The Yada Yada Prayer Group Gets Caught (25 page)

22

T
he phone started ringing Sunday morning while I was in the bathroom trying to salvage what was left of my weekold “party 'do.” Denny pounded on the door. “Jodi! It's for you. I've gotta shave anyway.” He handed me the phone as I came out.

“Jodi, how ya doin'? ” Florida was altogether too lively for this early in the morning. “Yada Yada comin' to my house this evening for a house blessing, right? ”

I racked my brain. Had we talked about this? “Uh, fine with me, Flo.” It would be the first time we met at Florida's home. Did that mean we had to call everybody?

“Well, help me remember to tell Stu and Avis at church today—Oh. Is Uptown meetin' with New Morning at the shopping center today? It's the fourth Sunday.”

I squinted at the kitchen calendar, suddenly annoyed.Why was I information central for Yada Yada, anyway? Today was the fourth Sunday all right, but August had five Sundays. I'd written on the fourth Sunday, “Meet w/ New Morn.” And on the fifth Sunday: “Uptown Bus Mtg.”

Yikes.The church business meeting was only a week away.
The decision about selling our building and merging with New Morning. Had I been praying about it? Seeking God, as Pastor Clark had urged? I blew out a breath. “Yeah, you're right, Florida. Thanks for the reminder.”

“Good. That means Nony and Hoshi will be there too—that's half the Yada Yadas right there! Hey, gotta go. See you in an hour or so.”

Well, at least I hadn't offered to make all the calls, and Florida hadn't asked me to. But I'd no sooner hung up than the phone rang again. Nony this time.My heart gave a lurch. “Nony? Is everything all right? ”

“Oh, yes, Jodi. God is good. Mark even wants to come to worship this morning—we are meeting at the new building, yes? He can't do the stairs at Uptown when New Morning meets there.”

Nony had said Mark hadn't been going to church, but I hadn't realized Uptown's stairs were such a barrier.
Duh.Of course.
Another reason for New Morning to get into their own building quickly. Maybe a good reason for Uptown to merge with New Morning, for that matter. How many other folks with disabilities were kept away from our worship services by those steep stairs?

“I'm calling because—just a moment, Jodi.” I heard a door close. Nony came back on the line, her voice lowered. “Can you still hear me? Hoshi is in the next room. It's her birthday next week. Remember? That's why her parents came to see her last year about this time. Can we do something for her at Yada Yada tonight? I will be glad to purchase a cake—”

“Fine with me.” I was starting to feel like a parrot, repeating myself.

“—but I was wondering, Jodi. Could you look up the meaning of her name? It might not be easy, since it's Japanese, but—”

“Sure.” Doing a meaning-of-the-name card would be fun, especially since nobody was asking me to bake a cake. “I'll see what I can do.”

IT WAS GREAT TO SEE MARK SMITH at worship that morning. Nony drove their minivan and unloaded Hoshi and her family at the door of New Morning's shopping-center church. Marcus and Michael ran ahead to open the double-glass doors, but Mark walked into the large sanctuary-in-progress on his own steam. A black patch over his left eye made him look a bit suave and mysterious, but I noticed that he found a chair quickly and stayed anchored during the entire two-hour service. He'd always looked slender and fit; now he just looked thin and fragile. But he was there. Smiling.

I apologized to the Lord for my snippy attitude that morning, but I still couldn't shake the feeling that something felt “off ” during the whole service. I shut my eyes, trying to close out my normal distractions, enjoying the combined praise team—especially that lovely wailing saxophone—as our two congregations filled the house with “We bring a sacrifice of praise!” and “What a mighty God we serve!” followed by a few quieter worship songs: “I love to worship You,” and a new one to me, “This is the air I breathe . . . Your holy presence living i.”

That's what I want, Lord,
I thought, breathing my own prayer.
Your holy presence living in me.

So why did I feel so edgy today? Couldn't put my finger on it until Debra Meeks,my new friend from New Morning, came up to me after the service and gave me a hug. “It's a strange time, isn't it? ” the older woman commented. “Both of our congregations trying to decide whether we want to merge.” She gave a little snort. “What if you say yes and we say no? ”

I was startled by her matter-of-fact honesty. But I sensed nothing tense between us in her use of “you” and “we.” She was sharing with me. Pulling me into her circle. I raised an eyebrow. “Or vice versa.”

She laughed. “Guess it's a good thing we've got the Holy Spirit. God may need to be the tiebreaker.” With another hug, she was gone.

But Debra's comment brought my feelings into focus as I climbed into the Baxter minivan for the twelve short blocks home to Lunt Avenue. As much as I'd enjoyed the monthly services with New Morning this summer, even shared the excitement of possibly merging our two churches, I'd really wanted to be “just us” that morning, to soak up another Uptown worship service as I'd grown to know and love it in the past two years before we bid it good-bye. If I was honest with myself,my feelings were a tangled mess: anticipation mixed with loss, blessings mixed with uncomfortable change, trust in God's direction mingled with fear of the unknown.

I took Willie Wonka for a walk along the lake that afternoon, praying aloud, confessing all my mixed feelings to God, and trying to ignore the weird glances I got from the walkers and bikers and baby-stroller pushers who passed us. “Yeah, Wonka. Notice that they
all
pass us.”

But by the time I pried myself out of Stu's car in front of Florida's house that evening, I felt better for having confessed it all to God and actually
praying
about the upcoming business meeting rather than stewing about the decision we had to make.

Florida must have gotten the word around, because we had a good turnout that night at Yada Yada. Ruth huffed into the house, proudly wearing a bubblegum pink maternity smock that looked straight out of the eighties—probably left over from one of her early pregnancies and kept hopefully in the back of her closet the past twenty years. I almost commented on it, but Delores took one look at her and started scolding. “Ruth,
mi amiga,
you are too thin. What are you eating? ”

“Thin, schmin!” Ruth patted her tummy under the pink bubblegum. “What do you think this is, my bed pillow? ”

“That's
not
what I mean. Your face, your arms . . . how many pounds have you gained? ”

Ruth rolled her eyes. “How many
ounces
do you think these babies weigh at twenty weeks? Not even one pound. I'm fine. Not to worry. Ben worries enough for both of us.”

How Nony smuggled a cake into Florida's kitchen when she also brought Hoshi was beyond me. But Nony lifted an eyebrow at me as if to say,
Did you find her name?
I grinned and patted the tote bag holding my Bible and water bottle.Did I ever.

Avis arrived alone. “Rochelle didn't come this time? ” I asked.

Avis shook her head. “Dexter agreed to move out and get counseling. Rochelle seemed relieved to be able to go back home. She and Conny have to get back to something resembling a normal life, even with the marriage in trouble. Have to admit, so do we.” She allowed a wry smile. “It was getting a bit tense at home.”

I hadn't realized Stu had overheard, but she cut in. “Did she change the locks? No? Avis, I'm telling you. Tell Peter to change those locks.”

By the time Chanda blew in, everyone else had arrived. “'Scuse my fancy coffee table,” Florida smirked, setting chips and salsa on an overturned packing box. “We gettin' there; just ain't there yet.”

Chanda loaded a paper plate with potato chips, complaining that she'd been in her new house longer than Flo and we hadn't had a house blessing for
her
. “Well, just invite us, girl!” Florida said. “You can't wait around for ever'body to be thinkin' about you all the time. If you want somethin' to happen, speak up! We'll be there.”

My hand paused with a potato chip halfway to my mouth.
Sheesh.
Why couldn't I “speak the obvious truth” as Florida had just done without a tinge of irritation or self-righteousness? She made it look so easy.
Huh.
Maybe that's what the apostle Paul meant about “speaking the truth in love.” Not such a big deal, really.

Avis flopped open her big Bible. “Don't sit down, sisters. In a minute, we're going to bless this house from basement to attic. But if you've got your Bibles, turn to Psalm 127.” I dug my Bible out of my tote as she began to read: “‘Unless the Lord builds the house, its builders labor in vain. Unless the Lord watches over the city, the watchmen stand guard in vain.'”

“Jesus! Help us!” Florida said, shaking her head.

Ruth begged off from the blessing tour, saying she'd pray blessings right where she sat. Avis got out her little bottle of anointing oil, and we started first in the living room, asking God to “build this house” and watch over the family within its walls. Avis anointed the doorways as we went from room to room—the kitchen, the dining room, the dark and damp basement where empty spaces sat next to the laundry tubs. Carla, playing with a doll in her first-floor bed room, watched wide-eyed as Avis anointed her bed, her toy shelf, her CD player, and her desk as Delores poured out her heart for God's blessings in Spanish. The only words I recognized were “
muchacha preciosa” —
precious girl.

“Are the boys here? ” I whispered to Florida as she led the way upstairs.

She shook her head. “Carl took them to the park to play ball, to get them out of the way.” But her eyes twinkled. “Now
that
ain't happened since I can't remember when.”

We prayed a long time in the boys' bedrooms—each room hardly bigger than Chanda's new walk-in closet—then Florida unlocked a door and we crowded into the tiny “apartment” that made up the back half of the second floor: closet-sized kitchen, one room for living room and eating in, a small bedroom, and a tiny bath. Adele prayed that God would send “the right someone” to rent the apartment, and that it would be a blessing to whoever lived there.

As we all shuffled out, I noticed that Becky lingered, just standing there as if memorizing the four walls.

I hadn't noticed when Nony slipped downstairs, but when we wiggled ourselves in a long line down the narrow staircase to the first floor, Nony and Ruth were already lighting candles on a gorgeous bakery cake sitting precariously on the upturned packing box.Adele launched the group into “Happy birthday to youuuu . . .” as fingers gleefully pointed to Hoshi, who was blushing beneath her fall of shiny black hair.

“Hey, look at that.” Yo-Yo pointed to the cake. “Is that your name in Japanese or somethin', Hoshi? ” I did a double take. Sure enough, a Japanese character in mint green frosting graced the top of the cake—the same character I'd worked so hard to copy onto a card when I'd finally discovered the meaning of Hoshi's name.
Huh.
So much for my surprise.

“Look, nothin',” growled Adele. “Make a wish an' blow 'em out, Hoshi, or we're all gonna be eating wax with our frosting.”

Hoshi blew, Ruth cut, and Nony passed out mint green paper plates of raspberry-filled chocolate cake. I took out the card I'd made and showed off the front with its Japanese character, which looked somewhat like a leaping stick figure with a pigtail. “I thought I was so smart discovering how to write Hoshi's name in
kanji
script, but it looks like Nonyameko beat me to it. How'd you find it, Nony”

She laughed. “Hoshi's been teaching the boys bits of Japanese. I found a scrap of paper with ‘Hoshi' written on it and that drawing. Decided to take a chance.”

Ruth rolled her eyes. “That could mean ‘quit bugging me, you little
nudnik,
' for all you know.”

Hoshi burst out laughing, spraying cake crumbs everywhere. “No, no . . .”

I grinned. “Well, I'm sure Hoshi already knows the meaning of her name,which means ‘star' in
kanji
script. In fact, her name
is
Star in Japanese, right, Hoshi? ”

“Star? Oh, so beautiful.” Edesa, her own dark eyes alight, gave Hoshi a hug. Hoshi, blushing big time, nodded.

I opened the card, showing the words to a scripture verse on the inside. “I found a verse in First Corinthians that I thought fit Hoshi very well. ‘The sun has one kind of splendor, the moon another and the stars another; and star differs from star in splendor.' So, sisters, I'm going to pass this around, and I want all of you to write a note of appreciation for how Hoshi's splendor shines in our lives.”