29
jonquinette
I woke up early the next morning, miraculously, rejuvenated. Mason had come upstairs with me the night before and stayed with me for several hours. We didn’t really talk, at least not with words. We cuddled on my sofa and watched One Week and Love and a Bullet on cable, starring Treach, who was phenomenal.
Mason must have let himself out because when I woke up, I was covered up with a fleece blanket and the volume on the television was turned down.
It was just after seven A.M. and I was excited, since it meant that I could make it to the eight o’clock church service on time. I was determined to get my life on the right track and getting back into the habit of going to church was a good start.
Even at that time of the morning, church was packed. I managed to squeeze past a heavyset gentleman and take a seat next to an elderly woman on the next to the last pew. The music ministry moved me to the point where I jumped up and started stomping my feet. Normally, I would’ve been too embarrassed to draw attention to myself but something was changing. It was a new dawn.
When it came time for the first Scripture reading, the woman beside me let me share her Bible because I had forgotten mine at home. After the Scripture had been read, Reverend Townsend stood up in the pulpit and told the members of the congregation to shake hands with all of the people surrounding them.
Everyone got on their feet, with the exception of those who could not, and greeted each other warmly. When I shook the elderly woman’s hand, I took a good look at her face and couldn’t help but wonder how old she was. She had a ton of wrinkles but there was something youthful about her appearance.
The rest of the church service was very moving. The minister gave a sermon that I really needed to hear. The topic was “Believe in Yourself.” He reminded us all that every day our beliefs guide our actions and it is up to us to make the impossible become possible. It validated what I had been feeling with Mason the night before. I believed that I could overcome my situation with the right support circle in place and enough faith.
After church service ended, I did something that I had never done before. I actually stayed and talked to people in the fellowship hall. It was the church’s anniversary so there were many people lingering around, preparing for a big celebration dinner later that evening, which I didn’t plan to attend.
I had just finished talking to a woman named Jasmin, who wanted me to join the YAMS, the Young Adult Missionaries, when the elderly woman came up to me and took my hand.
“What troubles you, child?” she asked me.
I laughed nervously. “What makes you think I’m troubled?”
“I’ve lived a long time,” she replied. “And when you are blessed to be here as long as I have, you start to see things. You can read faces. I have been reading yours all day.”
She had me curious. “What does my face say?”
“That you’re hurting. That you came here today looking for help, searching for answers.”
“You’re right. They say church is the place to find yourself. I’m here to find myself.”
“The Lord works in mysterious ways, child,” she said, patting me on the arm. “He never gives us more than we can handle. I’ve buried three husbands and two children and every time, I thought that I would never survive the pain. But, guess what? I did. For whatever His reasons, He called them all home before me and one day, I will see them all again.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure, child.”
“I know you’re never supposed to ask a woman her age, but I’m really curious about yours. You have this glow about you, almost childlike, but yet you are so experienced and wise.”
She grinned at me. “I’m flattered. And please, I passed the point of being offended when someone asked my age decades ago. I’m ninety-three.”
I was stunned. “Ninety-three?”
“Yes, I’ve been here a long time. I still have four surviving children, nine grandchildren, and thirty-eight great-grandchildren.”
“That is amazing.” I suddenly felt ashamed. The woman had so many people who loved her and I had never truly been loved. “I’m not married,” I said in embarrassment. “In fact, I’ve never really had a relationship, but I’m kind of getting close to someone now.”
“Don’t fret, child. You still have plenty of time left. I can feel it in my bones. You’re going to be here for a long, long time.”
A tear formed in the corner of my eye. Not if Jude has anything to say about it, I thought.
“I can tell something is troubling you,” she continued. “But trust me, this too shall pass and life will go on. There were times when I begged the Lord to put me out of my misery, especially when I saw my youngest child kill himself right in front of me.”
“Oh my gosh! What happened?” I asked and then regretted it immediately. I didn’t want her to have to rehash bad times. “Never mind. That is none of my business.”
“It helps me to talk about it sometimes. Chad had everything going for him. He owned his own business, had a home, a nice car, and everything to look forward to. Then he hooked up with the wrong woman and she had him so taken with her that when she decided she wanted to move on to something better, he couldn’t handle it. Chad came to my house one night, a Saturday night. I remember because I was on my way to play bridge. He came in, sat down on my sofa, told me how much he loved me and always would, and then he took a pistol out of his jacket and shot himself in the side of the head.”
Something made me want to throw my arms around the woman and hug her. “I’m so sorry.”
She embraced me back. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” She let go and looked me in the eyes. “Just do me one favor.”
“Sure.”
“Don’t let your troubles break you down. Be thankful for every day, every single day, because you never know when it will be your last.” She wiped a tear from my right cheek. “Even at my age, I still embrace life. I come to church every Sunday and praise the Lord, every Saturday I play bridge at the local hall, and every Tuesday I have dinner with my man.”
Now I was really shocked! “Your man?”
“Yes, can you believe it?” she asked jokingly. “Even at my age, I can still pull them.”
“Is he your age?”
“Honey, finding a man my age would be like searching for an ear of corn in a watermelon patch.”
We both laughed.
“No, I have a younger gentleman who comes calling. He’s just a baby: seventy-four.”
“Wow, I never thought I’d hear a man in his seventies being called a baby.”
She giggled and ran her fingers through her silver hair. “Me either, but thank the Lord that I’m here to be able to do it.”
“So every Tuesday you have dinner together? That’s so romantic. I’m so happy for you.”
“I’m happy for me, too, and dinner is not all we have,” she said suggestively. “I make the same meal every week: smothered pork chops with gravy, collard greens, creamed corn, and sweet potato pie. He always brings a bottle of sparkling cider and a bouquet of roses. We sit and talk, we eat, and then we make love.”
I was so amazed at her openness and I realized why she looked and felt so great for her age. The woman was loved by a man and she loved him back. That was something I had never had but something I was determined to get.
The hall was thinning out so I decided it was time for me to head on home. “Would you like for me to walk you out? Do you need a ride someplace?”
She shook her head. “I’m fine. I live a block away and I enjoy the walk. One reason why I’ve lived so long is because I’ve always been active. I watched way too many of my friends wither away and most of them would have lived a lot longer if they hadn’t just given up. Just because you age doesn’t mean you have to act old.”