God's Not Confused

Chapter 1: Wolves Wolves don’t attack the flock; they attack the one falling away from the fellowship of others. Born for destruction, they spring forward with all-consuming viciousness and tenacity. They’re most alive when pursing their prey, and threaten until weakness is exposed. Once discovered, they exploit it unmercifully until what was once fleeing is now digesting among several others in the pack. If they haven’t eaten in several days, they’ll eat 20 pounds of flesh in a single meal. Their taste for blood is insatiable and they’ve been known to kill for sport. Be ever watchful. Some of our closest companions, those we are most fond of, those we’d die for without batting an eyelash, are not walking with us, but stalking, waiting for the most opportune time to sink their teeth into our unassuming flesh. Those who don’t know they’re wolves are often the most dangerous. “I can’t believe this is finally happening,” he thought, as his mind raced to control both his frazzled emotions and his BMW X5, which was in serious need of an alignment. He weaved in and out of traffic with the precision of a race car veteran, the inches between his truck and the other cars seeming like yards, sudden flashes of brakes lights giving him ample time to adjust his position or stop safely. Adrenaline made those things that were fast move at turtle-like speeds and those things that were slow speed dangerously out of control. He felt high. He whipped out his cell phone and hit the icon for Sandra’s pre-programmed number. It started to ring. “C’mon, c’mon!!,” He yelled. “Pick up the phone Sandra!!” “Are you almost here?” She said with nervous anticipation. “What took you so long to answer the phone? I’m on 20 driving like a bat out of hell not knowing whether you collapsed or are somewhere laying unconscious. You gotta to pick up your phone!” “I’m okay. I’m okay. When I called you 20 minutes ago, my water just broke. I had to clean up and pack my traveling bag. Hurry, Tony, these contractions are killing me and I’m not trying to have the baby on the living room floor looking crazy.” “Give me like five minutes. I’m getting off on La Vista Road right now.” “Okay. I’ll walk out front, so I can get right in the truck.” “No, stay inside. It’s a little cold out. I’ll run up to the front door and help you get in the car.” “Okay.” Anthony did the remaining 5 minutes of the trip in 3, and quickly pulled up into her driveway. He could see her turn off the lights in the hallway and he hopped out of the car. The panic that he felt minutes earlier was replaced by a serene calmness that descended upon him so suddenly he thought he might trip over it as he ran to meet her at the front of the house. She locked the door. “All right track star help me with this bag.” He took the oversized, knock-off Louie Vuitton travel bag with his left hand, her hand in his right, and briskly, but carefully assisted her to the passenger’s side. It was the first time he’d touched her since they broke up. He felt the shock of love race throughout his body, making him more determined than ever to be a great father, and possibly her husband. She felt it too and fought off the old feelings. “All right San,” he said as he whipped out her driveway putting the car in gear, “how far apart are the contractions? And did you call the hospital and let them know that we’re on our way?” “Around 3:30 this afternoon I started having contractions. At first I thought they were the Braxton Hicks contractions that I had in my second trimester, you know the ones Dr. Aniston explained to you.” He nodded. He didn’t ask her about the history of the contractions she had throughout the day, just the ones happening at the present moment. He quickly remembered how to ask her one question is to open Pandora’s Box into a sea of information that he didn’t ask for. He sighed within himself and endured. “But I felt like something was different about these. I felt as if the Lord was telling me to prepare myself. I knew that today would be the day. At first they came every now and then. I didn’t feel any more until around 7:30. That’s when my mom told me that I should call you.” “Oh your mom’s here?” “Yeah. She flew in 3 weeks ago to help me with the errands and to make sure the girls were doing their homework and catching the bus on time.” “I could’ve helped you more.” “I know, Tony, but I was super emotional and uh, horny, and I didn’t want to go there with you.” He sighed. “Okay, so back to the contractions.” “Yeah, so, my mom and the girls started timing the length of the contractions and how far apart they were. Around 8 or so, they lasted a few seconds and were 10 minutes apart. So I told mommy that it wasn’t quite time yet. The girls worried themselves to bed around 9 and I started drinking a lot of water to help with the tightness in my stomach. Around 9:30 I noticed they were getting closer and closer and lasting longer. Between 10 and 11 I had 4 strong contractions and they lasted 25 seconds each. Then mommy was like, ‘You know I can’t stand him, but if you don’t call him I will; I’m no midwife!!’ So, that’s when I called you.” “Your mom is such a lovely woman,” he said, making an ugly face and sticking his tongue out. “Oh shut up.” She smiled. “And yes, I spoke with Doctor Jefferies. He said that after we check in, we go up to the third floor where a room will be assigned to me.” “Okay.” They rode silently for 3 minutes, the weight and expectation of childbirth momentarily cementing their mouths shut. “We’re here,” Anthony said with a start. He made a sharp right turn into the Dekalb Medical Center and slowed down to make it smoothly over the speed bumps without disturbing the undercarriage of his vehicle. At the stop sign, he made a left and parked along the front entrance of the Maternity Center. He quickly cut the ignition, unbuckled his safety belt and hopped out of the truck with pep in his step and a song in his heart. He opened her door with urgency and gently helped her out, grabbing her bag before closing the door behind her. She resisted holding his hand and waddled slightly ahead of him, her body anticipating the next big cramp. “Can I help you?” A stern looking, elderly lady snapped. “Yes ma’am, we’re expecting, and I’m going into labor right now!” The aged security officer’s eyes quickly darted to their ring fingers and after passing sufficient judgment, she croaked in a voice as old as the Negro Spiritual itself, “I guess ya’ll can go on up then, elevator’s on the right. Good luck.” Good luck. Sandra and Anthony could hear the disdain in her voice as well as her condemnation of the entire black community - “My people won’t never learn! They ain’t happy unless they having 4 or 5 kids out of wedlock, which they can’t afford ‘cause they don’t wanna work, so they sit on they behinds and collect welfare, half -raising they kids that’ll be dead or in jail in 20 years, making my taxes go up, so I gotta work this job until I’m in the grave!” Anthony turned around briefly to see if their assumption was right. And sure enough she was mumbling hellfire and condemnation. He looked at Sandra. “I know,” she said rolling her eyes. “God is MY judge, not some ole, crusty Rent-a-cop, whose just mad ‘cause she’s missing her ‘Good Times’ re-runs, the one she’s seen 7 times already. So, whatever.” She hit the up arrow on the elevator. “That wasn’t very Christian-like,” Anthony chided, as they stepped into the elevator. “Don’t start with me. All the devilment you like to do. That’s why we’re not together now.” “All I’m saying is . . .” “All I’m saying is that you gonna burst hell wide open, talking about my Christianity while I’m in labor. What’s wrong with you?” Anthony could tell that she wasn’t mad at first but that she was trying to work herself up. He figured that it was best to leave it alone and be quiet. “I guess I’ll just shut-up then.” “That’s probably your best bet.” He smiled as they got out of the elevat