Chapter 31 - Christmas in the Parsonage

Our weekly routine resumes--Sunday services, Zach’s remodeling of the upstairs parsonage, my evening hospital shifts, and our care of Nick. He is chubby and cuddly at five months, and when I slip him into yellow terrycloth pajamas he looks like an adorable duckling with downy hair! I continue to nurse and supplement with cereal at night.

Zachary and I delight in Nick, and we enjoy amorous times, but our closeness ends there. I long to intercede together, but Zach generally refuses. He would just rather pray over meals.

Christmas is coming, and Mom and Dad Smith arrive from Arizona to celebrate. We have decorated a long-needled pine tree and strung it with lights, the red Christmas balls from our wedding, and silver icicles. Nick loves the tree—he keeps pushing up to it in his walker, reaching for balls, flinching when the sharp needles prick him.

Nick is the center of attention for Mom and Dad…their first grandchild, and his first Christmas. Dad walks him to sleep, Mom hovers like a mother hen. “Watch our, Bob! His little arm is stretched over your shoulder, it might be hurting.” Dad gently pulls Nick’s arm back and keeps walking.

Since the upstairs is unfinished, Mom and Dad opt to stay at a hotel in town, but they enjoy meals with us, the church program, Zach’s preaching, and are curious about the baptism in the Holy Spirit. Zach has not experienced this himself yet, so we discuss Baptist vs. Charismatic theology.

When they leave we are laden with gifts, including an expensive camera I learn to use. One day Myra walks up to the parsonage and asks if I will take pictures of her. She poses for several and later I give her copies.

I continue to work the 3-11:30 shift three times a week, and Myra keeps babysitting Nick in the early evenings. Becoming more proficient as a nurse I now have a heart monitor at the front desk--all of the RNs are freshly trained in cardiac monitoring in these early 70’s. One night my patient goes into ventricular fibrillation, so the LPN and I use the defibrillator to zap his heart, and do CPR until Dr. Sather arrives.

Most evenings are quiet…I have time to spend with each patient. One older man is on IV’s and morphine, slowly dying of cancer. He loves the Lord, and his face radiates joy when talking about Heaven. “Max, if you get to see Jesus before I do, give Him a big hug for me!” I tell him.

“I will,” he replies, beaming. Heaven is closer when Max is near.

In northern Minnesota the winter temperature may drop far below zero, so the hospital parking lot has electric outlets for our car engine heaters. We all want our cars to start at 11:40pm! One icy night I dress warmly, run the car to warm it, and head the 15 miles east to Ebro. A few miles out of town, I hit a patch of ice on a downward slope. The car fishtails, then hits a patch of pavement and hurtles end over end into the median, landing upside down on a bank of soft snow.

“God—help me!” I cry. My life passes before my eyes…and I land pinned between the headrest and the roof. The car is upside down, wheels in the air, with the engine running. I am alive! I twist to turn off the engine, then reach out of the smashed window.

A passing trucker stops and helps pull me from the car. I am shaky, jangled…but whole, with only a scratch on my arm! “Thank you, Lord,” I cry hoarsely. “Thank you for saving my life!” The man offers a ride in his truck, so I find my purse and am driven back to Fosston Hospital. Dr. George is there as I walk in. He is comforting….I telephone Zach to pick me up.

I am dazed as we drive home. When we climb into bed Zach holds me close. “You could have been killed!” he said quietly. “I’m so thankful you weren’t hurt.” His care reassures me, gives hope of spiritual intimacy and communion.

Bonnie’s husband Buck does auto body work, and in a few weeks the gold Maverick is repaired. I am so grateful…but our marriage is no better. Outwardly life continues normally, but inwardly something is broken. Zach doesn’t share his heart with me, and if I am insistent he becomes angry or withdrawn.

Slowly I become demanding, controlling…he retreats more, walks around depressed. What can I do? I suggest we drive to St. Paul to counsel with Rev. Hall who had performed our wedding. Zachary refuses.

One day after a huge argument Zach dons a thick army overcoat and announces he is leaving. “Where are you going?” I ask.

“I don’t know. I’m just going off for a while. I’ll hitchhike. I want to be alone.”

I watch anxiously as he bundles up with hat and gloves. “Goodbye,” he says gruffly. “I’ll see you in a few days.”

That night I pray long and desperately, and the next morning zip Nick up in his blue bunting and drive to Bagley to see Leota. She puts her arm around me and we intercede fervently. I come into peace but feel like I am walking a tightrope high above my circumstances. If I keep my eyes on the Lord, I’m alright. If I look down, wondering where Zach is and what will happen, I become sick with worry.

The next day I visit Bonnie down the hill, and we pray. “Marti,” she confides, “I think I should warn you about Myra. There’s something going on between her and Zach. You should watch out.”

I am shocked. “Bonnie, do you really think he’s interested in her? I know she’s pretty and likes to have fun. But she hasn’t graduated from high school, she’s on welfare, she’s never been married and has three kids!”

“You should be aware—pray about it!”

I nod, a little baffled. If there is another woman, I don’t think it is Myra. Bonnie helps lift Nick into the baby carrier on my back, and I trudge back to the parsonage. The afternoon is cold and gray. Wind rushes through pines to the west and waves the meadow grasses at my feet. I am lonely. I wish my parents were closer, that it were possible to telephone them. Irian Jaya, Indonesia is a so far away.

“God, take care of Zachary…bring him home! I bind the darkness away from him, in Jesus’ name.”

I prepare a light supper for me and feed Nick his baby food. He grins crookedly and crows. Wiping his face, I lift him out of the highchair and hug him. After changing him into pajamas, we rock as he sucks his bottle, and I sing a lullaby. Later, tucking him in the crib in the corner of our bedroom, I sit in bed and read the Bible.

“The Lord is nigh unto those who are of a broken heart, and saveth such as be of contrite spirit. Many are the afflictions of the righteous; but the Lord delivereth him out of them all.” Ps. 34:18-19 (KJV)

After reading a few chapters I share my heart with the Lord, listen for His voice. He is with me in the room. Snapping off the light, I turn over and drift off to sleep.

Zach arrives in the front yard in a few days, his face chapped with cold. My relief is profound. A chasm of horror is closed—he is home! He doesn’t have much to say but seems more at peace. “I shared my heart with a few people I hitchhiked with,” he says calmly. “I decided to come home.”

In a few weeks Zach decides he wants to resign from the church. “I don’t feel I’m equipped to lead these people. I’m struggling spiritually myself. I don’t know what to do. I’ve been a builder…maybe I should go back to school and work on a degree in engineering.”

Alarmed and perplexed, I hesitate before answering. “Well, we need to work on our marriage. Maybe we should move down to the Twin Cities and make plans from there. You know I want to do mission work like we planned, but we could delay things for a while.

The next Sunday Zachary resigns from Ebro Community Church. He plans to write a letter to Rev. Bereth. Since there’s no one to take his place on Sundays, he keeps leading, keeps preaching. Finally we make plans to visit Zach’s parents in Arizona. They will watch Nick for a few days while we travel to California and motorcycle up the coast. Maybe a fun vacation will heal our marriage.