by J B Hawker
“Hey! You made it,” she said, earning an eye-roll from Dawn.
“So, uh, what did you think?” Ty’Nisha asked, trying again.
“I want to go, too,” Dawn blurted out.
“Go where?”
“On that camping trip. How do I sign up... does it cost much?” Dawn asked as the idea of a possible fee occurred to her.
“The church pays for us to go. They loan us the equipment we need and give us the supplies... you know, food, bug spray, like that,” Ty’Nisha responded. “You really want to go with us?”
“Yeah. It might be cool. I’ve never gone camping with a bunch of goody-goodies before. I’m just about running out of new things to try.”
“If you are serious about going, I think you should talk to Pastor Hopkins,” Ty’Nisha said, hoping to pass the buck for this unexpected result of her own impulsive invitation.
“The tall guy who did all the talking?” Dawn asked, looking around.
“Come on, I’ll introduce you,” Ty’Nisha said, nodding toward where Gideon and Hope stood at the doorway greeting the departing worshipers.
Ty’Nisha urged Dawn with a gentle nudge on her arm and they shuffled over.
“Uh, Mrs. Hopkins?” Ty’Nisha said when they were standing behind Hope.
“Yes, Ty’Nisha?” Hope said, turning around. “I don’t think I’ve met your friend,” she added, smiling at Dawn.
“She’s not my... uh, I mean, this is Dawn. She wants to go camping with us,” Ty’Nisha said, urging the other girl forward.
“What’s your last name, Dawn? I don’t think I’ve seen you here before. Do your parents attend?” Hope asked.
“Parents? Not likely,” Dawn snorted. “Name’s Dawn Thompson, but I don’t know who my parents are, let alone where they are.”
“I’m so sorry,” Hope said with a frown.
Eyeing the undernourished girl, she added, “Why don’t we go into the social hall and get some snacks and you can tell me why you want to go on our campout. We’ll need your guardian’s permission, you know.”
“I’ve got to go with my folks, now,” Ty’Nisha said, sidling away. “See you in school, Dawn.”
Hope looked after the swiftly departing girl, wondering about her relationship with Dawn.
“Do you like double-fudge brownies, Dawn? Our women make some of the best in the state,” Hope said, leading the girl into the social hall.
Dawn responded with a shrug, but when they reached the refreshments table her reserve melted enough for her to pile an assortment of treats, including two large brownies, onto her plate before joining Hope at a table in the corner of the room.
…
It was mid-afternoon when Hope and Gideon got home. Following worship, Gideon had taken Communion to the shut-in members of the congregation and made his hospital calls while Hope stayed at church to meet with Orville Watts regarding the upcoming youth camping trip.
It was such a beautiful afternoon; she’d decided to walk home from the church.
“It’s so nice out, shall we eat on the patio?” Hope asked when Gideon came into their bedroom while she was changing clothes.
“Sounds good,” he said, hanging his suit in the closet.
Hope appreciated her husband’s natural neatness. In truth, before she’d joined the military, Hope hadn’t cared much about neatness and order in her surroundings, but she’d come to see how her state of mind often reflected the state of her environment. A messy, chaotic room set her on edge and made it difficult to concentrate on anything. It was a blessing that she and Gideon both enjoyed order in their lives.
“What shall we eat?” she asked him.
“Something light. Sister Moses had her home help set out a big spread. I couldn’t beg off, seeing how happy it made that dear sister to feed me,” Gideon replied.
“Sister Moses? Have I met her?” Hope asked.
“I guess not. She’s been homebound since soon after I was called to Mount Zion. We should go see her together sometime soon. She’s a lovely woman, with a sweet, gentle soul. I know she’s in a lot of pain now, but she never complains and always has a smile for me. She’s quite a valiant prayer warrior as well. Shall I arrange a visit this week?” he asked.
“Well, I’ve got my classes, but if we can work around those... but, why the hurry?” Hope asked.
She was still awkward about pastoral visits and never knew what to say and do when dropping in on people. She always heard an echo of her father’s voice when any church folks had come around. He sent them packing with a roared, “Take your holier-than-thou preachin’ and pamphlets straight to hell!” as he slammed the door.
Hope couldn’t help feeling that she was intruding on people.
“I’m afraid if we don’t go soon, it will be too late. She looked pretty bad today,” he replied.
In her bra and panties, Hope paused before putting on a knit top.
“Then, is she up to having a stranger like me visit?” she asked.
“Stranger? You’re no stranger, dear, you are the First Lady of Mount Zion Tabernacle. Sister Moses told me how much she wants to meet you.”
“Oh,” Hope said. “I guess we can go tomorrow after my one o’clock class.”
“Fine,” Gideon said, looking at his calendar on his phone.
“What should I wear?” Hope said, clutching the pullover to her chest, already feeling a little nervous.
“That doesn’t matter a bit. Not to me and not to Sister Moses, either. Wear what you’ve got on if you want,” he said with a laugh.
Hope shook her head at the flippant remark but couldn’t help smiling.
She quickly donned the top and pulled on a pair of jeans before going down to the kitchen where she laid out the ingredients for a light supper.
Carrying a tray of cheese, deli meat, crackers, and fruit outdoors, she put it on the patio table and turned to Gideon who was bringing glasses and a pitcher of iced tea.
“I need your advice, Pastor,” she said.
“Sounds serious,” Gideon said, putting the drinks on the table and whirling Hope around, playfully.
“It is sort of serious,” she said, sitting down. “After worship, Ty’Nisha Mitchell introduced me to one of her friends who’s never been to church before.”
“That’s great. What’s the problem?” he asked.
“This girl, Dawn is her name, she wants to go on the camping trip. I didn’t know what to tell her. She’s not a member of the youth group. I don’t think she’s even a very good friend of Ty’Nisha,” Hope added.
“Ordinarily, the camping trip is just for kids from our church, but there’s usually a couple of sponsorships for guests, as a sort of outreach. This Dawn could be covered by one of those. I don’t think anyone else has proposed bringing a guest, yet. I can speak to the girl’s parents and see if they think it’s a good idea,” Gideon said, reaching for a cluster of grapes and popping one into his mouth.
“Well, that’s just it. She hasn’t got any parents. We talked a bit and she told me she’s been in foster care as long as she can remember. I think she’s been in trouble, too. Is she the sort of girl we want our kids hanging around with?”
“You mean like Mary Magdalene or the Samaritan woman at the well?” Gideon teased.
“I know! Dawn is exactly the kind of person who needs Jesus, but should we expose our kids to her? What would their parents say?” Hope asked.
“Let’s not worry about that until I have a chance to speak with her foster parents, okay?” Gideon said. “If she’s as troubled as you say, this may just be a whim. I need to talk with the girl and then we’ll see.”
Hope smiled and leaned forward, planting a kiss on Gideon’s cheek.
“I’m so glad I married you,” she said, sitting back.
“Me, too,” he said. “Why now, especially?”
“I felt like it was all up to me to figure out what to do about Dawn. I was afraid of making a decision. I thought it might mess up her life, or our
kids, or even your ministry, if I got it wrong. After telling you about it, I’m not worried, anymore. You will know just what to do.”
“Well, I appreciate your confidence in me, but until I check things out and do a ton of praying, I won’t be any wiser than you. It’s just that I know it’s not all up to me, so I don’t get worried,” he said. “You’ve been self-reliant since you were a kid. It’s no wonder you find it hard to lean.”
Hope considered Gideon’s words as she drank the last of her tea and picked up their empty plates.
The sun was just setting over a cluster of birch trees in their backyard, illuminating and intensifying the colors of the changing leaves, when Hope and Gideon went inside for the night.
Chapter SEVEN
On Monday afternoon, Hope walked to the church to join Gideon for their visit with Sister Moses. Although he’d assured her that she didn’t need to dress up, Hope had stopped at home after her last class and changed into neat navy slacks and a pale rose sweater. She fidgeted with the bright scarf she’d added at the last minute. Was it too much?
Gideon greeted her with a kiss and the two got into his sedan for the drive to Sister Moses’s home.
They pulled up before a small, mid-century flat-roofed house with a tiny, fenced front yard containing several once-thriving rose bushes valiantly enduring the choking onslaught of hordes of determined weeds.
Hope imagined how lovely these flowers must have been before neglect diminished their vigor.
“How long has Sister Moses been ill?” she asked as they approached the front door.
“Years,” he replied, noticing Hope glancing at the rose bushes. “But, until her brother passed away last year, he kept her garden up. Some of the church members come around to mow the grass, now, but that’s about all.”
When they rapped on the door it was quickly opened by a middle-aged woman in blue hospital scrubs.
“Good afternoon, Pastor,” she said, stepping back to let them enter. “She’s been so excited, looking forward to meeting your wife. Let me just tell her you’re here.”
The nurse walked down a narrow hallway, entering a room at the end.
Hope fiddled with her scarf and wrinkled her nose at the atmosphere of old-age and illness.
After a moment, the nurse reappeared and gestured for them to come.
Gideon entered the room first and stepped over to the bedside. He turned and held out his hand to Hope.
“Sister Moses, I’d like you to meet my wife, Hope,” he said, bringing her over.
Hope looked down on the tiny, shriveled form, the white, wispy hair and skin like crepe, feeling utter dismay. However, when she noticed the woman’s bright, piercing eyes, she felt a jolt of surprise at the intelligence and genuine kindness she saw in their depths.
“I’m happy to meet you, Sister Moses,” she said, holding out her hand.
Sister Moses lifted her trembling fingers to brush against Hope’s firm skin, then let her hand drop onto the worn and faded quilt covering her.
“Sit down, dear,” the elderly woman rasped, patting the bed. “I want a good look at you.”
Hope eased onto the side of the bed. Sister Moses’s slight frame made so little impression on the bed covers that Hope was afraid of accidentally sitting on her.
“Tell me, dear, who do you love more, Pastor here, or God?” she asked when Hope was seated.
Hope was taken aback by this unexpected question. She was struggling to form a reply when Gideon spoke.
“Now, Sister, you know I’d never marry a woman who put me before the Lord God,” he said, sitting on the bedside chair and holding the woman’s hand.
“So, what have you been up to today?”
Hope was almost as surprised by Gideon’s question for the invalid as she’d been at Sister Moses’s challenge. What could this deathly ill woman have been doing except trying to survive?
“I’ve covered the Harvest Festival and the big Thanksgiving do. Did that before breakfast,” she said, stopping to catch her breath.
She looked at Hope, saying, “I took care of the youth camping trip at nine o’clock. I gave it a full half-hour, ‘cause I know how kids can be.”
“Thank you,” Hope said, giving Gideon a quizzical look. What was the woman talking about?
“Mrs. Wilson, up at the hospital, got ten minutes and I gave the gossipy women’s circle a full fifteen,” Sister Moses continued before pausing again to regain her strength.
“Did you remember to put in a good word for your preacher?” Gideon teased.
The ill woman responded with a weak smile.
“You know I did. I asked for a full bath in the Holy Spirit for you.”
Sister closed her eyes, exhausted, and Gideon stood, preparing to leave.
“Wait,” she whispered, raising her hand. “I’ve been hearing things.”
Gideon sat back down, leaning forward, “What things?”
“I spent the past hour in spiritual combat and I’m tired. We’ve got to get the whole church on it,” she said with more effort. “Drugs is coming here.”
“I’ve heard the reports, too, Sister. You can be sure the whole congregation is joining with you in prayer about it,” he said. “You rest now, faithful warrior. I’ll try to stop by tomorrow.”
As Hope began to stand up, she felt a tug on her arm.
“This is a good man. You hold him up, you hear?” Sister Moses said before releasing her.
“I will. I do. Thank you,” Hope said, impulsively bending to kiss the woman’s withered cheek.
Walking to the car, Hope was quiet as she mulled over the visit.
“You okay?” Gideon asked, opening the car door for his wife.
Hope stepped into his arms and held him tightly for a moment, then climbed into the car.
“Thank you,” she said when Gideon slid behind the wheel.
He turned and looked at her with his eyebrows raised in a question.
“For bringing me here. Sister Moses is remarkable. So weak and yet she has so much power,” Hope explained.
“That’s not too surprising. Power increases when you get closer to the source. Sister Moses grows closer with every passing day,” Gideon said, starting the car.
“Let’s hope her spiritual strength has rubbed off. I fear we will need it for our next stop,” he added with a crooked smile.
Gideon had been able to contact Dawn’s foster mother and arranged a visit to talk to her about the camping trip. His impression of the woman over the phone had not been encouraging.
…
The medium-sized two-story house in a cluster of similar homes adjacent to a small industrial park was surrounded by a chain-link fence enclosing a scraggly yard cluttered with broken toys, rusty appliances, and other discards. Upper story windows were curtained with light-blocking sheets or blankets in place of proper drapery.
Hope was dismayed at how dismal the place looked, knowing this was home for Dawn and her foster siblings.
She and Gideon stepped over a tangled green rubber hose on the walkway, hearing the loud tones of a daytime TV talk show as they neared the door.
Gideon pressed the doorbell, but no one responded, so he rapped on the door.
A small boy who looked to be no more than two or three-years-old peered around the door, sucking his thumb.
“Hi, there!” Gideon said, crouching down to the toddler’s level. “Is your mother here?”
The boy shook his head and began to sniffle, then turned away, leaving the door ajar.
“Poor little tyke,” Hope said.
Gideon pushed the door open, calling out, “Mrs. Jones? Are you here?”
Inside, a blowzy, middle-aged woman reclined on a sagging sofa draped with blankets. At Gideon’s voice, she jumped up, saw the open door and began looking around.
“Alright! Which one of you little monsters opened the door?” she cried, although there were no children visible in the room.
Seeing Hope and Gideon in the doorway
, she brushed crumbs off the front of a tight neon green tank top bearing the phrase, “What’s it to you?” and pulled the shiny fabric down to cover an expanse of pale flesh bulging over once-white leggings.
“Sorry about that. Guess I didn’t hear you,” she said coming to the door. “I tell these kids never to open the door to strangers, you know. But they just keep on doing it. Kids! Right? So, you must be the preacher who called about Dawn. You didn’t sound black on the phone.”
Turning toward the stairs, she bellowed, “Dawn! Get yourself down here!”
Dawn soon appeared at the top of the stairs. Seeing Hope, she smiled weakly and picked her way down through the broken toys and discarded clothing on the steps.
Yvonne Jones gestured to the others and led the way into the messy living room, not bothering to turn off the TV or turn down the sound.
Against a background of raucous audience laughter at the suggestive comments of the show host, the little group found seats amid the debris.
When no one spoke, Gideon opened the conversation, trying to put everyone at ease.
“How was school today, Dawn?” he asked, smiling.
“Okay, I guess,” she replied, not making eye contact.
“Sit up and look at the man!” her foster mother snapped, earning only a glare from Dawn.
“Well,” Gideon said. “I asked to come by to see you, Mrs. Jones, because when Dawn was at our worship service this past Sunday...”
“Worship service?” screeched Yvonne, interrupting. “This one in church? That’ll be the day.”
“As I was saying, Dawn expressed an interest in joining our young people on our annual weekend camping trip,” Gideon continued, ignoring the interruption.
“We got no money for camping trips. I can just scrape by keeping these kids with food and clothes on what the State gives me. There’s nothing left for camping. I guess you wasted a trip,” Yvonne said with evident satisfaction.
Hope noticed Dawn shrinking into herself as her foster mother spoke.
“Well, that really isn’t an issue, Mrs. Jones. Our church is happy to provide a sleeping bag and whatever supplies Dawn will need. The trip won’t cost you a cent,” she said.