Sweet Potato Jones
Page 27
“You know I can walk,” I whispered into his warm neck.
“Baby, I believe you could fly, if you wanted to. But let me do this right now, Wonder Woman.”
I felt a little piece of my soul returning to me. God, help me through this. I need you, Lord. I just can’t do it alone.
“Maize’s doing all the flying for this family right now,” I told him.
I believed what I’d dreamed was true. I would never tell a soul about it, for fear they would take me to the loony bin. I felt his presence, the essence of him in my spirit, even as I was being carried up them church stairs. If he was in the dark place, I didn’t believe God could allow him close to me. So that meant he had to be waiting for me by the pearly gates. Maybe he had found Momma. Maybe they had both accepted the Lord before their last breaths. Who was I the one to judge or question? God knew it, and I guessed I would have to be patient and find it out someday.
I gasped. “Oh.”
The church was filled solid with people. Candles lined all the aisles, the front of the pulpit, every windowsill. Arrangements of morning glories were all over this place of worship, and I knew all about that flower. I’d looked it up after Daddy had told me about my name. A morning glory symbolized somebody loving in vain. I knew that all too well. I loved despite myself, without deserving it, whether it did me any good. I loved because I had to, even when it was returned harshly. I had no other choice but to love and pray. Even if it was in vain, I would love anyway.
I knew our walk had led us here to this place, and God was with me every step of the long road. Love was washing over me. Prayer was hovering over me again, and the Spirit of the Lord was there. I had to be open to it and let it in.
Mrs. Sunshine announced, “We’ve been keeping the candles burning day and night. Burning for Maize and burning for your recovery.”
It was so quiet in the sanctuary. Everybody was standing up as Ray walked me down the aisle. He set me softly down on my feet, and I walked unsteadily to the front of the church.
Ray was right to bring me here. It wasn’t because I was a miracle walking. It was that Jesus was my miracle-maker. Being here made perfect sense to me in this imperfect world. At the end of the aisle, Ray didn’t turn me back to face the people or give some great speech about how thankful he was I was out of that hospital. He let me stand there, waiting, wondering.
Bell came out from the choir door, dressed in a lavender dress with a white coat and little gloves, pretty as a princess, her hair done up in twisted knots. She let out a squeal of pure joy, and I closed my eyes, trying my best to hold in all of my emotions.
Bean was now with her, dressed in a white suit, purple tie, and sideways hat, looking all stunning, like a Blues-singing boy. He took his little sister’s hand, and they stood up at the pulpit together. The piano played, and Bell’s little voice came out like a warm, summer melody drifting lazy on the wind. Not the kind that would take my breath away—more like a soft, gentle breeze blowing against my face. I stared into her eyes lovingly, proud, and in that second, I knew what her freedom felt like against my broken heart. Against all odds, we were fighters, the whole lot of us. Fighting for a purpose that was not our own. With God on our side, no one could be against us. We were going to be okay. There could be no other way.
Their voices rose together in unison—such a beautiful duet.
Battered log drifting in the river wild, crashing aimlessly from riverbank side to side. That’s how I feel sometimes, like a motherless child,
holding on to the hope where the river ends, when freedom calls only God knows when
here’s a turn around the bend, Lord just pull me out.
The door opened again, and I cried out in wonder. “Maize?”
I screamed out his name as he stepped out all in white like from my dream.
Bell and Bean kept singing, their words speaking my heart.
I find my feet and start to feel my place.
I recognize the Lord has made this race not for the faint of heart, so I trudge on.
I find the spirit call, grant me wisdom and a loving heart,
courage for a brand-new start.
The Lord is faithful, and He hears my beating heart.
Lord just pull me out.
Daddy was standing behind him, and he gently pushed Maize toward me. Maize burst into a run, toppling down the steps. He took me up in his arms, knocking me back into Ray. His tears wet my face. My hands came up to run through his hair, across his neck. His pulse was there. He was bruised, scarred, but he was alive. Thank you, Lord. Amen.
My beginnings might not have been the best there ever was. My middle was still uncertain, that was for sure. But I did believe, with all I had in me, that God had given me and my family a second chance. My boat may still have been rocking on the waves, and the storms were sure to follow us, but Jesus had my back, and I was finally ready for the party.
“Bring on life. I’m ready now,” I whispered to the Lord.
Maize cried against my neck, sobbing how sorry he was for everything. Bell and Bean held on to my waist, and Daddy and Ray stood looking on. I started singing the song Bell would often sing to us as encouragement. This time, Jesus was without a doubt coming along for the ride.
“Stay on, brother … roll on, sister … just for a little while … we got miles to go.”
Acknowledgments
There are so many I could name that deserve rooftop praise, but in doing so would actually create the longest manuscript printed in history! First, I must thank the Lord for opening doors and connecting me with Georgia McBride. I must spend this time thanking Georgia for believing in Sweet Potato and giving me a chance. There are no words that can express my gratitude for your belief in me. For the rest of my author career, which I pray is a long and successful one, I hope to have you as my publisher! To Amanda McCrina, my editor, all I can say is wow. The labor of love you poured over Sweet Potato Jones is amazing. You took my manuscript and polished it to a jewel I’m even more proud of today than I could have thought possible. My family and friends are beyond phenomenal, and I am truly blessed to have you in my life. The support you give me in all that I set out to do helps fuel my passions. You get me through the tough days and inspire me. I love you all, and I thank God for you. To those of you that read Sweet Potato Jones, I hope you’ll always remember to treat everyone with kindness, help a stranger, and give words of encouragement. You never know what someone else is going through. Be a light.
Jen Lowry
Jen Lowry is North Carolina born and raised, still holding on to that country slang that is unique to the small town of Maxton she loves so much in Robeson County. She an avid enthusiast of all things horror, UFC, and binge watches old episodes of Quantum Leap. She finds herself comfier in a pair of pajamas and would make all public appearances in them if she could get away with it. When she isn’t literacy coaching, life coaching, or homeschooling her two fabulous boys, she can be found napping or singing loudly, probably napping. Jen has her doctorate degree in Christian Ministry and is a member of Raleigh First Assembly. Check out Jen’s official author sites all over the net from podcasts, YouTube, Instagram, and more by searching up Jen Lowry Writes or follow her on @jenlowrywrites. Contact Jen for special author appearances and teaching opportunities or stay up to date with her journey at:
www.jenlowrywrites.com.
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