Come to the Table

by Neta Jackson

  Kat was nervous as they gathered in Pastor Cobbs’s office. She should’ve jotted some notes about what she wanted to say! But after welcoming them with a big smile and his sideways “church hug,” Pastor Cobbs asked Sister Avis to lead them in some worship. Worship? Kat thought they would just open with prayer and get on with it. But Mrs. D opened her big Bible and read from Psalm 13. “‘How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? . . .’” Her voice wavered a bit as she read on. “‘How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart? . . . Look on me and answer, O Lord my God.’”

  A strange psalm. Sounded like complaining, not worship. Kat glanced sideways at Nick, but he had his elbows on his knees, chin propped on his fists, listening intently as Mrs. D came to the end of the psalm. “‘But I trust in your unfailing love! My heart rejoices in your salvation! I will sing to the Lord, for he has been good to me.’” Avis closed her Bible and squeezed her eyes shut. “Oh yes, Lord,” she said, almost as if the rest of them weren’t in the room. “I trust Your unfailing love! Because You are a good God, and You have been so good to me. Thank You, Jesus! Thank You!”

  Kat was surprised to see a few tears trickle down her cheeks. Was something wrong? Did Mrs. D have sorrow in her heart, like the psalm said? Kat thought everything was hunky-dory now that Rochelle and Conny had been found and were in a safe place.

  Avis started to sing, “O come, let us adore Him . . .” Pastor Cobbs joined in, and then Nick. Wasn’t that a Christmas carol? But Avis didn’t sing the verses, just the chorus several times, changing the words to “For You alone are worthy” and “We give You all the glory.” Eventually Kat joined in, closing her eyes and singing the familiar refrain, letting all the busyness of the day and the past weekend fade into the background, just focusing on God, who was worthy of her praise.

  And suddenly she realized . . . This is worship. I’m worshipping. Kat’s throat caught on the last refrain and she simply listened as the other three sang sedately, almost as if walking down an aisle toward the throne: “O come, let us adore Him . . .”

  Yes, Lord, her heart whispered, I want to trust Your unfailing love.

  She almost jumped and her eyes flew open when Pastor Cobbs clapped his hands once. “Well! Let’s talk about this food pantry idea of yours, Sister Kathryn. Why don’t you start at the beginning, tell us why you feel this is something God is calling you to do, and why you think SouledOut is the place to do it.”

  Nick smiled encouragement, so Kat took a deep breath and began—how she’d been encouraged to think less about “food issues” per se and more about people who were hungry. How Edesa Baxter had encouraged her to volunteer at a food pantry, which she had, but came away feeling that more churches needed to be feeding the hungry, and why not start at SouledOut, which already had a heart to minister to all sorts of people? And how she was learning the Bible was full of stories about God’s concern for the poor and hungry. “Why, in Matthew 25, He told people that if we don’t feed the hungry and visit people in prison and stuff like that, it’s really Jesus we’re neglecting!”

  Both Nick and Avis Douglass smiled broadly at Kat, as if surprised. She flushed. Guess they weren’t used to hearing her use scripture like that. But it felt good to base her passion on something solid other than just her own fly-by-night idea.

  Kat paused, wondering if she should stop . . . but something nudged her spirit to put it all out there. Was she willing to put it all on the table? Taking another deep breath, she blew it out and spoke again. “Um, when I told Mrs. Douglass—uh, Sister Avis—about my idea last week, she encouraged me to pray about it, to ask God if this was His idea, not just mine. I have been praying, and I continue to feel that God is calling me to feed hungry people, but I guess the only way I’ll really know that is if other people affirm the idea too. You know, where two or three agree—” Kat stopped.

  She looked at each of the faces watching her, listening to her. Pastor Cobbs, his face kind and attentive. Avis Douglass, the woman who’d wrapped her in a motherly hug that day Rochelle had been “found,” in a way her own mother had never done. And Nick, pastoral intern, her friend and—dare she think it?—soul mate.

  Yes, these three needed to agree that God was calling her. But surely it had to be more than just two or three people agreeing she should do this. No way could she do this alone! If this food pantry was truly God’s idea, God would need to call others to its mission as well. But who?

  Kat walked home in the still-bright evening of midsummer, though the sun had disappeared behind the city buildings. Nick had slipped out of the office with her when her part of the meeting was over and said if she wanted to wait till they were done, he’d walk her home or they could ride with Mrs. Douglass. But he didn’t know how long the rest of the meeting would be and let it go when she said she’d like to get home. It’d been a long day.

  As much as she would’ve liked to walk home with Nick, Kat was glad to have a little time to herself to think about what had just happened. She’d blurted out her thoughts, that God would need to call others to help with a food pantry too, wondering all the while if that would kill the idea right there. But for some reason, Pastor Cobbs’s smile just got wider. Had he really said, “I believe this idea is of God, and I believe God is calling you. How the rest of it fits together, I don’t know yet. But God sometimes just shows us one step at a time.”

  Avis Douglass had nodded in agreement. “Have you given any thought to a start date?”

  Start? Kat had nearly fallen off her chair. They were actually asking when it could start? “Well, right now I’m volunteering mornings at STEP and working at the coffee shop about twenty hours a week. And we’ll need time to figure out logistics, locate food sources, get volunteers—stuff like that. So . . .”

  Pastor Cobbs and Avis Douglass had put their heads together, pulling out a calendar, pointing, whispering . . . and then had turned back to her. “STEP is over at the end of this month,” Avis said. “That would free up more of your time in August.”

  Pastor Cobbs had rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “So September might be a good time to start. Although it wouldn’t hurt to do a trial run, see what bugs need to be worked out, see what interest there is. What would you think of doing a trial run in August, starting, say, the first weekend?”

  The first weekend in August?! Kat had hardly been able to believe her ears. And besides, her heart had been beating so loudly, it felt as if blood was rushing up to her head, through her ear canals, and then free-falling all the way to her feet.

  They’d prayed together, asking for God’s blessing on this idea for a food pantry, asking God to open doors, to give favor, and to put this vision in the hearts of others if it was truly from the Holy Spirit. And then they’d prayed for Kat, asking God to draw her close to Him as she walked forward in this call.

  Now, turning onto the residential street that led to their three-flat, Kat realized she didn’t feel like going up to the apartment just yet. The evening was still warm, but a light breeze was coming off the lake, lazily making its way through the narrow streets of Rogers Park. Settling down on one of the concrete arms buttressing either side of the wide steps, she put her back to the brick wall and closed her eyes, listening to the cicadas drumming up a racket in the trees.

  But as she replayed the meeting again and again, Kat couldn’t stop the tears of surprise and joy that spilled over. After so many years of having her parents fuss at her about “getting distracted” with silly ideas, it was hard to believe that three people she respected so much had actually affirmed the idea for a food pantry at SouledOut. Even more amazing, they’d not only affirmed the food pantry but had affirmed her.

  How long she sat there, she wasn’t sure, but after a long while she heard the front door of the three-flat open. “Who . . . oh, Kat. It’s you.” Rochelle’s voice. “I came down to get the mail and saw someone sitting out here. Didn’t know the meeting was over. Where’s Nick?”

  Kat looked up, re
alizing the light had faded and the street was full of deepening shadows. “Not back yet. Meeting wasn’t over. I walked home.”

  “Oh. Well, when he gets here, will you tell him . . . Oh, there they are.” Avis Douglass’s Camry drove past slowly, no doubt looking for a parking space. “I gotta run back up, Conny’s supposed to be getting on his jammies, but will you ask Nick if he’d come up as soon as he can? Conny’s been begging to see him before he goes to sleep.”

  Kat grunted. The door wheezed shut and she heard Rochelle’s footsteps fading up the stairs. Seemed like Rochelle and Conny expected Nick to be at their beck and call no matter what. Should she tell him or not?

  Several minutes went by before Avis and Nick came walking back up the street and turned into their walk. As Avis came up the steps, she reached out and lightly touched the top of Kat’s head before disappearing inside. The touch seemed to flow down Kat’s entire body. Like a blessing. As if she was saying, “I care.”

  Kat brushed a new set of tears away with the back of her hand . . . and was surprised to see that Nick had sat down on the end of the concrete arm and was looking at her. Kat sniffed, fished for a tissue, and blew her nose. “How was the rest of the meeting?”

  Nick shrugged. “Okay. Mostly scheduling decisions. A few pastoral situations. And some personal stuff, which I can’t . . . you know.”

  “Yeah, sure.” Kat blew her nose again. “Rochelle said to ask you to come right up. Conny wants to see you before bed.”

  Nick didn’t move.

  “Uh . . . Conny?” Kat gestured toward the door with her thumb.

  “He can wait.” Nick was quiet another long moment. Then . . . “I was proud of you tonight. You’ve given this food pantry a lot of thought and prayer, and you obviously impressed Pastor Cobbs and Sister Avis.”

  Kat grimaced. “Maybe not enough, though. I mean, first weekend in August? If I let myself think about what all it’s going to take, I may panic.”

  She saw him grin in the glow of the porch light that had winked on. “Well, yeah, there’s that.” He laughed. “But you’ve thought about the most important things. Why you want to do it. Why it needs to be done. Why God wants it done.”

  Kat nodded, not quite knowing what to say.

  To her surprise, Nick reached out and gently tucked a flyaway lock of frizzy hair behind her ear. “To be honest, Kat, I don’t know if I’m ‘called’ in the same way you feel called to this, but I want you to know I’ll support you any way I can. Help out. Be an errand boy. Do whatever to help make it happen. Okay?”

  “Oh, Nick.” Scrambling forward, she gave him a grateful hug. “That means so much.” She felt his arms go around her and he held her close . . . for a long moment. And she didn’t pull away.

  Chapter 27

  Hands on her hips, Edesa Baxter stared at the two full laundry baskets sitting by the back door of the apartment. There were times when living on the third floor of the House of Hope suited her just fine. No running feet overhead from kids living in the other apartments. No percussive thumps coming through the ceiling from speakers sitting on the floor. No loud voices and footsteps going up the stairwell past their apartment, except for Cordelia Soto and her kids living across the hall, also on the third floor. And she loved sitting on the window seat that hugged the bay windows in the front room, feeling like a bird hidden among the leaves of the trees planted along the parkway below.

  Sí, there were a lot of things she liked about their third-floor apartment.

  But laundry day wasn’t one of them. Not when the two washing machines for general use were clear down in the basement. And especially not when one of the dryers had recently died, and the other one took twice as long to dry clothes as it should.

  Why hadn’t she asked Josh to take the laundry down before he headed out on his round of errands that morning? She didn’t know when he’d get back. Vandals had stolen the recycling bins the city provided for their building, and he was haggling with the Department of Sanitation about providing replacements. Plus he had half a dozen other stops for the House of Hope—she couldn’t remember what all he’d said. Just that he’d had to borrow Gabby Fairbanks’s car because of all the running around.

  “Mommeeee. Want more apple juice!” Two-year-old Gracie tugged on Edesa’s skirt, holding up her sippy cup.

  Absently Edesa got out the bottle of juice and filled Gracie’s cup without asking, “What do you say, niña?” as she usually did. How was she going to manage Gracie and two laundry baskets going down three flights? It wasn’t like she could just wait another day. Each of the six apartments in the House of Hope had been assigned a laundry day, and Wednesday was her day. And she’d really like to get the laundry done and folded before tonight when they had their weekly “household meeting” with everybody.

  Besides, it was her birthday. Twenty-seven years old today. Not a “milestone” birthday, but still . . . she wished they’d canceled the household meeting and gotten a babysitter so she and Josh could do something special, maybe go out to dinner? It seemed like a long time since they’d had a night out.

  Twenty-seven. Somehow that sounded a lot older than twenty-six, and made the three-year difference between her and Josh seem even wider. Here she was, almost thirty, and he’d still be in his twenties—

  No, no, don’t go there, she told herself. It was God who’d brought them together and she loved Josh, loved the Baxter family she’d married into, loved the child they’d adopted. And maybe someday Gracie would have a brother or sister.

  Except . . . more kids, even more laundry! Edesa rolled her eyes heavenward. Make that “someday,” Señor.

  Well, she couldn’t just stand there. “Come on, niña. Let’s see who’s home. Maybe somebody can watch you while I get the laundry started.” Edesa took Gracie by the hand, went out into the stairwell, and knocked at the door across the hall. No answer. Not surprising. Cordelia—a sweet Latina mom with two youngsters—took her kids to Little Village two or three days a week to play with their cousins while she did housecleaning jobs. It was fun having another mom on the same floor who spoke Spanish, even though she and Cordelia came from different countries.

  No one was home in 2A or 2B either. Where was everybody? Some of the moms had jobs, but usually somebody was home. Gracie plopped down on the second-floor landing. “I’m tired. Don’t wanna walk.”

  Edesa picked her up and continued on down to the first floor. No point in knocking at 1B. Gabby was at work and both her teen boys were in summer camp programs this month. Edesa shook her head. Those two boys couldn’t be more different. P.J. was into sports and was the spitting image of his dark-haired dad, while Paul, a budding musician, had inherited his mom’s “Orphan Annie” curly hair.

  She knocked on 1A. Her last chance. If Tanya or Precious or Sabrina weren’t home, she’d just have to—

  The door opened. “Hey, Miss Edesa.” Sabrina, Precious McGill’s eighteen-year-old, wearing her year-old toddler on her hip, stood in the doorway looking bored. Edesa didn’t blame her. It was hard being a teenager with a baby, missing out on summer’s fun. “Mama’s not here if you’re looking for her.”

  “Actually, I have a favor to ask. Could you watch Gracie for fifteen minutes while I get my laundry into the washing machines?” She’d worry about getting it dry later.

  Sabrina shrugged. “Sure.” The pretty black teenager held out a hand to Gracie. “Want a hot dog, sweetie? I was just gonna feed Timmy some lunch.” She rolled her eyes at Edesa. “Now maybe he’ll let me set him down. Been clingy all mornin’, ain’t ya, you Lil’ Turkey.”

  Edesa tried not to wince—not her choice for Gracie’s lunch—but she thanked Sabrina profusely before running back upstairs. Beggars couldn’t be choosy, as the Americans liked to say.

  But she had no sooner lugged both baskets down the outside back stairs and unlocked the basement door when her cell phone rang. Edesa snatched her phone out of her pocket. Caller ID said Kathryn Davies. “Buenos días, Sister Kathryn! Cóm
o estás?”

  She heard laughter on the other end. “That’s what I need, Edesa. Someone to make me use my Spanish. Uh . . . tienes tiempo para hablar?”

  Did she have time to talk? “Uh, well, sure, for a few minutes . . . Wait just a moment.” She tapped the Speaker button and set the phone down on top of the dryer that wasn’t working. Hopefully that was one of the errands Josh was doing today, getting parts to fix it. “Okay. What’s up?”

  “Well, you said to call and tell you about my meeting with the pastoral team Monday night. Sorry I didn’t call yesterday. I’m trying to make up work time I took off over the weekend when Olivia and her sister were here. In fact, I’m on my way to work right now—just left the school—but didn’t want to wait too long before I told you what’s happening.”

  Edesa stuffed assorted underwear, dish towels, and socks into the first washer as Kathryn talked breathlessly. Then she sorted wash-and-wear into the second washing machine—both of which had seen better days, but at least they still worked. Gracias, Jesús.

  But as her caller went on, Edesa stopped sorting clothes to listen more carefully. She’d never heard Kat Davies talk like this—about realizing that starting a food pantry had to be God’s idea or it would flop, and realizing she couldn’t do it alone, that others would need to feel called as well. “So I’m wondering if you would pray for that specifically, Sister Edesa, that God would call others to catch the vision for a food pantry at SouledOut. I can tell people about it, yeah, me and my big mouth are good at that.” Edesa heard Kat give a self-deprecating laugh. “I might be able to twist a few arms or drag people into it. But that’s not the same thing as being called by God. I—” The girl’s voice seemed to catch.

  “Oh, Kathryn, sí, I will be so glad to pray with you about this. When did you say the pastors suggested you start?”