Read The Promise of Jesse Woods Online
Authors: Chris Fabry
She was leaning forward with her chin in one hand, listening intently.
“What I’m saying is, I make a lousy savior. And I’m ready to leave that to God. To start over with him.”
She nodded. “That’s a great way to put it.”
“I’m not saying this to get you to change your mind about us. I’m not trying to rescue our relationship. I wanted you to know that what you said made a difference.”
She let me walk her down Wells Street, back to her dorm, telling me along the way about her classes and a difficult situation with a roommate. I thanked her for dessert and started to leave.
“Matt?” she said.
I turned.
“I can tell. There’s been a change. I’m really glad for you. It feels like a breakthrough.”
I smiled, then laughed, and then I put my hands over my face and couldn’t stop the tears.
“Was it something I said?” she said.
“No, you made me remember something good. Something someone used to say.”
She hugged me and I walked home with something burning in my chest, something white-hot and real.
Six months later, on the Cubs’ opening day, the smell of spring in the air, I received a letter from my mother in her usual scrawl. She told me about the latest in the community, the deaths and events that felt distant. My relationship with my parents had opened a little and there was even talk of a family reunion that summer, with Ben returning with his wife and family.
Tucked into the envelope was a clipping from the
Herald-Dispatch
.
Jesse and Earl Turley, of Dogwood, announce the birth of their son, Matthew Richard Turley, at 8:15 a.m. April 2, 1985, at St. Mary’s Hospital. He weighed 7 pounds, 8 ounces, and was 21 inches long.
I closed my eyes and brought back that summer again, tasting the watermelon and hearing the clicks on the CB and breathing the dust. Those days would always be part of me, and so would Jesse and Dickie and Daisy Grace. All the hurt and pain and longing and loss and joy began in the summer of 1972. And life had come from it. And I gave thanks to God for new seasons, new hope, and the promise of Jesse Woods.
Acknowledgments
I
F
I
WERE
TO
ACKNOWLEDGE
everyone who had a part in this story, it would be a book in itself. I suppose I should thank the 1972 Pirates and the 1984 Cubs to begin with. Loss has a way of bringing good but painful stories.
I owe a debt to Grace, my maternal aunt I never met. She was the inspiration for Daisy Grace and died during a diphtheria epidemic in the early 1920s. She would toddle into the field near my grandparents’ house and pick daisies for her mother, who always acted surprised when she returned to the house. My mother still puts daisies on her grave, though not as often as she would like.
Mrs. D. Wilson taught English at Milton Junior High and provided my first summer reading list. Eighth grade, as I recall. It was that summer I read
To Kill a Mockingbird
. Life never returned to normal after that.
A relative who shall remain nameless uttered the immortal line “Mommy made me all the whipped cream I could eat.” I’ve been waiting for just the right time to put it
in print. Also, it was my uncle John who asked how much I weighed each time he saw me. I wish I could sit with him again and hear that question or play a game of Rook with him and Uncle Willy and my father. I miss their laughter and wisdom.
My mother plays a special role in this book, as does my father. He was never a pastor but he had the heart of a good one. My mother taught me a love for words by modeling a love for reading and classical music. They have such broad shoulders on which to stand.
I will also thank my brothers for scaring the stuffing out of me when I was younger with stories of the Mothman, monsters, Area 51 Martians, flying saucers, and such. They were model rocket aficionados and I learned to duck and cover from them.
Thanks to Bud Voreland, Charles and Fran Bright, Beth and Dave Calvert, and Brad and Jeanne DeVos for their mentoring, modeling, and love. And to the congregants at the First Evangelical Free Church in Hurricane, West Virginia, who suffered through my song leading for a season.
Sarah Rische, Karen Watson, Stephanie Broene, and Shaina Turner at Tyndale made this a better book than I could write. The best friend a writer ever had is a good editor, and I have a bushel basket full. As always, I am in your debt.
My family puts up with a lot while I write. That’s my excuse for being distant and in some other world much of the time. They are the best part of me and keep me
grounded. So to my children and my wife, Andrea, a wagonload of thanks for understanding even when you don’t.
Finally, to the God from whom all blessings flow and his Son and the Spirit, I give thanks. May praise flow back to you for anything good that comes from this story and the truth and grace contained herein.
About the Author
C
HRIS
F
ABRY
is a 1982 graduate of the W. Page Pitt School of Journalism at Marshall University and a native of West Virginia. He is heard on Moody Radio’s
Chris Fabry Live
,
Love Worth Finding
, and
Building Relationships with Dr. Gary Chapman
. He and his wife, Andrea, are the parents of nine children. Chris has published more than seventy books for adults and children, including the recent bestselling novelization
War Room
. His novels
Dogwood
,
Almost Heaven
, and
Not in the Heart
won Christy Awards, and
Almost Heaven
won the ECPA Christian Book Award for fiction.
You can visit his website at
www.chrisfabry.com
.
Discussion Questions
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