Practicing What You Preach

by Vanessa Davis Griggs

  She came over to Marcus, who instinctively backed away. He knew how Sasha was when she went into her fits of rage. She would hit and throw things. And if you tried to hold her while she was having these fits, she would accuse you of physically abusing her, although she was the one doing the abusing.

  Sasha got that from her mother. And when Sasha decided she needed to tarnish Marcus’s image in the eyes of those who looked so favorably and lovingly upon him, she accused him of abusing her. She had even called the police on him, twice, just to make it look as though she was telling the truth.

  When the police arrived, they saw the house in disarray. But it was from Sasha’s outrage. She claimed he had hit her. He hadn’t. It was he who had been verbally abused by her, then physically attacked. All he had done was try to cover his face from her blows. She had swung at him so hard that when he moved out of the way, she fell to the floor, hitting her arm on the table. She claimed he had pushed her. Thanks to her fall, she now had a very nice bruise to prove abuse.

  Sasha knew the truth. Sasha’s mother knew the truth. Marcus’s mother knew the truth as well, which was why she had become so angry with Sasha at the end. But more important, God knew the truth. And that was something Sasha knew that hung over her head. God knew. Marcus wouldn’t ever tell anyone that his wife was abusing him; the way she would tell him how inadequate he was as a person; how, compared to other men out there, he was not worth the time of day; that she had only married him because she felt sorry for him; that he was a loser. No, he couldn’t tell people it was she who beat up on him as he did the gentlemanly thing and refrained from hitting a girl back.

  That was why lately Sasha felt she was never going to get ahead in life. She knew she had sown seeds of lies and deceit. And even though at times it might not have looked like it, she was going to reap a harvest from her sown seeds. One day, all of this would come back on her.

  All Marcus could do was to forgive her and to pray for her. He had fasted on behalf of her while they were married and during the time she was in the process of getting the divorce. He prayed that God would break the generational curse Sasha was under. After they were no longer married, he then began to pray mightily for his daughter. That generational curse had to be broken. And if he couldn’t help Sasha break here, then it would have to end with their daughter.

  Now Sasha was upset, and all Marcus wanted to do was to get his daughter and be on his way. But Sasha was wound up from all of her frustrations. Based on what she was spewing as she came at him, her mother had also done something to hurt or disappoint her. No surprise there.

  Marcus knew how much Stella Bradford had already hurt her daughter. He had even tried talking to his mother-in-law when he and Sasha were married about how much her actions hurt. Stella cared mostly about Stella, although from what Marcus could see, Stella did, in her own way, love her daughter. But for some reason, she didn’t want her daughter to be happy. Sasha didn’t seem to get that. Or maybe she just wanted her mother to love her so badly that she would do anything to feel that love.

  And if that meant getting rid of Marcus because Stella believed the best way to hurt Marcus was to take away the thing he loved the most—his family—then that’s what Sasha would do. And she did. Sasha’s fabrications of abuse had given her mother the one thing Sasha knew would make her mother go along with her leaving Marcus. Now that Sasha was without Marcus, Stella was doing what she had always done when it came to her daughter: leaving her to fend for herself.

  The only difference was that whereas in the past Sasha had her father to make everything all right, now he was gone. There was no money to make things better. Now Sasha was upset with Marcus because she knew he was doing well financially. She felt he should step up and fill the gap her father had left in her life. And had she known her father would die within six months of her divorcing Marcus, and had she known he didn’t have a bundle of money sitting there waiting for them upon his death, she never would have let a good man like Marcus go. Never. Mother or no mother. Never.

  Now she was stuck with smooth-talking wannabees who were looking for a woman to take care of them, or at the very least take care of themselves so they wouldn’t have to. Sasha knew there were still some good men out there. But finding the good ones was not as easy as she had first thought.

  Sasha was hurting, and hurting people take out their hurt on others. Marcus understood this. But all he wanted on this night was to get his daughter and have peace in doing it.

  Trying to make things better, trying to calm Sasha down, Marcus said, “I tell you what. Why don’t you just go sit down, and I’ll go up and get Aaliyah’s things?”

  Sasha looked at him, pursed her lips, and then popped them open. “All of her things are dirty. I haven’t had time to do a wash. I’m telling you, I’m tired, Marcus. This is not how my life is supposed to be right now. I need something good to happen for me. Do you hear what I’m saying?”

  Marcus cautiously walked toward her. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll take her dirty clothes home with me and wash them.”

  “Oh, yeah. Right. Then what does that make me look like?”

  “It doesn’t make you look like anything. You wash her clothes all the time.”

  “Except when we were married and you would wash all of our clothes.” Sasha seemed to start winding down. She went over and flopped down on the couch.

  Marcus looked and saw Aaliyah standing there watching. He felt so bad for her. He could still remember how he felt when he would hear his mother and father arguing. He smiled at Aaliyah and beckoned for her to come to him. He gave her a big hug. “Aaliyah and I are going to go upstairs and get all of her dirty clothes, put them in a bag, carry them to my house, and I’ll wash them all. She and I are going to have lots of fun this weekend. Aren’t we, sweetheart?”

  She smiled, then nodded.

  “Where are your garbage bags?” Marcus asked Sasha.

  Sasha got up. “I’ll get one. That’s the least I can do since I’m such a trifling mother.”

  Marcus touched her on the shoulder. “You’re not trifling,” he said.

  She smiled, went to the kitchen, and came back with a big black garbage bag. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for everything. And don’t worry about me. I’m going to be all right.”

  “Of course, you are. We’ve all had bad days. At some point in our lives, we all have a bad day.”

  Chapter 30

  Whoso boasteth himself of a false gift is like clouds and wind without rain.

  —Proverbs 25:14

  I was looking forward to Christmas this year. Marcus and I had really gotten close in a short amount of time. In fact, we were spending as much time together as possible whenever we could. I tried not to feel too left out when he got Aaliyah on his assigned weekends. I knew how important it was for him to spend time with her without feeling like he needed to show balance when we were together. Aaliyah was his child. And honestly, at this stage of the game, I wouldn’t want to be with any man who did any less than Marcus was doing for his child.

  We would talk on the phone after she went to bed. Occasionally, the three of us would all do something together. But it was important for him to give Aaliyah father-daughter time, and I totally respected and admired him for that.

  My brother, Diddy-bo, came to see me. He and his ex-wife are always at each other. She fights him about picking up his son, Desmond, when it’s his turn to get him. There were a few times early on when he didn’t make his child support payment. She would keep him from seeing Desmond until he got caught up. It wasn’t his fault he had lost his job and didn’t have the money. But that didn’t matter to her. She treated Desmond as though he were some type of collateral at a pawn shop.

  “When you have my money, then you can see your son,” Bernadette told him. “No money, no son.”

  Diddy-bo was so frustrated. “I don’t know how I ended up marrying that woman in the first place,” he said when he was at the end of his rope. “She could be
the poster child for why one shouldn’t have sex before marriage. If I hadn’t gotten her pregnant, I would have had time to learn what kind of person she really was. I assure you, I never would have married her.”

  But Diddy-bo really loved his son. He tried explaining to Bernadette that he just didn’t have the money right then. He was trying to find a job, and he would pay her every cent he owed when he did. He told her it was just as important that he be in his child’s life as it was for him to give her money. “Where’s the hope in all of this?”

  “I’m sorry, but this boy likes to eat,” Bernadette said. “He can’t live off hope. Instead of worrying about spending time with him, you need to be worrying about finding my money and paying me. I tell you what. When you get the cash, you can see your son. Until then, you’d better hope I don’t file something with the court and have them come pick you up and put you in jail for failure to pay your child support bill.”

  I couldn’t believe it when Diddy-bo told me all of this. It made me so mad I wanted to call Bernadette up and tell her a thing or two.

  “Do you know how many women wish the fathers of their children even wanted to be in their life? Do you know how what you’re doing, in the name of the almighty dollar, is affecting your child?” But Diddy-bo told me I had better not call Bernadette and say anything to her. He would work it out.

  I suppose he must have worked something out because a month later, he had Desmond. And he still hadn’t been able to find a job. I understand it from both sides. Nae-nae has three children and not one of her children’s three daddies wants to have anything to do with them.

  “I don’t care about the money so much,” Nae-nae has said to me on more than one occasion. “My children are hurting because they think their daddies don’t care about them. I even told them I would bring the children to them, but they don’t care. All they’re interested in is chasing another skirt and in the process end up making more babies they don’t plan to take care of or show any love.”

  I don’t know why Nae-nae seems to keep picking the wrong men. She and I have discussed that. I suppose I can’t talk since my track record is not all that great either. At least, it wasn’t until now.

  Nae-nae met Marcus the other night when he came over. She had asked me to keep her children while she went out on a date with some guy she had met during the week. She was supposed to have picked them up that Friday night after the date was over. I didn’t see Nae-nae until Saturday evening. She at least had the decency to call this time. That’s one of the biggest problems I have with her. She will ask you to do something and just take for granted you have nothing else to do but wait on her. Then you end up having to track her down, especially if you’ve agreed to keep her children. She does it almost every time without fail.

  So Saturday evening, when she finally came to pick up her children, she got to meet Marcus. He and I were going to a Christmas party Angela and Brent were having at their house. I couldn’t wait to see their house. I’d heard so much about it.

  Angela was still at her apartment when she was planning the wedding. Brent had built this house over a year ago, although Angela did tell me she had a hand in planning it. This was even before they started dating. I love a good romance story. And it certainly sounded like that’s what Angela and Brent’s relationship was. How romantic is it to lay out the plans for a house with a man you’re not even dating at the time, end up marrying him, and then live in that same house later?

  I had told Nae-nae when I agreed to children-sit that I had a date with Marcus on Saturday night. At the time, I hadn’t thought she would take that to mean she could stay out on her date until my date began. I was so upset with her when she got there.

  “Well, don’t you look pretty in that black sparkly dress? Oooh, just look at you,” Nae-nae said as she strolled through my front door. “Girl, stop looking at me like that. Now you know you can never stay mad at me.”

  “And you know you need to stop all your sinning,” I said, keeping my voice down even though the kids were in the back watching television.

  “Who said I was sinning?”

  “Oh, so you want me to believe you went out on a date last night, you’re just now coming back some twenty-four hours later, and all the two of you did was sit and watch the moon and the stars? Then later you watched the sun come up, and the sun go down again because you enjoyed seeing it so much the first time around and that’s why you couldn’t find your way home? That’s the reason you’re just now getting here wearing what you had on yesterday? Is that what you want me to think?”

  Nae-nae gave me one of her let’s-not-go-there looks. “Now I know you’re not trying to judge me. You know what the Bible says about judging folks. The way you and Marcus seem to be hanging out with each other, I know you don’t expect me to believe you and he are just holding hands and watching the stars and the moon yourself.” She grunted. “You’re talking to your girl here—Nae-nae. This is Nae-nae you’re talking to. I know you. Of all the people who know you, I know you. And although you’ve kept mum about what you’re actually doing with this Marcus fellow, I know you, Melissa.”

  “I told you, Nae-nae. I’m not doing that anymore. I rededicated my life to Christ, and I’m trying to live according to his Word. And that means no fornication.”

  “Uh-huh,” Nae-nae said as she gathered up the bags with her children’s things in them so she could take them to the car. “I see your mouth moving, but like I said, you’re talking to me. This your girl you’re talking to. You remember: your running partner? The one you tell all your deepest, darkest secrets to? That is, you used to tell before you starting hanging out with this Marcus fellow.”

  “I’m a Christian, and I’m not playing with this now. I’m sold out for Jesus, and I’m serious about my walk with the Lord.”

  “Do you know how many Christians run their mouths about being saved, sanctified, filled with the Holy Ghost, and are living in sin just as big as they want to? Do you know how many of them are sneaking around doing what they do? Trying to keep everybody else from knowing what they’re really doing behind closed doors while seeming to forget that what we down here think really doesn’t count? But the Lord up above sees them, and He’s the one who matters. Then they have the nerve to say that all you have to do is ask the Lord to forgive you, and He’s just and will forgive you.”

  “Well, if you confess your sins and ask for forgiveness, He will forgive you,” I said.

  “You’re missing my point. If a Christian knows it’s wrong before they do it, then why do it and then turn around and ask forgiveness for it? You knew it was wrong before you did it, while you were doing it, then after you finish, you want God to wipe it clean?”

  “I thought you were a Christian.”

  “According to the criteria, I am. But I know I’m messing up so I try to keep a low profile so people won’t confuse me with what a Christian is supposed to be,” Nae-nae said. “In other words, the way some of these so-called Christians have messed me up when I watch them act one way at church and entirely different once they leave the church building, I’ve decided I don’t want to be that kind of stumbling block to other folks. I’d rather work on being better, then after I get myself together, I can be a real testament to the Lord.”

  “I have problems with that philosophy personally,” I said.

  “What philosophy?”

  “That you have to get yourself together first. That’s why we have the Holy Spirit inside us, to direct us and guide us along the way. God knows we’re going to mess up. And no, He doesn’t want us out there messing up deliberately. But not professing you’re a Christian just because you know you’re messing up seems a little like a cop-out to me. It’s almost like you’re denying Christ.”

  “Well,” Nae-nae said, “I don’t want to be out there telling folks, ‘Look at me, I’m a Christian. Don’t pay attention to what I’m doing. Just hear me when I tell you I’m a Christian. I know I’m not living right. But God knows we’re onl
y human. You shouldn’t be following me anyway. I mess up, I ask for forgiveness, that’s the way we Christians do this. Come on in, the water’s fine,’” Nae-nae said, mocking some folks we all know.

  “Nope, not me,” she said. “Now, I did go to the altar and ask Jesus to come into my heart. But there are a lot of jagged edges, a lot of impurities in my life. I am trying, though, Peaches. I also know that the way I’m living is not a testament to the Lord. I for one just don’t want to be a hypocrite. If other folks do and it doesn’t bother them, then more power to them. That’s between them and their God.”

  “I hear what you’re saying, and I know where you’re coming from, but God will do the refining. We can’t make ourselves better. When we become saved, we aren’t instantly transformed. It’s a process with much prayer involved.” My doorbell rang and I looked at my watch. “That’s Marcus,” I said. “He’s here.”

  “Well, let me get these children and get out of your way.” She stood there without moving.

  I headed toward the door, then stopped and looked at her. “I thought you were going to get the children.”

  “Not before I meet this man who has seemingly changed your life,” Nae-nae said as she smoothed down the sides of her hair. “I mean, he’s got you smiling, acting all giddy and everything. Got you keeping things from me, your girl. I want to see this man, and I don’t want my children all over me when I do.” She made a circular motion with her hand. “Hurry up.”

  I shook my head and laughed at her. I smoothed my dress down once more to make sure I was straight, then I put on my best smile and opened the door.

  “Wow!” Marcus said. “Wow.”