenever a person carries around a load of hatred and unforgiveness, they are never going to be free or happy. It's like towing an anchor along everywhere you go. I believe you’ve been carrying more than one for years and it has weighed you down. It’s high time to be rid of them.”

“I’m the one that’s been wronged or did you forget?”

She smiled faintly and asked, “You’ve been wronged, but does harboring hatred and wallowing in unforgiveness make you happy? Does it do a thing to right the wrong? Does it bring peace inside?”

“What do you know about it? You come from the ‘perfect family’.”

“I thank God for them, but this isn’t about me; is it?”

“How did you become so wise?”

“It happened last night.”

“Huh? What does that mean?”

“Oh, I’ll tell you about it later. Now, promise me that you’ll hear Nelson out. He deserves that much.”

“Okay, I guess I can promise that.”

“Do you think you’d be up to seeing him tomorrow?”

“Sure, why not, I might as well get it over with.”

“Good, I’m going to leave now. I'll get started on the mural and I’ll see you later on this afternoon.”

To be continued…

 

 

 

Jolene went home just long enough to gather the items needed to begin work on the mural. Although she wasn’t sure what to do, she was feeling more inspired. Her husband’s attitude about it made her more determined to pull it off. Frank always had a way of encouraging her which was one of the reasons she loved him so much. His outlook toward Nelson was more worrisome, but she decided to shove the concern aside for the rest of the day. Fretting about it wouldn’t change anything and would be counterproductive when it came to working on the mural.

She loaded everything in the car to drive the short distance to the church. The day that started out with a clear, blue sky was rapidly going downhill. Gray now replaced blue and it was colder too. She turned on the radio hoping to hear a weather update, but as she scanned the channels all that was available was music. She left it on a channel playing carols and other songs of the season. It did cheer her up considerably.

When she arrived at the church, to her dismay, the parking lot was half full. She left her supplies in the car, got out and went to find out what was going on. She peeked through the door to the sanctuary and smiled. It was rehearsal time for the program. The stage was filled with fidgety children trying to follow the choir director’s instructions. As the pianist struck up Hark the Herald Angels Sing, they skittered off down the center aisle pretending to fly like angels instead of singing the song. The choir director was obviously losing patience as the children flapped their arms and giggled.

Jolene turned to go, but the angry sound of the choir director’s voice made her pause.

“You brats settle down right now!! I’ve had all I intend to take from you for one day!! Get your little butts back up there and sing the song like you’re supposed to!!”

Jolene opened the door and walked in on the scene. “My, my, my, Martha, you sound like you’re filled with the Christmas spirit.”

The choir director turned and her face flushed a deep crimson from embarrassment. “How long have you been here?”

“I’ve been here long enough to know you’re not equipped to deal with children.”

“You saw how they behave. I am sick of it. If you think you can do a better job, take over. I’ve had it with them,” Martha said in a huff.

The pianist broke in, “Martha, this is Christmas time. The kids are just excited. You need to relax and cut them some slack.”

The children stood frozen not daring to move. Finally, a tall blonde boy spoke up. “We’re sorry Mrs. Mason. We didn’t mean any harm. We’ll go up and sing the song right this time.”

The others nodded their heads in agreement.

Martha replied primly, “Very well then, take your proper places and we’ll begin anew. All is forgiven. I’m sorry I was so hard on you. I just want this Christmas program to be perfect.”

Jolene said, “I’ll be leaving now.  Will you be practicing tomorrow?”

Martha stated, “No. Why do you ask?”

“I asked because I need to work on the mural. I hope it will be perfect enough to suit you,” said Jolene sarcastically and walked out the door.

She got in the car and sat there for a few moments before turning the key in the ignition. It crossed her mind to pay the pastor a visit to inform him about the choir director’s behavior, but she ruled it out as not being her place. Instead she said a prayer for Martha and the children. It made her feel better, so she started the car and rolled out of the parking lot and into the street. Her plan was ruined for the day, but since she was trying to be guided by the Holy Spirit, she decided not to let it bother her mind. There must be a good reason or so she thought. On the drive home, it began snowing again. It didn’t exactly boost her mood. In fact, she suddenly felt extremely cold and tired, so when she pulled into her drive, she went inside leaving her art supplies in the car to use the next day.

When she entered the kitchen and looked at the clock, she was a little surprised. It was already after two o’clock and she’d missed lunch. She made a cup of tea and a sandwich and ate in silence. Then she went into the living room, wrapped up in a red, wool throw, and stretched out on the sofa. Before she knew it, she was fast asleep, until she woke up with a start around five. She couldn’t believe she’d slept so long. The stress of the last two days was getting to her. That had to be it. She got off the sofa and trudged to the kitchen. Her head ached, her throat was sore, and she felt as though she was freezing. This can’t be happening, not now, when Frank needs me so much, she thought.

She went to the medicine chest in the bathroom and took out a thermometer. When she checked it, the digital read-out was 102.8. She took a couple of aspirin and then went to the phone to call her husband at the hospital.

He answered after a few rings. “Hello.”

“Hi, Sweetheart, how are you doing?”

“I’m holding my own. You don’t sound so hot.”

“You’re wrong about that. I'm burning up. I have a fever and feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

“Stay home then and get some rest. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. I’d feel terrible if you wound up in the hospital too because of me,” he said.

“I’m sure that won’t happen. I’ll go to bed early and probably be good as new by morning. I really want to be there when you talk with Nelson.”

“Have you talked with him again?”

“No, but I’ll call him to set your meeting up.”

“Okay, but I’ve been doing some thinking about it and I’d rather talk with him alone, if you don’t mind. Besides, I’m pretty sure you won’t feel up to going anywhere tomorrow. You’ll need time to let this run its course.”

“I want to be there for you. You shouldn’t have to face this all alone.”

“Relax, I’ve been praying today and I have a strong sense that it will go well. In fact, I’ve made up my mind to see to it that it does. I’ve thought a lot about what you said earlier and I know you’re right. I’ll never be a free man until I throw off the anchor I’ve been carrying and forgive him.”

“All right, it sounds like you are heading in a good direction. I’ll let you handle it. I’m sorry, but I think I’ll take a shower and go to bed.”

“You don’t have to apologize and don’t bother to call my father until morning. It’s not as though he’s going anywhere. Just take care of yourself. Goodnight, dear.”

“Goodnight, Frank. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

When she hung up the receiver, she began to cry, but sadness didn’t play a part in the tears. They were tears of joy and relief. She thanked God for answered prayer and climbed the stairs to shower and go to bed. She wondered how she could feel spiritually happy and physically miserable at the same time. With God all things are possible; she thought and laughed out loud.

 

The next morning, she was feeling even worse. She was incredibly weak and achy, when she got out of bed to go downstairs. Once in the kitchen, she made coffee and toast, downed a couple of aspirins and sat at the table. Going to the hospital or the church to work on the mural was clearly out of the question. It would take a miracle for the mural to get done at all the way things were shaping up.

The phone rang and she groaned, but went to answer it. “Hello.”

“Good morning, Jolene. It’s me, Nelson. How is Frank?”

“Hopefully, he is doing better than I am.”

“I didn’t think you sounded like yourself. What’s wrong?”

“I must have the flu or something.”

“What can I do to help?”

“Nothing and please for goodness sake don’t come over here. I wouldn’t want you to catch this,” she declared.

“Did you have an opportunity to talk with Frank before you came down with this?”

“Yes and he’s agreed to see you. I think everything will work out just fine. I can’t be there, but he said he’d rather talk to you alone anyway.”

“Thank you for all you’ve done. You have no idea what this means to me.”

“It means a lot to me to help you, too. Frank admitted that he’ll never have peace until he learns to forgive you and Eloise for that matter.”

“Well, I’ll be forever in your debt, Jolene. There must be something I can do to repay you.”

“Not unless you can paint a Christmas mural for the church program before Sunday morning,” she said and chuckled.

“What did you say?”

“I said, not unless you can paint a Christmas mural before Sunday.”

“I’d be glad to. I left my paints in South Carolina, though. I didn’t think I’d need them anymore. Could I borrow some of yours?”

“You’ve got to be kidding. You are an artist?”

“I am and I’m fairly accomplished.”

“Well, you’ve got yourself a job. I left my supplies in the car and now I’m glad I did. You won’t even have to come in the house to get them. Frank can give you the directions to the church. You are a life saver.”

Nelson asked, “Do you have a theme for the mural?”

“I’ve been waiting for inspiration, but so far I’ve come up empty. Use your own judgment.”

“Okay, I’ll see what I can come up with. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Let me know how it went with Frank.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll tell you about it. Goodbye and take care.”

“Goodbye and thanks.”

Jolene hung up, went to the living room and flopped onto the sofa. She didn’t hear Nelson when he drove in later that morning and didn’t notice when he returned around six that evening because she spent the day sleeping only getting up to either go to the bathroom or drink some water or hot tea. Around eight the phone rang and she was so weak that she struggled to make it to the kitchen.

“Hello,” she said feebly.

“That answers my first question. You don’t sound a bit better. I’d say I’m probably feeling better than you,” stated Frank.

“I’m okay. I’ve been asleep. That’s why I sound so awful.”

“How’s your fever?”

“I think my temperature must be back up. I haven’t taken anything for it because I’ve slept the day away, literally.”

“Well, as soon as you hang up, take something.”

“I will. How are you doing?”

“I’m getting better. The doctor is almost certain I’ll be released by Friday.”

“That’s great, Sweetie. Did Nelson drop by as planned?”

“Yes,” he answered.

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

She sighed and said, “I don’t feel like playing twenty questions. How did it go?”

“It went better than I could’ve imagined. He filled me in on things I never knew and answered questions that’d gnawed at me for years.”

“Did you forgive him?”

“Yes and we prayed together. He said I needed to forgive my mother and that was the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. She hurt me in so many ways. It went deeper than beatings, a lot deeper. She screwed up my mind through verbal abuse and crazy accusations. I found out that she accused my father of doing many of the same things with the same imaginary person. Her Ilene character was one busy lady.”

“I had no idea. I’m so sorry for all you’ve been through with her. I always thought you loved her.”

“I did and I still do. It never made sense. My father still loves her too. I think it’s because she seemed so fragile.”

“She wielded a lot of power for a fragile flower.”

“Yes, I suppose so. I asked my father why he left me in her care when he knew she was unstable.”

“What was his answer to that?”

“He said that he tried and tried to get custody of me, but my mother had connections. She knew people in high places like judges and although she was certifiable, she could be convincing in court. She had an uncanny way of pulling herself together and appearing completely rational when she needed to.”

“I see. Why did he stay away all those years though? I can’t understand it.”

“She wouldn’t allow him to come around. She made wild threats and he thought it was safer for me if he stayed out of the picture.”

“What about in later years? Your mother got help, thanks to you, and went on to live a normal life, so why did he stay away?”

“I asked him that. It was a major sticking point with me. He said that he feared sending her back over the edge. He called her a few times and she wouldn’t admit that Ilene wasn’t real. She still maintained that he’d been unfaithful. Mom was a proud woman and wouldn’t acknowledge that she’d been wrong.”

“Was that answer good enough to suit you?”

“Yes and now that it’s all out in the open and I’ve forgiven them, I feel like a new man. It’s been liberating.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I just wish you’d trusted me enough to tell me all this long ago, but I understand how difficult it must’ve been to talk about it.”

“So do you forgive me for keeping it a secret?”

“Yes, but from now on, no more secrets. Do you understand?”

“Completely. Now get off the phone and take some aspirin.”

“Did Nelson mention that he’s got a job?”

“He did and he was excited about it. I told him how to find the church and he was going to start on the mural this afternoon.”

“I appreciate the help. I’m in no shape to do it.”

“Thanks for giving him the job. I think it meant a lot to him. He told me that he’s sure it will be his last painting, so he wants to make it count.”

“I don’t know what to say to that. I hope and pray he’s wrong. It seems like such a shame that you two have reconciled only to run out of time to develop a relationship.”

“I think he’s living on borrowed time, Jolene. From what he told me, there’s no hope for recovery. He’s terminal and he’s old, but he’s accomplished what he set out to do when he came here. That’s what’s important. Now he sees this mural as his final mission and he wants to get it right, too, so I’m planning on making it out to church on Sunday to view his work, if I have to crawl to get there.”

“Me too.”

“I love you, but good-bye for now. Go take some aspirin and call me in the morning.”

“I love you, too and there’s something else I want you to know before I hang up.”

“What?”

“I’m proud of you. It took a lot of courage to forgive. It would be easier not to, but you’ve done what is both right and best. Goodnight.”

She hung up and went to take a couple of aspirins. As weak and feverish as she was, it was as though a burden had lifted from her shoulders and her spirit. She whispered a ‘thank you’ to God and went up the stairs to bed.

 

Jolene’s fever broke on Thursday and Frank was released on schedule on Friday. Neither one of them felt tiptop, but they were definitely on the mend. By the time Sunday dawned, they got up and though they were both tired, they made it to the Christmas program and even managed to take Nelson with them. When they entered the sanctuary, Jolene caught her breath at the sight of the stunning mural Nelson created. It was supremely simple, yet perfect. It was the night sky filled with stars in the vague form of angels with one star outshining all others.  It was shining down with glory upon a darkened world. Then in huge gold letters across the sky, Nelson wrote these words, “Jesus came to bring forgiveness. To be forgiven, we must forgive.” Tears ran down Jolene’s cheeks. She looked at Frank and his eyes were wet too. He reached out, took her hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze.

The program went well. The children performed and didn’t mess up too much. Jolene caught Martha’s eye and they smiled warmly at each other. When the service ended, Martha hurried to catch Jolene before she went out the door.

She said, “The mural was absolutely perfect. Thanks, Jolene.”

Jolene grinned and replied, “I’ve been sick all week and couldn’t do it.” Then she turned to Nelson and added, “My father-in-law came up with it, so you should thank him.”

“Thank you so much.  It was such a simple scene, but it went perfectly with our program, as did the message emblazoned across the sky. I would never have come up with it.”

Nelson nodded and replied softly, “We all need to forgive as we have been forgiven.”

In the days following Christmas, Nelson’s condition grew rapidly worse. He didn’t make it back to South Carolina, but he died forgiven by his only son and he died in peace for his son had set two spirits free. The father’s soared freely to the heavens and the son’s soared free and far above unforgiveness.