Lead Me Home

by Stacy Hawkins Adams

  Raphael shook his head. “You and Daddy don’t have to do anything anymore.”

  Shiloh poked his arm. “Careful. I did all the work in having you knuckleheads.”

  He picked up his bags and headed to his room. Shiloh rendered a final instruction while he was still within earshot. “And don’t take forever—dinner will be ready in ten minutes.”

  Shiloh returned to the kitchen table and looked over David’s shoulder. He was engrossed in the papier-mâché animal he was creating and hadn’t uttered a word, not even his usual, “How much longer before we eat?”

  She smiled at the hard-to-decipher creation and could tell he was proud of himself. From the looks of it, he was nowhere near finished. They would have to eat in the dining room tonight in order to leave David’s workspace as he needed it. She rubbed his shoulders. “Looking good, son.”

  David grinned. “I’m glad I chose to do this, because not many people take time to create an actual replica of an animal. They like to draw and paint, but this takes more work, and it looks more life-like.”

  Shiloh returned the smile. He was the youngest, but he was also the most intellectual of the bunch. She slid into the seat across from him and opened her laptop again. She clicked on her computer screen and saw that Monica had responded to her email.

  Thank you, Mrs. G. You are the best! Can’t wait to try out these songs to see which two will help me win a spot in the program. If you have any advice about what might be best for me, let me know!

  Also, I see in your email signature that you attend St. Stephens Baptist Church. I used to go there when I was a little girl. I loved it. My family doesn’t go to church that much these days, but I’d love to visit sometime … Anyway, thank you again. See you in class day after tomorrow.

  Sincerely,

  Monica

  Even this girl’s emails made Shiloh smile. Monica’s voice and personality shone through regardless of the format. Shiloh was convinced that her positive attitude and willingness to work hard were going to take her far. And she loved that Monica had asked about church. Shiloh had lost count of how often people asked her about St. Stephens Baptist and received a personal invitation from her simply because her email signature served as a conversation starter. It included a phrase indicating that she was “Planted at St. Stephens Baptist, in Milwaukee’s Brown Deer suburb, to love and serve all who cross my path.”

  Everyone from personal acquaintances to her sons’ teachers had asked her more about the church and had visited as a result. Some had even become members. Since Monica had inquired on her own, Shiloh decided she deserved the same warm welcome anyone else would receive.

  It’s my pleasure, Monica. Truthfully, I think any of the songs I’ve sent you will go over well with the judges, and I think you can play each of them masterfully. Why don’t you listen to each one carefully, give it some thought, and go with the two songs that feel right? Regarding St. Stephens, I’d love to have you visit anytime—and your family, too. If you all are former members, you know where we are located. Services are at 8 a.m. and 11, with Sunday school in between at 9:45. We are laid back and loving, so come on by, anytime. FYI, our youth Sunday is always the fourth Sunday, and our youth leaders hold Bible study for teens on Tuesday nights, when “y’all” can have the building to yourselves. LOL You don’t have to be a member to participate. See you at school. Let me know if you need more help, or if you have more questions—about music or church. Off to finish dinner! Have a good night. Mrs. G.

  Shiloh hit send and sighed. She peered at David, whose head was lowered, chubby cheeks dimpled, and shoulders hunched as he worked on his art. How thankful she was for him and for each of her boys. Every now and then, however, she wondered what it would have been like to raise a daughter. Tonight was one of those times …

  nineteen

  Despite Jade’s awkwardness during the past couple of meetings, Shiloh couldn’t recall ever seeing her squirm in Bible study quite as much as she was tonight. If Shiloh didn’t feel so guilty for enjoying it, it could have been a treat.

  Jade had simply chimed in on the past two studies, even after declaring herself a co-leader; but tonight, Shiloh had handed over the reins. Though she had been under the weather earlier in the week, Jade assured Shiloh she was ready for tonight’s session, and she had chosen the subject of trusting God through storms. Problem was, the women in the group were having a hard time relating to the message, and to Jade’s manner of teaching it, with her sitting before them dressed like a celebrity housewife who had never set foot in Wal-Mart, requested emergency prayers, or struggled for anything other than to fix a chipped nail or bad hairdo right before her next big occasion.

  Jade was doing her best to draw the women in, and Shiloh could see that she didn’t seem to understand why they weren’t warming up to her.

  “Um, let’s talk more about Naomi, the mother-in-law of Ruth, and all that she suffered while living in a foreign land. First her husband dies, and then her two sons. Wouldn’t that make any of us despair? Have any of you gone through a trial so severe that you thought God had forsaken you?”

  A few women nodded, but no one expounded.

  “Well, it’s during those times, when we feel the loneliest or most afraid, or most deeply hurt, that we must remember God is there with us.”

  The silence was palpable, and uncomfortable. Jade seemed to want the women to launch into a discussion, and Shiloh was certain the women were waiting for Jade to lead them there, by sharing from her heart, either a personal experience or that of someone else, that would make her comments more relevant. Instead, she chose to move on.

  “Let’s turn to 1 Samuel 25 and read about Abigail and her marriage to the evil and foolish Nabal.”

  Sister Marlene volunteered to read the passage aloud, while everyone else followed along in their Bibles.

  “I’m reading from the NIV version,” Marlene began. “‘Now Samuel died, and all Israel assembled and mourned for him …’”

  By the time Marlene reached the end of the chapter, which detailed Abigail’s longsuffering with her foolish husband and the wisdom she used in dealing with David, many of the women were murmuring with excitement about Abigail’s victory over dire circumstances.

  But Jade lost them again. “Amen to that, sisters, right? Abigail handled her business! How have we handled our Abigail moments?”

  The women fell silent, and Jade shot Shiloh a glance that she read as a plea for help. Shiloh cleared her throat and scanned the circle of twenty or so women.

  “You know, I think we’ve all been there, whether we’ve had to deal with an unfair or downright terrible boss, struggled in a personal relationship like Abigail, or simply didn’t see how we were going to make it through some other tough situation, like a job loss, divorce, or death of a loved one,” Shiloh said. “I think the message in Abigail’s experience is that wherever we find ourselves stuck, frustrated, or hurting, God sees and hears us. Isn’t it fair to say, though, that sometimes when we are in the middle of our valley experiences, we can’t see God for all of the ‘stuff’ cluttering our vision?”

  “Amen, First Lady!”

  That affirmation from Sister Clara set off a round of copycats, and a few women began sharing their personal experiences, including Sister Sarah, whose seventy-three-year-old face was marred by the burns she suffered sixty years earlier, when her family home caught fire and left her trapped inside. Sister Carlita shared the devastation of losing her brother in recent months, and how she didn’t understand why God allowed him to die in a car accident just before the birth of his second child. Even Sister Marlene chimed in and shared how watching her spiritually strong mother lose her leg to an infection five years earlier had strained her faith.

  “I couldn’t understand how this woman, who would have done anything God asked of her—who did do anything and everything she felt God was leading her to do—had to suffer like this; why God didn’t heal her and let her keep her leg,” Marlene said. “Mama neve
r felt the same after that loss; she just went downhill. When we buried her five months later, I stopped going to church for a while. Now I know I should have followed Abigail’s example and remained steadfast when I didn’t understand; but for a long time, I felt like Ruth’s mother-in-law Naomi, like God had forsaken me.”

  Shiloh glanced at Jade to see if she wanted to respond, but a slight smile was fixed on her expressionless face, and Shiloh wondered if Jade had let her mind wander, because she didn’t seem to be in tune with Marlene’s sharing.

  “What led you back to God, Marlene?” Shiloh finally asked.

  Marlene leaned forward in her chair, and her voice softened.

  “Honestly, it was Mama. It took me forever to go through all of her stuff, and about two years after she died—that will be three years ago this month—I finally decided to clean out the chests of drawers I had moved from her home into my attic. In one of them, I found a journal she had been keeping the last year of her life …”

  Marlene’s eyes watered and she choked up.

  “It was the journal I had given her the Mother’s Day before her death. I sat on my living room sofa on that Saturday afternoon and read all of her entries. In the last few pages, I found some truths that shook me to my core. Mama wrote on the day after her leg was amputated just five words: ‘Thy will be done, Lord.’ And then later she wrote, ‘You are my joy, Heavenly Father.’ And her final entry said, ‘Your love is better than life. I love you more each day, and in you I find my peace and rest.’”

  Marlene sat back in her seat and wiped her cheeks. “I will never forget those words; they’re stamped in my heart and mind,” she said. “Mama loved God anyhow. So why did I think I had the right to hold a grudge when she had accepted his will? I returned to St. Stephens Baptist the very next day and rededicated my life to God.”

  “Wow. Amen.” Jade offered that double-word feedback and turned to Shiloh. “You go ahead and finish us out, okay?”

  Shiloh wrapped up the discussion, and about ten minutes later, ended with prayer.

  When everyone was gone except Shiloh and Jade, and they were walking through the education wing shutting off lights, Jade paused and turned to her.

  “Thank you for tonight, Shiloh. I guess I’m not as ready as I thought I was to lead this study.”

  Shiloh touched her arm, but she didn’t know what to say. Tonight hadn’t gone well, and Shiloh was concerned that if the awkwardness continued, the women might stop coming and dissuade others from participating, too. At the same time, she remembered Randy’s admonition, and also what God had dropped into her spirit a few weeks ago: Jade’s interest in being here and helping lead the study might be him doing something in particular with her, or through her.

  “Don’t worry about it, Jade,” Shiloh said. “We all start somewhere. But you do seem a bit perplexed by how to get the women talking, or engaged in the topic you’ve presented. Maybe we can think about how to lead the study together, with me covering certain parts and you handling others—at least until they get used to both of us teaching.”

  Jade was on the verge of tears, but instead of allowing them to fall, she inhaled and mustered a smile. “Didn’t you know? I’m only comfortable with makeup, fashion, shoes, and shopping.”

  Shiloh’s eyes widened, and Jade nodded. “Yeah—I know that’s what the ladies of St. Stephens Baptist think about me and say about me behind my back. They think I’m shallow and dumb. I’m not, you know; but I admit that I don’t know my Bible like I should. Vic and I have been married twelve years, but he has never required me to study. He does his thing and I do mine. We pray together, but we read the Bible on our own. I guess I need to do a little more studying before I lead our Wednesday sessions. It’s important for me to be a part of this group, Shiloh.”

  Shiloh wasn’t sure how to take this vulnerable version of Jade. She was convinced more than ever that Jade’s hormones were raging and she must be expecting. When Jade wanted her to know, she’d tell her.

  “You are a part of this group, Jade,” Shiloh said. “Don’t feel obligated to lead the group just to belong. Chime in when you want, or sit there and soak in the wisdom and the Word. Just come and be you.”

  Shiloh hoped Jade didn’t think she was nudging her toward a lesser role to regain sole leadership of the Bible study. She was sincere about Jade getting acclimated, and maybe once she began reading her Bible more, and got used to the format of the study, she’d feel more confident about teaching.

  Jade sighed. “You’re right,” she said. “I need to come for a while to get to know everyone better, and what you all do. Our church is so large that it’s easy to see people Sunday after Sunday and not really know them. It’s better to take it slow, for that reason alone. I guess I was jumping the gun in trying to step in stride with you right off the bat.”

  Shiloh was tempted to remind Jade that she’d been at St. Stephens Baptist for nearly two years and teaching the Bible study that entire time. The fact that Jade had chosen to come to a few studies before declaring herself a lead teacher of the class was only part of the reason Shiloh and some of the other women had become resentful; her sudden interest in even attending after all these years had also left them questioning her motives.

  “Plus,” Jade continued, “you’ve known this Bible stuff since you could talk; you’re a PK, which makes you the perfect preacher’s wife. I’m learning on the job.”

  She flipped her hair and in the process, seemed to switch on her confidence. “So thanks for moving forward with the Bible study class as you have been,” Jade said and gave Shiloh a light hug. “I’ll pop in as often as I can, but only as a student for the time being.”

  Jade’s megawatt smile returned, and Shiloh marveled at the transformation. This woman was a work of art, and certainly not a piece that could be easily understood.

  twenty

  Monica strolled into class the following morning and almost made it to her seat before Shiloh recognized her.

  Shiloh strode over to the girl and bent low, to peer into her eyes. “Who are you?”

  Monica giggled. “What?”

  Her usually mile-high soft afro had been replaced by copper brown straightened hair that flowed past her shoulders to the middle of her small back. She had one side swooped across her forehead for a dramatic bang, and the other tucked behind an ear, which bore a small pearl earring, and she wore a hint of sheer lip gloss. She could pass for the teenage sister of Jada Pinkett Smith, in a taller, but otherwise just as petite, package.

  “Wow.”

  Shiloh had noted the girl’s beauty when she met her on the first day of class. With this transformation, Monica was stunning. “Who are you? Where is Monica?”

  Monica laughed. “Did I look bad before or something? You didn’t like my afro?”

  “I loved your afro,” Shiloh said. “It was beautiful and artsy. This is the sophisticated, grown-up version of Miss Monica, I guess. And you look great either way.”

  Monica smirked. “Hmm, hmmm. You adults like this straightened hair, corporate look, don’t you? The other is just so much easier to take care of. But I could get used to this.”

  Phaedra sidled over. “And especially all of the attention you’re getting from the fine boys, right?” The girls grinned at each other.

  “Did you see Trey Holloman checking you out?” Phaedra whispered the question in amazement.

  “You’re kidding!” Monica whispered back.

  The girls leaned toward each other, and into their conversation, forgetting that Shiloh completed their circle. Though they were oblivious to her presence, Shiloh tried to mask her surprise. This was a first, too. Both girls were lovely, but they had always seemed more focused on their music and their studies than on the routine teenage socializing and romantic drama that often came with it. Maybe they had been interested all along, she surmised, but had used their other interests to mask what they thought they were lacking.

  “Girl, you should have listened to your grandma
ma a long time ago,” Phaedra said. “That straight hair and lip gloss is the truth! Got the men trippin’ over you!”

  “Men?” Shiloh raised an eyebrow and folded her arms.

  The girls turned toward her, startled that she was still standing there.

  “Oh, you know what we meant, Mrs. Griffin. Young men—boys,” Phaedra said.

  Shiloh shook her head and walked away. Monica’s grandmother may not know what she had started. That statement-making, but unassuming, afro may have kept sweet little Monica a little more focused. And safe. With the reaction she was getting this morning, she might never go back.

  twenty-one

  That day, Shiloh struggled to maintain discipline in class for the first time, and it was her favorite student’s fault.

  Monica’s new look was the talk of the entire band period, among the girls and the guys. Half the girls were hating on her, while the other half were trying to figure out how she had gone from thick and poofy one day, to straight and sleek the next.

  The boys couldn’t focus, notes were being missed, and chatter ensued like never before. If Shiloh weren’t trying to get the group prepared for the upcoming fall recital, their reaction to a simple style change might have been laughable. Instead, she was frustrated.

  She rapped on her music stand to silence them, and tried to do so without bringing any more attention to Monica.

  “Okay, everyone. We have to pay attention. Let’s get it together!”

  They managed to practice three songs, but none were up to par, as far as Shiloh was concerned.

  Monica seemed both self-conscious and exhilarated by the stir she had caused. She and Phaedra exchanged glances and giggles the entire period. Shiloh prayed that the inner beauty and sweetness she knew Monica possessed wouldn’t get lost in her new outer fabulousness. But if this look that her grandmother had convinced her to try wowed the summer camp audition judges like her grandmother was hoping, more power to her.