The Cord. Stephen W. Robbins
I couldn’t have felt better about it,” responded Anne. “I felt completely free while taking the test, especially while writing the essay.”
“That’s wonderful.”
“But Mom, you know I’m not supposed to talk about the test, especially the essay.”
Payne looked down at his plate. Anne had told him about the essay when he picked her up from the test site. “Dad,” she had said, “it was like God gave me an opportunity to, I don’t know, work things through. I mean, it’s not as if the admission exam itself matters anymore. But the question, of all things, asked whether or not our lives would be better off with limitless technology. Dad, I got to think, really think, about what we planned to do. This was my thesis statement: Although many believe that rapid advancement in technology trivializes what it means to be human, I think we should yoke ourselves to it because innovation and expansion are core values for humanity.” Still looking at his plate of tough meat, Payne recalled the chill that had gone down his spine when Anne said in the car, “Embrace the future; harness it; and advance it.” He wasn’t sure if the chill had been from fear or awe.
Doug chimed in as his father sat uneasily silent, “How about a little hint for your favorite brother who will have to take the test in a few years?”
“You want a hint? Here’s a hint: Listen to Dad’s mantra, ‘Catch the wave.’”
Doug was clueless as to what his sister (or his dad) meant by this, except that she was not going to discuss the test any further. He asked if he could be excused from the table. Sister and father caught Doug’s wave and exited, too. Mom sat alone in the kitchen. It’s the way they all liked it; well, all but one.
* * * * *
Pastor Donovan thanked God for a no-more-questions Lord’s Day. He repeated this prayer of thanksgiving the next morning. Ashley would be gone all day with a childhood friend that she recently reconnected with. This meant that Anne and he could go to SarkiSystems without explanation, as long as Doug was distracted. Money to order pizza took care of that.
The room was set up the same. As a pastor, Payne entered with ambition; but as a protective dad escorting his daughter through the door, his first thought was, Why is there not one more chair set up for Anne?
George Carlson welcomed the team. With everyone still standing, he announced, “Tonight we place an entry into the book that is in the right hand of Him who sits on the throne in heaven. It’s sealed now, but soon this ultimate ‘World Civilizations’ textbook will be opened.”
Dr. Greybellum exclaimed, “In nine months we will see prosopon pros prosopon the only One worthy to unroll the scroll of God’s sovereign will.”
George reigned in the excitement by inviting the men to take their seats. “Indeed, we will see Him face to face,” echoed George as he motioned to Anne to come to the podium. He prayed a short prayer of grace, mercy, and peace to rest upon her, and wisdom and guidance to be upon the surgeons and all those involved in the procedure. Following a solemn, reverent “Amen,” George unveiled the plan for the evening—a blueprint for the team, a bombshell for Pastor Donovan and Anne.
“The embryo implant will take place tonight. In a moment, a surgeon will come to get Anne. An egg will be removed from one of her ovaries. The nucleus will be removed. Using electricity, this enucleated egg will be fused together with Jesus’ DNA obtained from the cord blood. The embryo created will be implanted. And then, Lord willing and her temperature doesn’t rise, Anne will go home with the Son of Man in her womb.”
The body language of both Donovans conveyed uneasiness. They were not prepared for such haste.
George explained that the whole operation would be projected onto the screen. Though no one from the team would be allowed to be present in the laboratory and surgical room, they would see everything taking place in real time. George would narrate the whole affair with the reliquary by his side.
A man in a white coat entered the room from a side door. He motioned to Anne to follow him. Before he knew it, Pastor Donovan was separated from his daughter and the door to her was locked. All he could think about while he watched the screen was that the next time he sees his little girl prosopon pros prosopon she will be pregnant, and that someday soon he will have to tell Ashley.
* * * * *
Anne assured her dad, “I feel okay.” From the ride home to the days following, she exhibited with each fatherly probe a confidence that mirrored the first Mary. Payne discerned thankfulness deep within her, but mostly relief that the procedure happened so fast. He was not so sure what she might have done if there was a waiting period. He wondered if she would have had a change of heart, like those who abandon their plan to buy a gun, if she would have had more time to think it over. Nonetheless, he knew that it was futile to second-guess the decision and that it was too late to back out. He also knew, as did his daughter, that the next nine months presented a world of hopes and fears, joys and sufferings.
For the moment, while Anne did not show, the surprise could remain a surprise. But could it? How could Payne betray a trust that he had built over the years with his wife? How long could he avoid telling the gospel truth? How long could he hide behind half-truths and diversion tactics? Anne may not have been showing, but his anxiety sure was, and it was starting to kick.
Pastor Donovan called for another family powwow. He hoped that it would go better than the last one, but it was a tenuous hope. With everyone present in the living room, he stood, ready to speak; yet only silence sounded as he pulled back words. No words were adequate to initiate the meeting. With no pulpit to hide behind and no pastoral voice to bring him honor in this home, he stood inert, petrified in his angst.
Anne stood up, approached her dad, reassured him with a gentle squeeze on the arm, and directed him to sit down. Then with poise, she said to the family, “Exactly one week ago today I became pregnant.” She intuitively held her hands out as if to divert verbal harpoons unleashed upon her. “Last Monday Dad and I went to the place where he went the week before—the place where he saw the umbilical cord of Jesus.”
Before her daughter could say another word, Ashley insisted, “This must be some April Fool’s joke.”
“It’s no joke.” Anne’s composure and self-assurance kick started her dad’s ability to take the lead. He concisely explained what happened at SarkiSystems. He divulged that one of her eggs was surgically removed, manipulated, and then implanted back into her. The embryo inside her is completely made up of the DNA of Jesus. Like his daughter, Payne held his hands out in defense. He spoke directly to Ashley, “She is still a virgin.”
The ensuing exchange entailed words and feelings never before expressed in the Donovan home. Payne tried to intersperse the “what” and especially the “why” during his wife’s tirade. When Ashley concluded with insistence that this was no longer, and never was, a funny joke, Anne defended her actions and her dad’s. “Mom, I am eighteen years old. I’m an adult. I can and I did make my own choice regarding this. Dad did not force me to do this. It was my decision.”
“Will Jesus call me Uncle Doug?”
Ashley turned and stared at her son. “This isn’t a joke, Doug.” She turned back to Anne. “Do you realize what you have given up? This isn’t some dream or nightmare that you can just wake up from.”
“Yes, Mom. But I also realize what the world could gain.”
“Anne . . .” Ashley stopped and turned to leave the room. As she passed him, Payne heard her mutter, “I wish it were a joke. I wish I could just wake up.”
* * * * *
Reality hit Pastor Donovan as he prepared for Sunday’s message. There in his office he realized that recent events had distracted him to the point that he forgot that Sunday was Palm Sunday. This meant that the choir was scheduled to perform, as usual, an Easter Cantata. Initially, this awakening brought relief. I don’t have to prepare a sermon this week. Then it brought concern. Easter, the most attended service, is less than two weeks away;