Beauty from Ashes

CHAPTER 45

CHAPTER 45

I’m in some big room I’ve never seen before. Almost like a ballroom. Tons of open space.

It’s depressing here. Lots of black and gray, with just a tiny ray of light streaming in from the far window. If this were a movie, I’d say the director was trying too hard to be dramatic.

There’s no one here. It’s totally empty except for me. There’s something up front on a little platform. Maybe this isn’t a ballroom. It reminds me more of a church or something but without the pews or places for people to sit. And there’s no podium for the preacher to stand behind, just a wooden box. Like they’re getting ready to do a Christmas pageant but the only prop they’ve built so far is the manger for baby Jesus.

That’s what it is. A manger. I go up to it. I think I hear a sound coming from the stage. My footsteps are slow. It’s like I have to wade through four feet of Jell-O. It takes me forever to get to the front of the room, but I’m finally there.

And then I realize I’m not alone. There’s some old woman who just appeared out of nowhere. Is this part of the Christmas pageant? Is she supposed to be some sort of angel?

She’s bending over the manger, and she’s got her hand on a baby. I think maybe she’s singing a lullaby. I get closer and can see that the baby’s a girl. And the old woman’s not singing, she’s praying.

Except it’s not quite a prayer, either, because she’s not talking directly to the Lord. She’s talking to the baby. You’re a blessed child, a living miracle. Your life is evidence of the power of the great God Almighty.

I glance down the at the baby. So little. So helpless. Chocolate skin and almond eyes. And then she smiles at me. She’s gorgeous.

So stinking gorgeous.

And then the old woman meets my gaze. I’m expecting this gentle granny type, but her whole expression flashes with anger and power. Like that elf chick in Lord of the Rings who gets tempted to steal the ring from Frodo and starts talking in that super creepy voice.

That’s what the old lady sounds like when she looks me square in the eyes and tells me, “What God has ordained, let no mortal dare terminate.”

My heart’s literally stopped in my chest. I’m covered in sweat, and I’m breathing as fast as if I’d just spent ten minutes in a boxing ring with Patricia.

I’m not in the women’s clinic anymore. I’m not in Spokane. I’m in my living room. Jake’s glancing up at me from his phone.

I haven’t thought about that dream in months. I have no idea why it stole its way into my head now of all times.

But my hands turn cold, and my whole stomach twists itself into a giant pretzel and tries to squeeze my abdominal cavity into its iron grip.

I’ve tried my hardest to forget Spokane. Forget about what I almost did that day to my daughter. But now I know why that Grandma Lucy lady at church looked so stinking familiar.

She’s the woman from my dream.