Mama B - a Time to Love (4 page)

I called Libby right away. She didn’t
seem too surprised. “I told you her son said she’s basically a grownup runaway,
B.” Nonetheless, Libby promised to try and leave a message for Eunice’s son so
he’d know his mother was on the loose again.

I was glad to know Eunice hadn’t been
taken against her will, and I appreciated her token of gratitude, but the whole
situation didn’t sit right with me. I done seen people run away from a lot of
things. A safe ride home with a caring person wasn’t amongst the list of
reasons.

The situation with Eunice bothered me so,
I couldn’t pay Ophelia and Henrietta no attention on the ride over to Hope
Temple (which we now called our “sister church”) for the fourth-Saturday
women’s fellowship.

“B, you alright back there?” Ophelia
asked, eyeing me through the rearview mirror.

“I’m fine.”

Henrietta countered, “Yeah, you quiet as
a church rat.”

Now, everybody knows the saying is church
mouse
, not rat. Sometimes, I couldn’t tell if Henrietta was trying to
make fun of me on the sly, or if she really was confused.

“Don’t mind me none,” I told them both.

Ophelia and Henrietta had done got closer
since Henrietta had the stroke. Since they lived a few blocks away from each
other, Ophelia had made it her ministry to tend to our sister when Henrietta’s
daughter couldn’t.

“How your great-grandson doin’?”
Henrietta asked.

“Oh, Cameron’s fine. He should be over
again in a few weeks.”

Henrietta could switch subjects on you in
a split second. “You know, my cousin’s boy been in and out the hospital.”

“Really?” Ophelia prompted her to
continue.

“Yeah. They say he got autism of the
mouth,” Henrietta informed us with an authoritative nod.

Both me and Ophelia been around long
enough to know that when somebody’s mind is slippin’, it don’t do no good to
try and correct ‘em all the time. That just make ‘em agitated. They already
know something ain’t right. No need in makin’ the announcement.

The
meeting with the women of Hope Temple would, hopefully and prayerfully, be one
of legacies the Lord let me leave behind. Our church already had a Titus 2
wives’ ministry going strong. While we were fellowshipping with the other
ladies, we were also helping them get theirs started. One of their preachers,
Rev. Dukes, had been the interim pastor at Mt. Zion while Pastor Phillips was
tending to his wife during her last days on earth.

I had some issues with Rev. Dukes and his
wife, Cynthia, at first. But the Lord saw fit for us to come to a resolution
and work together. Ever since then, we’d had it on the agenda to join forces
with the young and old at both our churches to try and teach the things women
used to pass on in each other’s homes, back before we all left our houses and
started workin’. I got nothin’ against a woman having a job outside the home.
But we all foolin’ ourselves if we believe it ain’t costin’ us something.

“I hope they gon’ listen to us good,”
Henrietta swapped the subject again. “I ain’t got time to be wastin’ on no
hot-tailed, hard-headed young folk. My days short enough as it is.” She started
chewing on her bottom lip, rocking back and forth gently in the seat.

“Well, even if they don’t, Henrietta, God
knows your heart. He’ll reward all we do in His name,” Ophelia calmed her.

“Yeah,” Henrietta agreed, “God got the
record. And you know what? It sure was warm in my house last night.”

“Is that right?” Ophelia kept with the
flow. “What’d you have the temperature on?”

“I had it on twenty milligrams,” Henrietta
declared. “But you know, sometimes doctors don’t know what they’re talking
about. I bet
his
house ain’t warm at night.”

“I know that’s right,” I could only
agree. Inside, it made my heart sad to hear Henrietta’s jumbled up thoughts. I
had to keep praying for restoration, and keep thanking God that at least she
could still walk and talk and go to the restroom all by herself. Some people
can’t even do
that
much.

As I helped Henrietta get out of the car,
I noticed she was wearing a pair of thick black socks with white, dressy church
shoes. I stole a glance at Ophelia. She shook her head and I knew right then
this must have been something Henrietta insisted on. We both let it go.

Cynthia and the rest of the women in
attendance from Hope Temple gave us all big hugs. Then, she opened up with in
prayer and passed out the agendas. Our Titus 2 leaders, Janice Jamerson and
LaTonya Wilcox, were first to share. They, along with two other women from Mt.
Zion, had four tables set up in four corners of the fellowship hall. Then they
led a speed-learning class. Kind of like speed-dating, they said.

Chile, I ain’t never heard of no speed-dating,
but if that’s the way they meetin’ up these days—spend a second saying
‘hi’ and then move on to the next one—no wonder folks havin’ such a hard
time stayin’ married!

Anyway, there was one station for
learning how to make a graham cracker crust, one for making natural cleaning
products out of lemons and oils, one for twisting natural hair, and the last
one for how to get stuff for almost free by matching coupons with the circular
ads. In half an hour, the women from Mt. Zion had rotated all twenty or so of
us through the four stations. 

The ladies, young and old alike, wrote
down all kinds of reminders using pen and paper as well as those tablets
everybody carryin’ around these days.

I had a few thoughts about letting my
hair go natural. Well,
nappy
is what we would have called it back in my
day. They shared some research about the connection between black women and how
perms done caused an increase in all kind of womanly problems for
us—endometriosis and the likes. Made me think twice about what I been slatherin’
on my head, not to mention all my clients’ heads during the years when I did
hair part-time at the salon.

I wasn’t ready to let go of my perm and
pull out my hot comb just yet. Best thing for me to do would be have Son go on
the internet and look up the research for me. When he got to sniffin’ out
something, he was like a hound dog.

My goodness, I was so godly proud of our
women. Put a smile in my heart to see the ladies ministering to one another.

Truly, I’d forgotten they was expectin’
one of us older mothers to share something as well, until Cynthia turned all
eyes toward us. “We are so glad to have you mothers here. We’re thankful for
practical knowledge, of course. But we’re even more grateful for the wisdom of
more seasoned women of God. So, are you all going to share or will one speak
today?”

By the way Ophelia and Henrietta looked
at me with them blank faces, obviously they had forgotten, too. Or maybe we
never knew? I don’t know. Good thing the Lord reminded me of everything I had
in my Bible bag.

“Well, one thing I can share is
how
I meet with the Lord every day,” I started, pulling the contents of my bag onto
the rectangular table. I had my Bible, a few highlighters, my journal, and a
book on abiding in Christ, just so happen I was reading at the time. I put my
cell phone on the table, too.

I held up the Bible first. “This here
parallel Bible is my favorite one because it has two translations, New King
James and Amplified. If I really, really don’t understand something, I pulls
out this iPhone and go to my Blueletter Bible app, then I can look it up in the
original Hebrew or Greek and see exactly what all the words mean in the old
way.”

The younger women had all kinds of
questions about how I studied the Bible. They wanted to know if I sang, what I
sang, how I knew what to write in my journal, how I pray, how I kept track of
my prayer requests.

Before I knew it, they was takin’ notes
on
my
notes. “Ladies, this is all sweet and flattering,” I interjected,
“but don’t get all caught up in how me and God talk to one another. Everybody
is different. God don’t hardly do nothing exactly the same way with two
different people.”

The women was scribblin’ fast as I
talked. Finally, I shared the complementing book. “Sometimes, I read a portion
of a book in my prayer closet. This one here by Andrew Murray. He one of the
old South African saints. His work is real deep. You got to take in a little at
a time.”

“Is Mr. Murray in America now?” one of
them wanted to know.

“No, honey, he with the Lord now.”

They busted out laughing like I’d said
something comical. “What?”

“You said it like he moved somewhere.”

“He
did
,” I stated. “Moved right
on back home.”

I suppose most people would have left it
at that, but seem like the Holy Spirit pushed a pause button inside me and made
me stop to process their response. The problem wasn’t what I’d said—the
problem was, the eternity God had in store for the saints wasn’t as real to
them as a place like California or New York. They lookin’ at God’s word like
it’s a “good idea,” not like it’s the truth.

Speak through me, Holy Spirit.
In a split second, a passage I’d read
earlier that morning popped in my head.

“Ladies, take out your Bibles if you have
them. I wanna show you something.  And I want you to let the Lord write this
on your
heart
. Not your paper, not your mind, not your electrical
doo-dad—your heart.”

The enemy almost distracted me as I
wondered how so many of them came into the house of the Lord without a Bible,
but I had to remember where I was and what I’d come to do: teach them what they
didn’t know, not judge them.

They coupled and tripled up so everyone
could look onto a Bible with someone.

“We all came here today to learn from one
another. And the mini-sessions was great, done in excellence. Thank you so much,
Janice and LaTonya, for sharing those practical things so we can honor God in
everything we do.”

The sisters gave them a round of applause
before I carried on, “And you’ve asked the older ladies to share our wisdom.
But I think the best wisdom I can share is where I
get
my wisdom from.
Go to first Corinthians chapter two verse seven.” While they turned, I gave
them a little background on the book of first Corinthians and why Paul was
writing this particular letter.

I started reading. “New King James, verses
seven through nine. But we speak the wisdom of God in a mystery, the hidden
wisdom which God ordained before the ages for our glory, which none of the
rulers of this age knew; for had they known, they would not have crucified the
Lord of glory. But it is written: Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor have
entered into the heart of man the things which God has prepared to those who
love Him.”

Some of them had already heard that part
about the eyes and the ears; I could tell by how they whispered it as I was
reading.

“What these verses mean to y’all?”

Cynthia spoke first. “It means the things
of God are hidden. No one knows what God has in store for His people.”

A couple of ‘em agreed with
mmmm-hmmm
.

Cynthia’s right-hand friend, Karen,
contributed to the conversation, “Paul was letting them know that God’s
mysteries are greater than what we can understand.”

I let them spout all their understanding,
which was basically the same thing over again, even from the ladies of Mt.
Zion. Then I said, “Let’s keep reading. Verse ten. But God has revealed them to
us through His Spirit. For the Spirit searches all things, yes, the deep things
of God. What does that tell ya?”

They got to squintin’ and looking at that
verse again. Then Karen cautiously whispered, “Is he saying that we
can
know the mysteries of God?”

“That’s what it said, ain’t it?”
Henrietta snapped indignantly. “The word says what it says—even
I
know that.”

“But,” one of the younger ones asked,
“people read verse nine like it’s
spooky
, like we shouldn’t even think
God will tell us things. And so…are you saying God shows us secrets that He
doesn’t show everybody else?”

“Honey, it’s not what
Mama B
sayin’, it’s what the
Bible
sayin’. Let’s read it again—sometimes
you got to read it more than once, you know?” This time, I read all the way to
verse sixteen, where the Bible says we have the mind of Christ. “And you know
if we have His mind, there’s nothing we need to know that He will hide from us.
It’s all in Him, and He’s all in us.”

They was sitting there like somebody just
told them a rich uncle had died and left them ten million dollars. Only the
wisdom of Christ is worth much more. Priceless

I had said enough. If I ever wanted them
to hear the Holy Spirit speak for themselves, I had to trust Him to pick up
right where He told me to leave off.
Write it in ‘em, Holy Ghost. Thank You.

I looked over at Ophelia and Henrietta.
Ophelia winked at me. I winked back. Our work there was done.