Stand by Me (47 page)

Which one? Her or Peter?

“Peter?”

No answer. Her husband's breathing was deep and regular. But she had an idea what he'd say. That they should take the whole idea to Pastor Cobbs and get his discernment. But Peter was convinced that the young man should intern at SouledOut Community Church. And Avis had to agree. Frankly, she wouldn't mind taking her name off the list. A team of Pastor Cobbs, Peter, and young Nick could be dynamite.

There was only one thing that bothered her.

It was David Brown who'd brought up Nick's internship at the congregational meeting. For less than noble reasons. The man and his wife were closet racists. That was harsh . . . but it was true. So if Nick became an interim pastor, even as an intern, would the Browns have “won”?

“Avis?”
The Voice in her spirit almost jolted her upright.

She felt like young Samuel in the Bible.
Are You talking to me,
Lord?

“Don't forget, people misunderstood a lot of things I did while I
was on earth. And it looked like the devil had won when they crucified
Me. But I was obedient to the Father because it was the right thing to
do. All part of God's plan.”

Avis almost stopped breathing, not wanting to miss this inner Voice.

“So the only question is, is encouraging Nick's internship the right
thing to do? If it is, then let Me take care of the Browns and their misguided
prejudices.”

The inner Voice faded. The only sound in the room was Peter's deep breathing, almost a gentle snore. A sweet peace filled Avis's spirit as she relaxed against the soft pillow and finally closed her eyes.

“Thank You, Jesus,” she breathed, “for Your faithfulness—for standing with me in spite of my failures, my sins, my blind eyes and deaf ears . . .”

And Avis slept.

Reading Group Guide

1. If you've read the
Yada Yada Prayer Group
novels, you've already met Avis Douglass. What surprised you the most as you became more intimately acquainted with her in this first SouledOut Sisters novel?

2. Have you ever felt like Avis's husband Peter: “Do we just keep on doing what we're doing until we retire? Or do we look ahead, ask ourselves, what would we really like to do before we retire, while we've still got our health and a little energy . . . put our experience to use doing something else, something different”? How would you approach such a conversation with your spouse or family members?

3. Is there someone in your life who annoys you, like Kat Davies annoys Avis? Have you thought about
why
this person annoys you? How do you respond? Do you . . . pull away? Avoid him or her? Speak with annoyance or frustration? Simply tolerate him or her? Consider: Might God be prompting you to relate in a different way with this person? Why or why not?

4. Even Avis Douglass—a mature Christian—had her moments of feeling stuck in her prayers! (See pg. 137–138.) When was the last time you felt like that—wanting to pray, feeling desperate, but not knowing just how to pray? Avis heard the still, small voice of the Holy Spirit say:
“Praise Me in faith, praise Me for what
I'm going to do and am already doing, even if you can't see it. Let
the joy of the Lord be your strength
.” Avis prayed Psalm 42 to get unstuck . . . try it. Let the “joy of the Lord” by
your
strength.

5. In Chapter 19, Avis recognized she was holding the CCU students at an emotional distance.
“Sorry for fussing, Lord . . . I just have so
much on my plate right now. I don't feel like I have the energy to relate to new neighbors
.” Why is it so hard to relate to “new people” when you have a lot on your plate? Is that an easy excuse? When is it OK to pull away from other people? Is there danger in ignoring someone God may be putting in your path for a reason?

6. A multicultural church can be a blessing—and also has its challenges. What do you think the women talking in the Ladies Room at SouledOut (Ch. 19) meant by worrying that the church might become “too black”? Avis never confronted the women or let them know she'd overheard. Was that the right or wrong thing to do? What would you have done if you'd been in Avis's shoes in that bathroom?

7. Kat had promised Rochelle she wouldn't tell her parents about meeting her on the street. But when she learns that Rochelle's ex had been abusive, and that the Douglasses don't know Conny is staying with his dad, she faces a dilemma. What would you have done? Have you been in a similar situation where you've made a promise but feel like you have to break it? What are the implications?

8. When Kat rushed out of the Douglasses' house after dinner, Nick wanted to go after her but Avis stopped him. What do you think Avis meant by telling Nick not to “get in the way” of the Holy Spirit? In our rush to comfort someone or “fix things,” how might we “get in the way” of the Holy Spirit?

9. Kat said she wished she were Rochelle—at least Rochelle and her mother had a relationship that could be restored. Kat barely had a relationship with her mother, couldn't remember when she'd been hugged like that (see pg. 363). Is there a broken relationship in your family that needs restoring? What might you do to take that first step toward reconciliation?

For more Reading Group Guide questions about
Stand by Me
, visit
www.ThomasNelson.com/RGG

An excerpt from
The Yada Yada Prayer Group

T
he lobby of the Embassy Suites hotel in Chicago's northwest suburbs was packed with women. An intense hum rose and fell, like a tree full of cicadas. “Girl! I didn't know
you
were coming!” . . . “Where's Shirlese? I'm supposed to be roomin' with her.” . . . “
Look
at you! That outfit is
fine
!” . . . “Pool? Not after spending forty-five dollars at the salon this morning, honey. Who you kiddin'?”

Avis and I wiggled our Mutt and Jeff selves through the throng of perfumed bodies and presented our reservations at the desk.

“Jodi Baxter? And . . . Avis Johnson. You're in Suite 206.” The clerk handed over two plastic key cards. “If you're here for the Chicago Women's Conference”—she added with a knowing smile—“you can pick up your registration packet at that table right over there.”

Avis let me forge a path back through the cicada convention to a long table with boxes of packets marked A–D, E–H, all the way to W–Z. As we were handed our packets emblazoned with CWC in curlicue calligraphy, I noticed a bright gold sticker in the right-hand corner of mine with the number 26 written in black marker. I glanced at the packet being given to the woman standing next to me at the A–D box who gave her name as “Adams, Paulette”—but her gold sticker had the number 12.

“What's this?” I asked the plump girl behind the registration table, pointing to the number.

“Oh, that.” Miss Helpful smiled sweetly. “They'll explain the numbers at the first session. Don't worry about it . . . Can I help you?” She turned to the next person in line.

Humph. I didn't want to wait till the first session. I was nervous enough surrounded by women who seemed as comfortable in a crowd of strangers as if it were Thanksgiving at Grandma's. I didn't want any “surprises.” Avis waved her packet at me over the heads of five women crowding up to the table between us and nodded toward the elevators. We met just as the door to Elevator Two pinged open, and we wheeled our suitcases inside.

“What number did you get?”

“Number?”

“On your packet, right-hand corner, gold sticker.”

“Oh.” Avis turned over the packet she was clutching in one hand, along with her plastic key card, purse strap, and travel-pack of tissues. “Twenty-six. What's it for?”

I smiled big and relaxed. “I don't know. They'll tell us at the first session.” Whatever it was, I was with Avis.

As it turned out, we didn't need our key cards. The door to Suite 206 stood ajar. Avis and I looked at each other and stole inside like the Three Bears coming home after their walk in the woods. The sitting room part of the suite was empty. However, through the French doors leading into the bedroom, we could see “Goldilocks” sitting on the king-size bed painting her toenails while WGCI gospel music blared from the bedside radio.

The stranger looked up. “Oh, hi!” She waved the tiny polish brush in our direction. “Don't mind me. Make yourselves at home.”

We stood and stared. The woman was average height, dark-skinned, and lean, with a crown of little black braids sporting a rainbow of beads falling down all around her head. Thirties, maybe forties; it was hard to tell. Her smile revealed a row of perfect teeth, but a scar down the side of her face belied an easy life.

Avis was braver than I was and said what I was thinking. “Uh, are we in the right room? We didn't know we had another roommate.”

The woman cocked her head. “Oh! They didn't tell you at registration? Suite 206, right?” She capped the nail polish and bounced off the bed. “Florida Hickman—call me Flo.” She stuck out her hand. “Avis and Jodi, right? That's what they tol' me downstairs. Anyway, I was going to room with this sister, see, but she had to cancel, and I didn't want to pay for a whole suite all by myself. Had to sell the kids just to get here as it is.” She laughed heartily. Then her smile faded and she cocked her head. “You don't mind, do you? I mean . . . I don't need this whole king-size football field to myself. Unless . . .” Her forehead wrinkled. “You want me to sleep on the foldout couch?”

My good-girl training rushed to my mouth before I knew what I was saying. “Oh no, no, that's okay. We don't mind.”
Do
we, Avis?
I was afraid to look in Avis's direction. We had pretty much agreed driving out that since it was a suite, we could each have a “room” to ourselves. Avis was definitely not the stay-up-late, sleepover type.

“Oh. Well, sure,” Avis said. “It's just that no one told us.” I didn't know Avis all that well, but that wasn't enthusiasm in her voice. “I'll sleep on the foldout,” she added, wheeling her suitcase over to the luggage stand.

I noticed that she didn't say “we.” I stood uncertainly. But our new friend had generously offered the other side of the mammoth bed, so I dragged my suitcase into the bedroom and plopped it on the floor on the other side of Florida's nail salon.