Saturday, January 16
Janelle arrived at the diner at nine fifty Saturday morning, almost as nervous as Sara Ann. Somehow her focus had gone from personally benefiting from the Bible study to praying that Sara Ann would benefit through recognizing her gift. Except Janelle didn’t actually know she had a gift. She’d never seen her lead a study. She only had a feeling. And she’d invited others based on that feeling. What if Sara Ann was right, and this wasn’t her thing? Janelle would feel terrible if she’d set Sara Ann up for disappointment.
The owner, Lila, was at the podium when she entered.
“Hi, Lila, I’m Janelle. I’m here to meet Sara Ann for a . . . kind of a Bible study.”
“I went to school with your mom,” Lila said. She came from behind the podium and hugged her. “I’m so glad you talked Sara Ann into this. That girl’s been holding Bible studies table to table for years. It’s about time it was made official.”
“I can’t believe that,” Janelle said. “Well, I can, but . . . that’s really neat.”
Sara Ann walked over. “My stomach has been in knots all morning because of you. Just thought you should know.”
Janelle hugged her. “I’ve been praying.”
“So have I,” Lila said. “And I’ve been telling her all morning to stop fretting and trust God.”
“My saving grace is I’m on the clock,” Sara Ann said. “I won’t take any extra time. I don’t even know why you agreed to let me do this.”
“As hard as you’ve worked for me for almost twenty years, this is nothing. I’ve always asked God to use this diner the way He wants to. This is the best use yet.” Lila saw something that needed her attention and zipped away.
Sara Ann sighed. “We might as well head back. I got a table reserved for us toward the back, so we’ll be out of the way.”
The bell tinkled and three African-American women walked in. Janelle greeted them and turned to Sara Ann. “Sara Ann, this is Beverly, Allison, and Trina. They’re all New Jerusalem members.”
“Good to meet you.” Sara Ann shook their hands. “The hostess should be right over to seat you.”
“You know we’re here for the Bible study,” Beverly said.
Sara Ann looked down and saw the Bibles in their hands, then looked at Janelle. “Oh,” she said. “Great. Let’s walk this way.”
She led them toward the table she’d reserved, which only seated four. Thankfully, there was a free table beside it, which Sara Ann pushed over. “We can go ahead and get settled. I don’t know if you’re hungry or want coffee or juice or anything, but someone will be over to take orders.”
“That’s great, I’m starving,” Trina said. “I’ve never eaten here, but it sure smells good.”
“Sara Ann?”
They all looked.
Lila had led someone else to the table. “This lady’s here for your Bible study,” she said.
Janelle was thankful for the turnout, but Sara Ann looked panicked. She extended her hand to the new woman. “Hi, I’m Sara Ann.”
The woman shook it. “I’m Jessica. I don’t know anyone else here, but I heard the announcement at New Jerusalem and wanted to come.”
Janelle stood again and introduced herself and the others to Jessica. Just then Stephanie came over.
She spoke in a low voice to Janelle. “Your girl has been a hot mess this morning, spilling coffee on folk and whatnot. Had me praying for her, and you know I’m not an intercessor.”
Janelle almost laughed. “I was wondering where you were. Tell me you’ve got this table.”
“I’ve got this table.” She moved toward the middle of their group. “Hello, ladies. My name is Stephanie, and I’ll be taking care of you this morning. I’m thinking you might want to get your orders in before you get going.” She flipped a pencil from behind her ear. “I’ll start on this end.”
Janelle watched as Sara Ann took the seat beside her and lowered her head as the women ordered. She knew she was praying.
“Sara Ann, what can I get you?” Stephanie waited, pencil poised.
“Water. Thanks, Steph.”
Two more orders and Stephanie was gone. The women trained their eyes on Sara Ann, waiting. She opened her Bible and gazed down at something written on the inside cover. Then she looked up and met their eyes.
“My grandmother gave me this Bible when I was twelve,” she said. “And whenever I open it, I see what she wrote and it makes me feel good inside. It says: To Sara Ann. Love, Jesus.” Sara Ann waited a moment. “Um . . . when Janelle asked if I would do this, I thought it would be just the two of us. I’m no teacher. I don’t have a lesson prepared. No worksheets, nothing. I feel like y’all will leave here thinking you wasted your time. I just want to say I’m sorry.”
Janelle put her hand on hers. “Sara Ann, you don’t need a lesson. Just share from your heart.”
Sara Ann looked down, almost as if she wanted to cry. “Can we pray?”
“Absolutely” sounded around the table. One hand linked with another until a circle had formed.
“Dear God,” Sara Ann said, “I don’t know enough to give these women what they need. But You do. Would You just meet us here? Would You show us what You want us to know about You? Show us how to love You more. Show us how to make You our all. Amen.”
“Well, hallelujah,” Beverly said. She was in her forties, a little heavyset, with a disposition both commanding and welcoming, if that were possible. “I can already tell you my time wasn’t wasted, Sara Ann. I’m full just from that little prayer. I want that intimacy you obviously have with Jesus.” Her eyes misted. “That’s why I came. I need Him to meet me.”
Sara Ann looked confused. “You were moved by the prayer?”
“Me too.” Trina was younger and had a petite frame. “You said, ‘Show us how to love You more.’ And I don’t think I’ve ever thought about that. How do I love Jesus more?” She added quickly, “I don’t mean to steer you away from where you wanted to go.”
“No, it’s fine,” Sara Ann said. “Thank you for giving me a direction to steer in.” She flipped toward the back of her Bible. “Why don’t we turn to John, chapter fourteen.”
Together the women read the words that Jesus spoke to His disciples on the night before He went to the cross. Sara Ann spoke briefly, pointing out that four times Jesus told them that if they loved Him, they would keep His commandments.
“It seems to me that the more I’m walking in obedience in every area of life, the more I’m loving Jesus. Here at work I say all the time that if I get a nasty customer, that’s a chance to love Jesus, by being kind in return.” She looked across the table. “Does that make sense at all, Trina?”
“Perfect sense.” Trina was looking at the passage herself. “My supervisor took the credit for something I did. I mean, she straight-up lied. And it’s been eating me up. The last thing I want to do is forgive her, because she’s wrong and she knows she’s wrong. But Jesus said to forgive, and if I want to love Him I have to do what He said.”
Stephanie brought a tray, set it down on a stand, and began doling out hot plates of food. Janelle felt bad that they all had something, but all Sara Ann ordered was water. A moment later, Stephanie plopped a plate in front of Sara Ann—sausage links, eggs, and a biscuit—and Sara Ann looked up, frowning.
“I knew you didn’t order ’cause you were nervous,” Stephanie said. “And I also knew you’d be hungry when you saw all this food.”
“I owe you big,” Sara Ann said. She looked to Janelle. “Will you ask a blessing?”
Janelle bowed her head. “Father, we thank You for this food and pray it nourishes our bodies. And we thank You for Sara Ann, who is allowing You to use her today. Bless her, Lord, for being a blessing to us.”
As the women took their first bites, Sara Ann leaned in. “Trina, forgiveness has been the hardest area for me. I had to forgive an older neighbor for sexually abusing me over several years. His mother babysat me.”
“Lord, have mercy
. . . ,” Trina said.
Tears welled in Janelle’s eyes. “I had no idea you had been through something so awful, Sara Ann.”
“And you talk about it calm as you please,” Beverly said. “How are you able to do that?”
Sara Ann broke off a piece of biscuit. “I couldn’t always. It took a lot of talking to God about it, because I didn’t understand why He’d allow it to happen. Not that I’m saying I understand it now.” She ate some of her food. “But I guess the point of all of it was, when I was able to forgive him, that’s when I felt like my heart opened up to love Jesus even more.”
The table was quiet, digesting what Sara Ann had revealed.
“An older cousin abused me from the time I was eight until I was thirteen,” Jessica said softly.
The women turned to her and waited.
“I never told anyone until I was twenty-three.” Jessica didn’t look much older than that now. “I told my mother and she went into such denial about it—his mother and my mother are sisters—that I never brought it up to anyone else again. He’s a pastor now. I see him at family gatherings and he acts like nothing happened. Never apologized. Sometimes I wonder if I imagined it all.”
Sara Ann got up and went to her, kneeling beside her, hugging her tight. “I know,” she said. “I know.”
Beverly got up and laid a hand on Jessica, praying silently.
Lila brought a box of tissues over and set it on the table. “I should have thought of this sooner.” She pulled a tissue out and gave it to Jessica.
Jessica raised her tearstained face. “I’m sorry.” She looked around. “I’ll be okay. I don’t want to make a scene.”
Lila rubbed her back. “Sweetheart, you’re fine. Don’t let the enemy steal this moment by making you feel embarrassed. Let God do what He wants to do in your heart.” She walked away.
“Now why can’t I have a supervisor like that?” Trina said, lightening the moment a little.
“I needed to hear this, Sara Ann,” Jessica said. “And I needed to be able to talk about it.”
“Might help to talk to a counselor,” Sara Ann said. “I know somebody good. And let’s exchange numbers so the two of us can talk some more.” She glanced at her watch. “I don’t know if we’re doing this again, but if so I know I need to be more organized. At least have a theme or something.”
“We had themes this time,” Beverly said. “Love, obedience . . .”
“And forgiveness,” Trina said.
Stephanie breezed over and handed a check to each woman, directing them to pay up front.
“My vote is to do this again,” Janelle said. “It was exactly what I needed.”
“Have to say this is the first time I’ve been to a Bible study with bacon,” Allison said, “but it was refreshing.”
Beverly put a tip on the table, then got up and put her jacket on. “Sara Ann, I think we’ll be here next Saturday whether you like it or not.”
The rest followed suit, leaving Stephanie a tip and gathering their things.
Sara Ann looked overwhelmed. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You can say you’ll be here,” Trina said.
She looked down at her uniform. “I have to be here. I work here.”
Beverly hugged Sara Ann, then Trina and Allison. “We’ll be praying,” Beverly said.
Jessica gave her a long one. “Thank you. I’ll be here next time.”
Sara Ann squeezed her hand. “I hope so.”
Janelle lagged behind, wanting to talk to Sara Ann. Her phone buzzed and she looked at it. “Oh, I’ve got to go. Kory’s on his way to pick up Dee, and they’re probably over there running circles around Aunt Gladys.”
“Dee stayed the night again?” Sara Ann said. “Those girls are joined at the hip.”
“Wait till Claire gets here. Tiffany and Dee were making welcome signs last night, no doubt plotting ways in which the three of them can spend their every waking moment together.” Janelle hugged Sara Ann. “Let’s talk this week. I was blown away by what you shared, and by the way things went today. I’d love to get your thoughts.”
Sara Ann nodded. “God showed me a lot in that little bit of time.”
“Me too.” Janelle was still trying to take hold of it. “He keeps showing me that it’s possible to get beyond painful circumstances and actually live again.”
“That’s my testimony, Janelle.” Sara Ann’s expression turned a little playful. “I wonder if this lesson God is teaching you has anything to do with that fella you’re racing out of here to meet.”
“And on that note . . .” Janelle gave her a quick wave as she dashed out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
It had been an awfully long day, and a big yawn told Becca she needed to excuse herself and go to bed—but a little exchange across the kitchen table between Travis and Janelle caught her ear.
“Wait, what’s that?” Todd had heard it too.
Janelle and Travis looked at one another. They’d spent the late afternoon and evening helping Becca and Todd move in, along with Kory, who had left a little while ago.
“It’s not a big deal,” Janelle said. “Certainly nothing you need to concern yourself with the night before your first sermon.”
Travis went for another slice of pizza. “Plus you’re tired from driving through the night and unloading a moving van. Dude.” He gave him the eye as he sat back down. “Trust me. You don’t want to hear it.”
“Which makes me want to hear it more,” Todd said. “I heard you say something about Calvary and New Jerusalem. What’s up?”
Janelle took her paper plate to the trash. “I’m baffled that this is even an issue in this day and time, but anyway . . . We had a meeting at New Jerusalem this afternoon, setting up committees for the year.” She grabbed a bottled water from the fridge. “Somebody said we need volunteers tomorrow for the hospitality committee, and Sister Taylor asked if I could do it. I said I couldn’t ’cause I’ll be at Calvary tomorrow.”
Todd looked surprised. “You will?”
She stopped and looked at him before she sat down. “Of course. You’re my friend, and it’s your big day.”
“Cool.” Todd smiled. “Okay, so . . .”
“So Sister Taylor asked why I was going to Calvary’s service and not my own.” Janelle looked perplexed, as if she were still in the moment. “Really? You feel the need to call me out and ask why?” She sighed. “I explained that I wanted to support Todd, and she actually said I should show my support by going to the reception Calvary was having afterward, because New Jerusalem members need to support their own pastor.”
Becca’s eyes got big. “She said it in the meeting?”
“Yes. And got some amens.”
“And you know I had to stand up,” Travis said. “I told them you and I were best friends growing up, and I would be at Calvary’s service in the morning too, if I could.”
“That’s incredible,” Todd said.
“But that’s not all,” Janelle said. “Someone else stood up and said the Calvary reception wasn’t an option anyway, because she’d asked and was told it was for Calvary members only.”
“What?” Todd looked at Becca, incredulous. “Who would say that? As if it had actually been discussed and determined that it was for Calvary only.”
Travis shrugged. “Maybe it was.”
“No, I think it was an individual taking it upon himself or herself to make it exclusive. But whatever the case, I’m making it clear that that’s not the deal at Calvary.” He looked at his watch. “Ten fifteen. I’ll have to wait until the morning. I hope it’s not too late to rectify it.”
Travis pushed his plate aside. “Reminds me of the vacation Bible school fiasco.”
“Oh, man . . . I’d never seen my dad that hot.”
Becca had never heard this story. “What happened?”
“I don’t know about this either,” Janelle said.
“We didn’t have a youth ministry program growing up,” Todd s
aid. “They did a few special things for kids during the school year, and usually nothing in summer. But this one summer”—he turned to Travis—“how old were we, about twelve?”
“Sounds right,” Travis said.
“Calvary decided to do a weeklong vacation Bible school program. One of the women had seen it somewhere else and wanted to bring it here. So they made this big deal of it, put a big banner outside the church that they were holding vacation Bible school.”
“And New Jerusalem didn’t have anything like it,” Travis said. “So Todd tells me, and I get hyped about it. We show up together Monday morning.”
Becca got a sick feeling in her gut. “And what?”
“The women at the registration table looked at me like I was an alien from outer space.”
Janelle cringed. “Tell me no.”
Travis gave her a big nod instead. “You would’ve thought I didn’t grow up here, didn’t go to school with Calvary kids, didn’t go to church right down the street. They said they were sorry, but the vacation Bible school program was for children of Calvary members only.” He paused, and it was clear the memory hurt still. “Never mind that right next to me a classmate was registering, and I knew he belonged to a church in another town.”
“I went straight to Dad,” Todd said. “Right in front of me he called the people in charge into his office. He said if it wasn’t open to any kid who wanted to come, he was closing the whole program immediately.”
“Did you go, Travis?” Becca asked.
Travis shot her a look.
“I asked him to change his mind,” Todd said, “but who could blame him for staying away after that?”
Janelle sighed. “The sad part is all the summers I spent down here as a kid, I never gave much thought to the fact that there was a white church and a black church. Maybe because the church I attended at home was predominantly black. But now that I’m attending a multiethnic church, I see things so differently.”
“Now that you mention it,” Becca said, “our church in St. Louis has almost a thousand members and only a handful are black.”
Travis was pensive. “When New Jerusalem invited me to be senior pastor, I had a lot of reservations. First, I said I wasn’t coming back to this small town. I wanted to pastor in a big urban environment. And I was serving at a church in Dallas that was growing in diversity. I liked that. Being back here with the white church and the black church and all the old ways didn’t excite me.”
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