Lead Me Home (8 page)

The end-of-class bell rang today before any of them were ready. Shiloh had been teaching only two weeks, but already had grown fond of her students, and was delighted to see they were warming to her as well.

“Aw, man; I just got the notes right!” Evian quickly blew through the melody on his trumpet one last time before tucking away his music and packing up the instrument.

“Keep practicing,” Shiloh encouraged him. “You nailed it, and it will only get better.”

“Are you going to come and see the performance, Mrs. Griffin?” Tedra asked.

Shiloh smiled at the petite girl with wiry blond hair and copper-rimmed eyeglasses. She played the clarinet and rarely talked, but it was nice to realize that just as she was aware of the countdown occurring with her long-term sub status, so were they. Shiloh had been pleased with their progress and had high hopes that Mrs. Helmsley would find her students fully prepared for the fall recital, which was scheduled for the first week in November.

“Of course I’m coming, Tedra,” Shiloh said. “After seeing you guys work so hard, I wouldn’t miss the recital. I’ll be here sitting front and center, peacock proud.”

Drew, one of the drummers, snickered.

Shiloh grinned at him. “I know, I know,” she said. “Old-lady, Southern language. I’ve already been told I need to get some swag.”

The class erupted in fits of laughter over her use of “their” cool word, then most of them ducked out to make it to their next class.

Phaedra and Monica trotted over to hug Shiloh.

“We love you, Mrs. G! You are hilarious,” Phaedra said.

Shiloh hugged them both at once and chuckled. “Ya’ll just feel sorry for me.”

“Ya’ll?” Monica said and giggled. “I love your accent and the funny things you say. You are so cute!”

Shiloh smirked. “You girls are going to be late for your next class. Get out of here.”

Phaedra took off with a wave goodbye. “Happy Monday!”

“One more thing,” Monica said as she headed toward the door. “I read online last night about a summer music competition for young musicians at Columbia College Chicago. The students who audition and win a spot will work with professional musicians for four days to prepare for a weekend performance. Winners will be selected in various instrument categories to compete for a partial college scholarship and a chance to attend a national musicians’ conference, where they can network with professionals and learn more about music-related careers.”

“Wow—you applying?” Shiloh asked.

Monica nodded. “I have to audition, though. Will you help me find a really good piece?”

Shiloh felt a knot forming in her stomach, but the smile never left her face. She of all people being asked to help this sweet girl with something as life-changing as this.

Lord, you have a sense of humor. You really do.

“You bet, Monica. I’ll bring some ideas to class tomorrow. Or if you want me to email you some pieces to consider, shoot me an email so I’ll have your address, and we’ll go from there.”

Monica gave her a thumbs-up before scooting from the classroom.

Shiloh smiled as she disappeared. The girl’s lanky frame reminded Shiloh of herself at that age. So did Monica’s hopes and dreams. How had one fateful summer killed hers?

Jade’s call canceling Naima’s flute lesson came that afternoon right after school, and as far as Shiloh was concerned, it was right on time.

“I … I’m not myself tonight. I’m going to stay home and take some medicine,” Jade said. “Naima’s disappointed because she loves spending time with you, but we’ll pick up where we left off next week, okay? I’ll plan to see you Wednesday night at Bible study, and I’ll lead the session, like we discussed.”

Shiloh hadn’t wished an illness on St. Stephens’ “Second Lady,” but she was grateful for a break from the scrutiny Jade’s visits to her home always yielded, and from hearing about Jade’s fabulous life. Shiloh believed that she wasn’t feeling well, though. Jade had seemed distracted at the last two Bible studies, asking members to repeat their comments, then still giving idiotic replies to whatever they shared, as if she hadn’t accurately heard them. Nicholas had just turned two, but Shiloh was beginning to wonder if she was under the weather because she was pregnant again.

Whatever the reason, tonight’s reprieve was perfect. Not having Naima this afternoon would give her a chance to start dinner early and begin researching flute solos for Monica’s audition. While David worked at the kitchen table on his fourth grade art project and the tilapia baked, Shiloh sat across from him, in front of her laptop, and searched for musical scores in an appropriate level of play for Monica. There were the traditional and lovely flute solos the judges were likely used to hearing, but she also searched for some contemporary pieces
the girl might like. “Ribbon in the Sky” or “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” might be nice surprises.

When Shiloh wrapped up her research, she checked her messages and saw that Monica had followed through with forwarding her email address. Shiloh sent the girl links to the various musical scores she had selected and suggested that Monica play around with each of them to pinpoint her favorite few.

That task accomplished, Shiloh closed the laptop and left the table to check on dinner. The baked tilapia smelled delicious, and a quick check of the pot on the stove indicated the rice would be ready in minutes.

Raphael burst through the kitchen door with a water bottle in one hand and his football in the other. Another blessing tonight had been having him ride home with a teammate rather than having to be picked up.

“Hey, son,” Shiloh said. “How was practice?”

He had reached the age where he could now play for his school, rather than in a community recreation league, and so far he loved his coach and teammates.

“Good,” he said, and put his bag and ball in a corner.

“You know you have to take those things up to your room,” Shiloh said without looking his way. “And when you’re done, you can help me get the salad ready.”

“Aw, Mom,” Raphael said.

“Aw, son,” Shiloh said.

She strolled over and hugged his waist, marveling at the fact that at just twelve, he was already her height. Five-seven or not, she was still mama.

“You’ll thank me when you’re all grown and you know how to take care of yourself and prepare your own meals. David is trying to finish his art project, but I’ll have him set the table to make it all fair.
Your older brothers have been doing their part, too, since I’ve been working.”

Raphael shook his head. “You and Daddy don’t have to do anything anymore.”

Shiloh poked his arm. “Careful. I did all the work in having you knuckleheads.”

He picked up his bags and headed to his room. Shiloh rendered a final instruction while he was still within earshot. “And don’t take forever—dinner will be ready in ten minutes.”

Shiloh returned to the kitchen table and looked over David’s shoulder. He was engrossed in the papier-mâché animal he was creating and hadn’t uttered a word, not even his usual, “How much longer before we eat?”

She smiled at the hard-to-decipher creation and could tell he was proud of himself. From the looks of it, he was nowhere near finished. They would have to eat in the dining room tonight in order to leave David’s workspace as he needed it. She rubbed his shoulders. “Looking good, son.”

David grinned. “I’m glad I chose to do this, because not many people take time to create an actual replica of an animal. They like to draw and paint, but this takes more work, and it looks more life-like.”

Shiloh returned the smile. He was the youngest, but he was also the most intellectual of the bunch. She slid into the seat across from him and opened her laptop again. She clicked on her computer screen and saw that Monica had responded to her email.

Even this girl’s emails made Shiloh smile. Monica’s voice and personality shone through regardless of the format. Shiloh was convinced that her positive attitude and willingness to work hard were going to take her far. And she loved that Monica had asked about church. Shiloh had lost count of how often people asked her about St. Stephens Baptist and received a personal invitation from her simply because her email signature served as a conversation starter. It included a phrase indicating that she was “Planted at St. Stephens Baptist, in Milwaukee’s Brown Deer suburb, to love and serve all who cross my path.”

Everyone from personal acquaintances to her sons’ teachers had asked her more about the church and had visited as a result. Some had even become members. Since Monica had inquired on her own, Shiloh decided she deserved the same warm welcome anyone else would receive.

Shiloh hit send and sighed. She peered at David, whose head was lowered, chubby cheeks dimpled, and shoulders hunched as he worked on his art. How thankful she was for him and for each of her boys. Every now and then, however, she wondered what it would have been like to raise a daughter. Tonight was one of those times …

Despite Jade’s awkwardness during the past couple of meetings, Shiloh couldn’t recall ever seeing her squirm in Bible study quite as much as she was tonight. If Shiloh didn’t feel so guilty for enjoying it, it could have been a treat.

Jade had simply chimed in on the past two studies, even after declaring herself a co-leader; but tonight, Shiloh had handed over the reins. Though she had been under the weather earlier in the week, Jade assured Shiloh she was ready for tonight’s session, and she had chosen the subject of trusting God through storms. Problem was, the women in the group were having a hard time relating to the message, and to Jade’s manner of teaching it, with her sitting before them dressed like a celebrity housewife who had never set foot in Wal-Mart, requested emergency prayers, or struggled for anything other than to fix a chipped nail or bad hairdo right before her next big occasion.

Jade was doing her best to draw the women in, and Shiloh could see that she didn’t seem to understand why they weren’t warming up to her.

“Um, let’s talk more about Naomi, the mother-in-law of Ruth, and all that she suffered while living in a foreign land. First her husband dies, and then her two sons. Wouldn’t that make any of us despair? Have any of you gone through a trial so severe that you thought God had forsaken you?”

A few women nodded, but no one expounded.

“Well, it’s during those times, when we feel the loneliest or most afraid, or most deeply hurt, that we must remember God is there with us.”

The silence was palpable, and uncomfortable. Jade seemed to want the women to launch into a discussion, and Shiloh was certain the women were waiting for Jade to lead them there, by sharing from her heart, either a personal experience or that of someone else, that would make her comments more relevant. Instead, she chose to move on.

“Let’s turn to 1 Samuel 25 and read about Abigail and her marriage to the evil and foolish Nabal.”

Sister Marlene volunteered to read the passage aloud, while everyone else followed along in their Bibles.

“I’m reading from the NIV version,” Marlene began. “‘Now Samuel died, and all Israel assembled and mourned for him …’”

By the time Marlene reached the end of the chapter, which detailed Abigail’s longsuffering with her foolish husband and the wisdom she used in dealing with David, many of the women were murmuring with excitement about Abigail’s victory over dire circumstances.

But Jade lost them again. “Amen to that, sisters, right? Abigail handled her business! How have we handled our Abigail moments?”

The women fell silent, and Jade shot Shiloh a glance that she read as a plea for help. Shiloh cleared her throat and scanned the circle of twenty or so women.

“You know, I think we’ve all been there, whether we’ve had to deal with an unfair or downright terrible boss, struggled in a personal relationship like Abigail, or simply didn’t see how we were going to make it through some other tough situation, like a job loss, divorce, or death of a loved one,” Shiloh said. “I think the message in Abigail’s experience is that wherever we find ourselves stuck, frustrated, or hurting, God sees and hears us. Isn’t it fair to say, though, that sometimes
when we are in the middle of our valley experiences, we can’t see God for all of the ‘stuff’ cluttering our vision?”

“Amen, First Lady!”

That affirmation from Sister Clara set off a round of copycats, and a few women began sharing their personal experiences, including Sister Sarah, whose seventy-three-year-old face was marred by the burns she suffered sixty years earlier, when her family home caught fire and left her trapped inside. Sister Carlita shared the devastation of losing her brother in recent months, and how she didn’t understand why God allowed him to die in a car accident just before the birth of his second child. Even Sister Marlene chimed in and shared how watching her spiritually strong mother lose her leg to an infection five years earlier had strained her faith.

“I couldn’t understand how this woman, who would have done anything God asked of her—who
did
do anything and everything she felt God was leading her to do—had to suffer like this; why God didn’t heal her and let her keep her leg,” Marlene said. “Mama never felt the same after that loss; she just went downhill. When we buried her five months later, I stopped going to church for a while. Now I know I should have followed Abigail’s example and remained steadfast when I didn’t understand; but for a long time, I felt like Ruth’s mother-in-law Naomi, like God had forsaken me.”

Shiloh glanced at Jade to see if she wanted to respond, but a slight smile was fixed on her expressionless face, and Shiloh wondered if Jade had let her mind wander, because she didn’t seem to be in tune with Marlene’s sharing.

“What led you back to God, Marlene?” Shiloh finally asked.

Marlene leaned forward in her chair, and her voice softened.

“Honestly, it was Mama. It took me forever to go through all of her stuff, and about two years after she died—that will be three years
ago this month—I finally decided to clean out the chests of drawers I had moved from her home into my attic. In one of them, I found a journal she had been keeping the last year of her life …”

Marlene’s eyes watered and she choked up.

“It was the journal I had given her the Mother’s Day before her death. I sat on my living room sofa on that Saturday afternoon and read all of her entries. In the last few pages, I found some truths that shook me to my core. Mama wrote on the day after her leg was amputated just five words: ‘Thy will be done, Lord.’ And then later she wrote, ‘You are my joy, Heavenly Father.’ And her final entry said, ‘Your love is better than life. I love you more each day, and in you I find my peace and rest.’”

Marlene sat back in her seat and wiped her cheeks. “I will never forget those words; they’re stamped in my heart and mind,” she said. “Mama loved God anyhow. So why did I think I had the right to hold a grudge when she had accepted his will? I returned to St. Stephens Baptist the very next day and rededicated my life to God.”

“Wow. Amen.” Jade offered that double-word feedback and turned to Shiloh. “You go ahead and finish us out, okay?”

Shiloh wrapped up the discussion, and about ten minutes later, ended with prayer.

When everyone was gone except Shiloh and Jade, and they were walking through the education wing shutting off lights, Jade paused and turned to her.

“Thank you for tonight, Shiloh. I guess I’m not as ready as I thought I was to lead this study.”

Shiloh touched her arm, but she didn’t know what to say. Tonight hadn’t gone well, and Shiloh was concerned that if the awkwardness continued, the women might stop coming and dissuade others from participating, too. At the same time, she remembered Randy’s
admonition, and also what God had dropped into her spirit a few weeks ago: Jade’s interest in being here and helping lead the study might be him doing something in particular with her, or through her.

“Don’t worry about it, Jade,” Shiloh said. “We all start somewhere. But you do seem a bit perplexed by how to get the women talking, or engaged in the topic you’ve presented. Maybe we can think about how to lead the study together, with me covering certain parts and you handling others—at least until they get used to both of us teaching.”

Jade was on the verge of tears, but instead of allowing them to fall, she inhaled and mustered a smile. “Didn’t you know? I’m only comfortable with makeup, fashion, shoes, and shopping.”

Shiloh’s eyes widened, and Jade nodded. “Yeah—I know that’s what the ladies of St. Stephens Baptist think about me and say about me behind my back. They think I’m shallow and dumb. I’m not, you know; but I admit that I don’t know my Bible like I should. Vic and I have been married twelve years, but he has never required me to study. He does his thing and I do mine. We pray together, but we read the Bible on our own. I guess I need to do a little more studying before I lead our Wednesday sessions. It’s important for me to be a part of this group, Shiloh.”

Shiloh wasn’t sure how to take this vulnerable version of Jade. She was convinced more than ever that Jade’s hormones were raging and she must be expecting. When Jade wanted her to know, she’d tell her.

“You
are
a part of this group, Jade,” Shiloh said. “Don’t feel obligated to lead the group just to belong. Chime in when you want, or sit there and soak in the wisdom and the Word. Just come and be you.”

Shiloh hoped Jade didn’t think she was nudging her toward a lesser role to regain sole leadership of the Bible study. She was sincere about Jade getting acclimated, and maybe once she began reading her
Bible more, and got used to the format of the study, she’d feel more confident about teaching.

Jade sighed. “You’re right,” she said. “I need to come for a while to get to know everyone better, and what you all do. Our church is so large that it’s easy to see people Sunday after Sunday and not really know them. It’s better to take it slow, for that reason alone. I guess I was jumping the gun in trying to step in stride with you right off the bat.”

Shiloh was tempted to remind Jade that she’d been at St. Stephens Baptist for nearly two years and teaching the Bible study that entire time. The fact that Jade had chosen to come to a few studies before declaring herself a lead teacher of the class was only part of the reason Shiloh and some of the other women had become resentful; her sudden interest in even attending after all these years had also left them questioning her motives.

“Plus,” Jade continued, “you’ve known this Bible stuff since you could talk; you’re a PK, which makes you the perfect preacher’s wife. I’m learning on the job.”

She flipped her hair and in the process, seemed to switch on her confidence. “So thanks for moving forward with the Bible study class as you have been,” Jade said and gave Shiloh a light hug. “I’ll pop in as often as I can, but only as a student for the time being.”

Jade’s megawatt smile returned, and Shiloh marveled at the transformation. This woman was a work of art, and certainly not a piece that could be easily understood.