Sisterchicks in Gondolas! by Robin Jones Gunn Read Free Book Online Page A

Sometimes it feels as though God removes His hand.”
    I knew she was referring to her husband’s car accident.
    “You know,” Sue continued, “everyone said God had protected Jack and kept him alive and brought him out ofthe coma after all those months. But my husband is going to spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair.”
    “I know,” I said softly. I had been there every step that took Jack on the journey of recovery over the past two years. My brother’s accident was what prompted me to move to Dallas. The hours Sue and I spent together had cemented our friendship. I knew how awful it had all been and in many ways still was.
    “So,” Sue said, pulling back and folding her arms across her middle, “I’m not sure I’m as convinced as you are that God still holds everything together. God could have stopped that driver from running Jack off the road, but He didn’t. I can’t explain why God didn’t do that.”
    “Neither can I.”
    “Jack says it’s okay, you know. He says he’s accepted it and I should, too. While he watched me pack, he said he was glad I was moving on because that’s what he’s doing. He’s moving on. Adapting.” Sue paused, looking out over the rooftops. Her voice lowered as she confessed, “But you know what, Jenna? I don’t want to adapt. I want my husband back all the way. I wanted God to be there at the moment of that accident and to hold everything together so Jack wouldn’t be hit. That’s what I want. But that’s never going to happen.”
    I stood close, listening. For years our conversations had been around the facts, the details, the medical schedules. Sue rarely talked about how she felt. She just took each day as it came.
    Not sure what to say or do, I reached over to pat her comfortingly on the shoulder. “It’s okay.”
    Sue pulled away. “No, it’s not okay. I’m not okay. Why does everybody keep saying that? My life is not okay, and it’s never going to be okay. I will never be able to accept what happened. Not the way Jack has.” Sue raised her arms, and in a razor-sharp voice she added, “I am so mad! There, I finally said it. I am so screechin’ angry! What happened to my husband wasn’t fair. That accident didn’t just happen to Jack; it happened to me, too.” She thumped her chest with her clenched fist. “That irresponsible driver changed my life, too!”
    Backing up a step, Sue leaned against the side wall, as if for support, while the confession continued to leak out. “This isn’t the way my life was supposed to go. I never expected something like this. I never prepared for this. Nothing is ever going to be the same.”
    I wanted to tell Sue how I once felt the way she did now. I once said practically the same words she was saying. I’d never told her about when I hit bottom at the age of thirty-six and was so depressed I didn’t think I could go on. That’s when I decided to seek out a professional counselor. Once a week I spilled my guts, and by the grace of God and the skill of the counselor, I came around. My perspective changed, and I was able to be honest with myself.
    The experience allowed me the chance to come to terms with how emotionally demolished I’d been after thedivorce. I remembered feeling each week that I’d made a big mess with a lot of words in the counselor’s office. Somehow I felt like I should mop them all up before I left. I wanted Sue to feel she had the freedom to make that big a mess around me now.
    Turning to me and taking in my sympathetic expression, she said in a low voice, “I’m sorry, Jenna. I shouldn’t have said all that. It just sort of spilled out and …”
    Sue was doing exactly what I’d done in my counseling sessions—verbally trying to mop up her words.
    “I’m glad you let it out,” I said.
    “I shouldn’t have. You don’t need to hear that from me. I didn’t realize. It’s just … I’m … I’m sorry.”
    “You don’t have to apologize. I know those feelings,