Often when I\u2019m writing, I find that the story goes places that I didn\u2019t expect. I have been trying to allow this drifting to occur, because, I\u2019ve noticed that usually what comes out has some deep meaning for me. Whether this is the leading of the Holy Spirit, my right brain getting a chance to speak, or just a synergy that is occurring between the threads I\u2019m trying to weave, these unexpected twists have been therapeutic for me.<\/p>\n
I finished a chapter of my novel this week, which turned out different than I had planned. The scene involved the protagonist of the story, Annay, as she deals with her own anger at not being able to do more to stop the orc attacks, and watches a husband and a cleric deal with guilt over letting the husband’s wife die.<\/p>\n
The scene was suppose to end with the high cleric talking to both of them about why they shouldn\u2019t feel guilty. As I wrote the story, I got to the point where the High Cleric, Ralph, was ready to make his speech. In context it seemed like he should talk to the husband first, and then talk to the young cleric in private. As I started to write his words, it became clear to me what he needed to say.
\n
\nRobert lifted his head, \u201cAm I guilty of murder? Am I going to hell?\u201d The tears were gone, his voice quiet, but steady.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo Robert, you’re not going to hell. What you did today was not murder, it was mercy. You didn\u2019t want your wife to die, but you found the courage to let her go because you knew that was what was best for her. She was going to die whether you told her it was okay or not, but because you did tell her, she was able to die knowing that you loved her, that you cared more about her than you did yourself.\u201d
\n
\nThen he took the young cleric aside and talked to him.
\n
\n\u201cMichael, I know this has been tough on you,\u201d Ralph started.
\n\u201cShe died. It\u2019s my fault.\u201d Michael stood there with a somber expression on his face, his cloths ripped and dirty.
\n\u201cWhy do you think its your fault?\u201d
\n\u201cI didn\u2019t have enough faith. I asked for God to heal her, but I must not have believed that he could do it. I failed.\u201d
\nRalph put one hand on each of Michael \u2018s shoulders and looked him square in the eyes and said slowly, pausing after each word, \u201cYou did not fail.\u201d Ralph pulled his hands to the side and then grasped Michael\u2019s shoulders again. \u201cGod used you to do what he needed you to do. God gave you the power to stop her bleeding. Why did he do that?\u201d
\n\u201cSo I could save her life,\u201d Michael almost cried.
\n\u201cI\u2019ll put it to you that God gave you the power to stop her bleeding, not so you could save her life, but to give her the time she needed, to do what she needed to do before she died.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat did she need to do? She didn\u2019t do anything.\u201d
\n\u201cYou don\u2019t think so. What happened between her and her husband?\u201d
\n\u201cThey talked.\u201d
\n\u201cAbout what.\u201d
\n\u201cI don\u2019t know, I was busy trying to save her life.\u201d
\n\u201cThink about it Michael. What just happened to Robert?\u201d
\n\u201cHe lost his two sons and his wife to the orcs.\u201d
\n\u201cDid he? The orcs took his sons away from him, that is true. But did they take his wife from him?\u201d
\nMichael\u2019s expression changed as he started to think about what the two had talked about. \u201cNo, I guess they didn\u2019t. Robert let her go, because it was what his wife wanted.\u201d
\n\u201cRight,\u201d Ralph managed to smile. \u201cGod allowed her to live long enough so she could say good bye to her husband, long enough to allow him to say good bye to her, and to do one more heroic thing for her. Because of you, Robert will always remember today as the day he gave his wife to God, not the day the orcs took her away.\u201d
\n
\nLater than night I was thinking about where this had come from. What thing in my life could have triggered this kind of thought – that by letting his wife go, instead of having her taken away from him, it could change the whole way he looked at her death.<\/p>\n
In talking with a friend, it became clear that I had a similar, but different experience when I lost my son. When I was told that my son was dead, it was very surreal. I\u2019m sure I was in shock. When I went in to see his body, it didn\u2019t feel real. It didn\u2019t look like my son, the body was pale – like some plastic mannequin.<\/p>\n
When we where ready to leave hospital, I excused myself and went back into the room with my son\u2019s body. I stood there next to him and remembered the times I stood next to his bed and had watched him sleep. Almost by instinct, I slid my hand under his shirt and onto his chest. So many times I had placed my hand on his chest to feel his breathing and to feel his temperature. This time I didn\u2019t feel his breathing, but I did feel warmth.<\/p>\n
His face and arms were cold, but I could feel the warmth of my son\u2019s life still in the unmoving body. Feeling that warmth made the whole thing real for me. I cried. I knew he was leaving me and that this wasn\u2019t some cruel joke. Feeling that warmth, was a gift from God. It tied up my son\u2019s life from when I held him as a baby, until I held him for the very last time as a fifteen year old.<\/p>\n
I could have just left the hospital without going in to see him again, instead of following the urging I felt. I could have just looked at him instead of moving closer. I could have listened to myself when I though, \u201cthis is silly, why do I want to touch him,\u201d instead of allowing myself to be led. I could have been angry, instead of feeling my love for my son and thankfulness that I could connect with him one last time.<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t get to have one final talk with my son, like Robert did. I didn\u2019t get the chance to tell my son it was okay that he was going home. But in that time I did get to talk to my son, and I did get to give my son to God. My son was taken away from me, but I was able to give my son into God\u2019s hands, because it felt like he was waiting for me to do that.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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