Dominion (20 page)

“Hundreds of times. We’ve asked everybody we know to pray for her. We’ve prayed God would take away the HIV. When the cancer started, we prayed he’d remove it. The chemo’s been going pretty well, but the ultimate prognosis is the same. We’re thankful for whatever time we have with her.”

“You don’t sound like you have much faith God will heal her.”

“I go back and forth, I guess. My pastor helped me do some study on it. Paul said he prayed three times for God to heal him from some terrible disease. He called it a thorn in the flesh. And God said no. He chose not to heal him. Paul talks about one of his fellow workers he left behind sick, and he tells Timothy to take a little wine because of his stomach problems. If Paul and his coworkers didn’t get healed, I don’t think it was lack of faith, and I don’t think we can assume all of us will get healed. If God always healed or didn’t allow accidents, nobody would ever die.”

“So, have you given up?” Clarence asked.

“No, of course not. I still ask God to heal her, every day. I know he can, but I don’t know if he will. I guess that’s up to him, not me. I don’t want to lose her, that’s for sure. I feel like it’s been such a short time since I’ve found her again. Then I look at baby Finney, and I say, Lord, that boy needs his mother.” Jake’s voice cracked.

“When adults get hurt, that’s bad enough,” Clarence said. “But when it’s kids, it just tears me up. Felicia’s the sweetest little girl.” He let out an unexpected moan. “And she’s lost her mama, the best mama you ever knew.”

Jake put his arm on Clarence’s shoulder. Then he faced him and put his arms around him in a full hug. The two big proud successful men held on to each other, both realizing they had no control over life.

Clarence got special permission to bring the pastor from his old church into ICU to see Felicia. Though it had been a year since he’d left Pastor Turlock’s church, Clarence swallowed hard and called him, asking him to come pray over her.

“Lord,” Pastor Turlock prayed, “we claim the healing provided in the atonement of Jesus. ‘By his stripes we are healed.’ You healed lepers and gave sight to the blind and raised Lazarus from the dead. It’s a small thing for you to heal this little girl. We believe you
will
heal her. We
know
you will heal her. We claim the promises of God for her healing. We claim the hundred-fold blessing you promise to those who serve you.”

After praying the prayer numerous times in different ways, finally the pastor said, “Amen.” Uncharacteristically, Clarence echoed his own loud “Amen.” They walked out to the ICU waiting room, where Geneva and the pastor’s wife had prayed and were now catching up on the past year.

“I’m sure the Lord’s going to heal her, Clarence,” Pastor Turlock told him.

Clarence nodded, attempting to be sure himself.

“God wants her well; we know that. He’s going to heal her. He already has healed her. We just need to claim it.”

“So, what about Dani?” Clarence asked.

“What do you mean?”

“If God wants all his children healthy, how come he allows them to die?”

“I guess she was gone before anyone could pray for her.”

Clarence held the words that came to mind, afraid they would show a lack of faith.

“Have faith, Brother Clarence. Trust God that he’ll raise this child up to health. Claim his promises.”

After escorting the pastor and his wife out and trying to explain why they went to a different church now, Clarence and Geneva went back to Felicia’s side.

He looked at her innocent face, so placid, and saw her mother’s features. It took him back thirty-five years to when Dani was frightened one night and called him into her room to sleep nearby. Once she’d fallen asleep, Dani had looked just like Felicia did now, except no blue tubes and whirring machines.

Without warning, Felicia’s face twitched. Her lips moved ever so slightly. Hope rose up in his chest.

“Felicia? Felicia honey? You’re there, aren’t you? You can hear me now, can’t you?”

He saw what seemed to be a faint smile on her lips. She was coming back. He believed, he finally believed God was healing her. Her eyes opened slightly, like window blinds given a half turn. He knew she was looking at him.

“Oh, Felicia baby.” He cupped her tiny left cheek in his big right hand. “It’s so good to have you back where you belong!”

He was about to call the doctor, but his teary eyes locked on Felicia’s droopy ones. Yes, he could see recognition in her eyes. She was seeing someone she knew. She was going to live!

Suddenly the eyes dropped closed and the lips fell limp. The machines started beeping. First a nurse, then a doctor came running into the room, yelling out orders.

Clarence stepped back. A whirlwind of activity followed, with blue and white outfits moving around the bed like medicine men performing a tribal dance. Clarence wondered if perhaps medicine men might have more power over life than these doctors did.

After a few minutes of chaos, calm returned to the room.

Felicia was gone.

Three days later Clarence stood at the graveside in front of the little white casket. The funeral had been worse than Dani’s. Much worse. Pastor Clancy couldn’t talk about what a full life Felicia’d had.

“Death is the destiny of every man,” Clancy read from Ecclesiastes as he stood over the grave. “The living should take this to heart.” He cleared his throat. “God had a wonderful purpose for this delightful child. Her life here was only five years long, but she was ready to meet the Lord—she always used to tell me Jesus was her best friend. Well, every one of us is going to die too. And God says we better take death to heart, to make sure we prepare for our own deaths. Felicia was ready to meet the Lord. The question is, are you?”

“A man shouldn’t have to see his grandbaby die,” Obadiah whispered to Clarence. “The Lord gives, and the Lord takes away.” The old man’s voice broke. “Blessed be the name of the Lord.”

If you wouldn’t do it for me, at least you could have done it for Daddy. Is this how you repay the people who serve you? Is this how you answer prayer? She was just a child. Just a little girl.

Another familiar face. The index cards of Dani’s mind sorted themselves quickly and she remembered. Thirty-two years ago. The white woman who lived down the street from her aunt in Jackson. Diane McClure.

Dani and Antsy were visiting their aunt. Dani had been riding an unfamiliar bike, too big for her. Antsy wasn’t with her on this ride. She’d strayed too far off the sidewalk and hit a mailbox, falling to the ground and crying. Mrs. McClure ran out of her house and fussed over her. “You poor darling.”

She brought her inside. At first Dani was afraid; she’d never been in a white person’s home before. Mrs. McClure gave her cookies and Kool-Aid. She sat with Dani and talked to her, asked her about herself as if she was genuinely interested. She was, Dani knew. Diane McClure had called her aunt to assure her Dani was safe and asked if she could stay and visit with her for awhile because her children were grown and Dani was such a delightful little girl.

The Carpenter had said that not even a cup of cold water given to one of his little ones would be forgotten in heaven. Mrs. McClure hadn’t been forgotten, even though Dani hadn’t thought much about her all those years. Now she hugged her tight.

“Thanks for the cookies. And thanks for loving me when I was so scared.”

“It was my pleasure,” Diane said. “Elyon used me to show his love to you. That’s his way. There’s no higher joy than to be used by him.”

“That’s true, isn’t it?” Dani said. “On earth, it seemed like being used by someone was the worst thing. But the
best
thing is for Jesus to use you.” Her eyes shone like a little girl safe and warm and eating cookies, and Diane McClure’s shone like a woman helping a little girl in need.

Suddenly there came a rush of people with whom Dani had already been reunited. They ran past her and Diane, back toward the birthing room. What was going on? She followed them, finding Zeke and Nancy standing at the room’s doorway from the other world.

“We have another arrival,” Nancy said.

A tall dark warrior walked through the portal. Holding his hand, eyes wide with wonder, walked the most beautiful young girl Dani had ever seen. So beautiful that for a moment she didn’t recognize her.

“Felicia! My baby!”

“What happened, Mommy?” Felicia asked. “I heard a loud noise and…where are we?”

Just as Dani started to speak, someone else stepped forward, the Answer to every question. Felicia stared at him, eyes full of wonder.

“Jesus is my best friend. You’re Jesus, aren’t you?”

“Yes. And you are my special friend too. I have a new name for you. But first, you have a question you want to ask me.”

She scrunched up her face and asked, “Are you Aslan?”

The Carpenter laughed. “I have many names. Elyon. El Shaddai. Lion of Judah. Lamb of God. Jesus. Messiah. Ancient of Days. No one name is nearly enough. Yes, I am Aslan too. Would you like me to roar like a lion?”

Her eyes got big. He laughed and roared a playful but powerful roar. All those around saw the delighted face of the child peering deeply into the eyes of one both Lion and Lamb.

Dani hugged Felicia again. Though she hadn’t been away from her long, she was eager to share this place with her.

“You can talk with her at the welcoming feast,” the Carpenter said to Dani. “But now is my time with her. I have first claim on her, you know. You loved her for five years. I loved her before I created the universe.”

Dani watched them walk off together: a child so small that every aspect of this place was a wonder crying out to be explored, a God so big that every relationship was unique, every conversation fresh, every destination tailor-made to each of his children.

Zeke and Nancy came up to Dani. “Finally I have a chance to ask you,” Dani said. “I know I have a special link with you. But what is it? Who are you?”

“We are your great-grandparents,” Nancy said with obvious pride. “Felicia is our great-great-granddaughter. We’ve watched you, cheered for you, prayed for you, waited for you to join us here in the great cloud of witnesses.”

“I was your father Obadiah’s grandfather,” Zeke said. “He never knowed me. I died when my little Ruth, Obadiah’s mother, was still young. They sold me and tore me apart from my Nancy and my Ruth. I never seen neither of them again till I comes here. I had plans to come get them one day, but then the hounds chased me down when I was goin’ for the railroad. The Underground Railroad, you know? Some very fine white people. I’ll introduce you to ’em soon and then—”