Good Heavens (19 page)

The visit to the Valley Church set the house buzzing about all that went on there. They all wanted to know if we could go there the next Sunday. “Maybe,” I said and let it go at that. Unless we got money for the gas before the weekend, we would be going to the Valley Church. Even though the preacher wouldn't be there, that trio would sing and maybe there would be praying.

All afternoon the girls sat on the porch talking about it—the trio's singing, the preaching, and the baptizing in the river. Most of them had never used an outhouse before, so Wilma kept us in stitches about learning the art of “out-housing” as she called it. Melba asked me if we couldn't invite the trio to come for a singing at Priscilla Home, and I said Ursula and I had already talked about having them come for a meal so maybe that would work out.

Monday morning we used the last of the dry milk for breakfast and had just about finished up everything there
was to eat. Ursula called the bank, and they told her the computers were still down but to come in anyway and wait in case they got them up and running again. Even if they got things fixed, there was only a very slim chance that the loan would come through and the money be deposited in time to buy groceries for dinner. I was wracking my brain trying to think of something we could have for lunch. We could make pancakes if I could scrounge up enough syrup.

Ursula was over in her apartment getting ready to go to the bank and I was on my way to the day room for a Praise and Prayer session when the phone rang. I answered, and it was an attorney whose name I didn't catch. He wanted to speak to the director, so I asked him to hold while I went over to the apartment to tell Ursula to pick up her phone.

On the way I figured some creditor had set a lawyer on us to collect a bill or file a judgment against us. Well, Ursula couldn't blame me if that was a creditor whose name she had not given me when I went asking for extensions.

Ursula let me in. She was dressed and pulling on her jacket. When I told her a lawyer was on the phone, her face fell and I could see she dreaded picking up that receiver. I started to leave but she motioned for me to stay.

After identifying herself to the caller as the director, all she did was listen, so I didn't have a clue as to what this call was about. In a minute or two Ursula began scrambling through papers on her table to find information he must have asked for—numbers, things like that—and she was nervous or excited, one.

I hardly dared hope it was a foundation calling.

She asked one question: “Is it safe to write a check on our account today?” That got me excited, because it sounded like money in the bank!

Ursula was on the phone about ten minutes, saying four or five thank-yous before she put down the receiver. She kept holding on to the phone, looking across the table at me, and her chin was trembling, her eyes brimming.

“What is it? Ursula, what's the matter?”

She took off her glasses and wiped her eyes.

“Esmeralda, that was Attorney Phillip McIntosh.” She was so emotional she could hardly talk. “He was calling to tell us . . . to tell us we've been left a legacy. A legacy of forty thousand dollars!
Forty thousand dollars!
”

“What!” I couldn't have heard that right.

Now she was really historical, crying and laughing at the same time.

“Forty thousand dollars? Are you sure? Who? What?” I was on pins and needles, but Ursula was too historical to talk. I grabbed some tissues and handed them to her.

“You remember a Mrs. Hirsch . . .” she blubbered and blew her nose. “She . . . Mrs. Hirsch . . .”

“I remember her,” I said. “You told me her daughter came through the program here and was saved.”

“That's the one,” she sobbed.

“That daughter was killed, wasn't she? Killed in an automobile wreck.”

“Correct.”

“And her mother has been sending us checks . . .”

“Until months ago.” She was wiping her glasses and sniffling; I handed her more tissues. She put the glasses
back on, adjusted them, and blew her nose again. “Mrs. Hirsch has died, and in her will she left her entire estate to Priscilla Home—forty thousand dollars!”

I honestly couldn't believe my ears!

“It's true, Esmeralda. It's true! The attorney said as soon as he got off the phone with me he would deposit the money electronically to our account. He said we can write checks on it today.”

“He did? Oh, praise the Lord! Praise the Lord!”

“There's just one thing—if the bank's computers are still down . . .”

“Ursula, I think we can trust the Lord to make those computers get cranked up, don't you?”

We both laughed. Ursula sniffled. “I'll call the bank right now to see if that electronic transfer will go through.” She put the phone to her ear and frowned. “There's no dial tone.”

“I left the phone off the hook. I'll run over there and put it back on.”

I was so happy I could have flown across the yard.
Thank you, Lord, thank you! Thank you, Jesus!

As I hurried through the day room, all the girls were waiting for me to start Praise and Prayer. Linda yelled after me, “You're late, Miss E. What happened to you?”

“Just wait,” I said, hurrying up the stairs.

When I got in the office, I put the phone back on the hook and practically fell down in the chair. I was actually weak in the knees.
Forty thousand dollars!
Never in my entire life had I felt so absolutely flabbergasted! To think the Lord would do this for us when my faith had been on such a roller coaster going up and down,
getting nowhere. In spite of that, here the Lord gave us all this money. I just started bawling!

It was the money, all right, but it wasn't just the money. It was the Lord's way of telling us he wasn't through with Priscilla Home. That was the icing on the cake.

I had to get back downstairs, so I tried to pull myself together. I went in my bathroom to wash my face. I didn't know how much I should tell the girls because I didn't know how Ursula felt about including them in this.

Drying my face I could see that my eyes were awful red.

I would have to tell them something.

I went back downstairs and was surprised to see Ursula sitting there with the girls. Her eyes were red, too. “I want to tell the ladies,” she told me, and I was glad to hear that because it relieved me of maybe saying something I shouldn't. “I called the bank,” she told me, “and the computers are up and running. The transfer will go through.”

Well, Ursula didn't spare them any of the details. It was a kind of confession about her not trusting the Lord to provide. The girls were dumbfounded, as much by seeing Ursula emotional as by hearing the good news of the forty thousand dollars.

Linda broke the spell. “Does this mean we get a town visit this week?”

Ursula wiped her eyes, put her glasses back on, and answered, “Yes, we'll see that you get to town sometime this week.” Then she excused herself and went up to the office.

A murmur was going around the room, the women discussing what they had just heard. To get Praise and Prayer underway, I asked them if they remembered anything from our last session. Instantly, two roommates, Nancy and Emily, answered at the same time, “His mercy endures forever.”

Talk about surprise—I was bamboozled! That came from the long psalm Wilma had read—every stanza ended with “His mercy endureth forever.” And I had thought her reading that was a big mistake. Just goes to show you how the Lord works. It was easy to understand why God's mercy would mean a lot to these women. “Well, we have certainly experienced his mercy today, haven't we, girls? I gotta tell you, I had just about give up on the Lord sending us enough money to pay our bills. Here he's given us more than enough.”

Of course, the devil wasn't going to let that pass. Linda piped up with, “Oh, you're saying Jesus will give you anything you want, just so long as you're a Christian?”

Wilma took her on. “No, Linda, it don't mean that and you know it don't mean that.”

This could lead to a war of words if not fists; I had to head it off if I could. “Girls, all I'm saying is, you can stand on God's promises with both feet.” And I added what Splurgeon said about that: “The Lord has never forgot a single promise to a single believer.”

Portia was looking at me with eyes that held more pain and misery than ever I'd seen in one so young. She whispered something to Linda, and Linda with a grin on her face asked me, “Portia wants to know, what
if you don't believe—is there a promise in the book for a sinner?”

It bothered me that Portia couldn't ask her own question.

Linda egged me on. “What about that, Miss E.? I say the only promise God has got for sinners like us is hellfire and brimstone.”

Words seemed to pop right in my head. “Portia, the Lord sends rain on the just and the unjust, those who believe in him and those who don't. That shows you he loves everybody, even people who don't believe in him.”

I couldn't tell if that meant anything to her or not. Linda wasn't satisfied. “She wants to know if there's any
promises
for her.” And poking Portia in the ribs, she laughed. “Portia, you're stupid. I told you the only promise God has got for you is hellfire.”

“No, Linda, you're wrong,” I said, trying to keep my voice down. “Jesus made a promise especially for unbelievers as well as believers. Let me find it here,” I said and started looking for the verses. They were in Matthew on the left-hand page, in the right column, at the end of a chapter, so I found them pretty quick and gave out the reference.

Waiting until they all found the place, without thinking, I asked Portia to read the verses. I should have thought twice before asking her. Linda answered for her. “Miss E., you know better'n to ask Satan's child to read the Bible!”

I felt like telling Linda off, but she would love that
and use it to make matters worse. “Emily, will you read them?”

“I don't have my glasses.”

Well, it looked like I was striking out, so I read them. “‘Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me, for I am meek and lowly in heart, and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.'”

Linda didn't give the words time to soak in. She blurted out, “It don't read like that in this Bible.”

“Well, that's because you have a newer translation than mine. Miss Ursula gives you Bibles in modern English because that's easier to understand.”

Linda hooted, “Portia, you listen to me. This Bible we got is full of mistakes—”

“Now, Linda, that's not true.”

She wasn't listening. “Oh, by the way,” she said, “yesterday that preacher ducked that boy three times, right?”

“Right. He was baptizing him in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.”

“That means you Christians believe in three gods, right?”

“No,” I said. Remembering how it was taught to me, I told her, “There is only one God but there are three persons in the Godhead.”

“Explain that.”

“Well, I can't rightly explain it, but that's what the Bible teaches.”

Linda was really getting a kick out of this. “So you believe everything in the Bible is true?”

“I do. The Bible is the Word of God.”

“Ha! It's been translated so many times it's as full of mistakes as Swiss cheese has got holes. And you still think it's the Word of God? How do you know that?”

My neck was getting warm. “Well, Linda, I can't give you all the reasons why we know it's the Word of God, but it works for me.”

She looked around the room grinning. “Well, it sure don't work for me!”

“Have you give it a try?”

“Sure. Lots of times. I been saved four times.”

“Well, I think it'll help if you'll just read the Bible for yourself. What say you all read the Gospel of John—maybe a chapter or two a day—and underline the word
believe
every time you come across it. Okay?”

I didn't know how the girls reacted to that because the bell rang and they all dashed outside to smoke.

I can't tell you how upset I was at not being able to answer Linda any better than I did. As I gathered up keepsakes that had fell out of my Bible and put them back in there, I fretted,
What we need is a preacher, somebody who can teach the Bible and give these women answers to their questions
.

I left my Bible on the couch and went up to the office. Ursula was writing checks to our creditors. “I called the bank again, and the forty thousand came through a few minutes ago. Would you like to take these checks into town?”

“Yes, but first we need to buy some groceries. There's nothing here for lunch.”

“Well, I'll give you a check for the groceries. You can run into town this morning and buy them, and this afternoon one of us can go in and pay the bills.”