"I wrote a little song that says, dont waittill the battle is over, you can shout now. Cause you know that in the end, you gonna be victorious. That dont mean you aint gonna cry. That dont mean you aint gonna feel pain. But in the end, you will prevail, in His name. Lift your face to Him, and let Him lead the way. Re?joice. Its all right. Rejoice. Its all right. Rejoice. Its allllllright. Despite what may be going on around you, you can, you can findperfect peace. How much, con?tinuously, do we love Him."
"Jesus is a rock in a weary land," says the radio. The preacher is black, with a deep sonorous voice.
Simon thinks about a day many years before when his wife was taking the baby to the park. "Goodbye, you dirty rat," his wife said. The baby was wearing a blue parka and a brown knitted watch cap. "Goodbye, you dirty rat," the baby said.
"No no," he had said, "doing fine, keep going."
Zernikie had run eighteen blocks in a blizzard to get to the hospital after discovering that his car wouldnt start. He took hold of the head with the forceps and pulled, calmly and steadily. The head, bright with blood, emerged to the level of the eyes. The doctor rotated the shoulders, pulled the baby out and placed it on the mothers stomach. A nurse began sponging the babys face as the doctor cut and tied off the cord. The baby had dark bruises on either side of her head. A nurse picked her up. "Heres Sarah," she said. Simon said,"Hello, Sarah."
He pressed his back against the green-painted wall, trying to keep out of the way. His wife had been in labor two hours and forty minutes; a monitorhad indicated fetal distress and the doctor, a man known for not doing Caesareans, had a choice to make. The doctors name was Zernikie and he had a pair of large dull-steel forceps inside the birth canal and was grappling for purchase. The instrument looked to Simon, who knew something of the weight and force of tools, capable of shattering the babys head in an instant. After all these years, he thought, thats the best they can do?
Carol was gripping his hand. The doctor glanced at Simon and said, "Gross, isnt it?" The circulating nurses exchanged pained looks.
When Sarah was born he stood in the delivery room wearing green paper pants, a green paper shirt, paper bags on his feet and a green paper cap on his head. He lacked only a fool-yellow rubber bulb of a nose to be a perfect clown.
SUNDAY morning. Simon listening to one of his radios.
