Lead Me Home

by Stacy Hawkins Adams

  Jade smiled and squeezed the elderly lady’s hand. “Thanks, Sister Rubilene, you are right, and I appreciate that.”

  “What’s the big deal—isn’t it just like buying a pair of glasses? People who can’t see—like my blind self—have bifocals, trifocals, and everything in between to see straight and read; we all have something wrong with us.”

  Jade smiled at Sister Erlanda. “You’re right, Sister Erlanda, in some ways it’s the same, but you have to admit, there is a stigma attached to losing your hearing, to becoming deaf. It’s a full-fledged disability, and in some ways, it makes you feel—at least it made me feel—defective.”

  Sister Rubilene, who was still standing next to Jade, nodded. “She’s right,” Rubilene said. “Even though my hearing loss was mostly due to age, I felt self-conscious and ashamed that I had to put a device over my ear to do something as basic as hear a bird chirp, or hear the beep of my microwave, or to watch my favorite TV show. I know folks who wear glasses and can’t see a thing until they put them on. They feel lost without them. But Lasik surgery can sometimes cure that, or you can get all kinds of fancy contacts and change your eye color. You don’t have as much flexibility with your hearing. If I take these devices out of my ears right now, I’m missing a whole part of the world. I’m at a loss.”

  Shiloh tried to understand what Jade and Sister Rubilene were describing, but it was difficult.

  Monica’s grandmother, Sister Eleanor, raised her hand. “I’m beginning to grasp how losing your hearing can affect your sense of self; but why the secrecy? Why didn’t you want your husband to know, and why did you need to borrow from your savings?”

  Jade nodded. “He asked me the same questions on Monday. The first one is hard to articulate, other than what I’ve shared. I didn’t want him to feel like he had this wife who wasn’t perfect anymore.”

  The room fell silent, and Jade nodded. “I know, I know; I’m not perfect; never was. I see now that God is using this condition as one way of reminding me that only he is perfect, and only in his strength could I expect to come close to that level. But in my human ‘foolishness’ I guess you could call it, I wanted to be his perfect little wife, with no issues. Just fabulous and fine and all put together.

  “Because I was trying to hide my condition from him so earnestly, that meant when the audiologist informed me that the kind of hearing aid that would serve me best would cost a minimum of twenty-eight hundred—for each one, and yes, I need two—I nearly flipped out. Here I was, with a toddler I needed to be able to hear at all times, for safety reasons alone, a daughter I couldn’t always hear, and a hearing issue that was destined to get worse if I didn’t do something to use the nerve capacity I had.

  “The audiologist wanted to fit me that day, but I didn’t have almost six thousand dollars in ‘fun money’ lying around to use, and I wasn’t ready to share this with Reverend Vic,” Jade said. “Now that I think about how loving and supportive he’s always been, I know I was being silly. But guess what? Even we beauty queens can be insecure. That night, as I fretted over what to do, a news segment came on about the Mrs. Milwaukee pageant and the winner receiving dozens of prizes, including cash. I thought if I couldn’t do anything else, I could win that pageant; pay for the more expensive, high-tech, and super-tiny hearing aids; and none of you would be the wiser. That was my grand plan, and I was sticking to it.”

  “But what if you hadn’t won Mrs. Milwaukee, and what if you don’t win Mrs. Wisconsin?” another woman in the study asked. “What is your plan B? All of this time you’ve devoted to the pageant has meant time away from your family, and it has meant more time that you haven’t been able to clearly hear your children. Wouldn’t that have been resolved by now if you had just asked your husband for the money?”

  Jade nodded and shrugged. “Too bad I didn’t have the courage to do just that from the beginning, or to even bring my fears and pain to this safe space and share with you women, so you could help me brainstorm solutions, and pray for God’s will to be done in my life. Truth is, that thought did cross my mind. That’s why I started coming to Bible study. But in my first night here, it was clear to me that I couldn’t compete with our First Lady. You ladies’ love for her was obvious, and I felt insignificant. So, as usual, I decided to fix everything. I decided that my way was best, and that in addition to registering for the Mrs. Milwaukee pageant, I would use these Bible study meetings to prove that I was more than a pretty pastor’s wife—I was a godly woman that all of you could relate to and care about. When I pulled this off, you all would respect me, I’d be able to purchase my aids and hear again, and all would be well.”

  “Except,” said Sister Carolyn, who was seated next to Jade and reached over to pat her hand, “you would have been sinning all the way to that pageant crown.”

  Jade frowned.

  “We are studying the book of Isaiah, you say, but what you’ve described tonight is an Esther experience,” Sister Carolyn said. “Remember when her uncle Mordecai came to her and insisted that she go before the king to save the Jewish people from the death and destruction the king’s right-hand man, Haman, was planning? When Esther resisted the idea of standing up to the king because she feared for her own life, Mordecai challenged her by asking her, ‘Who knows but if you were born for such a time as this?’

  “I say the same to you, Sister Jade,” Carolyn said. “You’re young, beautiful, well-to-do, and able to pretty much do and buy what you please. But here’s something that you can’t control—your health, the loss of your hearing. And in finding out that the only way you’re going to be able to function is with hearing aids, this may be your opportunity to help thousands of other younger Americans across this nation who may be struggling with hearing loss and with trying to pay for hearing aids.”

  Jade’s eyes filled with tears. “None of that crossed my mind. This could be bigger than me.”

  Sister Rubilene, who had returned to her seat, chimed in again. “My aids were covered by Medicare, but you mean to tell me that your insurance won’t take care of these devices for you?”

  Jade shook her head. “Many insurance companies across the nation don’t cover them. They cover cochlear implants for those who are hearing impaired, or even surgery for those whose hearing loss can be corrected that way; but few of them consider hearing aids a necessity for adults, unless you’ve purchased a bells-and-whistles plan that includes these kinds of ‘extras.’”

  Eleanor sat forward. “But how is a medical device that helps you maintain your safety and other folks’ safety an extra? What if you can’t hear an emergency vehicle while you’re driving, or the beep of a horn that could help you avoid an accident? What if you can’t hear your child and he’s in danger? How is that an extra?”

  Shiloh loved the passionate support that Jade was receiving.

  “You know, Jade, you should call your insurance company again, or write a letter asking them to cover these aids for you, because they are medically necessary,” Shiloh said. “We are going to pray with you tonight that God grants that request, so you don’t have to worry about taking anything out of your bank account to cover them, other than possibly a co-pay, and maybe insurance on the wear and tear of the aids.

  “But since you’ve gotten yourself into this pageant, Mrs. Milwaukee, I’m thinking you need to play your Esther role to the finish,” Shiloh said. “What if you stood on that stage in a few weeks, in front of a televised, statewide audience, and told them all that you were there to represent the hard-of-hearing citizens of this state who need help affording hearing aids, and in removing the stigma around hearing loss?”

  Jade’s eyes grew wide. “Are you serious? You think I should do that? Tell the world about my … issues?”

  Rubilene shook her cane at Jade from across the room. “Isaiah 41:13, my dear—do not fear; God will help you!”

  Shiloh pointed at Rubilene. “Do you think any differently about her now than you did half an hour ago, before you knew she wore hearing
aids?”

  Jade, who remained wide-eyed as she consumed all of the advice, shook her head. “Of course not; she’s the same sweet, wonderful person she has always been. I just know a little bit more about her now, and in fact, her willingness to share something so personal to encourage me, has endeared her to me all the more.”

  Someone tapped Jade on the shoulder and she turned and looked up, into her husband’s eyes.

  “That, Jade Devereaux Smith, is exactly how I feel about you,” Reverend Vic said, to the hoots and hollers of the women witnessing this exchange. “Don’t ever think you are just a cover girl to me. All that ever has been is icing on the cake. We are going to get your hearing aids tomorrow, regardless of what our insurance carrier says, so that when you take the stage in the pageant in two weeks, you can hear everything loud and clear, and you can speak up for what is right.”

  Shiloh was overwhelmed. She had called Randy on the way over tonight and told him that he might want to send Vic into their study instead of keeping him in the men’s Bible study. She wasn’t sure how long Vic had been standing outside of the classroom or how much he had heard, but Jade got his message loud and clear tonight, as did the other women. His actions spoke louder than words, but Sister Carolyn had nailed it. Jade’s entering the pageant may have originally been for the hearing aids, and trying to take over Bible study may have been a stab at improving her self-worth, but now this pageant, and her return to the study, were about something much bigger: the women in this class needing to see God’s glory through Jade’s vulnerability, and Vic’s unconditional love. And if Jade chose to address her hearing issues at the pageant, maybe this would be about helping a whole group of people suffering in shame and silence.

  thirty-seven

  The St. Stephens Baptist youth choir always sang on the first Sunday of the month, and seeing Monica perform with them for the first time this morning made Shiloh’s heart swell like a proud mama.

  Monica readily acknowledged that flute playing was her first love, but she was enjoying the choir because it helped her become friends with some of the other teens at the church. She bounded over to Shiloh after service today, with her long hair pulled back into a ponytail. Shiloh had been tempted to ask if she was officially done with the afro, but as had been the case at Sherman Park, the boys were drawn to her, and Shiloh suspected the afro would not be resurrected as long as that remained the case.

  “Hey, Mrs. Griffin,” Monica said and hugged her neck. “How are you today?”

  “I’m doing great. Any word yet on the summer music program?”

  Monica’s smile faded for a few seconds, but she quickly bounced back. “Not yet, but any day now!”

  “What are you hiding?” Shiloh put her hand on her hip and leveled her eyes at Monica.

  Monica frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I saw that look skate through your eyes. You sure you haven’t heard yet and just don’t want to tell me?”

  Monica sighed and hugged Shiloh again. “I promise you will be the third person to know—right after Daddy and Grandma E, okay? I guess I’m just nervous about what it will all mean … and what if I don’t get in anyway.”

  Shiloh stood back and put her hands on both of Monica’s shoulders. “If you don’t get into this program, that means you keep trying until the one that’s right for you opens a door. If you get into this program, then you’ll go, you’ll shine, and you’ll have at least one path set to your dreams. At your age, you have nothing to lose; you are in a win-win situation.”

  Doubt shimmied across Monica’s visage again, and Shiloh questioned its source. She had been gone from Sherman Park for just one week; what could have happened in that time that left Monica feeling unsure of herself?

  “I’ll be at the school recital tomorrow night, and I’m bringing my private flute students.”

  Monica perked up. “Really? That’s so sweet. Everyone will be excited to see you.”

  Monica hugged her one last time before being called away by Kourtney and Brendan, two of her friends in the choir. Shiloh watched her flit away and again, felt like this was the daughter she wanted to hold onto, to protect and keep on the right track.

  Eleanor appeared at her side and watched Monica, too.

  “Are you feeling the same way I am?” Shiloh asked. “I’ve only known her a few months, and I can tell that she’s special. God has his hand on her. Trouble is, I don’t know if she sees it or feels that way about herself, and that’s the danger that will make her want to fit in and be part of the crowd.”

  Shiloh didn’t normally speak so candidly to others about their children, but she truly loved Monica and wanted the best for her. She hoped Eleanor wouldn’t be offended.

  “It does my heart good to know that somebody else cares about Monica like her daddy and I do,” Eleanor said. “I try to look out for her, but I know she thinks I’m old fashioned and overprotective, especially when it comes to her friends from school, all those little boys that want to call now and everything. I tell her and Phaedra they have plenty of time to worry about boys, but you know how girls are at that age—all giggles and goo-goo eyes.

  “Her mama’s been gone for two years and Monica misses the connection they had. I know you aren’t trying to be a replacement, but Monica needs you. God sent you to her at the right time, and I’m grateful. So if you see something that I don’t, that we need to address to keep her on track, you get her in line, or let me know, and Claude and I will handle it.”

  Shiloh smiled at Eleanor. “You’ve got a deal, Grandma E.”

  thirty-eight

  The letter Lem placed in Shiloh’s hand Monday afternoon was just bulky enough to give her hope.

  “Thanks, son,” she said as nonchalantly as she could.

  He sat on a stool in front of the kitchen island and smirked. “You ain’t fooling me, trying to act all calm,” he said. “Go ahead and rip it open. That’s what I would do.”

  “That’s what you will be doing next year around this time, when you’re waiting on your college acceptance letters.” Shiloh paused and peered at him. “That’s a thought … maybe I should wait another year, so we can go to college together.”

  Shiloh burst into laughter at the stricken look on Lem’s face.

  “I’m not worried,” he finally said. “First of all, you’re going to be stuck at a university here in Milwaukee, or maybe online. I’m probably going far away.”

  “Oh?” This was a first; Shiloh wondered what schools had finally piqued his interest.

  “Yeah; Lia and I are interested in Georgia Tech; Virginia Tech; Alabama U, of course; and maybe Spelman and Morehouse.”

  Now she needed to sit down. Shiloh walked around the island and sat on the stool across from him. “Lem, you and Lia live in two different parts of the country and spent two weeks together this summer. How can that constitute a relationship on which you’ll base your college decisions, son?”

  Shiloh laid the unopened letter from Marquette University on the granite countertop and awaited his reply.

  Lem shrugged and looked into her eyes. “Mom, I know we’re just sixteen and don’t see each other every day, but she is special. We really hit it off this summer, and we can’t help how we feel.”

  “Because you are just sixteen, Lem, you need to make sure you’re dating and having fun with your friends here. There will be plenty of time to get serious about one girl.”

  “I do have fun with my friends—guys and girls. We go on group dates, chat, text, all that. It’s just that Lia is my girl. I’m sure Grandad didn’t let you and Aunt Dayna and Aunt Jessica date all that much, as stern as he is!”

  Shiloh pursed her lips. It wasn’t so much that Daddy had banned them from dating as it was being the prominent preacher’s daughter that turned off the boys, and even some of the girls who could have been her friends. They either thought having her around would cramp their style, or they mistakenly assumed that she didn’t want to come around, because she was “the quiet
one.” Dayna and Jessica had both been more outgoing, and as a result they had had more luck at sustaining friendships and dating relationships and being included in social outings. But as the “holy sister,” she’d had few opportunities and had spent most of her free time perfecting her flute skills and dreaming of her future in the arts. To this day, Shiloh had to admit, she wasn’t one to have a lot of girlfriends. The benefit to that, though, was the time she had been able to devote to her family, and she had learned the difference between feeling lonely and being alone. She didn’t necessarily mind being alone, because she enjoyed her own company. But how did one explain all of that to a love-struck eleventh grader?

  Shiloh knew she couldn’t. She just had to trust that it would all work out in its own time. She slid off the stool and kissed his cheek.

  “You’re a good young man, and Lia is lucky to have you.”

  Lem rolled his eyes, then they landed on her mail. “Are you going to open the letter or not?”

  Shiloh grinned and picked up the envelope. She sliced it open with a fingernail and silently read the enclosed letter.

  “Well?”

  “Looks like I can start school anytime I want, and they’ll accept all but a few of my credits from Birmingham-Southern.”

  Lem hugged her and she wept.

  “Aw, Mom. Congratulations.”

  “Thanks, babe,” she said.

  This was just one hurdle, though. Putting him and his brothers through college was the priority; she needed to find some scholarship funds in order to resume her education, or it could wait a while longer. Right now, she decided to bask in this sweet victory. It put her one step closer to reclaiming the dreams she once held at age sixteen.

  thirty-nine

  Minutes after entering the Sherman Park High recital hall later that evening, Shiloh knew she had two lovesick teenagers on her hands—Lem and Monica.

  Monica hadn’t seen Shiloh enter the recital hall foyer with six of her young flute students, but that was because she’d been distracted by Trey Holloman. He walked past Monica without acknowledging her, because he was holding hands with someone else, a cheerleader named Sheree, if Shiloh’s memory was correct. Monica and Phaedra exchanged glances, and she saw Phaedra tell Monica to forget about him. But Monica trailed the smiling couple with her eyes, and rather than appearing angry, she seemed hurt.