by Neta Jackson
After lunch, however, they’d met a few of the staff and volunteers, including the program director Estelle had mentioned—Gabby Somebody—a woman with a head full of curly red hair.
But though Grace had enjoyed the rest of their time at the shelter—even joining the cleanup crew after lunch, which felt a bit like the time she’d worked kitchen crew as a teenager at summer camp—her mind was still mulling over the Bible study. Had Estelle known what the topic was going to be? Was that the reason she’d invited them to come today?
It didn’t matter. What mattered is that Grace felt like God was lancing a festering sore in her spirit. It had even started with Estelle’s gentle probing yesterday, dredging up the secret she’d been so afraid to tell anyone. But the older woman hadn’t seemed blown away, hadn’t lectured her about what a phony she’d been, traveling all over the country talking about purity. No, she’d just said Grace should meditate on the meaning of her name.
She hadn’t realized it so much yesterday, but hanging out with Estelle today, meeting the people she worked with, and being introduced to everyone as one of her new neighbors, Grace realized she felt a powerful connection with this woman. Estelle knew the worst about her and still … still liked her. And Estelle was taking her request to pray for the upcoming concert tour seriously, as though she still believed in her.
Grace watched as her assistant talked, with lively gestures and laughter. Had holding tight to the secrets of her past even kept people like Samantha Curtis at arm’s length? Sam was more than an assistant really, a person so loyal, so fun to be around, a sister in spirit, who could be a close friend …
Estelle did a turnaround in the cul-de-sac at the end of Beecham Street and pulled up in front of the Bentleys’ house. “Thanks for comin’ with me today,” she said as they all piled out. “Hope I didn’t take up too much of your workday.”
“Don’t worry,” Sam laughed. “Grace’ll just keep me working till nine tonight—but that usually means we get to eat out.” The young woman gave Estelle a hug. “I’m so glad to meet you, Miss Estelle. Thanks for letting me come today.”
Grace gave Estelle a hug too. “Yes, thanks,” she whispered. “More than I can say.”
They waved good-bye and walked across the street to Grace’s bungalow. “You were kinda quiet on the ride home,” Sam said as she followed Grace into the house. “You okay?”
“Uh-huh. Just thinking.” Grace picked up Oreo, who’d lost no time doing circle eights around her ankles, and nuzzled his soft black fur.
“Well.” Sam threw her shoulder bag on the couch. “Time to get to work. I’ll tackle the fan mail unless there’s something else you want me to do first.”
Grace hesitated a moment, then said, “There is.” She sat down on the couch and patted the cushion beside her. “Come sit. There’s something I want to share with you—something I should’ve told you a long time ago …”
Sam was in tears by the time Grace finished telling her about her rebellion as a teenager that had led to such disastrous consequences, and how the recent humiliating experience with airport security and Roger breaking their engagement had combined to form a perfect storm that shook her to the core, dredging up all her buried secrets to haunt her again.
“Oh, Grace,” Sam sniffled, scooting over on the couch and giving her a tight squeeze. “Thank you so much for telling me. I … it really means a lot that you trust me enough to confide in me.”
The younger woman grabbed a tissue and made a sour face. “Believe me, you’re not the only one who ever messed up. I ran with a bunch of real wildcats in high school, turned my mama’s hair gray, until God slapped me upside the head and I got right with Jesus. See? There’s stuff I never told you either. Wanna hear it?”
Grace shook her head, a wry smile tipping a corner of her mouth. “Maybe sometime. But there’s more I need to tell you …” Taking a deep breath, she told Sam about the revelation she’d had after her talk with Estelle yesterday about her motives for her message—trying to make it up to God for having the abortion. “But the Bible study at the shelter today really got to me, all the things Edesa said about grace. After I spilled my guts to Estelle yesterday, all she said was, if I need a theme for my upcoming tour, I should meditate on the meaning of my name.”
Sam just stared at her for a long moment. “Wow. That’s kinda deep.”
“I know.”
“But, uh, we already gave Barry and the band a song list.”
“I know.”
“And we have a practice scheduled with the band tomorrow down at the studio.”
“I know.”
The two women sat quietly on the couch for several minutes. Then Grace said, “But I want to come up with a new list for the last set—about grace. I’d like to try writing at least one new song, but for the rest … well, I could use some help choosing those. I need the weekend at least to work on a song and search out the possibilities.” She cast a guilty glance at Sam. “So would you, uh, call Barry and cancel the practice tomorrow?”
Sam rolled her eyes, then grabbed a small accent pillow and threw it at Grace. “Me?! He’ll kill me! That’s gotta be above my pay grade.”
Grace threw the pillow back. “Then I’ll give you a raise,” she giggled, and before she knew it, they were both laughing hysterically and whacking each other with the throw pillows, sending Oreo flying from the room to safety in the basement.
Barry had a fit when Sam called him that afternoon—Grace could hear him yelling even though Sam didn’t have her phone on speaker—but after a few minutes of sputtering about last-minute changes, with the tour less than two weeks away, there was a long pause … And then all Grace heard was Sam saying, “Uh-huh … Uh-huh … Really? … Okay, I’ll tell her.”
Grace grimaced as Sam pocketed her cell phone. “Tell me what?”
A slow smile spread across Sam’s face. “He likes your idea for the last set.”
Grace screeched. “Yes!”
“He’s going to send you a few suggestions of his own. But he wants a new song list no later than Sunday night, and wants you to commit to practices every evening next week if he can get the rehearsal space.”
“Yes, yes, I’ll do it!” Grace started dancing around the room. “I know this is right! Thank you, Lord! Hallelujah!”
“Ahem!” Sam said, arms crossed, tapping her foot. “Maybe we should save the hallelujahs till we see whether we can actually get permissions for these songs on such short notice.”
Grace stopped dancing, chagrined. “Oh. You’re right. That’s a lot of extra work for you. Are you … do you … I mean—”
Sam dropped her phony fuss and laughed. “Of course, silly! Whatever it takes! We’re gonna do this thing!”
While Grace was brushing her teeth the next morning, something Edesa had said yesterday popped into her head—something about mercy is not getting what we deserve, and grace is getting what we don’t deserve. She frowned at her reflection in the mirror, toothbrush sticking out of her mouth. What did that really mean?
Fifteen minutes later she curled up on the couch with a cup of coffee, the cat, and her Bible. She’d been anxious to get to work on a new song, but … it was all too easy to let “urgent” stuff crowd out the important—like taking time to get into the Word and pray. This didn’t seem like the right time to skip it.
She read through the first chapter of John’s gospel again—and stopped at verse sixteen. “From his abundance we have all received one gracious blessing after another.” Wow. Blessing upon blessing …
Blessings weren’t earned. Or rewards. They were gifts.
Blessing upon blessing…
She had heard this before. Probably nodded assent during a sermon or two as if she really understood it. But she hadn’t. Not until now. Grace stared out the window absently, thinking about the blessings God had poured out on her over the years. Being able to sing, doing something she loved … rising success as a contemporary Christian music artist … a family who lov
ed her, even her two rascally brothers … the greatest assistant she could ever hope for …
And Roger? Was Roger’s change of heart part of God’s grace for her, redeeming a relationship she thought was lost? She hadn’t thought of it that way till now, but … She’d thought getting dumped by Fowler at Bongo was bad news, but that turned out to be a blessing too, getting a new agent who—
Ohmygoodness. Her agent! She really needed to call Jeff about her idea for the West Coast tour! She almost reached for the phone, and then remembered it was Saturday. The Bongo office would be closed. Well, she’d call him first thing Monday. That’d be better anyway, because by then she’d have her song list—she’d better have, anyway—and maybe even a new name for the tour.
Yikes. Would giving this tour a focused theme upset the apple cart? Most of the scheduled venues had probably already done their promo for the tour. She could still use “Grace Meredith in Concert,” of course, but she’d like something stronger, something passionate.
Something bigger than her.
Her meandering thoughts were interrupted by a movement outside the window. The Bentleys’ grandson was running across the street. He passed her house and ran up the Jaspers’ walk next door. A minute later she saw him running back toward the two-flat with Tavis and his older brother hot on his heels. She grinned. The boys were excited about something.
That was another blessing—getting to know her new neighbors, the Bentleys. And even the Jaspers next door, though she hadn’t seen much of the twins since the snow melted. She should make more of an effort to be neighborly.
But right now she needed to get busy. She had a song to write. Hopping off the couch, Grace headed for the kitchen to make breakfast, her heart full. Thank you, Lord, for blessing upon blessings you’ve given me, blessings I don’t deserve … pure gifts. And then she laughed out loud. That was it! Her new song … “Blessing upon Blessing”!
A while later, sitting at the piano with her laptop on the bench beside her, Grace moved hands and thoughts back and forth between the two keyboards, first playing with the words, then teasing a tune from the piano. Time slowed as she worked, writing and deleting, trying another phrase, rearranging things. After a while, an incoming e-mail pinged, interrupting her concentration. She almost ignored it, but saw it was from Sam, forwarding some song suggestions from Barry.
She skimmed through the e-mail. These were great! “Grace” by Michael W. Smith … “If Not for Grace” by Clint Brown—she loved that one … and “Grace Like Rain” by Todd Agnew, for starters. Sam had attached a few suggestions of her own and added, Wouldn’t hurt to include a few hymns. Most of them are older than dirt and we don’t need permission to use them. Just saying!
Grace spent the rest of the day listening to the suggested songs, printing out song sheets when she could find them, and even thumbing through an old hymnbook, then returning to the half-finished song at the piano. She wasn’t satisfied with the new song, not yet … but by Sunday morning she’d chosen several songs for a meaningful set, maybe adding a hymn or two if some permissions were hard to get.
The new song would come in time; somehow she knew it.
Glancing at the clock, she saw it was still early. Why not go to the traditional service at Mark and Denise’s church? She’d wanted to try it. She might even stay for the contemporary service at eleven. After all, she’d missed Easter Sunday last weekend, and had skipped church on Palm Sunday.
She slipped into the sanctuary at Faith Chapel a few minutes after the first service had started and took a seat toward the back. She smiled—no words were being projected on a screen in this service. Everyone was using a hymnbook as the congregation sang the opening hymn.
As the song leader announced the next hymn, Grace took a hymnal from the rack in front of her and turned to the page number as the organ and piano played the last few measures as an intro. She started to sing, and then stopped as the words focused on the page …
Marvelous grace of our loving Lord,
grace that exceeds our sin and our guilt! …
Goosebumps crawled down her arms, and her mouth suddenly went dry even as her eyes filled with sudden tears. Grace that exceeds my sin and my guilt … Had God brought her here this morning to remind her one more time what his grace for her was all about? Blinking back the tears and licking her lips, she was finally able to join in on the last phrase of the chorus …
Grace, grace, God’s grace,
grace that is greater than all our sin!
Grace sat with Mark and Denise at the eleven o’clock. They seemed delighted to see her, but she declined their lunch invitation. “I leave for the West Coast a week from Tuesday and I’m still working on a new song. Gotta get a song list to Barry by this afternoon too.” She edged toward the door. “Can I take a rain check?”
Her brother made her promise to stay for lunch the following Sunday, before the tour—“Cross your heart and hope to die, Sis!”—but they finally hugged and let her go. She waved as she headed out of the church parking lot. She wasn’t quite ready to share with her brother and Denise the revolution God had been doing in her spirit this past week—but it did feel strange to have shared so intimately with Estelle Bentley and Sam things she’d never shared with her own family.
In some ways, that was going to be a lot harder. She had more to lose if they were deeply disappointed in her.
And Roger … O God. Should she tell Roger about the abortion? How would he react? Would he still want to give their relationship another chance? Thinking about telling Roger was the scariest of all.
By four o’clock Sunday afternoon, Grace had a song list. She sent it by e-mail to Sam to look over first before sending it on to Barry, and half an hour later Sam called back. “Wow, this looks great. And you have a new song? That’s great! ‘Blessing upon Blessing’ … can I hear it?”
“Not yet. Still tweaking the tune.” Grace was excited. The words had come on the drive home from church, had fallen into place, had fallen right out of her heart. Like a prayer.
“Hmm, okay. See you took my suggestion about including a hymn. Not sure I’m familiar with this one though. Tell me about it.”
Grace got her hymnbook and read the words of all three verses and chorus. “I don’t know … it really moved me this morning. It says what I want to say. Might end the set with this. Even the tune supports the words—kind and tender. God’s grace is greater than all my sin. Bottom line, what God offers us is … just grace.”
There was silence on the other end of the call for a long moment. And then Sam must’ve had the exact thought that hit Grace like a thunderbolt in the same instant, because her assistant suddenly screeched. “That’s it! What you just said! That’s your new title for your tour! Just Grace!”
Chapter 33
Grace was just crawling into bed that night—still so excited about her new theme and concert title that she wasn’t sure she could fall asleep—when her cell phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID. Roger Baldwin … A warm feeling spread through her body. Almost like old times, Roger calling just before she went to sleep.
“Hey, there,” he said. “Didn’t wake you, I hope.”
“No, no, I’m still awake.”
“You doing okay? Kind of thought you’d call this weekend, just to stay in touch, you know, even if you still need time to consider how we’re going to move forward in our relationship.”
“I’m fine.” Grace didn’t know whether she felt pleased or annoyed that he’d expected her to call. “I did tell you I needed some space to consider what we talked about. It’s only been a few days, Roger, not even a week.”
“I know, but … I’m thinking about you. Just thought I’d call. But I’ll hang up if you—”
“No, it’s okay, Roger.” Her mind scrambled. What would be safe to talk about? “Actually, I’m kind of excited, because God has given me a new theme for my upcoming concert tour—but I’m going to have to practice like mad this week with the band, since it’s k
ind of late in the game.”
There was a slight pause on the other end. “A new theme?”
“Uh-huh. We’re calling it Just Grace.”
“Ah. That’s clever. Just Grace … just you in concert.”
“Well, yes, but it has double meaning, because I’m focusing on songs about God’s grace.”
“Oh. Of course. Well, that’s good. But kind of a departure from your previous theme isn’t it? What brought this about?”
Grace hesitated. “Just … a lot has happened since my last tour, Roger—you know that. I think this theme reflects my spiritual journey right now. But just to assure you”—she made an instant decision—“I heard you when you said you didn’t like me talking about you publicly. So don’t worry. I didn’t say anything about our broken engagement at the few concerts I’ve done recently and won’t say anything on the tour about where we are right now. If someone asks me directly, I’ll try to be appropriately vague and discreet.”
“Well … that’s good. I appreciate that.”
Time to change the subject. “So, what’s up with you? You didn’t have to work this weekend I hope.”
Grace listened as Roger chatted easily, told her he was starting to run, was hoping to work up to a half-marathon by next year, and, oh yes, he’d been asked to teach a young adult Sunday school class on “The Christian in the Workplace” at County Line Community Church. But when they finally said goodnight and hung up, some of the excitement about her new theme had dissipated. Would Roger understand?
Grace had planned to call Jeff first thing Monday morning, but the call with Roger the night before made her hesitate. How could she talk about her new theme without telling the whole story? The thought of telling a man—even a kind, caring man like Jeff—about her past made her feel all … all exposed and naked. But toweling her hair after her workout at Curves, she knew she had to call—Jeff was her agent and needed to know her plans. Would he be willing to get on the phone with the multiple venues and ask them to refocus their promotion efforts?