NIGHT OF SORROW...AND WONDER
Debra Petersen (Debra P.)
How
could it happen, he wondered, that one night should contain within itself such
extremes of emotion? And how was it possible for one man’s heart to be
pulled by such powerful conflicting impulses without actually being torn apart?
Was
that even possible? At this moment Ben Cartwright wasn’t quite
sure. He feared that the turmoil going on inside of him could possibly
overwhelm him, leading to some sort of breakdown.
With
a groan Ben lay back on the bed and shut his eyes, attempting to gain control
of himself. But, though his eyes were closed, his mind’s eye was all too
awake and active. That inner eye kept showing him the face of his
Then
would come the hard task of trying to make a new life for himself...a
life without her. In the darkness of this night Ben was at a loss as to
how he was going to do that. All the dreams that they had shared, dreams
of going west, of finding a special place to make a home and of raising a
family together, those dreams had all died with her. In his grief he
could not conceive of finding someone else to
share such dreams with. And what did that leave him with?
A
small whimpering sound caught Ben’s attention and he opened his eyes enough to
glance over toward the cradle in the corner of the room where his infant son
lay.
His son. He had a son. There was incredible
wonder in that thought. It amazed him that such a wonder should have
arisen out of such pain. The two things didn’t seem as though they should
go together. Not in a world controlled by a loving God.
Ben
arose from his bed, pulled his robe around himself and moved to stand beside
the cradle. He looked down at the newborn, noticing the wisps of dark
hair and the tiny but perfectly formed fingers. “Adam,” Ben whispered.
There
had been no question of giving the boy any other name but the one that had been
chosen by his mother out of her favorite book. Ben remembered how
Ben
was having trouble seeing that man in the babe that lay there before him.
Little Adam slept peacefully, taking tiny, regular baby breaths, all blissfully
unaware of the upheaval that his arrival in the world had caused. He
seemed, more than anything else, so terribly vulnerable. Ben felt a
sudden pang of fear at the thought, followed by a surge of determination that
no harm should befall this child if he could possibly prevent it.
And
that, Ben suddenly realized, was the answer to the question he had asked
himself earlier as he thought of his shattered dreams and wondered what they
had left him with. They had left him with this child and the
responsibility for his well being. They had left him with the task of
seeing that this boy would grow up into the fine, tall, strong man that his
mother had envisioned. That would have to become his focus in life now.
Ben
reached down and gently gathered the sleeping infant into his arms. He
turned and carefully sat down in the rocker next to the cradle, then began to
move slowly back and forth in a soothing rhythm. He looked down at the
child and watched some tiny bubbles begin to form at his mouth.
“Oh,
Adam, he said softly, with a sigh that was more like a groan. “There’s
something I need to apologize for to you, my son.” He paused, finding it
difficult to say what he wanted to say. “Today I came so very close to blaming
you for your mother’s death. And that would have been so wrong. You
had no choice in the matter, no control over what happened. I almost lost
sight of that. And your mother loved you so dearly. I could see
that. She seemed to feel that having you was worth any price. And
still, I nearly turned away from you. I am so very sorry for that,
Adam. I’m afraid that’s only the first of many apologies I’m going to owe
you. I’ve never been a father before, and I’m going to have to learn how
‘on the wing’ so to speak. Can you be patient with your poor befuddled
father and forgive him the mistakes he’s sure to make?”
Little
Adam had come awake and was staring up at his
father with large solemn eyes. He reached out a tiny hand toward his
father’s face, a gesture which Ben took as a sign of an apology accepted and an
assurance given. He offered his own finger and watched the infant’s hand
wrap around it tightly. Then he moved his finger, carrying Adam’s
hand with it in a kind of handshake, sealing their bargain.
“Thank
you, son,” Ben whispered.
As
Ben continued to hold his son and rock him gently, he felt the turmoil within
him begin to subside slightly. He could not say that he understood the
ways of God as revealed in the events of this day, events both tragic and
awesome. He could only bow his head in submission and pray that one day
he would understand more completely. For now he was simply grateful to
have realized that there would be a new day once he made it through this night.
This night of sorrow, which was also, in it’s way, a
night of wonder. A night he would never forget.
THE
END