by T. D. Jakes
“That was just the old Michelle talking. You know, the old Michelle that just needed attention from any man. You’re not that woman anymore.”
Michelle’s voice sounded as though she had just discovered she had some new treasure. “You’re right, Miz Ida. I’m not that woman anymore. And it came to me that Tonya is my friend. I never was able to say that before about a woman, but Tonya is my friend. I want her to be happy. She and Shadrach would make a good match. So I didn’t have to try to get his attention.”
“No, you’re not a needy woman. Michelle, you’re a blessed woman.”
“I am blessed, Miz Ida.”
“Not only are you blessed, but you’re blessing others—because you blessed that woman today. Yes, you did, baby. You made that woman laugh. It ain’t no telling how long it’s been in her life since she had a good stomach laugh. Michelle, you were a blessing to her. People think the only way to bless someone is to hand out money or material gifts. Don’t ever let anybody tell you that you’re nothing, again. From here on out, you sing a song for yourself. God has blessed you to be a blessing!”
“Besides that, Miz Ida, when Tonya was talking to Shad, I thought about Todd.” Michelle’s voice was lighthearted and full of amazement. “You know, Miz Ida, I do love Todd. Through all that’s been going on he’s stood by me. And I love him for the very reasons that Tonya was saying. All this time I’ve been listening to crazy stuff—that a man is something just because he has money, because he is fine, or because he’s supposed to be some kind of super lover.”
Miz Ida could feel herself blushing. “Well, do tell?”
“Today, Miz Ida, I realized I been listening to the wrong people. I been listening to women who don’t know no more than I do—maybe even less. I been listening to women because they’re famous instead of because they’re wise. I been listening to them, and I’ve been about to throw my good thing away. Now ain’t that nothing?”
“That’s nothing, baby.”
“Tonya’s right. I love Todd because he is wise and understanding. He is a good man and he loves me. He is a man of God, Miz Ida, and he’s been praying for me and singing God’s songs to me. He is my match body and soul.”
“All right, now, Michelle! I think we’re getting somewhere.”
“That’s just it, Miz Ida. Now I know and I hope it’s not too late.”
When she and Michelle had said their goodbyes, Miz Ida hung up the telephone. “Lord, my Lord.” She waved her hand in the air. “My Lord, have Your way. Hallelujah!”
Chapter Thirty
Miz Ida rocked back and forth with the tiny baby in her arms. He wrapped his little fingers, the nails so miniscule and translucent, around hers. Miz Ida talked to him. “You’re a strong little fella, aren’t you? The way you’re holding my finger, you’re going to grow up to be another Samson. Yes, you are.”
As she rocked him, Miz Ida recalled the first time she had walked in the Children’s House of Peace. When her feet hit the black rubber of the sensor pad that automatically opened the door, she had thought about turning back. She hadn’t known anyone at the center. She hadn’t even known too much about what she was trying to do.
She had stopped at the information desk and got the directions, then taken the elevator to the fourth floor and followed the red line to the high-risk nursery unit. She was a little nervous—people told her it was time for her to settle down, she didn’t need to be pushing herself—but the children needed somebody. She had heard it on the TV and then read about them in the newspaper—border babies. The Children’s House of Peace was a haven for them.
They were babies born to mothers who were HIV positive or who had AIDS.
“Some of the babies who are born test HIV positive because babies carry the immune system of their mothers. Many times, though, when their own immune systems begin to function those same babies become HIV negative,” the nurse that worked with volunteers had told her. “People are so afraid of them. We need people who have hearts big enough to care. We need people who have love that will overcome their fear.”
Miz Ida loved rocking baby José. They had been meeting twice a week since she first came. “We always try to assign the babies to the same volunteers because we hope that they will get even some small sense of normalcy in their lives,” the nurse said. “Some of the babies are with us because their moms are in jail and there’s no one else to care for them. Some, like José, have mothers who are just too ill to care for them. Whatever the reason they’re here, they need love. Most of them got here because the people before them lived lives without enough love. We’re trying to draw the line in the sand for these babies right here.”
They needed love and Miz Ida had plenty to give. When she held José, she couldn’t help but think about Michelle. Not many people would ever have thought that child would make it. Not many politicians or social scientists would have predicted that Michelle would have become the woman that she was. When she met Michelle, the girl was what they called now “at risk.” Hallelujah! Michelle had made it over, but there were plenty other children in need.
Miz Ida came out twice a week because her soul was fat. She had heard lots of good preaching, had lots of good teaching, and she regularly studied the Word. She was full. She was so full, one tiny touch from the Lord, one iota of the Lord’s goodness just made her cup of tears overflow. The folks already in the church, Miz Ida felt, were healed or on their way to healing. There were lots of folks—grown-ups, babies, and children—on the outside, though, who were starving.
“We’ve come to worship and now we leave to serve,” her pastor always said after the benediction. You can’t feed the hungry sitting in your living room, Miz Ida told herself. Starving folks didn’t always have the strength to make it to church, so Miz Ida figured it was her duty to go to them.
There was nothing about Michelle, about José, or about any of the babies at the House of Peace that God couldn’t handle. Miz Ida knew the Lord could do whatever needed to be done. So she didn’t spend a lot of time, when she held José, praying for God to heal him. That was settled and done as far as Miz Ida was concerned.
The reason she came to visit José twice a week was to hold him, to love and serve a new life that needed her. But she also came to pray about broken hearts. Miz Ida figured that broken hearts were about the hardest thing, it seemed, to mend. So she prayed every week for all the children who didn’t know their fathers or who only saw them once in a blue moon. She rocked José and prayed for all the children who didn’t know their mothers, or who felt that their mothers had made the choice to give them away. She prayed for all the families separated by crime, by war, and by death.
God, we got to break this thing somewhere. We got to draw a line here somewhere. It’s too much heartache and we got to stop it now and say, “No more!” No more heartbroken girls growing into heartbroken women. No more boys carrying heartache with them until they die as men. No more, Lord.
She rocked the baby and smiled and sang to him while she prayed in her heart. Lord, I’m holding this little baby, and I’m praying. But don’t just do it for him. Lord, I’m praying for all the babies who don’t have anybody to hold them. Don’t just heal bodies, Lord—mend broken hearts.
Right now, Lord, there are some grown women walking around every day smiling and working. Everybody around them thinks they’re okay. Even their best friends, husbands and boyfriends don’t know. They don’t know that sometimes these women steal away to cry. Some of these women just want love from any man, from anyone. But some of them, Lord, are so cold it’s like winter in their souls. They’re sitting alone right now telling themselves and the world they don’t need love—but it’s like the pins and needles of cold weather pressing into their hearts.
Lord, I’m praying for a new day. I’m praying that new healing and new deliverance starts right now. I’m praying that they would begin to weep healing tears that will thaw their hearts. Tears that will clean and heal the wounds that they’ve been carrying with
them for years. God, let them feel Your sweet love for them. No matter what they’ve been through, no matter what they’ve done, Lord, let them feel Your sweet, sweet presence. Lord, touch right now, from the jailhouse to the White House. Lord, move in women’s lives wherever they are—in school, in the home, at work, in the air, on land, and at sea. Let these women, these girls, know what it means to be loved. Let them know how it feels to climb up on Your lap and how good it feels to call you Daddy. God, I know You’re able. I’m looking for a new day.
Ida paused a moment to smile at José. She clucked her tongue at him and then resumed her prayer.
Lord, there are so many heartbroken men. Men whose hearts are as fragile as this tiny baby’s heart. They’re pretending to be strong on the outside—they got so much to take care of and so much weight on their shoulders. Some of them are trying to be men when they never had a father of their own to teach them how. They’re hard on the outside and afraid to let anyone get near their hearts because they’re wounded. They’re afraid to love or be loved, even by children, because all they’ve known is heartache. God, I know that You’re able. I know that You are the heavenly Father who can speak healing to the heart of a man. You’re the Daddy big enough to wrap Your arms around a man and touch that place in him that is in need. God, I need You to heal these men. There are so many men locked away in so many prisons—physical prisons, mental prisons, emotional prisons, sexual prisons, spiritual prisons—because of heartbreak. Heal them good so they’ll be able to turn around and heal others. There’s no one like You, Lord. I’m looking for a new day.
In the new day, Lord, I’m looking for new hearts for all mankind. I’m looking for families that looked like they would never be together to get together. In the new day, Lord, I’m looking for hearts that have been bound up for years, for generations, to suddenly be healed and free.
Just like You’re blessing José, Lord, You know we’re all Your babies. We’re all Your children. Hold us real tight. Bless us and heal us like You’re healing him. We’re looking for a new day, Lord. We’re looking for a new day.
Miz Ida got on the bus, singing and praying for people as she rode home. She got off the bus and walked down the street blessing and praying. No one knew it. She didn’t wave her hands or speak out loud, but the Lord heard just the same. Miz Ida stopped at the door to her building, and looked at the young man curled up near the door.
“You better leave that man alone, Miz Ida! He’s on drugs, and there ain’t no telling what he might do to an old woman like you.”
His clothes were torn and his hair was matted; there was dirt on his face. It was the same young man she had been seeing for months. The one she promised Michelle she was going to do something about. Somebody had to do something. “You all right, young man?”
He didn’t answer.
She bent over him. “Young man, I said are you all right?”
He lay still, but opened one eye and growled at her. “Get away from me, you old bag. It’s bad enough I got to be out here without looking at something as black and ugly as you.”
Miz Ida stood up and stepped back. “Young man, you don’t know who you talking to. This is the last day you going to talk to me like that.”
He rolled over on his side. “Go ahead, old lady, cuss me out. Makes no difference. What’s new?”
“I’m glad you asked that question, young man. The whole day is new. It’s a new day.” Miz Ida drew herself up to her fullest height. “I said this is the last day you going to talk to me like that cause your life is about to change. The Bible says—”
“Oh, no! Leave me alone, old lady. I don’t want to hear that Bible mumbo jumbo.”
“You may not want to hear, young man, but you gonna hear it just the same. The Bible says if I got faith as small as a mustard seed, I can ask anything in the Lord’s name and it will be done. Well, if I can tell a mountain to move, I can tell you to get up. Get up, young man. Get up and get loosed! Rise, shine, and give God the glory! From this day forward, in Jesus’ precious name, your life is forever changed. Some woman needs a good son. You gone be the man. Some woman needs a good, saved husband. You gone be the man. Some child needs a good father. You gone be the man. It’s a new day, my son. You gone be the man. Amen, amen, and amen!”
Miz Ida clapped her hands together and walked away. While she walked, she spoke to the Lord in her own language of praise.
“Hey, lady!” She could hear the young man calling behind her. “Hey, lady!” Miz Ida turned back for a quick look. The young man was sitting up. “Hey, lady! Whatever this holy-roller stuff is you trying is not going to work.” Miz Ida kept walking. She could still hear him when she reached her door. “You hear me, old lady, I said it’s not going to work.”
Miz Ida laughed to herself. “Too late now. Can’t nothing stop the power of God.” She couldn’t wait to tell Michelle.
Chapter Thirty-one
It always happens. Just when a body is finished eating and comfortable, just when a body has her feet up and a good magazine in hand, the phone always rings. Just as Miz Ida dragged a chair over in front of her and sat down on the couch, just as she got her feet and legs on the chair in just the right way, the pink princess started screaming.
“Hold on there, Princess, I’m coming.” She scooted until she could reach her rose-colored antique. “Hello?”
It was Michelle on the other line.
“Guess what?” Michelle and Miz Ida spoke simultaneously.
“You go first, daughter.”
“No, Miz Ida. You go, I can wait.” They did the no-you-go-first dance a few more times and finally Miz Ida, the lovely vessel of winter grace, relented.
“I did it today, baby.” Miz Ida was getting full just thinking about it. “We women—we mothers, grandmothers, cousins, and aunts—are going to have to take a stand. Our children are dying on the streets. No one else is going to rescue them. We’re the ones that feel for them, who are we waiting on? We can’t keep letting the enemy make us afraid of our babies. They may be in grown-up bodies and they may rage, but they are still our children. We have to take a stand for their lives. We can’t let the enemy snatch them out of our arms. We have to take a stand for their very souls.”
“Miz Ida, what are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about that young man who has been lying by the front door of this building. I guess I’m talking about all the men, women, and young people that are lying around or walking around dead all over this country. We women are going to have to take a stand.”
“Miz Ida, what did you do? You don’t have that man living with you do you? Miz Ida, you can’t be taking everybody in off the streets.”
Miz Ida rolled the magazine she was holding in her hands into a tube. “Well, Michelle, I can’t tell you what I will or won’t do. But, today, I did what has been in my spirit for months now. I stopped pretending that boy was invisible and I prayed. I’m sick and tired of the demon of drugs that has gripped this land. We got the authority and power, in Jesus’ name, to bind that demon up and cast him out. Who knows what might happen if women all over this land got together and fasted and prayed? Who knows what would happen if all over this nation, for forty days, women fasted and prayed for our sons and daughters that are being held by the devil in the grip of drugs? We still got the same power, the same faith, that can move mountains. What if we got the courage to use it?”
Miz Ida was on a roll. “When the Lord was on earth with us, when He was moved with compassion, He moved in the lives of people to heal them. Jesus healed crowds of people of all sickness and diseases. When He was moved with compassion, He fed thousands. When Jesus was moved with compassion, he gave sight to the blind and he healed lepers. When the Lord was moved with compassion He taught and ushered multitudes into the Kingdom.”
“Miz Ida, you sound like you are fired up. What did you do?”
“I am fired up, baby. I’m stirred up because I’ve been thinking, and there’s no telling what a woman
can do when she’s been thinking—even an old woman. I’ve been thinking about the compassion and mercy of God. The Father’s compassion will cause Him to accept His prodigal children back home.
“And I been thinking that if some women would pray, we could turn this whole thing around. No one has more compassion for our broken sons and daughters than we do. What if we stopped worrying about our own lives? What if we stopped worrying about being cute? What if we just let the tragedy of what we see well up on the inside of us? What if we let our compassion well up on the inside of us? What we need is some wailing women, some daughters who aren’t afraid to weep, to get ugly and cry out to the Lord. I just been thinking, Michelle. I been thinking.”
“What brought all this on, Miz Ida?”
Miz Ida had almost torn the magazine to shreds, she was so stirred up. “When I saw that young man, I knew today was the day. If God gives me the power to move a mountain, He sure gives me the power to get a young man to stand up, and that’s just what I told him. I felt like Peter and John on the steps of the Temple called Beautiful. I’m not a rich woman, but what I have is God’s treasure inside this old jar of clay—God’s spirit inside of my old body. So, I prayed in Jesus’ name and I believe that young man is going to get up.”
“Did he get mad, Miz Ida? Did he try to do or say anything to you?”
“Well, he tried to kick up a little bit. But, you know the old man always kicks up when the new man is about to kick him out and move in. He said a little something, but I forgive that, it’s just the price of a new life. And I’m a woman at war against the devil’s kingdom; I can’t fear the one who can kill the body, I just fear God—He’s the one that has power over my soul. I’m determined, Michelle. I’ve just been thinking that if we’re determined, we can turn this thing around.”
“You’ve been thinking, Miz Ida. I can hear that in your voice. And it’s a dangerous thing when a woman starts thinking, because I have been thinking, too!”