The next day was Sunday, and after we ate dinner and cleaned up, I managed to sneak away with the jars of food Mrs. Doyle had given me. I wasn’t exactly sure where I was going, but I needed to do what I could, and then I’d see if God was really going to do the impossible parts. I reached the edge of the woods where I’d seen Samuel and his mother disappear the week before, and there was a clear trail leading south, so I followed it, telling myself I’d only go as far as there was a trail. It wound around dense patches of trees and brush, which did little to cool the sticky air.
After about half a mile of walking, the trail turned to the left and faded down a hill till it hit the stream below. I couldn’t see where it picked back up on the other side, so I figured I’d come to the end of my journey. But then I looked around a little more closely, and I saw a tiny shack sitting off the path a piece, about halfway down the hill. It was mostly covered with vines and leaves, and patched together from all different kinds of boards, even some cardboard. I guessed someone passing through would miss it if they weren’t looking for it. I debated with myself about going any further, especially seeing as how I wasn’t invited. In fact, I wasn’t even sure I was at the right place.
Lord, if this is the place you’re sending me to, I’m going to need some kind of sign. Forgive me for being so weak in my faith, but I can’t walk up to a strange house and knock on the door, especially out in the middle of the woods. Please. Just a small sign.
I waited.
All around me, the forest chirped and laughed at my fear. Still, I waited for a sign. Nothing happened.
Lord, perhaps I didn’t say that prayer the right way, but you know my heart. I want to obey you, and do your will. Please give me some guidance here. I can’t do this alone.
A bead of sweat ran down the middle of my back. It tickled. I wanted to scratch at it, but I was afraid if I moved I’d miss the sign. I soon resigned myself to the fact that either God wasn’t listening at the moment, or he just didn’t think it was necessary to send a sign. Maybe I was at the wrong place. Maybe I’d misunderstood everything.
Then Samuel came out of the door with a pail and headed down to the stream. I felt both relieved and terrified. At least it was the right house, but now I had to take the next step, and I was walking toward something so foreign I had no idea how to even approach. So I put one foot in front of the other till I reached the front of their house, and I tapped lightly on the door.
Samuel’s mother drew it open slowly, barely showing her face. When she saw me, she pulled it open further and stuck her head out to look around. “What you doing here?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
I didn’t know if I should speak quietly too, but I figured it was best to do as she did. “I brought you some food.” I pulled three jars of vegetables out of my shoulder bag and held them out in front of me, forcing a smile.
She looked down at the jars then back up at me. Then she looked around again like she was expecting someone to jump out from behind the trees and yell, “Gotcha!”
“Please take it,” I said. “I’ve been praying for you and Samuel all week, and God laid it on my heart to bring you these.”
Her shoulders relaxed, but she pressed her eyebrows down and frowned. “I thank you for the kindness, Miss. But you shouldn’t be here. Ain’t no good gone come from it.”
“That may be, but if it’s all the same, please take the food I’ve brought you. I’d feel a lot better if you did.”
She hesitated, and then looked past me toward the creek where Samuel had gone. She took the jars and set them down inside the door.
“Is there somewhere we can talk?” I asked.
She sighed and stepped out of the door, closing it behind her. “I reckon I ain’t getting rid of you till I hear what you got to say.” She gestured toward some stumps a few feet away, and I took a seat.
As she joined me, I looked around at the meager home she’d made. A rusted pot hung over a pile of ashes between the stumps, and a tiny skillet sat on a block of wood that seemed to also serve as a table. It made me ashamed to think that I’d spoken so poorly of the house we were staying in. It was a plantation compared to this.
“Do you mind if I ask what your name is?” I asked.
“Hannah,” she said, still speaking in a hushed voice. “Hannah Jacobs.”
I smiled at her again. I wanted so badly to put her at ease. The more troubled she appeared, the more my nerves stood on edge. “Hannah, I’d like to help you and Samuel as much as I can. Like I said, God laid it on my heart that I’m supposed to.”
“I don’t know nothing about what God put on you, but I can tell you for sure you should be staying away from here. You don’t seem like the kind to be hateful, but they’s plenty a others who is. You go on back to your white world and forget you ever came down here.”
I wasn’t sure how to answer that. I couldn’t say for sure how hateful anyone was. I just knew that things were the way they were. I didn’t have any hatred in my heart for colored folks, nor did I want to see them mistreated. Seemed to me like Matthew might be right, that maybe it was best for them to stay in their world and for us to stay in ours.
“I don’t mean to pry into your business,” I said. “But how come you’re living out here? Why not live in Colony with your family or friends?”
She stood and laced her fingers in front of her like she was setting her mind on something. “It’s time for you to go. We ain’t none a your business. You just get on back home now, and don’t come back. It’s for ya own good.”
I stood and resigned myself to the fact that I wasn’t going to understand anything, not at the moment anyway. “Thank you for your time, Hannah. I don’t want to bother you, and I don’t want to cause you any trouble. But even more than that, I want to please God.”
“God abandoned us a long time ago, Miss Graves.”
I ached to reach out and comfort her, but I was sure she’d only pull away. “God’s been showing me lately that he doesn’t do things the way I’d do them myself. In fact, most times, his answer for things is the exact opposite of what I think it’ll be.”
She nodded her head. “Can’t argue with that.”
“God hasn’t abandoned you. He sent me.”
Her gaze met mine, and some level of understanding passed between us. She gave me the tiniest little nod, and I could’ve sworn her eyes teared up. I didn’t stick around long enough to know for sure. That little nod was all I needed to know that I’d done the right thing, and that I’d be coming back soon with more food.
July 20, 1931
Dear Ruby,
I can’t tell you how happy it made me to receive your letter. Although I’m saddened by the circumstances in which you and your family have found yourselves, I have no doubt that God has you right where you need to be. Rest assured that you are in his hands, and all will be well. I’m deeply sorry that I cannot return to help you and to guide you as I promised. I miss you too. I pray that God will make a way for us to see each other again soon. But for now, it’s best that I stay away. It’s what your mother wants, and I owe it to her to respect her wishes. Please make every effort to be kind to her and to help her as much as you can. She loves you more than you’ll ever know.
I’m so pleased to hear of Matthew’s recovery. It does my heart good to know that God has blessed him, as well as you, through his healing. I would encourage you to be mindful of your pride. Shame over your circumstances is not necessary. Humble yourself, accept God’s will for you and your family, and be grateful. So many others are suffering much worse than you are. I know it may be difficult, and I suspect there’s more to your feelings than you’re letting on, but let Matthew take you home. And overcome the pride in your heart before it does any damage that can’t be undone.
I know you’re eager to understand your gift, and to feel the power of God working through you. You’re on the right path in helping the poor around you. Healing isn’t just about the miraculous moment. Most times, God will wor
k through you to heal someone’s soul before he heals them physically. The physical healing is temporary and only a means for God to express his love for us. It’s never meant to stand on its own. It’s always coupled with spiritual healing in some way, even if you’re unaware of it. Keep your mind on listening to God’s direction, wherever it may lead you. Your gift will grow with time, but more importantly your faith must grow first.
For now, I leave you with some words from the thirteenth chapter of Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians:
“Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, 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, 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, it profiteth me nothing.”
“For now we see through a glass darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.”
Ruby, give all of yourself to God. Everything he asks of you, do with all your heart. Love others more than yourself. Lose your life, and you will surely find it.
With all my love in Christ,
Asa
As I’d been expecting, I spent most of the next week helping Mother with canning fruit and vegetables from the small garden left behind by the previous owners of our new home. The boys kept working in Calhoun’s fields, so we didn’t see a whole lot of each other. The cotton would start blooming in the next month, so they were working hard to keep the pests from ruining our first crop. I was grateful to be away from the fields, especially James’s constant fretting that something was going to be wrong with the cotton, seeing as how we weren’t around to sow it.
Mother and I got started early each morning, building up the fire and getting the huge pot of water boiling. Then we’d clean and pick through the vegetables, piling up the pieces that were no good to give to the chickens. It was hot, sticky business, and I’d hated it for as long as I could remember. But getting Asa’s letter on Monday made me think long and hard about keeping my heart right. Mother worked herself to the bone to make sure we all had food on our plates each day, and I owed her my best efforts. So I threw myself into shelling peas, peeling apples, and packing Mason jars. By the middle of Thursday, we’d just about completed the whole week’s work. And I began to wonder if I might be able to do more for Hannah and Samuel.
I popped the ends off the pods in my hand and tossed them into the grass. Then I pulled open the pods and raked the peas into the bowl in my lap. “Mother, are we going to have enough food to get us through the winter?”
“God willing.”
It was her standard answer, and I didn’t really expect anything else. I guess I just wanted some reassurance. “I was wondering if maybe I could take a jar or two of food to a family in need. Maybe every week or so. Mrs. Doyle is giving me some from the soup kitchen, and if I can get one or two more, they might be able to get by, and even store some of it themselves.”
“Supplies will be low this winter, you know that. We weren’t able to plant for the full growing season. I don’t know where we’d get it from.”
“But what if I’m sure God’s telling me to give this family food? How can I ignore that? You always say he’ll provide for us. So if he wants me to give them food, won’t he provide enough for both our families?”
Unfortunately, in my desire to convince Mother of the worthiness of my mission, I didn’t hear James and Henry coming up into the yard till they were nearly beside me.
“What’s this about giving away food?” James asked. He looked between me and Mother, and I immediately dreaded the rest of the conversation I knew was to follow.
I took a deep breath and decided even my fear of standing up to James couldn’t get in the way of following God. “I’ve come to know a family that’s starving. They don’t have money or food, and their house is a tiny shack in the woods.”
James raised an eyebrow at me. “Yes, I think I know this family. Last name’s Graves.” He didn’t even let me respond before stomping out my ideas. “We can’t give away what we don’t have, Ruby.”
“So you’re saying I should go against what God’s telling me to do?”
He stepped toward me and pointed his finger, and his voice rose. “I suppose God wants you to save some poor souls out there while he lets us starve to death!”
Mother came around the fire and stood between us. James immediately stepped back. She lowered her voice, which had always been more effective than Daddy’s yelling. “James, now I didn’t raise you like that. You know as well as I do that God can do anything he sets his mind on. It’s not up to us to judge whether God’s plans are good enough for us. We should count ourselves blessed to be called into service of our neighbors.”
James rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head, glancing over at Henry who’d slid further and further away as the conversation continued. “Mother, that’s all well and good in theory. But I been working myself day and night to make sure we don’t starve to death and that we have a roof over our heads. I ain’t doing all that just so we can go and give it away cause Ruby thinks she’s hearing God.”
“I didn’t say I was hearing God!” I could have punched him in the mouth in that moment. James always did know how to cut down my ideas and leave nothing but a stump.
His face went red. “I don’t care if Jesus himself came down from heaven and told you to give our food away, it ain’t gonna happen!”
I stomped toward him, ready to brawl right there. “You think that just cause Daddy’s gone you can order me around, but you can’t.”
“All right, you two,” Mother said. “That’s enough.”
“I don’t mean any disrespect,” James said, turning to face her. “But Ruby’s right about one thing. Daddy’s gone, and I’m doing my best to provide for all of us. I ain’t gonna be treated like a boy. Now, I understand how you feel, but we got to be reasonable.”
Mother reached up and placed her hand on his face. “James, my sweet boy. You have been nothing but honorable toward us, and we owe you our gratitude. But have faith. God has kept us together and provided for us every step of the way in this difficult journey. He will sustain us. Let’s do what we can to support Ruby in her call to serve God. He will provide.”
James dropped his head and sighed before he looked back up at me. “Fine. Do whatever you want. Maybe you’re right. But if you’re wrong, it ain’t like we can go back and fix it. So you better be awful sure about what you’re doing.”
As he walked into the house, I said a silent prayer that God knew what he was doing. Cause I most certainly was not sure of what I was doing.
Chapter Fifteen
For the next couple of weeks I took about three or four jars of vegetables, and even a little dried meat from the Doyles, down to Hannah each Sunday after church. I tried every time to talk to her a bit and find out more about her. But she’d politely take the food, thank me, and send me on my way. I couldn’t very well force her to talk to me, but I figured she had to be lonely. I couldn’t make any sense of their situation, and asking anyone I knew about them was out of the question. Something about the whole thing seemed wrong, but I had no idea what to do about it.
One Sunday in the middle of August, I knocked on the door, and Samuel answered. I was surprised to see him cause he stayed down at the creek during my visits. The one time I’d crossed paths with him, he looked at me with such anger I didn’t even know what to say to him.
“Hi, Samuel,” I said. “Is your mother home?”
“She ain’t feeling so good. You can just put the food down. I’ll get it later.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
Hannah pulled the door back further and peered out at me. She did look weak and
a bit feverish in the eyes. “Thank you, Miss Ruby, but I’m all right.”
“You don’t look so good. Why don’t you let me help you out for a bit. I’m sure you could use the rest.”
Samuel crossed his arms and bored his dark eyes into me. “We don’t need no help from you.”
Hannah put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Don’t be rude, son. Go on out and get some fresh water while I visit with Miss Ruby.” He looked like he was about to protest but she interrupted him. “Go on now.”
He shook his head and shot me another hateful look as he scooted by me with the pail.
“Please forgive his manners,” Hannah said. “There’s no excuse, but things ain’t been easy for us, and he don’t rightly know how to cope with it all.”
“I understand.” I waited at the door, hoping she’d invite me in so I could help.
She glanced down at the jars in my basket and gave me a weak smile. “So what do you have for us today?”
“Some tomatoes that Mother and I canned this week, some more peas and onions, and a little more of the dried pork. Why don’t you let me put it away for you so you can lie down and rest?”
She sighed heavily and searched the woods behind me. “All right then. Just a minute or two.”
I wasn’t sure what to expect. I was just glad to have made it through the door. Even though it did seem like the walls and roof could fall in on us at any time, the place was actually quite tidy. There was only a meager table with two wooden chairs, a small wood burning stove in the middle of the room, and a stack of blankets against the wall near the door that I assumed was used as their bed. I placed the jars of food on the floor with the others in the back corner. A broom that looked like it had seen better days stood against the wall, giving me an idea.
“If you want to rest for a while I could do some housework for you. I don’t mind really.”
Hannah pressed her eyebrows down. “You sure don’t act like any white girl I ever knew. Why you doing all this for us?”
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