If you've ever wondered why a woman stays with an abusive husband or why a father would kill the child he loves most, then read this story of Wes and Betty and what happened on the night before Christmas.
It's Christmastime and Wes Myers seeks to save his three small daughters from the pagan beliefs of a sinful world. He prays to Jesus, asking for help in reconciling with his wife, Betty, so he can keep her from teaching their children pagan beliefs.
His prayers are answered when Betty takes him back. The couple has a few good days. Then Wes loses his job. He reaches for a bottle of vodka first and the Bible second. On Christmas Eve, Jesus speaks to Wes again.
The message is chilling.
Can anyone save Wes's daughters from a father who loves them more than life?
Excerpt
"Is something wrong?" Betty asked. Then she immediately felt stupid. Of course, something was wrong.
"Gram wants me to come home." Scowling, he slid down on the chair and folded his arms in front of him. "I'm not going to."
Betty sat down across from him, the dishtowel in her hands giving her something to fiddle with as she offered timidly, "She misses you?"
"Misses me?" His sarcastic laughter filled the kitchen. "She misses me all right. Misses keeping tabs on me. Misses trying to catch me in some sin. Misses the chance to prove she's right about me being damned to Hell for the way my mother carried on and led my father to Satan."
Betty twisted the towel. Talking about Satan like he was a real person made her nervous. None of her family were churchgoers, and if anything made her more uncomfortable than boys, it was religious talk.
Then his dark mood seemed to lift, and he almost smiled. "How about going to a movie with me?"
His sudden change surprised her. Then she thought he must want to get his mind off his grandmother, and Betty was pleased he wanted to be with her.
"Yes, I’d like to," she said, already thinking about what she would wear and how it would feel to walk up to the ticket window at the theater and have him say, "Two, please," and how people nearby would see that someone liked her enough to take her out.
But his next question stopped her in mid-daydream.
"You'd really go to one of those sinful movies?" His eyes were narrowed, judging.
She swallowed hard, confused. "But—I thought you wanted—You asked me!"
"You do everything someone asks you to?"
Her face was hot. "Of course not!"
"Do you know movies lead the innocent to sin by showing people doing wrong and getting away with it? Even enjoying it?" He shrugged. "Course, I'm going to Hell anyway, because of my folks, so I got nothing to worry about. Do you?"
She ignored the question. "I've never heard that about movies before. Who told you that?"
"Gram. And Gram knows." He leaned across the table, his blue eyes boring into her brown ones. "She knows everything about sin. She says movies are the Devil's workshop. They corrupt minds and morals." He leaned back in his chair. "Still want to go?"
Was he putting her on? "I don’t know."
He shook his head, seemed disappointed. "I guess I was wrong about you. I've been watching you working around here, acting like a good daughter, never putting on makeup or worrying about some trinket to wear."
He looked up, gazing into her eyes again, probing her thoughts. "I thought you were a good girl."
Her fingers clamped into the dishtowel. She looked at the floor, trying to think what to say.
He leaned across the narrow table, his mouth close to her ear. "Are you a good girl, Betty?"
Just as life during the pandemic was color-coded with different hues representing different levels of danger, life in its aftermath has become shaded in similar ways. As a self-styled “Seeker of Beauty with Beauty,” (borrowing from a quote by W.E.B.
