Chapter 19
Follow after charity, and desire spiritual gifts, but rather that ye may prophesy.
(1 Corinthians 14:1)
Charity unlocked the door and walked into the house. As she glanced around, she hated the way the furniture looked. The chaise longue was back near the end table again. Charity had complained before about the furniture being moved around without her permission. Now, she’d given up on saying anything more about it. Her decorating ideas were entirely different from those of Faith and Hope; she liked a lived-in look.
Hope’s way was more practical. She would arrange the couch with the end tables on either side of the couch and the coffee table in front. Traditional—the way most people arranged theirs. Her reasoning was, no matter where a person sat, they would have a place to set a glass or plate in case they were eating or drinking while socializing.
Faith, on the other hand, would move the end tables away from the couch completely. Why encourage people to put things on them and junk them up? She liked having one end table next to the wingback chair and the other near the chaise longue, which she would bring up front from the back room where Hope normally put it. It was a beautifully carved piece of furniture, its design reportedly dating from Cleopatra’s era.
Faith immediately rearranged all the other furniture to make it fit in the living room.
Charity’s favorite places in the house were the den and kitchen areas. That was why she made sure everything her heart desired in a kitchen was included. The den was cozy and old-fashioned-looking, with a stone fireplace that added that homey touch she liked so much.
Charity had loved hanging around her grandmother when she was young. She was what her mother labeled a “dump” cook, just like her grandmother. Motherphelia didn’t use standard measuring tools. It was “a handful” of this, “a pinch” of that, “a smidgen” of the other.
Motherphelia was Charity’s grandmother on her father’s side. Her real name was Ophelia. She moved in with them after Charity’s father died, to help her daughter-in-law, who was having a difficult time coping.
Everyone called Ophelia “Mother.” That was fine before she moved in with her daughter-in-law on a permanent basis. It became a huge problem afterward, having two women in the same house answering to the same name.
“Hold up,” Ophelia said when Charity was crying “Mother” and both women answered. “This is not working. I’ll tell you what: You call me Motherphelia and your mother, Mother. That’ll fix that problem.”
It worked out perfectly. So much so that everybody—including other family members, friends, and neighbors—started calling her Motherphelia.
Charity loved her grandmother. She was the only one who seemed to understand her. The two of them could always talk, and of course, they had their most enlightening conversations in the kitchen.
“Take down a box of dark brown sugar for me, Love,” Motherphelia said to Charity. She was the one who had been responsible for Charity’s name. Indirectly, of course. Actually, Ophelia had suggested to her son that they name their new baby Lovey.
Her daughter-in-law, Dorothy, was not pleased. “I’m not going to name our baby Lovey,” she said to her husband in the hospital room after the baby was born. “You can tell your mother to forget that one.”
Jeremiah sighed. “Dot, you know I’m not telling my mother that. I’m her only child. If she had been able to have a little girl, she would have named her Lovey—after her mother.”
Dot smiled. “Jeremiah, I didn’t mean to be so harsh, but you have to be careful when you give a child a name. I don’t like the name Lovey. It’s probably a fine name for someone else, but not this child. Have you looked at her? Really looked at her?” Dot asked.
“Of course I’ve looked at her. She’s beautiful, just like you. She reminds me of how much I love you every time I see her. I can understand why my mother wants to name her Lovey. Love is in the name Lovey.”
“Love is also in the name Charity. Maybe not in the same way—”
“Charity?”
“Yes, Charity. It’s the same as love.”
“Yeah. Remember, Dot, when we all had to learn the entire 13th chapter of First Corinthians? ” Jeremiah said. “Remember it?”
“Yes. ‘Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity (love), I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity (love), I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity (love), it profiteth me nothing.’”
“‘Charity suffereth long,’ Jeremiah said, “ and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself or does not brag, is not puffed up or arrogant, doth not behave itself unseemly or rudely, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth.’” Jeremiah smiled. He could see by his wife’s face, she was getting it…the name…Charity—the name meaning Love.
“‘Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity never faileth…’” Dot said.
Her husband picked up with the eleventh verse. “‘When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things. For now,’” he went over to the crib, “‘we see through a glass, darkly,’” he picked the baby up in his arms. “‘But then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.’” He laid the sleeping baby in her mother’s arm.
“‘And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three,’” Dot said as she brought the baby up next to her face. “‘But the greatest of these is Charity.’” She kissed the baby as she began to cry. “Charity. Jeremiah, we can name her Charity.”
Jeremiah smiled. “I think Mother will like that name just fine,” he said.
Dot smiled. “I know I do.” She cuddled the baby and softly planted a kiss on the top of her head. “Hello there, Charity,” she whispered with a smile. “Charity Alexandria Morrell.”
Charity and her grandmother shared much time and love in the kitchen. She would get the dark brown sugar as instructed, and listen to Motherphelia explain things about the three Ls: Life, Living, and the Lord. Charity remembered one special moment.
“You know why God gave us brown sugar, don’t you?”
Five-year-old Charity knew the answer by now, but their routine called for her to shake her head so Motherphelia could tell her. She loved hearing her say the words.
“Because of sweet little brown children like you, of course. God wanted you to know he was thinking about people like us, too. You know you’re special, right?”
Charity nodded. Of course she knew. Motherphelia was the best, and she was giving her time and undivided attention to her. She had to be special.
“Now we need to put some sugar in our cup to make caramel icing. Get our special cup down,” Motherphelia said.
Charity climbed up on the red stepstool and located the white-and-blue cup in the cabinet. She was so careful with it. “This one, Motherphelia?” She slowly handed the cup to her grandmother.
“This is the one.” Motherphelia put the brown sugar in the cup and began to push it down with a spoon. “What lesson does this teach us, Charity?”
“Give, and it shall be given unto you,” Charity said.
“Very good. And how will it be given to you, Love?”
“Good measure, pressed down,” Charity said as her grandmother pressed hard, poured more brown sugar into the cup, and packed it in some more.
“You see how much we’re able to get in here?”
“Uh-huh,” Charity said, nodding her head as she watched.
“It’s not just lightly put in here, it’s what?”
“Good measure, pressed down.”
Motherphelia picked up
the cup and carefully handed it back to Charity, who held it as though it was fine china. She knew this was “The Lovey Cup.” It meant a lot to her grandmother. She wrapped both her little hands around it now that it was full and heavy.
“How is it given to you?”
“Shaken together,” Charity said as she shook the brown sugar out of The Lovey Cup into the saucepan. Motherphelia put half a cup of butter in the pan with the sugar. She turned the gas burner on low and made Charity stay back, far away from the stove, as she began to stir it constantly.
When the butter and brown sugar melted, she let it boil for about two minutes, then began to stir in a quarter of a cup of evaporated milk, again not using a real measuring cup.
“Tell me when to stop,” Motherphelia said to Charity as she slowly poured. Motherphelia knew just where it needed to stop, and she would usually cheat if Charity didn’t yell on time. “Now?” she asked as she began to taper off the flow.
“Now!” Charity yelled.
“Very good. You’re such a great little helper. I don’t know how I ever managed to do this without you.” She smiled as she watched her granddaughter grinning back at her. She then stirred the mixture again. As it boiled, she stood next to Charity, putting away the various ingredients.
As if on cue, the mixture on the stove began to make a hissing sound.
“Oh my,” Motherphelia said. “What’s happening, Charity?”
“It’s running over!” Charity sang. “It’s running over! Running over!”
This seemed to happen every time they made caramel icing. Always, right before her grandmother turned off the heat and allowed the mixture to cool. Always.
“How did you say people will give to you?” Motherphelia said, turning off the heat.
“Running over!” Charity sang loud again, then laughed, because it did appear to occur every single time.
“Now what’s our whole song about giving?”
“Give, and it shall be given unto you. Good measure. Pressed down and shaken together. Running over, running over, running over,” Charity sang their made-up, special song as she demonstrated the running-over part with her hands.
Motherphelia would then beat the mixture with two cups of powdered sugar (two “dumps” from “The Lovey Cup”), and add a bottle cap (1 teaspoon) of real vanilla extract.
“For with the same measure that you use, it’s going to be measured back to you. Is that right, Charity Love?”
“Right, Motherphelia!”
“And how’s this, a truth to be true that we know?” Motherphelia asked, doing what was known as the call.
“Because Luke 6:38 in the Bible says so,” Charity said, providing what was called the response.
Those were special times for Charity, times that lasted until she was around seven. That’s when everything changed…when the bad…evil things began to happen. Things she had managed to blot out of her memory. Shortly after that, Motherphelia got her wings and went home to glory to be with Jesus. Charity didn’t understand; she felt she needed Motherphelia down here far more than Jesus needed her up there. Her mother tried to explain how Motherphelia was in a better place now. She was with Charity’s father.
Charity only knew that her heart missed Motherphelia. If only she could have stayed just a little while longer.
Chapter 20
Can two walk together, except they be agreed?
(Amos 3:3)
Although he was only thirty at the time, Brent Underwood turned out to be a true blessing to Pastor Landris. Back in mid-2002, they met with the owners of the land the church was looking to buy. They were turned down flat.
Brent and Pastor Landris began trying to buy land for their church and were working closely together, strategizing on various options. It took them three months to talk the company into granting them a hearing before the decision-makers.
Brent was the one who compiled the complete business proposal, showing in black-and-white where the church planned to be in the next twenty years. Getting the information out of Pastor Landris, Brent became familiar with Pastor Landris’s intentions. He broke it down into five-year increments, just as Pastor Landris had directed. The executives were so impressed, in one month’s time the church was allowed to purchase five acres to get started, with a contract allowing them first option on the remaining thirty-five acres within the next five years.
A year and a half later, Followers of Jesus Faith Worship Center had to begin holding two services just to accommodate the overflow of people “from the east, from the west, from the north, and from the south.”
Pastor Landris realized two services were hard; three, if they had to, would be even more taxing on the workers. He and Brent decided to rework the five-year timetable and begin building the new sanctuary ahead of schedule.
In the midst of all this, Johnnie Mae’s oldest sister, Rachel, called.
“Listen, Johnnie. I’ve come to a decision,” Rachel said.
“Well, hello to you, too, Rachel.”
“Yeah, well, listen. I’ve decided I’m going to move back to Alabama to help take care of Mama.”
“You have? For how long?”
“For as long as you’re going to let Mama remain in her house instead of agreeing to put her in a place where people are equipped to take proper care of her. She has Alzheimer’s; she’s not going to get any better.”
“Rachel, I understand your position. Something else. Since you were here last, Ms. Bertha has been staying with Mama at night. I’ve cut back on a lot of my traveling to make sure I’m there more, doing what I can. Besides, if this is Alzheimer’s, which the doctor hasn’t totally said that it is, she’s not that bad off, yet—”
“Not that bad? What planet are you living on, Johnnie? Are you hearing and seeing the same things the rest of us are? She’s not going to get better!”
“Rachel, I know. I hear and I see where she is. But she has some good days where she’s perfectly normal. When she has her spells and becomes disoriented, they don’t usually last long,” Johnnie Mae said. “I just can’t see putting her in a home just yet.”
“And what do you call ‘last long’?”
“If she’s disoriented, it’s generally not the whole day. Rachel, I don’t think you need to move back here for that reason. You still have two children at home, and you’re raising your three grandchildren. How is Jasmine doing?” Jasmine was Rachel’s middle child.
“Still on drugs and still talking about trying to get herself together. I don’t know what else to do for her, but I’m not letting the state come in and take her kids away, so I’m doing what I have to do.”
“I admire you, Rachel, for doing that. So many grandmothers today don’t want to take on the responsibility of raising their grandchildren.”
“Yeah, but there are a lot of us who do. It can be hard, but we’re committed to do what we must. Now, back to Mama. It’s worrying me being here, not knowing if she’s getting the proper care. I don’t mean to put you down or question your decisions. I don’t know why she chose you instead of me to handle something like this. I’m the oldest, and I don’t know why she would pass me over and give this to you. But then, that’s neither here nor there.”
“Rachel, she probably appointed me because she felt I had the least going on. You were caring for five children on your own after you and Trouble split up and even your grown children had drama. Marie has a husband and four offspring. I only had Princess Rose then.”
“That’s not it, and you know it. You’re just trying to take up for Mama. Everybody knows you’re Mama’s favorite. She thinks the world revolves around you, but that’s okay. She chose you to handle this, and we all have to respect her wishes and your decisions—whether we agree or not.”
“Okay,” Johnnie Mae said. “I’ve got it loud and clear. You think I’m wrong. But still, you don’t have to worry about trying to move—”
“I’ve already decided. You may have all the say-so about whether Mama is admitted to an
assisted-living facility or nursing home, but I can still decide what I’m going to do for her. There is one thing I need from you, though.”
“What’s that?”
“Mama’s house is too small for me and my bunch to live in for any extended period of time. Marie’s house is already maxed out. Donald…well, we won’t even discuss Donald. You, on the other hand, have that huge house with a guest house in the back—”
“The guest house is small. It will only hold two to three people comfortably.”
“I know that, Johnnie. What I was thinking, though, is that you have all that room in your house. Here’s my idea: I could let my two teenagers stay in the guest house, and me and the three grands stay in your house.”
“You want to come live with me?”
“This way, I could go to Mama’s every day and help take care of her. It would free the rest of y’all from having to do some of it. You said you hired Ms. Bertha—she can continue what she’s already doing. I could treat this like a job, you know? In fact, instead of you paying someone to come in during the day, you could just pay me. Not that I’m doing this for pay, because this is our mother, and that’s all I care about. But what I’m saying is, if you were looking to pay a daytime sitter, who better for the job than me?”
Johnnie Mae held the phone in silence. Where Rachel was, drama was sure to follow. Instead of her taking care of their mother, before it was over, Rachel would likely be the one looking for someone to take care of her.
“Johnnie, are you still there?”
“I’m here. I’m just processing things. So you’re telling me you’re willing to pack up and move back here after all these years. And you want to come live with me?”
“Temporarily.”
“How long were you looking to stay with me?”
Rachel laughed. “Well, I suppose I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I’m sort of playing all of this by ear. It could be two or three months. It might be a year.”
“Will you be looking for your own place while you’re here with us?”
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