*
The couch seemed unfamiliar to Abi, but the southern accent was unmistakably familiar. “Call th’ hospital. I’ll git a quilt,” the Reverend directed Mrs. Walker. The Reverend fussed with the contents of an overstuffed hall closet while Abi dragged herself to the bathroom unnoticed. She sat fully clothed in the running bath when Rev. Walker rushed in.
“Baptize me now!”
The Reverend knelt. “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, I baptize you.” He dunked her head in the bath water.
The Reverend’s wife cleaned the vomit from her mouth and hair. A fresh set of clothes were handed through a crack in the bathroom door. Abi reassured the couple of her health as she stepped out the door.
“Now don’ miss church this Sunday,” the Reverend called after
Abi. “We’ll be takin’ communion.”
Abi groaned.
A Christmas Gift
The plane shook violently from left to right and up and down. The flight attendant’s announcement that they had simply hit some clear wind turbulence did little to comfort Brad. He repeatedly ran his hand through his thick black hair.
In an effort to relax, he closed his eyes to picture his destination, a place he still referred to as home even though he moved to Las Vegas a year earlier to work as a missionary for a small church. He envisioned the holiday table complete with the real silver and expensive china from the glass cabinet that had been given to his parents as wedding gifts from obscure rich relatives.
He could nearly hear his father’s corny jokes followed by his mother’s giggling. He could almost taste the jalapeno stuffing, pumpkin cream cheese pie, and hot lemonade. He imagined the familiar smell of cinnamon from burning scented taper candles neatly tucked into a silk poinsettia centerpiece.
Brad asked God to experience this Christmas tradition once more. He made wild promises to God if the plane would land safely in New Hampshire. When the plane did land securely, Brad promptly ordered clear soda to settle his stomach from an airport restaurant.
An hour later, he acquired an upgrade to the economy rental he reserved. An insincere apology fell from the lips of a car rental representative who looked like he might quit at any moment. Brad drove off the lot in a metallic Ford Mustang with a grin. He did not stop until he swerved into his familiar driveway—edging so close to his father’s Chevy that the rental may have nudged the bumper. He sauntered up the pathway in front of the house and peered in the picture window. A foggy pane shielded Brad’s view of the living room. He could only make out the fake fir nestled up against the glass and the dreamlike shimmer of multicolored Christmas lights.
Despite his inability to see, he knew the brown couch boasted a pristine appearance from under a clear plastic cover. The box television, never signaled by a remote, faithfully rendered whatever channel two broadcasted. That is when the front door swung open. In the doorway, his mother wiped her hands on her apron. They embraced for a long time before she led him into the kitchen.
“So good to see you! Jay, Brad’s here,” she called to his dad as if he were not sitting at the kitchen table beside them.
His father glanced up and nodded his head. A little confused by the unwelcoming nod, Brad said nothing but hung his suede coat on the wooden peg between his father’s work coat and his mother’s knitted shawl.
His mother piled food on the china and set it before the three of them. His father shoveled the steaming food into his mouth.
“Dad, I think we should bless the food especially on Christ’s birthday, don’t you?”
“Are you still going through this God phase? First it was science, and all you ever did was blow things up in that lab you made out in that there shed. Next it was drinking, which got you fired from every job you could find. Now it’s God. What’s next?”
“Dad, this is not a phase! God helped me understand how He created the universe. He persuaded me to get sober. He changed my life, and He can change yours too if you let Him.” Brad realized he was shaking. He took a few deep breaths, bowed his head, and folded his hands.
His mother followed his example. Ruthie said to her husband, “Come on, Jay. You know what’s right.
His father bowed his head but did not fold his hands as Brad led the family in prayer.
“Lord, we thank You for this time together with family and for this delicious meal. We thank You that You sent Your Son to die on the cross for us so we would be reconciled to You. In Christ’s Name, Amen.”
Jay asked his son, “So what’s this ‘reconcile’ all about? Why must I be reconciled to God? I never even knew me and God was fighting.”
“Sin separated us from God. Not just you, Dad, but all of mankind. All we have to do is accept his free gift of salvation. Then God will save you from your sins, and you will spend an eternity with Him.”
“That church has you thinkin’ you’re so smart and got everything all figured out. Nobody knows what God is like ‘cause He don’t talk much.”
“Actually, Dad, we do know what God is like because He gave us the Bible to help us understand our relationship with Him.”
The rest of the holiday dinner was oddly silent. The pumpkin cream cheese pie did not taste sweet. The jalapeno stuffing tasted dry. And the hot lemonade was lukewarm. The tension thickened to such a point, Brad felt compelled to ask, “Dad, do you want to receive God’s salvation?”
A tear seeped from his mother’s eye. “Tell him you do, Jay.”
His father fussed with the collar of his plaid button up from some inexpensive mart. “You might need forgiveness for all that stuff you done back when you was drinkin’ but I never done much bad stuff in my life.”
Brad sat up straight and stopped plowing fork tine trails in his pie. It felt as though flames might burst from his mouth. Miraculously, words came out instead, “Dad, everybody needs forgiveness.”
Jay looked away quickly. He grabbed his coat from the peg and walked out the door. Ruth shook her head. Brad felt compelled to stroke her back a couple of times to soothe her before he snatched his jacket and walked out the door. He jogged a little until he could pace his steps in stride with his father, who was walking down the sidewalk in front of the neighbor’s house.
“I’m sorry for putting you on the spot like that, Dad. It’s a big decision to give your life to Christ. When you’re ready, you just call that church up there on the corner and talk to somebody.”
Jay patted his son on the back and wiped a tear from his eye. “I’m sorry, Brad. It’s just, well…I changed your diapers. It’s hard for me to believe you know what you’re talking about.”
“I just trust what the Bible says, Dad.”
Jay scratched his neck. “Alright, well I guess I can trust in that. I do want God to save me from my sins.”
Brad breathed out a deep sigh of relief. “All we have to do is get on our knees and say a short prayer.”
“Our high knees or our low knees? Get it high knees—hineys? Like sit on our butts. ‘Cause I’d rather do that.” Jay chuckled.
Brad rolled his eyes. “Forget the knees. Let’s just stand. Repeat after me: Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, I know that You died on the cross and were resurrected on the third day. I know You are alive now and hold the power to forgive sins.
Have mercy on me, a sinner. I give my life to You and proclaim You as my Savior. In Christ’s Name I pray, Amen.”
As Jay repeated Brad’s words, tears rolled down his cheeks. Jay tried to wipe them as quickly as they fell, but his hands could not keep up with the overflow pouring from his heart. When Jay finished, Brad hugged his dad. Though he had said this prayer with lots of strangers in Las Vegas, this time it meant so much more. His eyes welled up too.
His dad interrupted the silence and pulled away from his son. The two turned around and headed back toward the house. “The Harrisons still don’t know how to hang their Christmas lights. Look at ?
??em.” He pointed at his neighbor’s Christmas decorations.
“Yeah, dad. The Harrisons can do better than me. You oughta see my apartment in Vegas. It needs serious help.”
Jay led the way on the path past the picture window. “So you still need your old dad, then?”
Jay stepped in the door with Brad close behind. “Of course! And mom too.” He looked at his mom as she placed the piece of clean china back in the glass cabinet. “The jalapeno stuffing recipe would come in handy. I tried to make it once, but I used too much cinnamon.”
Ruth giggled. “Cinnamon? Heavens no! There is no cinnamon in that recipe.”
“Oh, I think I may have gotten the french toast ingredients confused with the jalapeno stuffing recipe.”
Ruth, Jay, and Brad walked to the living room. His father sat in his recliner and Ruth sat on the plastic covered couch. Brad distributed the gifts like he did every year since he was a little child.
Jay said, “Before we get started, I want to thank you, Brad. You know—for what you did outside.”
Ruth wrinkled her brow. “What happened outside?”
Brad said to his mother, “Dad gave his life to Christ.” He turned to his father, “But that was not a gift from me. That is a gift from God…”
Ruth interrupted, “…to all of us.”
Note to Readers
Maybe you are like Jay’s father from “A Christmas Gift” and you have never given your life to God. Even though Jesus died on the cross for all the sins of mankind, you must personally accept the free gift of salvation. If you have never made this choice and would like to accept Jesus’ blood as payment for your salvation so that you can be in a good relationship with God, pray this prayer with me right now:
Lord, I confess I have sinned against You. I claim Jesus’ blood as payment for my sins. I believe Jesus is the Son of God and my Savior. I believe He died and rose again. Send the Holy Spirit to teach me and guide me in the way I should go. Thank You that I am now reconciled to You, Father. In Christ’s Name, Amen.
Congratulations on making such a wise decision! I pray you will maintain this close relationship with God by attending church and reading your Bible. Thanks for taking the time to read The Footstool: A Christian Short Story Collection. I look forward to meeting you in heaven one day!
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