Blessed Trinity

by Vanessa Davis Griggs

  Johnnie Mae’s present house had just finished having extensive work done—

  Faith learned the work on the old house was because of damages caused by her nieces and a nephew a few months back.

  “I’m glad, Rachel, it didn’t cost as much as it could have,” Johnnie Mae said that day at church on the phone. “I know, God is good. No, Rachel, I’m not letting you have this house just because we’re building a new one. I’m not being stingy, it’s my house. I do have a right to do with it as I please. What am I going to do with it?” Johnnie Mae sighed. “I don’t know for sure, but there’s no hurry. Yes, Landris paid for the new house with his own money. I really don’t see where that’s any of your business whether or not he’s paying cash for the whole thing. Look Rachel, I’m working. I need to go.” She stopped for a second. “What’s wrong with Mama? Why do you feel you have to sit and discuss my problems with her? She doesn’t need to be bothered with what’s going on with me, Rachel. I hear what you’re saying, but she doesn’t need to hear you claiming that I’m depressed about not having gotten pregnant yet, when it’s not true. I am not depressed! No, Rachel, I’m not. I’m not upset, either.”

  Faith got up and walked into the office. She stood patiently waiting.

  Johnnie Mae placed her sister on hold. “Yes, Faith?”

  “I wasn’t sure if this is what you really meant to say right here. It sounds funny. I just wanted you to look at it before I typed all this.” Faith primped her pin curls while Johnnie Mae looked at the page. Faith felt it was actually too dressy for work in a church, but she had something special she was planning to attend tomorrow and this style was perfect for that.

  “Yes, I want it just like I wrote it there.” Johnnie Mae waited to see if there was anything else.

  “Thanks. Sorry to have bothered you.”

  “That’s okay. That’s why we’re here.” When it came to work like this, Johnnie Mae missed Hope—she always appeared to understand exactly what Johnnie Mae was trying to do. She did appreciate Faith’s willingness to want to do something like this though.

  Johnnie Mae returned to her phone call. “Rachel, I said for you to hold on. No, I didn’t hear what you just asked. Landris is not upset with me because I can’t have a baby. Why would you tell Mama something like that? Look, I would prefer you not talk about my business with Mama. No, I don’t have anything to hide. It’s just she doesn’t need this, especially when it’s not true. I don’t care what else the two of you talk about, just don’t make it about me and problems you perceive I’m having with my husband, my marriage, my career, or anything else you know nothing about. Is that clear?”

  After she hung up with Rachel, Johnnie Mae began to repeat her daily baby confession to herself. “He makes me to keep house, and to be a joyful mother of children.” She’d been saying the same verse for almost two months now. Nothing seemed to be working. Her phone rang again.

  “Rachel, what did you do? You did what?! You fired Ms. Bertha? For what? You had no right to fire her. Oh, you didn’t really fire her—she quit, huh? What happened?” After Johnnie Mae heard the whole story, she placed the phone back on the cradle.

  Faith walked in Johnnie Mae’s office again.

  “Is something wrong? You sound like you’re really upset,” Faith said.

  “Nothing,” Johnnie Mae said and tried to shake it off with a false smile.

  “It has to be more than nothing. Look at you. If you don’t want to tell me, I won’t bother you about it. I just wanted to help if I could. Sometimes having a set of ears to listen can be a blessing. That’s what Motherphelia—my grandmother—used to say,” Faith said.

  “Motherphelia was something,” she continued. “She loved to dress in the latest styles. I get that from her, I suppose. She’s why I’m such a stickler for fashion and looking good.” Faith struck a vogue pose. “She was always saying, ‘Love…’ she called us ‘love’ sometimes. ‘Love, always wow them. A house may be old, but it doesn’t mean you can’t keep up the maintenance, spruce up the place, and keep it looking good on the outside.’ Motherphelia’s hair was always perfect and in place, even when she stayed in the house all day. She’d wake up every morning and put on some makeup. She taught me all the tricks of being pretty.” Faith sat down in the chair in front of Johnnie Mae’s desk when she saw Johnnie Mae had relaxed a tad and seemed interested in what she was saying.

  “When we needed to unburden ourselves,” Faith said, “Motherphelia would be there and ready to listen. We do miss her.” Faith could tell her spirits were starting to wane as she revisited this part of the past. She changed the tone of her voice and got back on track. “Do you want to tell me about what’s going on with you, or should I get back in there, keep typing, and tend to my own business?”

  Johnnie Mae looked as though she was weighing whether to talk to Faith or not.

  “I had a sitter, Ms. Bertha,” she began. “Who was coming in at night and a few days through the week to care for my mother. The doctors believe my mother has Alzheimer’s. My sister, who moved back here in October, just got in to it with Ms. Bertha. Now, it appears, Ms. Bertha has just quit.”

  “She’s probably upset for now,” Faith said. “After Ms. Bertha thinks about it, I’m sure she’ll reconsider. She wouldn’t leave you in a bind like that.”

  “You don’t know my sister. I’m sure she and Ms. Bertha have gotten into it plenty of times I’ve not even heard about. This was probably the last straw. And Rachel is not going away anytime soon. So even if I convince Ms. Bertha to come back, she’ll probably not stay much longer. Now, I’ll likely need to find a new sitter who won’t disrupt things too much for my mother at this stage. Someone who’s great with older people. Someone sincere.”

  “I’m sure you’re going to find someone you’ll be pleased with,” Faith said. She could practically hear Charity’s voice saying how perfect she’d be for the job. “What do you think you’ll do to replace her?”

  “Call some agencies, maybe post something here on the bulletin board, then start the long, in-depth interview process. So if you happen to know someone who would be good and really cares about the elderly, and not just someone looking at this as merely a weekly paycheck, please let me know.”

  Faith stood up and rubbed her head.

  “Are you okay?” Johnnie Mae asked.

  “All of a sudden, I’m starting to get a massive migraine headache.”

  “Hope had something similar happen to her once when she and I were talking. Both of you should go get that checked out.”

  Faith pressed her palm harder to her head. “Would you mind if I take this work home and finish it there? I need to lie down and rest for a little while. They don’t ever last too long. But what seems to work best is to completely let go…relax until it passes.”

  “Sure. No, go on home and take the work with you. I want to go over to my mother’s and see what’s going on, anyway. Maybe I can do some damage control with Ms. Bertha.”

  Faith started to walk away. Johnnie Mae noticed she walked differently. Not the usual, diva-like swag she was known for. She must really not be feeling well.

  “I hope you feel better,” Johnnie Mae said.

  Faith turned around. “Before I go, I could type up that job information requirement sheet about a sitter for your mother.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that,” Johnnie Mae said. “Maybe I won’t need it.”

  “I was thinking, I may know someone who’d like the job. If I had the information before you posted it, you might find you like this person as well. Then you won’t need to go through a long process. I don’t want to sound pushy or anything, just wanted to help out if possible. I really think you’d like her, should it turn out you really will need a replacement.” Faith looked at Johnnie Mae as though she really cared.

  So unFaith-like, Johnnie Mae thought. She’d originally felt Faith didn’t have a real-concern-for-others bone in her body. The expression on Faith’s face was starting to con
vince Johnnie Mae—maybe she’d misjudged her. Faith looked genuinely sincere.

  “Why don’t I just write out the information for you, and if the person you’re thinking about turns out to be interested, we can see where it goes.” Johnnie Mae wrote the qualification requirements and her contact information on a note paper, tore it off, and handed it to Faith.

  “Thank you so much. I really do appreciate this. And I’ll be praying for you and your mother. I know something like this can be hard on you and your family, but God is with you. I know He is,” Faith said.

  “Thanks…Faith.” Johnnie Mae tilted her head slightly. “You go home and take care of that headache, okay?”

  “Oh, it’s starting to feel better already. But thank you for caring. You’re really a sweet person.” She walked out and came back. “Excuse me again. I’m sorry to interrupt, but can you tell me the best way to get out of here?”

  Johnnie Mae frowned a little. She wondered how Faith could be confused about getting out of a building she’d only entered two hours ago. “Out the door and to your left. That will take you out to the parking lot. Faith, are you sure you’re okay? I can call someone to come get you or I could take you home—”

  “I’m fine. Thank you, though. Thanks for the directions. I guess I’m a little turned around—you know how that can be. Again, I pray you find everything okay when you reach your mother’s house.” Faith smiled, left Johnnie Mae’s office, gathered up her things and the information she was taking home to work on, and left.

  Chapter 40

  And when Jehu was come to Jezreel, Jezebel heard of it; and she painted her face, and tired her head, and looked out at a window.

  (2 Kings 9:30)

  “Okay, Faith, listen to me and I don’t care to hear any arguments from you,” Charity said as she paced the floor. “I really want this job. I don’t care what you think is best for me. You know how much I love taking care of people, and Johnnie Mae Taylor Landris seems like a good person. She needs someone like me caring for her mother. There’s no reason, if I love doing this and I want to do it, for me not to do it. I want to at least apply for it, and that’s what I intend to do. I don’t care what you feel.”

  Charity sat down and relaxed in the chaise longue that was in the living room area again. She was really getting tired of the furniture always being moved and could feel herself getting stronger now. Strong enough to decide for herself what was best for her, strong enough to stand up for herself if she needed to, strong enough not to be intimidated by people who seemed to intimidate others just for the sport of it.

  Yes, she appreciated the way Faith and Hope always seemed to come to her rescue. How they’d stepped up to help her get through that devastating “situation.” That’s how they all referred to it whenever the subject presented itself about that day when Charity was only seven.

  Oh, how she missed Motherphelia.

  Faith was the first one who came in and took control of the situation. Hope might have been the identical twin, but she was different in how she handled things. Hope was not as strong as Faith, but she was the smart one…the practical one.

  Faith didn’t have a problem with their beauty; Hope preferred they toned their looks down. Faith liked to dress in the latest fashions. She got her hair done, liked makeup—the whole shebang. Hope would put on mascara and a little lipstick—and that was about it.

  Charity laughed when she thought about how much alike they all really were, yet so vastly different. Charity didn’t care for any makeup at all, not even lip gloss. She couldn’t care less about clothes or fashion. She just liked people.

  Motherphelia liked to look good, but never wore heavy makeup. She’d see others with too much rouge on and say, “Jezebel! Tramp!” under her breath. She would say, “Look at her. That’s too much blue on her eyes to even appear natural. Her rouge makes her look like a clown. She must have gotten dressed without a mirror this morning.”

  “What’s a Jezebel, Motherphelia?” Charity asked.

  Motherphelia smiled. “Someone who has to do all this stuff to herself and act a certain way just to get men’s attention.”

  “I don’t want to be a Jezebel,” Charity said.

  “That’s a good girl. You can dress nice and fix yourself up. Not too much, though, because you’re only seven. But maybe when you get fifteen, I’ll show you how to put on eye shadow and rouge the correct way. It needs to look like it belongs there. Not like you’re a walking neon sign, advertising you’re a tramp.”

  “Is that like Lady and the Tramp?”

  Motherphelia smiled. “What’s that, Love?”

  Charity giggled. Her grandmother knew everything. How could she not know this? “It’s a movie, Motherphelia. Me and Mother have seen it.”

  “Your mother lets you watch too much trash. You have to protect those ear gates and eye gates. Everything that comes on the radio is not appropriate for you to listen to. Some of this junk these young peoples listen to they call music is a shame and a disgrace. Rap, in my day, was when someone was saying something somebody wanted to hear. ‘Let me talk to you.’ That’s rapping. This stuff y’all call rap and music, we’ll just see how long it last. Keep yourself pure, Charity. You have to be careful out here in this world. Peoples ain’t like they were when I was coming up.”

  “How was it when you were my age?” Charity asked.

  “For one thing, we could leave our doors unlocked and no one would come into your house and try to take anything from you, let alone try to kill you for it. This world is going to ‘h’, ‘e’, double toothpick in a hand basket…”

  “Oooh, Motherphelia,” Charity sang, “…you just spelled a bad word.”

  “That’s not a bad word. Not the way I used it. That’s a real place. Just like heaven is a real place. But the word I spelled is bad in that it’s not a place you want to end up in.”

  Motherphelia cupped both her hands around her granddaughter’s face, brought her face down to meet it, and placed a quick peck ever so lightly on her lips.

  “Now,” Motherphelia said, smiling, “you have on just the right amount of lipstick for a girl your age.”

  “You put lipstick on me, Motherphelia?” Charity said as she ran to find a mirror so she could see her lips.

  “You’re a brilliant child—I hope you don’t waste it. I’m looking for you to graduate valedictorian of your high school and whatever the highest thing there is in college. And you’re going to go to college…on a full scholarship. I just feel it in these bones of mine. I’ve watched you since you were a little baby. I saw you in the hospital a few minutes after you were born. You’re going to be somebody. And if you have to fight to get there and stay, you fight. ’Cause Motherphelia will always fight for you, Lovey.”

  “Lovey?” Charity laughed. “You called me Lovey, Motherphelia, just like The Lovey Cup.”

  Motherphelia smiled and rubbed her knees.

  Charity came over and massaged her grandmother’s knee. “Is old Arthur acting up again, Motherphelia?” That was what her grandmother would say when her knees bothered her.

  Motherphelia grabbed Charity and pulled her up onto her lap. “I love you, Charity. You’re filled with so much love, faith, and hope…all inside of you. There’s nothing you won’t be able to do or handle in life. You just remember what Motherphelia has told you.”

  “Always dress nice, always look my best, always do my best, always be as smart as I can be, don’t dumb myself down for nobody, show people what I can really do even if they get jealous, treat others right, and never, ever, give up.”

  Motherphelia laughed. “That’s my Charity. You have so much inside you, all rolled up in one. Don’t be arrogant, though,” Motherphelia said. “God doesn’t like peoples with haughty spirits. Me and God have that in common; I don’t like uppity peoples neither. You can show pride without walking around with your nose in the air. Remember that.”

  Charity thought about all of this as she sat there in the chaise longue. That was th
e last conversation Charity remembered with her grandmother before that “situation” happened. The situation that changed her life and the way she viewed everything. Charity started to think back to what happened that day.

  Her head began to pound. “My head hurts,” she said, pressing her temples hard. She lay back on the chaise and closed her eyes, trying to make the pain stop.

  “Don’t, Charity. You don’t need to even think about stuff like that.” It was Faith’s voice Charity heard as her eyes remained closed. “Tell her, Hope. Tell her that’s not something she ever needs to think about. She’ll listen to you. We all know what happened that day; we vowed to let it be buried when Motherphelia was buried. Let’s not dig it up. Let it rest in peace, Charity, along with Motherphelia. That’s what she’d want.”

  Charity drifted off to sleep with Faith’s voice ringing in her ear. “Let it rest in peace. Okay. There’s nothing remembering will do that will change anything. Things are what they are. Hope and I vowed to take care of you, to protect you, no matter what. We meant that, didn’t we, Hope? Nobody’s going to come between us. Not as long as I’m around…”

  Chapter 41

  But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us.

  (2 Corinthians 4:7)

  Hope took the folder with the finished, typed marriage seminar information to church. Johnnie Mae wanted it by the end of April, and it was only the middle of April. There were three services now, and if the new sanctuary wasn’t finished soon, the more than 1500 people attending were threatening to force Pastor Landris into a fourth, possibly fifth, service. He was considering a worship service on Saturday or temporarily suspending Bible study for a Wednesday night service just to alleviate the overflow crowd on Sundays. Hope always attended the first service whatever time that happened to be.

  With three services, the time had been moved up and shortened. Everything was tight and on a strict schedule. The Praise & Worship Team could only sing for twenty minutes. Not a minute longer. Pastor Landris only spoke for thirty minutes, which was okay. He just left out any fillers, and the congregation received pure meat to chew on until the next time they assembled. There were lots of volunteer workers, but of course that required training workshops.