Deeper Water (6 page)

However, like a hidden log just beneath the surface of the water, Moses' habit of tying up at the river docks concealed an unknown danger.

AFTER PUTTING ON MY PAJAMAS, I took my Bible and journal downstairs to the front room. I turned on a small lamp and knelt in front of the sofa. God could speak quickly, or he might make me wait. To set a timetable for an answer would be disrespectful to his sovereignty. God was merciful, but prayer wasn't always meant to be a desperation plea by someone wanting a quick fix to a thorny problem.

Divine guidance about a summer legal clerkship with Braddock, Appleby, and Carpenter would have to come indirectly. Savannah, Georgia, didn't appear in the sixty-six books within the black leather cover, and the references to rabbinical lawyers, especially in the New Testament, weren't very complimentary. Any impression I received would be closely scrutinized by my parents.

I started by spending time thanking God for his past love and faithfulness. Although completely sufficient in himself, the Lord, like any parent, appreciated the thanks of a grateful child.

As I thought about God's goodness, I remembered a time in high school when I didn't have the money needed for a weeklong trip to Washington, D.C., and the deposit for the trip was due on a Monday. Without telling anyone except my parents, I prayed for the funds, and after church on Sunday morning a man in our church gave me a check for the exact amount I needed. Remembering how I felt at the time, a wave of emotion touched me, and I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye. More instances of God's goodness came to mind. I momentarily pushed aside the reason for my private prayer meeting.

I loved the Psalms and decided to quote Psalm 100 from memory, placing special emphasis on the verse about entering his gates with thanksgiving and his courts with praise. A civil courthouse was light-years from the place where David worshipped the Lord with all his might, but while meditating on the vast differences, a prayer welled up within me. I knew the next words from my mouth would be important.

"Lord, wherever I go, may I make the court of law a place of praise."

It was a beautiful thought. To find a place of holiness in the midst of a secular courtroom was something I'd never considered, and I marveled at a new facet of God's greatness. I might not shout "Hallelujah" in a judge's face, but my soul, like Mary's, could magnify the Lord, and my spirit could rejoice in God, my Savior. And the truth was even greater than that. Wherever I set my foot, not just a courtroom, could be a place of worship.

My mind raced ahead. The practice of law itself could be a place where I praised the Lord. I repeated, "Lord, wherever I go, may I make the court of law a place of praise," several times, pausing at different points for emphasis until each word was a brick laid on the solid foundation of faith. My tears returned. The prayer fit my life's journey. Since I was a little girl, I'd been called to live a holy lifeevery thought, word, and deed sanctified to the Lord. Now I could glimpse how this might be fulfilled in a new way in the future.

Lifting my hands in the air, I began to walk back and forth across the room. This was the time to tarry in secret. Not to rush. Praise offered in the night bears fruit in the day. I sat on the couch and made notes in my journal. When I finished, I peeked around the corner and saw the light shining underneath my parents' door. I didn't have an answer to my summer job question, but I was content. I'd received a greater good.

Before getting into bed, I stepped quietly over to the bunk bed, gently laid my hands on the twins, and asked that the grace poured out on me this night might also be theirs. Giving was always a part of receiving.

"GOOD MORNING," Mama said when I came into the kitchen with a half dozen fresh eggs. She stared at me. "What happened to you, Tammy Lynn? You're radiant with the joy of the Lord!"

"Yes ma'am. Last night-"

The twins came bursting into the room in the heat of an argument. Emma accused Ellie of switching a pair of good socks for a pair with holes in the toes.

"I know the good ones are mine!" Emma said. "I put them in the top drawer when I folded my clothes."

"We both have a good pair and a bad pair," Ellie responded. "She's gotten them mixed up."

Mama pointed upstairs. "Go back to your room and come back when you have this worked out."

The twins stomped out. Mama turned to me. "Wait till your daddy is here to tell me. He's going to stay a few minutes after breakfast so we can talk."

It was an oatmeal morning. Mama had fixed a huge pot that we dished out and garnished with fresh fruit, raisins, brown sugar, and nuts. Emma and Ellie returned after sorting out the sock con troversy. Daddy and the boys joined us. I sat quietly and ate my breakfast.

Several times Mama glanced at me. Nothing excited her more than the move of the Spirit in a person's life, especially for one of her children. After breakfast, she shooed the twins from the room. Mama scooted close to Daddy and spoke.

"Walter, let her go first."

Daddy looked surprised. "Why?"

"Just listen."

I quietly told them what happened the previous night. At first Mama gave a slight nod or two, but by the time I finished, she'd gotten up from the bench and began walking back and forth across the kitchen, much as I'd done the previous night. When I finished, Daddy pointed at her and grinned.

"The twins are going to get some good preaching during Bible study this morning," he said.

"I can't sit still when the Spirit is moving like this," Mama said.

"So, you think it was the Lord?" I asked.

Mama looked to heaven and raised her hands in the air.

"That's a yes,"' Daddy answered, rising from the bench. "I'll get my Bible."

He returned with the tattered Bible he used at home.

"You know most of this by heart, but I want to read it," he said, turning the pages.

He began in Matthew 6, just before Jesus' reference to the lilies of the field. I loved listening to Daddy's voice. He read the Bible as if it was a letter from a loved one. He finished and looked at me.

"The most important thing is to seek first the kingdom. That's what you did last night. I told your mama that if your heart was fixed on the Lord, it would be the sign we needed." He paused and looked at her. She nodded. "You have our permission to take the job in Savannah if that's what you believe you're supposed to do."

It was a serious moment. I felt a shift in responsibility for my life to my own shoulders. A touch of fear gripped me.

"But what do you think I should do?"

"Exactly what you did last night," Mama answered. "Hear his voice and obey it."

"He didn't say anything about the job."

"What is in your heart to do?"

"My heart is desperately wicked," I began.

"Stop it!" Mama commanded. "Don't abandon your faith."

Daddy spoke more gently. "Have confidence in God's goodness. Isn't that what you felt last night?"

"Yes sir."

I looked at their faces. I knew they loved me. I knew Jesus loved me. I shut my eyes for a few seconds. No visions appeared behind my eyelids. I opened my eyes and looked at Mama.

"What does your heart tell you?" she insisted.

I tried to look past the darkness at the core of my being and spoke slowly. "I think God has opened a door for me to go to Savannah, even though I don't know what's on the other side."

"Then finish out the semester and go to Savannah with our blessing," Daddy said.

Mama hugged me. "You'll be back. I know it."

AFTER DADDY LEFT FOR WORK, I called Braddock, Appleby, and Carpenter. As the phone rang, I imagined what the firm's office might look like. With fifteen lawyers and support staff, it would be too large for a grand old house converted into a law office. Most likely, the firm was in a modern office building. The receptionist transferred me to Ms. Patrick.

"This is Tami Taylor in Powell Station," I began. "Thanks for faxing the information about the job."

"I hope you've made a decision. There are other deserving candidates."

I took a deep breath. Even with Daddy's permission, I felt tentative. "Yes ma'am."

There was an awkward moment of silence. "And?" Ms. Patrick asked.

"I'd like to accept," I responded quickly before fear jumped on my back.

"I'll notify Mr. Carpenter. Any questions about the terms of the offer?"

"No ma'am."

"Then sign it and mail it to my attention. Will you need help finding a place to stay?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Would you like to live alone or with a roommate?"

I hesitated. Alone would be expensive, and I needed to save as much money as possible. But a roommate could be risky. In college, I shared a dorm room with a teammate from my high school basketball team. We were different, but she respected my beliefs. She wore headphones while listening to her music and never brought a boy into the room while I was there. I kept the room immaculate and helped her pass freshman English and chemistry for nonscience majors.

"A roommate would be fine if we have a chance to talk before making a decision," I replied.

"One of the summer clerks is a girl from Atlanta. Do you want her name and number?"

"Yes ma'am." I grabbed a pen and a piece of paper from Mamas nightstand.

"Here it is," Ms. Patrick said in a few moments. "Julie Feldman. She's finishing her second year at Emory."

I swallowed. Feldman sounded Jewish. Our church believed the Jews were God's chosen people, but I'd never had to choose one myself. Ms. Patrick rattled off a phone number and e-mail address that I scribbled on the sheet of paper.

"Give Julie a call or send her an e-mail. She's already been down to look for a place to stay."

"Are there any other summer clerks?"

"Yes, a young man who grew up in Charleston. He's attending Yale."

My eyes opened wider. The thought that my neophyte legal work would be compared to that of an Ivy League law student was instantly intimidating.

"Okay. I'll get in touch with Julie."

Ms. Patrick spoke in a more pleasant tone of voice. "Call if you need help or have other questions. You'll have a great time in our program. Summer associates get to sample everything Savannah has to offer."

"Yes ma'am."

I hung up the phone. Ms. Patrick might be upbeat about everything Savannah had to offer, but it sounded ominous to me. Social pressures to conform were constant, but never welcome. I didn't relish the prospect of a future laden with the smorgasbord of sin. Not that I feared temptation. Doing the right thing was easy compared to defending my conduct to skeptics. I glanced at the slip of paper in my hand and decided not to contact Julie Feldman until I returned to school where I had constant Internet access. I'd made enough quick decisions about my future in the past twenty-four hours.

Mama and the twins were in the front room. I quietly watched them for a minute from the doorway. Emma and Ellie had their heads close together as they shared a science book. The sock dispute had vanished like the morning mist above the ground outside. Mama was sitting in a rocking chair reading a devotional book.

I'd loved my homeschool years with Mama. I wasn't naive about turning back the clock, but the refuge of home always seemed more precious when thinking about the hostile world at the end of the dirt driveway.

I spent the rest of the morning with Mama and the twins. The routine of the day restored my equilibrium. After helping fix bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches for lunch, I mailed the summer clerkship agreement to Savannah. Turning toward the house, I absorbed every detail of the scene. I hoped my anchor in the hills of Powell Station was strong enough to hold me fast in the murky waters of Savannah.

LATE THAT AFTERNOON, I took two pillows to the front porch and positioned them on the swing so I could lie down comfortably.

The swing creaked as I shifted my weight. Flip and Ginger, hearing the sound of the swing, ambled around the corner of the house and took up their customary positions in the dirt beneath the porch.

I studied the massive poplar tree in our front yard. The new leaves showed no sign of the stress that would come with the onslaught of summer's heat. I wiggled my toes, which appeared as large as the trees on a distant hill. Before I realized it, Emma was tapping me on the shoulder.

"Wake up!"

I blinked. "Was I asleep?"

"Don't pretend you were praying," Emma said. "Is Mama going to let you live in Savannah this summer?"

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Ellie standing just inside the house.

"Ask her," I responded.

The twins ran toward the kitchen. I got out of the swing and followed.

Emma and Ellie were firing questions at Mama when I entered the kitchen. They knew that if they could persuade Mama to change her mind, it would negate my plans. Arguing with me would be a waste of time.

"Fix the spaghetti sauce for supper while I talk to your sisters," Mama said to me.

She took the girls onto the back steps. In a few seconds it was quiet. I opened two jars of canned tomatoes, added other ingredients from the spice pantry, and placed the pot of chunky sauce on the stove to simmer. Mama and the twins returned. She looked at me.

"Did you promise Ellie that she and Emma could visit you in Savannah this summer?"

"No ma'am," I said, and then continued quickly when I saw Ellie about to explode. "I told her a trip might be arranged if you and Daddy gave permission. I don't even know where I'm going to stay."

Mama turned to Ellie. "Is that what she said?"

"I'm not sure. I was sleepy."

A trip to Savannah isn't like a drive for a picnic at the park. And I don't want to be like Jacob and have all my children leave and go down to Egypt. Unlike Canaan during the time of Joseph, there isn't a famine in Powell Station."

"But it meant the whole family got to be together," Emma said.

"Go upstairs and straighten up your room," Mama told the girls.

"I'm sorry if I caused a problem with my mention of a visit," I said when they left the room.

"It was a helpful diversion," she replied. "They love you so much the thought of your absence hurts. A trip to see you gives them something else to think about."