by Janice Sims
As soon as Valerie got home, she changed into a Spelman College sweat suit and got comfortable. Hearing Girlfriend meow more than usual, she checked on her to see if she needed food or water, and, sure enough, her tray was empty. Refilling it, Valerie listened to her voice-mail messages and determined that none of them was urgent. She decided to return the calls later. Then she did something she hadn’t done in a long time—prayed.
Finding a comfortable spot at the side of her bed, Valerie knelt and began her monologue to God.
“Heavenly Father, I know it’s been a long, long time since You heard from me,” she avowed, clasping her hands tightly together. “It seems that You’re trying to tell me something, but I don’t know exactly what it is. I have a feeling that it has to do with my singing. But Lord, I don’t want to sing again—especially after what happened back in Atlanta. I know that I’ve been backsliding since I’ve moved to Red Oaks, and I’m not going to make excuses for it. I know that I was wrong, but I’m going to be obedient and am willing to do whatever you have in mind for me.
“Lord, please show me what I need to know—in Your time. Give me a word in season. Reveal Your plan for me so I will be clear about it, and I promise to do my best to follow whatever path You’ve prepared for me…and Lord, one more thing, please forgive me for fornicating in my mind with Norman Grant. Please give me the strength, the self-control that I don’t have now, so that I will behave myself whenever I’m around him. In Your precious name I pray, asking these and all things, amen.”
The nervous fluttering that had pricked her chest earlier disappeared. Valerie didn’t have an answer as to whether God was directing her to sing again, or if being a member of Witness was her chosen ministry. She’d made the request, and she knew that God wouldn’t let her down about giving her an answer.
Four
A creeping uneasiness gnawed at Norman’s heart. He’d been rude to Mother Maybelle and that bothered him. Right was right, and he, most assuredly, had been wrong. Picking up the receiver, he pressed the button on the phone to speed-dial her number.
“Good evening, Norman,” she answered, glancing at the caller ID. “What can I do for you?”
Norman heard a chilliness in her voice that wasn’t usually there. “I’m calling to apologize for running out so abruptly earlier. I thought someone needed my help, and I wanted to get there in time. I didn’t mean to be short with you.”
Mother Maybelle laughed. “That’s okay, baby, but I’ll let you off the hook on one condition…tell me the name of the gal you’re so sweet on.”
“I never mentioned anything like that to you,” he replied, hoping she wouldn’t question him further. Norman knew that he’d have to tell her what she wanted to know eventually, because Mother Maybelle was like a dog with a bone when she was on to something. Especially when someone was trying to hide things from her.
“Don’t get new on me, Norman. Remember, I’ve been married five times, so I think that gives me enough life experience to know a lovesick man when I see one!” she reminded him.
Norman knew she had a good point, so he told Mother Maybelle what she’d been waiting to hear. “Her name is Valerie Freeman, and I think that she’s the woman for me. She’s the one.”
For the next hour, Norman bent his foster mother’s ear about Valerie, and about how much he wanted to get to know her better. Mother Maybelle wanted to see Norman happy with a good woman who was worthy of him, but she knew nothing about Valerie or the Freeman clan. She wasn’t going to rest until she sized Valerie up for herself.
Although Mother Maybelle knew Norman was his own man and able to take care of himself, she still worried. She wanted the best for him in every aspect of his life. No way was she going to stand idly by while her foster son got involved with just any girl. His choice had to be a classy top-shelf lady, because no one less would do. After she spoke with Valerie, Mother Maybelle would decide if Norman needed her “help” to land his Ms. Right.
After ending the call with Norman, it took just a few minutes for her to get Valerie’s phone number. The deaconess who took her information during Sunday service had put it in the church’s files. She dialed, hoping the call would prove to be successful.
“Yes, I’d like to speak to Valerie Freeman, please,” Mother Maybelle said in her most professional-sounding voice when a young woman answered the call.
Valerie hesitated for a minute, not knowing if it was a bill collector calling her illegally on a Sunday night or a long-lost relative in trouble.
Not known for her patience, Mother Maybelle hurried Valerie along. “Still there? Valerie, this is Mother Maybelle Carmichael from Red Oaks Christian Fellowship.”
Valerie blew out a sigh, relieved that it wasn’t a caller with bad news. “Oh, how are you, Mrs. Carmichael? I didn’t realize—”
“Of course, you didn’t,” she said, cutting Valerie off. “Just call me Mother Maybelle. Everyone does.”
Judging by her clipped tone, Valerie gathered that Mother Maybelle was a woman on a mission that she intended to fulfill.
“I’d like to invite you to my house for dinner tomorrow night,” she said. “Are you available?”
“I’ll have to decline, Mother Maybelle. I’m working on a special project and I’m tied up this week. I’d love to do it another time, though.” Valerie found the invitation odd because she didn’t know this woman. But then she remembered how friendly the church members were and decided not to think too much of it.
“Do you have any idea when you’ll be free, then?” Mother Maybelle pressed. She wanted to pick Valerie’s brain in the worst way. The best way to make that happen was to break bread with her.
Valerie picked up her Palm Pilot from the kitchen counter and scrolled through her schedule. “It’ll be quite a while, but I’ll take a rain check—if that’s okay?”
At least the child sounds like she had some home training, Mother Maybelle noted as she agreed to that. By the time the conversation was over, Valerie had committed to having lunch with Mother Maybelle after church one Sunday, and for some reason, she looked forward to it.
Two Sundays later, Valerie found herself at Red Oaks Christian Fellowship once again. Full of anticipatory adrenalin, she arrived early to ensure herself a seat in the front—the best and only way she could enjoy Witness and take in as much of Norman as she wanted. Fidgeting in her seat, she felt sweat rising at her brow.
Barely able to contain his excitement, Norman gave Valerie a wide, warm smile that reached straight to her heart when their eyes met. Disappointed that she hadn’t attended church the previous Sunday, he wanted her to know how happy he was to see her again. And he showed her in the way he directed the choir that morning—a precise military-like style in which every member knew his or her place. They sang to the rafters as if someone’s life depended on the glory of their musical gospel.
Mesmerized by the choir’s close harmony and Norman’s impeccable directorial skills, Valerie remembered what her mother used to say about the choir at the church where she’d grown up in Macon—and how it applied to what she was watching at that moment. Witness was indeed “showing out.” They went through an arsenal of vocal runs and phrasings which easily explained why they had recorded professionally and had won two Grammys. The choir’s message had members under such a powerful anointing that after they finished ministering, Reverend Avery opened the doors of church and made an altar call. At least a dozen new souls were won for the Lord that morning, and twelve more recommitted themselves to Him. By the end of the singing, nearly thirty new members joined Red Oaks Christian Fellowship—but Valerie wasn’t one of them.
Although tears streamed down her face and her feet praised the Lord with a heartfelt holy dance, she still hadn’t received a word in season, so she knew that meant to be patient. Between the joy inside her soul and the thrill of seeing Norman, which made great exultation shoot through her senses, Valerie was quite content.
Reverend Avery took his seat, and another minis
ter with a café-au-lait face that was drawn and pinched replaced him at the podium. Slight lines furrowed his brows as he tugged on the Kente cloth stole that accentuated his black robe. Before he spoke, he held his arms high above his head, spreading them out in an action that looked like Moses parting the Red Sea. “Saints,” he said, his resonant baritone voice booming. “I want all movement to stop, now. Please be still—wherever you are. The Lord is speaking to my heart. Musicians, choir, all, please close your eyes, bow your heads, and wait on what thus saith the Lord.”
The entire church, which was a whirlwind of praise and worship a few moments earlier, stood stark still. No one dared move. They knew that when their assistant minister, Reverend O’Dell Hunter Danforth, was on the hotline with God, they would be chastised like errant children if they were bold enough to interrupt that important communication.
Valerie gulped and dug her nails into her palms, not knowing why she was so uneasy. She started to crack her knuckles, but hesitated when one of the church sisters a few seats down gave her “the eye.” Both women shut their eyes and waited until Reverend Danforth received the revelation. They, and the rest of the flock, had no other choice but to sit—even if it took all morning.
“We’re grateful for each and every soul that we win for the Lord,” Reverend Danforth intoned. He attached a cordless mike to his robe and paced the pulpit. “And you know we don’t turn any souls away. We encourage you to come to God as you are, and He will deal with you. Today was indeed a good day for souls being saved, but the Lord told me there’s one more here—and you know who you are—who has been on bended knee asking for some direction. He said that He gave you something special, and if you don’t use it for His glory, you will lose it. Now I don’t know who that’s meant for or what it means, but it’s a word in season for someone. Please, if that’s you, or you,” he said, pointing a well-groomed finger toward various members of the congregation, “God demands his sheep to be obedient. Choir, see if you can help that person to get here this morning.”
Reverend Danforth looked at Norman, and immediately he knew what was needed. He took his place at the shiny white grand piano and began to play. Witness began singing “I Surrender All,” a church favorite that was always sure to flush out the soul God wanted. He played so sweetly, with notes so pure and round, that the piano seemed to have a voice all its own.
Valerie blushed, an insipid grin crossing her face. Her eyes widened and became round. She was sure that she had the answer she’d prayed for. No one had to tell her twice that the word which Reverend Danforth had gotten from the Lord was meant for her. Her face warmed, and tears trickled freely down her cheeks. She bawled, giving in to the uncontrollable sobs that shook her body. The woman sitting next to Valerie attempted to rub her back.
“Leave her alone, sister,” a brawny usher ordered, scaring the woman into placing her hand back in her lap. “God’s dealing with her. Let Him do His work. She’ll be fine.”
Valerie began humming the melody of the song, then softly singing it. It was one of the old-time favorites that she used to sing as a little girl in church with her grandmother, Hattie Mae Cox. She was a popular local gospel singer who was known all over Macon for her silky voice. Memories of holding her Nana’s hand as they belted out that song flashed through Valerie’s mind as she stood in the pew.
Her feet, which felt heavier than two blocks of solid concrete, had the hardest time walking to the altar. Although she’d sat in the coveted front section, the walk felt like at least a mile. When she got to the second row, Mother Maybelle, resplendent in a tailored, deep aqua suit, her signature double strand of pearls and a fox fur adorning her neck, waited for her in the aisle. The first member to officially greet Valerie, she wore a friendly smile on her walnut-brown face, which looked decades younger than her seventy-five or more years.
“That’s right, sugar, go on up there and get you some Jesus!” Mother Maybelle encouraged, grabbing Valerie around the waist. “I heard about you and that pretty voice of yours. You can’t run from God if He got something for you to do,” she whispered to Valerie as if it were a secret between two old friends.
Valerie nodded her head in agreement and replied, “Yes, ma’am,” deferring to the elegantly dressed woman who had a shape that could rival that of women half her age. The scent of the Violets candy in Mother Maybelle’s mouth calmed Valerie. It was the same candy her now-deceased grandmother had used to bribe Valerie to behave during Sunday service.
By then, the choir was really cranked up, rocking the church with their updated interpretation of “Just Like Fire Shut Up In My Bones.”
Mother Maybelle loosened her hug from around Valerie’s midsection and put her back on her way to the altar. Valerie glanced over at Norman at the piano, acknowledging him with a nod of her head, and he replied with an infectious grin that was as bright as the midday sun steaming through the crystal clear windows.
The church broke out into shouts of “hallelujah” and “thank you, Jesus” as she took her place at the altar. The applause was deafening when many of the members saw who she was and remembered hearing her songbird voice.
Suddenly, an indescribable serenity befell Valerie. She glanced out of the window, taking in the sight of the tall trees and the billowy clouds etching the sky. All she thought about was how beautiful they looked, how majestic. The only thing she could do was to say thank you in the way her Grandma Hattie had taught her best.
“Oh Lord, my God, when I in awesome wonder…,” Valerie sang, lifting her head and hands reverently. She delivered the words so purely, so round, and with great passion. It was clear from the way she sang that she meant every word.
So as not to disturb Valerie, Norman quietly placed a microphone near her so everyone could enjoy her singing as much as he was. He returned to the piano and accompanied her, beaming with a pride he’d never known before as he played.
“Consider all the works Thy hands hath made…” she continued. Valerie closed her eyes, exhaled, then drew in a breath. She began modulating and doing an awesome vocal run. “Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee. How great Thou art, how great Thou art!”
Calm and quiet filled the sanctuary, and the members looked at Valerie with total incredulity. It was as if an angel had sung to them. They hoped that she’d grace them with her songbird voice again—for any reason—real soon. Even the ministers stood in awe of what they’d heard. It had been a while since anyone had moved them as Valerie had with a song.
Glorious happiness sprang up in Norman’s heart. Still smiling, he began to play a standard that was perfect for that moment. Soon, everyone joined in, not knowing they’d confirmed his choice was correct.
“Praise Him, Praise Him, Praise Him in the morning, Praise Him in the noontime…,” Reverend Avery led his flock, the choir adding its full voice. “The Spirit is moving in here this day!” he proclaimed.
“Praise God, saints, now that’s what I call having church,” Reverend Danforth declared, shaking Valerie’s hand when she walked back to the altar. “Our sister was obedient and answered God’s call. The angels in heaven are rejoicing right now. Young lady, what’s your name and where are you from?”
Valerie, no longer nervous, thought about Mother Maybelle and how her presence had calmed her. There was something peaceful about the older woman that centered Valerie. “My name is Valerie Cherrelle Freeman, Reverend, and I’m originally from Macon, but I now live in Red Oaks,” she asserted in a loud and clear voice that rang with command.
“Praise Him, Valerie, that’s all right. Welcome to Red Oaks Christian Fellowship, and please know that we’re so happy to have you.” Reverend Danforth’s slight Georgia accent was heard as he spoke. “Are you a candidate for water baptism?”
“No, Reverend. I received water baptism years ago,” she told him, looking at the sea of smiling faces around her.
“Amen, Valerie. There’s nothing like being baptized in the water, becoming a new creature in Christ. No doubt abo
ut it, you’ve already been baptized in the Holy Spirit.” An expression of satisfaction showed in his eyes. His chest filled with pride that he was the conduit through which this saint could come to Him and begin her spiritual journey.
“Can I get an amen, church?” Reverend Avery shouted. “Don’t you know that God will find you wherever you are? You might run, but you can’t hide. If He got some work for you to do, He’s going to find you and make sure that you do it! There’s something special in the works for our dear sister, Valerie Freeman—I feel it all in my soul. Stand on your feet and praise Him, church. God is so good and he’s worthy to be praised! Amen?”
After the deacons, deaconesses, elders and ministerial staff gave her the Right Hand of Fellowship, a deaconess led Valerie into an area outside of the sanctuary that was reserved for the intake of new members. There, she filled out a short application for the church’s membership rolls, and she received a packet of information about Red Oaks Christian Fellowship. Then, the intake staff sent Valerie back to the sanctuary so she wouldn’t miss the day’s lesson. She got back to her seat just in time for the sermon.
As soon as the benediction was said, Norman laid his robe on the piano bench and made his way to Valerie. Wildfire wouldn’t have kept him away from her. Scanning her from head to toe, he enjoyed the contrast of her skin against her magenta, alpaca knit sweater-dress. “Good afternoon, Valerie,” he said, excitement dancing in his eyes. “You really know how to give someone an answer, huh?” His smile melted into full-hearted laughter.
Valerie didn’t miss his examination of her or his obvious approval. Her insides came alive, and she felt a vibrancy like never before. Being around Norman made her feel like a giddy schoolgirl again. “Hey there, Norman,” she crooned, unable to hide the smile that came out in full force. “It’s so nice to see you. Now, what was that wisecrack you made?” They both broke out in hearty laughter.