Subject: [SpikesSalvation] Phoenix Dreams- Chapter 23 Date: Fri, 31 Oct 2003 13:30:10 -0800 (PST) From: Jerusha Hancock Reply-To: SpikesSalvation@yahoogroups.com To: SpikesSalvation@yahoogroups.com Chapter 23 William tenderly sponged the sweat from Erin's forehead with one hand, his other held in her tight grasp. "You're doin' just fine, luv," he encouraged. She threw him a grateful look, but said nothing. Her labor had been hard for the past few hours, and she had little energy to spare for words. The doctor looked up from his position between her legs and added his own words of encouragement. "I can see the head now, Erin. You're almost there. Just a couple more good pushes." Erin nodded and bore down, and William was amazed at her stoicism. She had been calm and controlled for most of the labor, and he thought that it was a little unusual, since he'd heard stories from some of the expectant fathers in Erin's Lamaze classes. (Though, in all fairness, she couldn't really blame the pregnancy on him, whether his name was going on the birth certificate or not.) His heart nearly broke for love of this woman. A few moments later, and the doctor gave a cry of triumph, perfectly timed with Erin's own cry of pain. The sound of a baby's wail broke through all other noises in the delivery room, and the doctor smiled at him. "Congratulations, Dad. You've got a healthy baby boy." William watched in awe as one of the nurses clamped the cord and handed him the scissors. Hesitantly, he snipped it where he was told, and a moment later he held his son in his arms. There are some who don't believe in fate, who believe all things in life come by chance. If William had ever been in that category, he ceased from that moment onward. Because as soon as the tiny boy was placed in his arms, his crying ceased, and he opened his (blue) eyes to stare into William's own. It was as though time had stopped, and nothing remained except the feeling of perfection. It didn't matter that the blood that ran through the boy's veins was none of his own, that he hadn't a clue to his own past. In this boy's eyes, his son's eyes, he saw his future. And it was enough. "What are you going to call him?" one of the nurses asked, smiling at the obvious bond between father and child, always so nice to see. He looked over at Erin's exhausted face and thought she'd never looked more beautiful. She smiled at him. "His name is Titus William Smith." "But we have this treasure in clay jars, so that it may be made clear that this extraordinary power belongs to God and not to us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted but not forsaken; struck down but not destroyed." 2 Cor 4:7-9 ---------------------------------