Humbled (15 page)

Saturday came and went. Early Sunday morning, Don and Abigail found themselves in the Greater Faith Chapel parking lot. He had gotten up without an alarm clock, eager to get to church on time. Abigail wasn't upset when he showed up a half hour early. She'd rushed to finish getting dressed without complaining. That was the Abigail he knew, consistently supportive. They might have experienced a few bumpy moments over the past couple of months, but Don didn't believe a bond like theirs could be erased over a few disagreements. He just had to convince Abigail.

“You can tell we're pretty early. There aren't many cars in the parking lot. When we visited before, we couldn't get near the building unless we parked in the visitors' row.”

Don agreed. “Since we've been here three or four times, I don't feel right parking in a visitor's space. We have to fend for ourselves and park in the spaces for regular folks.”

After parking, the two talked as they walked toward the entrance. Several people had gathered in the vestibule, because the sanctuary doors were closed.

“Is an earlier service going on?” Don asked an usher.

“Oh, no. They're in devotion.”

“If you don't mind me asking, what is devotion?” Abigail asked.

“It's the warm-up for our main service.” The male usher laughed. “We welcome the Holy Spirit into this church early in the morning and keep Him with us until the afternoon.” The usher laughed some more. “I hope you're ready to worship the Lord, because that's what we do here at Greater Faith. We worship the Lord all day long.”

Don peered at Abigail. She had to be as humored as he was.

“Well, well, well,” Don heard someone say. He turned to find Joel standing behind him.

“What are you doing here?” Don asked.

“Same as you. I've come to get some religion,” he said, grinning. Joel directed his attention to Abigail. “I guess we're all trying to get some religion,” he said softly. “I didn't realize the two of you were together.”

“We're not,” Abigail responded quickly.

Don was taken aback by the fact that she had so easily discounted him. He let it go, though, without adding his own commentary. The three lingered a few minutes before the doors leading into the sanctuary finally opened. They took a few steps away from the doors to let people come out.

“Can we go in?” Abigail asked the usher once the sanctuary had emptied.

“Yes, you can. Service will start in about fifteen minutes. I hope you enjoy the fellowship with us today.”

“I'm sure we will,” Don replied.

“Excuse me,” Joel said to a person in the lobby who was wearing a church name tag. “Do you know if Mother Emma Walker is here today?”

“I haven't seen her, but I'm sure she's around here somewhere.”

“Could you let her know Joel Mitchell said hello?”

“I sure will,” the church member said.

Don was overjoyed when Joel asked about the church mother. He hoped to see Mother Walker but wasn't comfortable asking for her directly. It was too much like hunting down a word from God. He saw those gullible people on the TV ministries, the ones who ran behind evangelists and prophets, begging for a word from God. He definitely wanted a word, but he wasn't going to appear like a fanatic. It wasn't God's way, and Don knew as much. But he wouldn't pass up a word from Mother Walker if she came to him.

“We better go in and get seats,” Abigail said.

“What's the hurry? We have time.” Don wouldn't dare reveal his true motivation for lingering in the vestibule.

“I'm going in,” Joel said.

Don checked his watch. Nine fifty-five. He'd give in and go sit down. Chasing a prophetic word was like ordering from a drive-through menu. It felt ridiculous, and he squashed the notion. “All right. Let's go in,” he replied. God knew where to find him.

As soon as the three agreed to enter the sanctuary, a soft voice rose up in the vestibule. “My goodness, if it isn't the Mitchell boys. Ooh, look what the cat done dragged in.”

“Mother Walker, it's a pleasure to see you,” Don replied. He was excited, as if she was an angel the Lord had sent directly to him.

“It is good to see you, Mother Walker,” Joel added.

Mother Walker flung her hands in the air and hugged them. “No need to be so formal. Everybody around here calls me Big Mama. You can too.” Don and Joel nodded, acknowledging her request. “It's been, what? The better part of a year since the two of you came to fellowship with us?”

Don attempted to tell her he'd been to the church earlier in the year, but Big Mama was the equivalent of a rock star. She had him tongue-tied. He cleared his throat several times to regain his composure. Joel didn't seem bothered, but he wasn't speaking much, either. Abigail was quiet too.

“Service is going to be starting in a few minutes. Please take your seat in the sanctuary,” an usher announced.

Don wasn't going anywhere. Big Mama had his complete attention.

The ushers corralled people inside. “Excuse me, Big Mama, but we're getting ready to start. Did you want me to escort you down front?” an usher asked.

She flung her hands in the air again. “No need. I'm able-bodied. I sho' thank you for offering to help me get to my seat, but I'm not going in yet. I want to visit a little piece longer with our guests.”

The usher didn't resist.

Big Mama turned to Joel. “You're still running, huh?”

“What? Excuse me?” Joel replied.

“You've been gone for a long time, but now you need to come home,” she told Joel.

“You're right. I was in Chicago, but I returned to Detroit a few weeks ago.”

The church mother hesitated and shook her head. “I mean, you need to come back home in the spirit. You've been gone too long. God is waiting on you to return to Him. He's a patient God, but you don't want to keep Him waiting too long.” She patted his hand. “Hear me good,” she said.

Anxiety was swelling within Don. He was like a kid who was waiting his turn to ride the roller coaster. But Big Mama grabbed Abigail's hand next.

“What's going on with you?” she asked.

“Not much,” Abigail said.

“When you've done all you can do, then stand,” she said, squeezing Abigail's hand tighter.

“Enjoy the service and come see us anytime. We're glad to have you,” Big Mama told them.

Where was the rest? Where was his prophetic word? There had to be something left for Don. Joel and Abigail had gotten theirs. Now it was his turn. Yet Big Mama was walking away. He wanted to throw himself in her path and ask for a confirmation. She was getting farther away, and then he sighed. What was he thinking? His relationship with God had matured over the past three years enough for Don to know that He often spoke in quiet moments. God was the master of heaven and earth, full of power and resources. Each challenge and disappointment had laid a brick in the foundation of Don's faith. He had a personal relationship with God that was rooted in prayer, peace, faith, and thanksgiving. Don was embarrassed to be chasing after a person to give him a word from God. Where was his faith?

“Are you ready to go inside?” Don asked Joel and Abigail.

“I am. But you have to admit, the old lady makes some wild comments. Still, I like her,” Joel whispered. “Everything she has told us in the past has come true in one way or another, but you need an interpreter to understand the message.”

Abigail agreed, and Don too. They went inside for the service. The differences among them were left at the door, and for a brief season they were fellowshipping.

When the church service ended, Don exchanged pleasantries with his brother. Finally, he asked, “Anyone interested in lunch?”

“I'm going to decline,” Abigail told him.

“Why? You can't possibly be working today,” Don said.

“No, it's not work,” she said, cutting her gaze at Joel.

“Don't worry, big brother. She's telling the truth,” Joel observed. “It's not work that's holding her back. It's being around me that's churning her stomach.”

Don shook his head. “She doesn't have a problem with you.”

“You're wrong, big brother, on this one.” Joel turned to Abigail. Isn't he?”

“You seem to have all the answers,” Abigail said.

“See? I told you,” Joel told Don. “But it's okay. I'm going to see Zarah. So I have to take a rain check, anyway.”

Don didn't attempt to change their minds. It required too much effort. He was going to drop Abigail off and go to lunch alone. Sometimes the only route to peace was sitting alone. Sometimes it was the only way to hear from God and get clarity on the direction he had to go.

Eager to escape, Don was suddenly relieved that both Joel and Abigail had declined his lunch invitation.

Monday morning presented a fresh start. Joel had survived the series of letdowns from last week. He sat on a park bench as Mother Walker's words circled in his mind. She had told him to call her Big Mama, and he would in person, but Joel had become accustomed to her more formal name. Regardless of which name she used, her messages were like double-sided tape. Once she attached a message to you, there was no way to escape. A person was stuck with trying to understand the implications. Odd as it sounded, he was as glad to see Mother Walker as he had been intimidated. Usually, he didn't have a clue about what she was saying. Yesterday was no exception. He understood the need to rebuild his faith and his reliance on God's plan. He was open to developing his spiritual prowess. The problem was Mother Walker didn't provide definitive instructions for what he needed to do. She might as well have given him a treasure chest without the key. When Joel finally figured out how to open the chest, he might be forty years old, well beyond his prime.

If worrying was effective, he'd gladly partake. Even in the middle of a spiritual drought, he knew worrying wasn't the answer. So he didn't. He stretched his arms out across the bench. The air was chilly, but not so frigid that he wanted to pack up and leave. Minor discomforts he could handle. It was the major ones that threatened to knock him onto the canvas.

Mother Walker wasn't the only visitor consuming his thoughts this morning. Zarah had an equal presence. What was going on with her? He had thoroughly enjoyed the last couple of encounters. He wasn't familiar with the enthusiastic, intelligent, and passionate side of Zarah. His memory was lined with the unflattering remnants of a dull, docile, and dependent girl. He wanted the woman who could challenge him professionally, could stand her ground spiritually, and was able to capture the attention of every onlooker in the room. Any woman who brought less to the relationship wasn't likely to get the best from him. Iron sharpened iron. He was on top of his game when there was an equal exchange. He had an indescribable bond with Sheba, a mutual exchange of support and respect, a natural fit. He patted his chest, thinking about Sheba, until the image of Zarah aggressively cut in. She didn't seem to be fleeing. He sat on the bench and let the sweet memories of both women marinate.

The ringing zapped his period of reflection. He fumbled to get the phone out of his pocket and answered quickly when he saw the number displayed.

“Uncle Frank, just the man I wanted to hear from,” he said. “What's the good news?”

“It's a bust, nephew.”

The statement sliced into him. “Oh, come on, Uncle Frank. I thought you had clout with these guys.”

“My clout isn't the problem. It's your bank account. They want eight hundred million. Based on our last conversation, that number seems too big for your wallet.”

Joel was getting riled up. He stood and put his foot on the bench. “How can they justify eight hundred million dollars for one small division? That's ridiculous!” he shouted. “That's highway robbery!”

Uncle Frank chuckled. “What do you expect? These are simple businessmen trying to make a profit on their investment, the investment you handed to them on a silver platter, nephew.”

Joel was aware of how these guys had acquired the division. He didn't need Uncle Frank to remind him of his mistake. They needed to dwell on the present and let the past stay buried.

“You told me this deal was coming in at seven hundred million, not eight.”

“Do you have seven hundred?” Uncle Frank fired back.

“No,” Joel replied quietly. His mother would gladly donate something to his cause, although she had nowhere near seven or eight hundred. He wouldn't dare ask Sheba. Joel was on his own, and he wanted it that way. “I don't have seven, but—”

“But nothing,” Uncle Frank interrupted, and then chuckled. His incessant chuckling was driving Joel batty. “You don't get it, do you? These cats are no joke. They're not playing games. If you want the division, show them the money. If you don't have it, shut up and stop wasting my time. Otherwise, I'll have to charge you for these consulting sessions with or without a deal.”

Joel considered sharing a few choice words with his uncle, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. As much as he hated what his uncle was saying, Joel acknowledged there was a great deal of underlying truth. Uncle Frank didn't create the original problem. It was a result of Joel's handiwork. He was humbled and had to fully accept the consequences of his decisions.

“Uncle Frank?”

“What?” his uncle replied with resounding agitation in his voice.

“Thank you for reaching out to your investors on my behalf. It didn't work out, but I appreciate your effort.”

A reaction he didn't expect to hear followed.

“Hang in there, nephew. You're smart, and you know how to make things happen. You're going to land on your feet. I'm sure of it.” Joel wasn't seeking validation, but it was a welcomed surprise from his father's brother. “Take my advice. When you make a deal, always make sure it's an equal exchange. If you're giving up too much to close a deal, then it's probably one you should walk away from.” Uncle Frank chuckled. It didn't bother Joel this time. He was in a different place emotionally. And the advice didn't sting. Joel actually found it insightful. “I'm giving you this tidbit for free, no charge on this one.”

They said their good-byes and terminated the call, along with Joel's plan.