The Yada Yada Prayer Group Gets Decked Out (18 page)

Astonishment sucked the breath right out of my body.
Nonyameko and Mark!
Two seconds later, I was pushing my way into the knot of bodies around the Sisulu-Smith family. I reached for Nony, who was laughing and trying to hug everyone at once.

“You're here! You're here! I thought—oh! Oh! This is wonderful!” I hugged Nony, hugged Mark—oh! That beautiful man, still wearing an eye patch, but otherwise looking fit and handsome, still sporting an elegant goatee—and then hugged their two young teens, Marcus and Michael, who were wearing black dashikis embroidered in white and seemed a bit uncomfortable with all the fuss.

“Oh, man, Dr. Smith,” I heard Josh say. “If I'd known you were going to be here in time for the wedding, I would have asked you to stand up with me or something.”

Mark Smith laughed. “Not a good idea, son. I might topple over from jet lag. It is enough that we can be here to witness this magnificent event.”

“Oh,Nony.” My eyes were tearing up. “We thought . . . I mean, weren't you going to spend Christmas with your family in Durban? How did you . . . I mean—”

Nonyameko wrapped her arms around me. I could smell the soft fabric of her flowing tunic, the warm musk of her skin. “Oh, Jodi. When we got Edesa's e-mail, that she and your Josh were get-ting married on Christmas Eve, we could not stay away. We did not tell anyone because we were not sure we could change our tickets and we did not want to disappoint. Holiday travel, you know. But . . . ” Her smile warmed me all over. “God made all the rough places smooth. Here we are.”

I was so happy I could hardly speak. Everyone was here. My Yada Yada sisters had come home because they loved Edesa and my son.

Nony looked around. “Where is Edesa?” I realized Amanda and Estelle were missing too.

“She is getting dressed,” Delores said, “which is what you should be doing as well, Joshua Baxter.” She looked disapprovingly at the array of jeans and sweats. “The rest of you too—shoo, shoo! Get dressed.”

The Yada Yadas dispersed reluctantly, but the room definitely was quiet after they disappeared upstairs to the bunkrooms to dress. I realized Denny's parents had also arrived while I'd been dressing and were talking to my parents, who were sitting on a couch in a corner of the room. My father was holding little Gracie, dressed in a frilly white outfit I suspected came from Delores's children. I slipped over to greet the senior Baxters, letting Nony and Mark slip away to greet Ben Garfield, who was riding herd on his two-year-old twins.

“Jodi, dear.” Kay Baxter, her silver-blonde hair cut short and sassy, kissed me on both cheeks, something she probably picked up in France. “You're looking well. Didn't you break your leg or some-thing?” Her eyes took in the multipurpose-room-turned-chapel. “This is all rather sweet. But surely there is a church
somewhere
they could have used in a safer part of town? I wasn't sure I wanted to get out of the taxi!”

Oh, brother
. Sometimes I wondered how this couple had given birth to my Denny.

Denny's father rolled his eyes. “Kay, sweetheart, it was perfectly fine. So, this is the baby?” he said to my father. “She's a pretty little thing, isn't she?”

The baby . . .
I had hardly had any time to think about Gracie the past few days or the fact that I had agreed to take care of her after the wedding.
Oh God, I feel pulled in too many directions!

Well, let the grandparents fuss over her for now. My time would come.

I politely chatted with both sets of grandparents until Denny showed up in his black dress suit, white shirt, and a red tie. Ricardo Enriquez began to play his solo guitar; our voices lowered to whispers. Peter Douglass and Carl Hickman acted as ushers, greeting people as they came in, giving out programs, and seating those who needed help. Peter Douglass beckoned our family group, seating the four grandparents and Gracie into the second row on the “groom's side,” then steering me to a seat in the front row.

But Denny didn't sit down. “Where are you going?” I whispered.

My husband grinned, his dimples going deep. “I'm going to escort the bride.”

I shook my head, laughing silently. Actually, it was kind of fun not knowing all the plans for the wedding. Surprise after surprise.

The room filled. Katrina evacuees and shelter residents, dressed in the best clothes they could manage under the circumstances—which in some cases meant clean jeans and T-shirts—filled half the seats. Our Yada Yada Prayer Group and their families were sprinkled on both sides of the aisle. At the last moment, Delores Enriquez hustled up the aisle with her three youngest children in tow, handed a bulging diaper bag and bottle to Gracie's caretakers behind me, and sat in the front row on the “bride's side.” We glanced at each other and grinned. “Our” children were getting married.

17

A
s Ricardo launched into a medley of Christmas carols on his guitar, Emerald Enriquez walked down the aisle carrying a lit candle, wearing a simple white dress with a red sash and . . . red heels.
Oh my. She
A
really is growing up!
After lighting all the candles on both of the iron candelabras, Emerald joined her mother and siblings on the front row . . . and on cue, three men walked in solemnly from the door off to the side. I smiled. Their only similarity was that each carried a Bible and was wearing a suit.

I felt a poke from behind. “Who are
they
?” Kay Baxter whispered.

“The man on the left is Pastor Rodriquez,” I whispered over my shoulder, “Edesa's pastor, from
Iglesia del Espirito Santo.
The other two are our pastors from SouledOut Community Church—Pastor Clark and Pastor Cobbs.” My soul wanted to sing—or at least gig-gle with pleasure. A Latino pastor, a white pastor, and an African- American pastor, all on the same platform (although there was no platform). Josh and Edesa had brought them together—had brought all of us together—in this place and on this day.

Florida must have been thinking the same thing. From two rows back, I heard her stage whisper. “Now ain't that a picture of what it's goin' ta be like at the Marriage Feast of the Lamb! Know what I'm sayin'?”

The side door opened again, and Josh walked in, followed by José. I had a twinge of familiar “labor panic”:
This is it! There's no
turning back!
I blew out a deep breath and found a smile. Josh, his sandy hair trimmed up for his wedding, wore a black suit, open-necked white shirt, and a red vest. José, dark-eyed and dark-haired, wore a similar black suit, open-necked shirt, and red vest. Unrelated thoughts bumped in my head:
How in the world did
Estelle manage to make vests too?
And . . .
Wow. Gotta admit, both
young men are drop-jaw handsome.

As if by instinct, heads turned. Amanda walked slowly down the aisle in time to the sweet guitar music. Her honey-colored hair was piled on her head, with curls and tendrils mixed with skinny red and white ribbons.
Adele must have been busy in the back room,
I thought
.
The simple red dress rippled like water as she walked. She carried a single long-stemmed white rose. I heard murmuring around me . . .
“Lovely.”
But what I
saw
was the wink José sent her way.

And then the guitar thrummed like a stringed drumroll . . . and Ricardo began to play the traditional wedding march. Everyone stood and looked toward the back of the room where the double doors opened into the foyer. Edesa stood in the open doorway, one hand holding Denny's arm, the other a single long-stemmed red rose. A sigh rippled through the room. The white dress she wore, hanging in simple lines to the floor, included a short bolero jacket with long sleeves. But the stunning touch was a lace
mantilla
draped over Edesa's dark hair and flowing to the floor.

Delores caught my eye, smiled, and pointed to herself.
“My
wedding mantilla,”
she mouthed silently.

At the front, Denny kissed the bride's cheek, then joined me on the front row as Edesa took Josh's arm. The music stopped and Pastor Rodriquez stepped forward. I could no longer see Josh's face, but it seemed to me he couldn't keep his eyes off Edesa. I clutched Denny's hand.

“Bienvenidos!
Welcome!
”
Pastor Rodriquez boomed. “Today we have the joy of uniting two young people in holy matrimony . . . ”

The simple ceremony seemed to pass in a blur. The next thing I knew, Pastor Joseph Cobbs, in his rich bass voice, was asking Josh and Edesa to repeat their vows. Pastor Clark, a bit more shrunken these days inside his loose-fitting suit, did the vows with the wed-ding rings. “I'm so glad they included him,” I whispered to Denny.

Denny pointed to the program. “You're on next.”

Sure enough, after the rings Pastor Rodriquez said, “The scripture Josh and Edesa have chosen will be read by
Señora
Baxter.” He smiled and beckoned.
“Señora?”

Grateful for the elegant shawl my mother had given me, I joined the wedding party at the front and turned to the place I'd marked in my Bible. “I'm reading from Colossians chapter 3, verses 12 through 14.” I cleared my throat. “‘Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with com-passion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience—'”

I caught my breath. The words
“clothe yourselves”
stuck in my ears. I almost gasped in amusement, remembering our lively Yada Yada discussion last week about coming “decked out” to Josh and Edesa's wedding. And not one minute ago, I was preening in the antique shawl that dressed me up and made me “presentable” for a wedding. But this scripture was talking about being “decked out” with compassion! Kindness! Humility!

Hoping I hadn't paused too long, I hastened to the next verse. “‘Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love—'”

At that moment, Gracie sent up a loud wail. Delores sprang from her seat, as if she was going to take the baby out, but Josh said, “No, no, it's okay.” Grinning, he moved toward the second row and collected Gracie from my mother. Then, shushing the baby, he returned to Edesa's side. The three of them turned slightly to face me. Smiles and murmurs danced along the rows of wedding guests as Gracie looked wide-eyed into Josh's face, hiccoughed once, and then banged his nose with her waving fist.

I stared at my son, his new bride, and the baby that wasn't his or hers, but that they were hoping to make their own. I suddenly saw them, and the scene around me, as if cataracts had just been peeled from my eyes. I closed my Bible, but heard myself saying, “May I say something?”

Pastor Rodriquez smiled.
“Por favor.”

Oh Lord, am I crazy? Please give me the words to say what is in my
heart!

I took a deep breath. “I'm sure many of us, myself included, thought having a wedding in a women's shelter was a bit, um, unusual.” I heard a few snickers of agreement. “And the wedding date was hurried up because Edesa and Josh want to provide a home for little Gracie, here. So here we are, on Christmas Eve, and as I read these verses, I'm suddenly realizing how utterly appropriate for this wedding to take place on this day, in this place—”

“Say it now, girl!” Florida called out.

I smiled, gaining courage. “—because God chose humble circumstances and a hurry-up wedding to make a home for His Son. He chose the humble to receive Him . . .” I suddenly choked up, and Denny had to step up and hand me his handkerchief. I blew my nose and dabbed my eyes, hoping I wasn't smearing my mascara. “Sorry.”

“That's all right,” Adele said from the back. “Take your time.”

I saw Denny's parents exchange a look, but I didn't care.

“Anyway, all I want to say is that the Christ Child was God
incarnate
—God's love made
real.
And . . . and it seems to me what we are witnessing today is that same kind of incarnated love—love made real, love in action and not just words.” I turned my eyes on Josh and Edesa, who were looking a little teary themselves. “Josh and Edesa, you both look so beautiful today. But I want to thank both of you for clothing yourselves not only in your wedding clothes, but with com-passion, kindness, and love—and for helping all of us understand a little bit better just what Christmas is all about.”

As I headed back to my seat, the entire room seemed to rise to their feet, clapping and shouting, “Hallelujah!” Even the pastors joined in, laughing and praising God. But after several moments, Pastor Rodriquez held up both hands for quiet. His eyes twinkled. “It seems the
celebración
has begun! But before I can let you all go downstairs to party, we have one more important thing we must do.”

Chairs creaked as everyone sat down.