Count It All Joy

by Ashea S. Goldson

  “What about your wife?”

  “I’ve got to stop being jealous.” I dropped my head.

  “I know I can’t make my wife do anything or change. I can only change me.”

  Pastor Martin pulled it out of me word by word. “Good. What else?”

  “I’ve gotta stop being angry about things that are out of my control. Just because things aren’t going my way doesn’t mean I can change it.”

  “And what about trusting your wife?”

  “I’ve got to trust God and my wife too.” I leaned forward in my chair and began rocking back and forth.

  “What about your deceased wife versus your current wife?”

  I stood up and started pacing the room with my hands clasped in front of my face. “Delilah is gone.”

  “And who is Alex?”

  “Alex is not Delilah. She’s not Delilah.” Why didn’t I realize this before?

  Pastor Martin watched me move around the room. “And where is Delilah?”

  “She’s in the past. I can’t ever bring her back or my unborn child.”

  “And what else have you accepted about that Delilah experience?”

  “I’ll never know why she did what she did. I’ll never know what made her tick.” That was the rough part. I’d spent many nights on my knees over that one.

  “And where is the past, Joshua?”

  “The past is buried with Delilah.” I tried to stop the tears, but the next thing I knew, they had a mind of their own. I wiped them away quickly with my hands. I couldn’t have another man watch me crying like a little girl.

  “And what about your future?”

  “It isn’t buried, and I can have a future with my wife, daughter, and child on the way.”

  Pastor Martin hardly moved. “So how do you feel, Joshua?”

  “I feel alive again.” The man was a genius.

  “Good,” Pastor Martin said. “Why?”

  “Because my future is bright.”

  Finally, Pastor Martin stood up and shook my hand. “Why?”

  “Because of Jesus my future is very bright.” I knew at this moment that this was the truth. I had an epiphany right there in Pastor Martin’s modest office.

  The hard part, though, was receiving it.

  Chapter Forty-three

  Alex

  It was October and Seger started helping me with the Giving Life plans since, at eight months pregnant, I could hardly move around. He called, dropped by, and ran miscellaneous errands on demand. If only I had received that much support from my husband.

  Seger did everything I asked of him without complaint. He even purchased two plane tickets to Kenya so we could go and work on Kiano’s adoption together, after I gave birth, of course. He didn’t ask me. He just bought them and never said a word about repayment. At first, it seemed as if he were my hero, wanting all my dreams to come true. Then I remembered my real hero, Jesus.

  And I remembered my vow to change; to put God’s will first. That was enough to make me take a step back to reevaluate my life.

  After having a conversation with my dad one day, he asked me why Seger was doing all of the things he did. And I honestly could not answer him. “Be careful,” my father said. Was Seger just being a godly friend, or was there more to it than that? I honestly started to wonder why Seger was doing all of this for me; why he wanted to spend all of his free time with me. I wondered why Seger wasn’t at least dating anyone yet. I thought about conversations I had with Marisol concerning his single status. Maybe Joshua was right. Maybe Seger had feelings for me that were deeper than friendship. The moment I accepted this possibility, I dropped everything I was doing, and I began to pray. Either way, I knew what had to be done.

  Just as I picked up the phone to call Seger, the doorbell rang. I put the phone down and went to answer the door. I was surprised to see Keith standing there. He looked terrible, unshaven, with uncombed hair, and bloodshot eyes. I’d never seen the very handsome physical therapist look so bad.

  “Hi, Keith,” I said, looking around for Taylor. Keith never came over by himself.

  “Hi,” he said.

  When I realized that he was alone, I stopped staring. “Come in, please. How are you?”

  Keith came in and sat down on the couch. “Not so good.”

  “Why? What’s wrong?” I sat next to him on the couch and slanted my body to face him.

  “I’m thinking about accepting a position out in Chicago,” he said.

  I knew that meant trouble. “Oh, Chicago?”

  He let out a deep breath. “I’m going to call off the engagement to your sister.”

  “Oh, no.” I jumped up. “Not that.”

  Keith raised his voice a little. “I’m sorry, but I’m tired of waiting for her to change her mind and marry me.”

  I put my hand to my forehead and started walking around the room. “But, Keith, you know Taylor—”

  “Yes, I do, and I’m tired of playing games. She promised she’d marry me, but now she won’t.” Keith put his hands up to his mouth. “I can’t stay here and pretend I don’t want her as my wife.”

  I stopped walking and stared at him. I could see the pain in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Keith. I guess I didn’t realize how badly it was affecting you.”

  He leaned toward me. “I can’t stay here and just be her physical therapist or just her business partner. I can’t just be her friend.”

  “I know. I know.” I began to pace the floor again.

  “I’m going to call and accept the offer in the morning,” Keith said.

  “Does Taylor know about the offer?”

  He bit his lip nervously. Then he began cracking his knuckles. “Of course. I told her earlier, and she has until tonight to give me her answer.”

  “That’s not much time,” I said.

  Keith stood up and threw his hands into the air. “No, but it’s all or none. Either she agrees to marry me now, or I’m outta here.”

  “I understand.” I followed him to the door and grabbed his hand. “I’ll talk to her, but she’s stubborn, you know.”

  “I know, but if anyone can get through to her, it would be her twin.” Keith smiled a weak smile and withdrew his hand from mine.

  I watched him walk through the door.

  “Thanks for listening.”

  “You’re welcome,” I said, shutting the door.

  As soon as he left, I called Taylor and told her I was coming over. I hung up the phone before she could protest. Then I drove as fast as I legally could, observing all traffic signs and lights, but knowing that this was an emergency of the soul.

  “Mama didn’t raise no fool,” Taylor used to say whenever she saw a good-looking man.

  She would never let one get by her without getting his attention, no matter what she had to do.

  Unfortunately, it usually didn’t take more than a slight jiggle of the hips and a hint of cleavage to get them interested in her. She would use them up, taking them for everything they had.

  Afterward, she’d get bored and toss them aside. She never wanted to get caught up with any one man. She’d surrender her body, but never her heart, at least that’s how it was until Keith came along.

  Taylor was a new woman now, rededicated to Christ, softer, and kinder. I knew Mother would be pleased if she were alive. Lord knows that girl gave me grief for years while she was out there dropping it like it was hot. Nothing like a life-threatening car accident to cool a person off and set their mind straight.

  When I arrived at Taylor’s apartment building where I used to live before I was married, I knocked and then waited for an answer. When I didn’t hear a response, I opened the door with my spare key. I hadn’t seen her apartment in months, and it was a mess. So was she.

  Clothes were thrown everywhere. Papers were on the floor. What looked like it might have been breakfast—two dried-up, not so sunny-side up eggs—sat on the coffee table forlornly staring back at me. Her hair was uncombed, and her ripped jeans and tee sh
irt looked like something for the slaughter. It was certainly not the glamorous image my sister liked to portray.

  “Girl, you look tore up from the floor up,” I said.

  “Whatever.” Taylor sucked her teeth and rolled away in her wheelchair.

  “Get a hold of yourself or you’re about to lose possibly the best thing that has ever happened to you, besides salvation, of course. And you know it.”

  Taylor rolled her neck. “Whatever, let him go.”

  “Oh, come on. Are you serious?”

  “Yep, he don’t need no cripple on his arm anyway. He’s a good-looking brother. He can find somebody else.”

  “But he loves you. He wants you, walker, wheelchair, and all.”

  “How do you know that? How do you know he won’t get tired of me being this way, not being able to walk or run? Can you promise me that?”

  “No one can promise you anything.”

  Taylor sucked her teeth. “That’s what I thought.”

  “But life is to be lived. You have to take chances to be able to succeed. You can’t be afraid to live.”

  “Who says I’m afraid? I’ve never been afraid. I’m the bravest person I know.”

  “I agree with you. You have been—up to now. And now you’ve got this fear eating away at you, and you won’t let it go.”

  “How can I let it go when it stares back at me every day in the mirror? My injury changed me.” Taylor closed her eyes as if she were savoring a memory. “It changed my whole life.”

  “I know, and I know you’ve had to make some adjustments. We all have. But Keith really loves you, and you’d be a fool not to accept that,” I said.

  Tears ran down Taylor’s face. “What if he stops loving me?”

  “I have two totally functional legs, and I can walk, but my husband hasn’t been home in weeks. There are no guarantees except in God’s Word. Trust Him—not Keith and not walking.

  Trust Him.” I grabbed Taylor’s wheelchair, pulled it to me, and leaned down to hug her. I felt her warm tears running down my neck and back.

  I hoped that she would make the right decision.

  As I drove home, I knew I had a few decisions of my own to make also. The first thing I did when I arrived at home was to check the mail. There was a pile of bills for Josh and me, and another letter from the Kenyan attorney that was supposed to handle Kiano’s adoption. I held the letter in my hand, and then placed it against my heart. It represented what I wanted from my husband, what I expected from him. Sure, he had promised me that we would adopt Kiano, but did I have a right to hold that over his head and torture him with it? Didn’t I know that he was really doing the best he could? Then I thought about Kiano himself, and what would happen to him if I didn’t go through with my plans. Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not to your own understanding.

  I took a deep breath; and then I decided to trust God. I called the airline to cancel my flight to Kenya. Seger had booked the flight ridiculously early, despite the fact that I couldn’t travel and wouldn’t be able to travel any time soon. He claimed that he always booked all of his flights far in advance, and had been doing so ever since he started doing mission trips.

  When I was done with the airline I called him.

  “Hello.” Seger answered on the first ring.

  “Hi,” I said.

  Seger sounded anxious. “Do you need me to come over to do something for you?”

  “No, that’s not why I called.” I sat on the side of my bed holding the phone in one hand and holding my Bible in the other.

  “Oh,” he said.

  “First of all, I’m sorry, but I’m not proceeding with any of the adoption plans until my husband is back home. And let me make that clear. I am believing that he will come back home.”

  “But I thought you wanted to go ahead and get a jump start on saving Kiano.”

  Suddenly a boldness came over me. “I did, but I realized something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “God doesn’t need a jump start. Everything is in His own timing, not mine.”

  “I see,” Seger said slowly.

  I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but there was no other way. I had been out of God’s will long enough. “I’m also going to need to be alone while my husband and I are separated.”

  “Oh, no, I’ve offended you.” I heard panic in his voice.

  “No, you haven’t. You’ve been an awesome friend. I just think that maybe our friendship may be standing in the way of the reconciliation between me and my husband.

  I’m not blaming you for anything, but I’m just saying I can’t see you anymore right now.

  Not until I work some things out.”

  Seger began to nod slowly as if he were processing what he heard. “I see.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No, that’s okay.” Seger sounded like he was puzzled. A moment later, he continued, “But are you sure?”

  I held the phone for a minute. “Thanks for everything, but yes, I’m sure.”

  “You know where I am if you need me.” Seger’s voice was low.

  “Yes, I know where you are.” I sighed. “Thank you, again, for your generosity.”

  “I’m not sure how good of a friend I am,” he replied.

  “What do you mean?”

  Seger didn’t speak right away. He let an uncomfortable beat of silence pass first. “I have a confession to make. Maybe I was just being selfish.”

  “How?”

  Seger’s voice seemed to caress his words as he spoke. “Sometimes, I’m a lonely man.”

  I was taken aback by his confession, and I certainly didn’t want him to bare any more of his soul. “Seger, I’m sure there are plenty of people who would love your company. You don’t have to be alone.”

  “Maybe I’m alone by choice because I’m selective.”

  “God knows all about your selections, and He’ll work it out for you.” I paused. “Just like He’ll work this marriage thing out for me.”

  “You’re right.”

  I paused. “I’ve got to go now.”

  “Good-bye, Sister Alex.”

  “Good-bye, Brother Seger.” I shut the phone call down and shut him out of my heart.

  That was the last phone conversation I had that day. After that, I went to my bedroom, kneeled down on my plush carpet, and repented about my attitude and my part in Joshua’s and my separation. Clearly, I had been at fault as much as Joshua was. I realized I had let my feelings for Seger, no matter how innocent they might have been, to interfere in my marriage. My husband’s needs should have come first, but I allowed pride and independence to rule me. I had refused to submit, and I had caused so much trouble as a result of it. Even though we still had issues to work through, I was willing to work through them in God’s way and His time. Not mine. After the stress of the day caught up with me, I took a short nap.

  When I woke up an hour later, the worst thing possible was happening. I started to feel my abdomen tightening like a fist. I walked slowly to the kitchen to get a glass of water and managed to drink some before I became too weak. Then I noticed a bloody discharge running down my legs.

  Oh, Lord, no! Suddenly, I felt extreme pressure in my pelvic area and strong abdominal cramps hit me. I stumbled, and I knew something was terribly wrong.

  First, I called Joshua, but I didn’t get an answer, so I left a message on his voice mail.

  Then I called 911 and my sister. I sat still on my bed and tried to stay calm, meditating on the Ninety-first Psalm. “He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust.”

  About fifteen minutes later I was rushed into the emergency room where I was immediately hooked up to monitors. Clearly, I was in preterm labor, but I wasn’t fully dilated and the baby’s heart rate was dropping fast. I was told there was no time to spare.

  “We’re going to take th
e baby,” I heard someone say.

  So within minutes I was prepped for surgery. An epidural was placed in my spine. I was told to count backward. Ten-nine-eight-seven ... I was drifting ... six-five-four- three ... I couldn’t feel anything except that I was almost gone. I was practically numb. Two-one. Nothing.

  I was out of my body and possibly out of my mind as well. The epidural took away the pain, but the stress was knocking me out.

  The baby was being born too soon. Would our child survive being born at only eight months? Could our marriage survive if our child didn’t? Would I want to live if he didn’t? We already knew the risks, the danger involved. Then I saw Joshua come into the room, my knight in shining armor. He was wearing a face mask and surgical gown. How did he make it here so fast? I thought he was busy with his own life. No time to worry about that. I felt more and more pressure. I heard talking as I went in and out of consciousness; and then I heard my baby crying.

  My baby, Joshua Jr., was born too soon. I couldn’t hold him though. I was too sleepy. Through one eye I saw Joshua holding him. I smiled a weak smile before I lapsed into a deep sleep.

  When I woke up in the recovery room, my father was standing over me. He looked tired and old with his head of gray hair and matching eyebrows.

  “Daddy,” I moaned.

  Daddy smiled with his missing bottom teeth. “Don’t talk. You’re okay, and the baby is okay. That’s all that matters.”

  “But I—”

  “Josh is downstairs at the nursery. They’re running some tests on the baby.”

  “I want to see him,” I said.

  “You’ll have plenty time for that,” Dad said.

  “I want to see my son now.”

  He ignored me. “Thank you for giving me a healthy grandson.”

  “You’re welcome, Daddy.” A tear slipped from my eye and rolled on the pillowcase.

  Minutes later a nurse rolled me down to my room from the delivery room.

  When Joshua came through that door, the first thing he did was gently gather me into his arms. It was the way he had held me on our wedding day, the way I’d longed to be held for over the past months.

  My body was sore, but the hug was way overdue so it soothed me. His rough, unshaven face scratched my skin. His shirt was wrinkled; he needed a haircut; and he smelled of engine oil. I wondered if he had been working under the hood of his SUV, which would’ve been a miracle since he didn’t know anything about cars. He looked like he had been having a tough time without me.