Blessed Trinity

by Vanessa Davis Griggs

  Hope loved being a behind-the-scenes worker. It didn’t matter to her whether she received credit for what she did. That’s where she and Faith truly differed. Faith loved getting credit, even for work she didn’t do. Hope didn’t mind if Faith got the credit, even for what she’d done. She just wanted the work done, and done right.

  “Johnnie Mae, here’s the workbook information for the marriage seminar,” Hope said as she handed Johnnie Mae a folder. “All done.”

  “Hope!” Johnnie Mae said her name as though she was so happy to see her. “You have the workbook information already, and it’s finished?” She took the folder and opened it, nodding her approval. “Impressive. This looks really, really good! Wow, I’m so impressed. But why are you bringing this instead of Faith? Not that I’m complaining.”

  Hope smiled. “We wanted you to get it as soon as possible. I always attend first service, so here it is.”

  “Faith did a great job,” Johnnie Mae said in hopes that Hope would admit the truth: she’d actually typed this. Johnnie Mae could tell this was Hope’s doing. She’d seen the little Faith had attempted to do when they were in the office together. Besides, she knew Hope’s excellent handiwork.

  Hope only grinned. “I know you’re busy. I don’t want to hold you. After you’ve read through it, you can let Faith know if there are any changes you need. And if Faith’s not available, just let me know. I’ll be happy to take care of it for you. I know where it’s filed on our computer at home.”

  Johnnie Mae smiled back. “I’m just overwhelmed at how wonderful this looks so far. And on top of that, it’s finished two weeks ahead of schedule.”

  “How’s your mother?” Hope asked. “Faith mentioned you were having some problems…something about your sitter suddenly quitting.”

  “My mother is the same, but thank you for asking. I’m confessing more good days over her life than bad, and I was able to talk Ms. Bertha into staying. For now, anyway. My oldest sister and I have differing ideas about how things should be handled. Pray for me,” Johnnie Mae said, laughing.

  “I know how the oldest can be. I’m happy things worked out for you. I hope it continues to do so.”

  “Well, Hope, I don’t just hope,” Johnnie Mae said with a smirk. “I have to have faith it will. But however it works out, we all know—it will work out for good. Romans 8:28.”

  Hope nodded and looked down for a second before quickly lifting her head back up.

  Johnnie Mae had noticed Hope had gotten better about not being so shy. She wasn’t looking down at her feet quite as often as she had when she first arrived at the church.

  Johnnie Mae closed the folder and placed the rubber band back around the folder to keep everything secure. “Thanks again, Hope. For everything. And I do mean everything.” Johnnie Mae touched Hope’s hand to let her know she knew the truth, even if Hope wouldn’t admit it.

  Hope smiled. Feeling appreciated was so different from feeling used. Hope knew what feeling used felt like. Lately, she was learning more and more what it meant to be appreciated.

  Chapter 42

  The words of a talebearer are as wounds, and they go down into the innermost parts of the belly.

  (Proverbs 18:4 & Proverbs 26:22)

  Charity had been inside Followers of Jesus Faith Worship Center only briefly, but it had been long enough to make her want to visit during an actual worship service. Faith thought it was a bad idea, and she let Charity know how she felt. Besides, there was so much going on with the new building, if Charity was going to visit, the best time would be after they moved into the new sanctuary. The new sanctuary was being built to seat 5,000, so there would be plenty of room for everybody to sit.

  When the committee was first designing the floor plan for the sanctuary, they thought 5,000 seats would take a long time to fill up. This was not Atlanta, where Pastor Landris had been able to draw more than 4,000 members. This was Birmingham, Alabama, where the biggest talk about a subway system seemed to be for one between Birmingham and Atlanta.

  In Birmingham, Alabama—the home of the Civil Rights Institute and the infamous Sixteenth Street Baptist Church—churches were sprinkled all over the city. Congregations were meeting in hotels. Some bought or rented vacant storefronts and converted them.

  Now it appeared, even with 5,000 seats, they would still not be going to one service as Pastor Landris and the workers had first believed. Over 2,000 people were presently in the database as members. The media was covering the new building and its surrounding developments, and the excitement was mounting with each passing day. At the rate things were escalating, as soon as they moved into the new sanctuary, a flood of people who had been held at bay would be released. It was highly possible that within a month’s time, there would easily be some 5,000 people in their databank.

  Pastor Landris needed help from every person he could trust. He and Johnnie Mae had begun the thirteen-week seminar in June. It was now September, and members of his staff and the congregation had put together a wonderful third-year wedding anniversary banquet in the fellowship hall for him and his wife. Pastor Landris had planned something special for their actual September 8th anniversary date, but he appreciated how much the members cared to do something like that for them.

  Pastor Landris and Johnnie Mae had moved into their new home three weeks earlier, back in August. They loved the house—it was indeed a mansion, in spite of how much Johnnie Mae didn’t want to think of it like that. The builder had exceeded in what they had imagined it would be. All of them—Pastor Landris, Johnnie Mae, and Princess Rose—had to get used to a place that size. Rachel was still at their other house. Johnnie Mae hadn’t decided what to do about that now touchy situation. In October, Rachel’s six weeks’ stay at the house would officially become one year.

  Some people had issues with Pastor Landris building a new house just as the sanctuary was also being built. There were even rumors making the rounds that he and Brother Brent had scraped money off the church’s fund to build their homes in the expensive part of the new subdivisions.

  A group of four women were sitting around talking at their weekly Thursday night get-together.

  “They already had a house,” one woman said as she shuffled the playing cards one final time before setting it down to be cut. “There are some of us here who don’t know what home ownership even looks like. Theirs wasn’t a little house, either, from what I heard. But I suppose that wasn’t enough for them; they had to get a bigger house to show off.”

  “And it’s not but the three of them,” another woman said, cutting the cards by dividing the stack in half. “His wife is so selfish, she won’t even give the man a baby. I feel sorry for him, really. As many women as there are out there who would love to carry his child.”

  “He is good-looking, ain’t he?” a third woman said.

  “Honey, hush! Ain’t he, though?!” said the fourth woman at the table.

  “Well, if she wasn’t so stuck on her book career and herself, she might stop long enough to think about somebody else for a change,” the first woman said as she dealt the cards. “That man is too good to be with someone who doesn’t care about him.”

  “I bet you they don’t make it. They gonna turn out just like some of these other preachers and their wives around here. I’ve seen plenty of these women who sacrifice their own lives and careers to support their husbands’ ministries. And as soon as he gets there, you start hearing rumors about him beating on her, fooling around on her, and other stuff. Then before you know anything, the old model’s out, and another model is in, calling herself the new first lady. Mrs. So-and-So,” the woman who had cut the cards said.

  “Some of those women don’t play that, though,” the third woman said as she arranged her cards.

  “Well, if he kicks this one here to the curb, I bet you he gets himself one that will have a baby for him,” the fourth woman said. She looked at the cards in her hand and smiled. “Shoot, if he really wants one, I’ll volunteer for the job,
and he don’t even have to marry me. Just pay me my child support. ’Cause I ain’t playing that independent-woman mess. But at least he’d have his own child to carry on his legacy.”

  They all laughed.

  Chapter 43

  We then that are strong ought to bear the infirmities of the weak…

  (Romans 15:1)

  It was Saturday night, September 4, 2004. Pastor Landris was conducting three Sunday services. After two years, there were more than 1,700 names in the church’s database with some 1,500 attending on a regular basis. People moved their membership from other churches for various reasons. Some were being saved and coming to church for the first time ever, or were coming back to church after having become disenchanted years ago. When people moved into the area, this was one of the churches they visited and joined. The building only seated 500 comfortably, although they could squeeze in 600.

  “Tired?” Pastor Landris asked Johnnie Mae as she strolled back into the den wearing a red silk negligee. They’d had a long evening. The church had given Pastor Landris and Johnnie Mae a lovely banquet at the fellowship hall to celebrate three years of marriage.

  Johnnie Mae smiled and slipped into her husband’s arms as they sat on the couch together. “Yes. But I’ll be okay.” They had the whole house to themselves tonight—Princess Rose was with Johnnie Mae’s sister, Marie.

  “You know, you don’t have to stay for all three services tomorrow. Why don’t you just pick one and let that be it for you,” Pastor Landris said.

  “You’re preaching all three services, aren’t you?” Johnnie Mae asked as she readjusted herself; she didn’t want to become too comfortable and fall asleep right there on the couch.

  “Yes.”

  “Why don’t you let one of the other ministers help? Or better yet, let two of them each take one and you pick one of the three?” Johnnie Mae stood up and walked around to the back of the sofa. She began to massage Landris’s shoulders as though she were kneading dough.

  Pastor Landris closed his eyes and began to allow his body to fully relax. He had no idea he’d become so tense and tight. He’d already taken off his aqua paisley tie. He unsnapped the top two snaps of his white Collezioni shirt. “That feels wonderful,” he moaned and got even more comfortable. “Your hands must be anointed.”

  “Would you like me to get you the phone so you can call someone before it gets too late?”

  Pastor Landris didn’t want to think about anything. Johnnie Mae definitely knew how to work out the kinks. He was melting even deeper into her capable hands.

  “Landris?” She stopped and leaned down to whisper in his ear. “Are you listening to me at all?”

  “Yeah, baby. I hear you. You want me to call one of the ministers to fill in for me tomorrow. I was thinking about it, but I don’t feel it would be fair to any of them to do that.” He moistened his lips and rotated both his shoulders at the same time, hoping Johnnie Mae would take the hint and start back with the massage. “Sure, as ministers, we should always be ready. But it’s almost 11:00 P.M. How right would it be for me to call anybody this late to handle the 7:30 A.M. service when it’s not even an emergency? Besides, I’ll be okay tomorrow. God manages to give us brand-new mercy each and every day. Tomorrow, I’ll be good as new.” Pastor Landris sat up straight after he realized his massage had ended. He turned around and looked in his wife’s angelic, but obviously tired, face. “You’re finished?”

  “Yes. I believe I am.” She yawned and stretched, then started walking away. “I think I’ll turn in.”

  “Oh, before I forget, Faith Morrell told me to tell you congratulations on our wedding anniversary. She thinks you’re fortunate to have me,” he said teasingly.

  Johnnie Mae laughed a little. “Oh, really now?” She shook her head in disbelief. “She told you that, huh? So where was I?” She began turning off the lamps around the room.

  “It was a little after you left to get your purse from my office. In fact, she only missed seeing you herself by about a minute.” Pastor Landris stood up and started walking his wife out of the den and toward the stairs.

  He loved the way the staircase’s wrought iron, sculptured banister curved as it ascended. He and Johnnie Mae had designed it after Oheka Castle. He loved everything about their newly built house. It had taken almost six months for it to be completed, but it was definitely worth the wait. They’d only been in it a little over three weeks.

  “You know, Faith really wants to be my assistant,” Johnnie Mae said as they climbed the stairs, arms wrapped around each other.

  “Yeah, you mentioned that. So what are your feelings about it?”

  Johnnie Mae stopped when they reached the top of the stairs. The white carpet always reminded her of a field of freshly fallen snow. Everybody told Johnnie Mae that it was a huge mistake to put white carpeting in a house, especially one this size—six bedrooms and five full baths.

  “You’ll never keep it clean,” Johnnie Mae’s mother had said. “Marie, tell her.”

  Marie had only smiled and nodded. She knew better than to try and convince her younger sister of anything. Once Johnnie Mae’s mind was made up, there was no reasoning with her. Marie had figured that much out.

  All four siblings had agreed—including Christian, now fighting in Iraq—that it was best to put their mother in an assisted-living home. She needed constant supervision. Everybody could see that except Johnnie Mae, who was the one with the power of attorney given to her by their mother.

  All Johnnie Mae knew was that her mother wanted to remain at her own house, and she refused to put her away just because it would be easier on them. Her mother probably wasn’t going to get any better, but she wouldn’t get any better in a home either. It wasn’t the right decision for everyone facing this dilemma, but it was the right one for her now.

  Then, there was Faith and Hope. There was something that bothered her regarding them, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

  “Johnnie Mae,” Landris said, “did you fall asleep that fast?”

  She was leaning back comfortably in his arms as they lay in bed. “No, I was just thinking. Faith seems okay. And, I admit, at times she’s been helpful. Landris, I do need to hire an assistant. She did help with the marriage seminar typing—sort of, anyway. The truth is, I really love the work Hope does. But maybe I should consider giving Faith a chance. She’s the one who keeps bringing the subject up. I just don’t know—there’s something about Faith that doesn’t quite add up. I can’t figure out what.”

  “I think,” he turned her face toward his, “we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow, and we should table this discussion for later.” He kissed her on the forehead. “We’ve had a wonderful night tonight,” he played with her hair, “and I,” he kissed her on one cheek, “don’t really want,” he kissed her on the other cheek, “to think,” he gently kissed her top lip, “or talk,” a kiss to her bottom lip, “about,” a soft peck on both lips simultaneously, “work right now.”

  “Okay.” She smiled and gave him a quick peck back.

  She’d table this for tonight. But she was determined to get to the bottom of what was going on, in particular, with Hope. Johnnie Mae really liked Hope, and lately something just wasn’t feeling right.

  Chapter 44

  Drink waters out of thine own cistern, and running waters out of thine own well.

  (Proverbs 5:15)

  Faith was at the Exhibition Hall along with Johnnie Mae, Angel, Sapphire, Tarsha, and Sherry as they finished the final touches for the marriage seminar celebration. Over two hundred couples attended the thirteen-week seminar. They had intended to have the celebration in the church fellowship hall, but with that many people, those plans had to be changed.

  The previous Saturday, the church had celebrated Pastor Landris and Johnnie Mae’s third wedding anniversary. Hope had worked hard helping out with that. She’d also done a lot for this marriage celebration, but as with the anniversary banquet, she would not be in attendance. Fait
h was excited about it because it gave her yet another opportunity to show off her latest new “do” and the burgundy chiffon, Vera Wang dress she’d ordered from a company called BlueFly.com off the Internet. The outfit looked and fit nicer even than she’d expected. But then, she’d heard Vera Wang’s dresses were like that.

  She’d also heard Beyoncé and her mother were about to launch their own clothing line, House of Dereon. Dereon was Beyoncé’s grandmother, a private seamstress in Louisiana. Faith understood the love a grandchild felt for a truly exceptional matriarch. This was one label that Faith couldn’t wait to try on. Beyoncé’s mother can throw down like nobody’s business. Soon enough, people like Faith would have access to Tina Knowles’s styles.

  The graduation and wedding-vow renewal celebration was set for September 11, at 7:00 P.M. Faith knew she would be the best dressed person there—hands down.

  “Doesn’t Sister Landris look gorgeous?” someone was saying as Faith walked in. “Did you see that gown? I’d love to go shopping in her closet. She can give me her hand-me-downs any day of the week.”

  “And her hair—she probably pays a fortune to her hairdresser.”

  “No—I once asked who did her hair, and she said a woman named Pam. I thought Pam might have been one of those exclusive, snooty stylists, but Sister Landris says she’s really a down-to-earth Christian woman. She’s been going to her for years.”

  “Hi, ladies,” Faith said, giving an extra twirl and bounce to her movements. “I’m glad you were able to come. This is so exciting! Lots of surprises in store. If you need anything…anything at all, you see that woman over there?” Faith pointed to her right.