When Solomon Sings (23 page)

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Authors: Kendra Norman-Bellamy

BOOK: When Solomon Sings
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Looking out at the crowd, he said, “I was reminded, even on this morning, of the words from the book of Romans, chapter eight. I'm paraphrasing it, but somewhere between verses twenty-five and thirty-five, the Bible tells us that if we hope for something that we don't see, then we have to be patient to wait on God to do it. It tells us that when we pray, even when we don't know what to say in our prayers, the Spirit of God serves as an intercessor, and He fills in the blanks when all we can do is groan.” CJ wiped his face with a handkerchief that he pulled from the pocket of his robe. “This is the same scripture that later assures us that all things work together for the good of those who love the Lord, and then gives us the promise that as long as God is for us, nothing or nobody can be against us.”
CJ's voice dropped and the crowd calmed to hear his next words. “I meditated on these verses of scripture last night. I had to in order to not lose my mind when the doctor came in and told me, in so many words, that it was time to pull the plug because there wasn't anything else he could do.” Loud gasps ran around the sanctuary.
Neil felt a tightening in his gut, and at that moment, he wished he was sitting beside Shaylynn instead of Deacon Burgess. CJ could have announced that Martians had just landed on the church rooftop and had demanded that they hand over their eldest church member, and Homer wouldn't have batted an eye. But knowing Shaylynn as he did, Neil knew that she was probably on the verge of a meltdown at hearing the woman she'd come to view as her big sister had run out of time.
CJ kept talking despite everyone's reactions. “I walked out of the hospital this morning for the first time since walking in last month. I left distraught in-laws there who couldn't understand why I would choose today, of all days, to leave.” He wiped his face again. CJ's voice sounded steady enough, but Neil wondered if it was only sweat that he was erasing with the handkerchief. He wondered if there were some tears mixed in there as well. “For the first time in three weeks, I walked into my own house, took a shower in my own bathroom, shaved in my own mirror, and sat on the side of my own bed while I slipped on my shoes in preparation to come here today. When I walked out of my bedroom, I found our bishop walking the length of the living room and walking the length of the hallway, and all I could hear him saying was, ‘Breathe, Jesus. Breathe, Jesus. Breathe.”' CJ shook his head. “It was like he had been reading my mind.”
While others were again clapping and worshipping, Neil sat frozen in his chair with the words,
Breathe, Jesus. Breathe,
ringing in his ears.
Breathe, Jesus. Breathe.
If Reverend Tides had read CJ's mind, then they'd both read his.
Breathe, Jesus. Breathe
...
“The bishop and I have to head back to DeKalb Medical,” CJ announced. “I just needed to stop by KBCC to let you know that it's gonna be all right. I have to trust in God and lean on His Word, because I don't have no other choice. Somehow, someway, even in our darkest hour, it's working for our good.” With those words, CJ placed the mic on the stand, and then turned and walked back toward the dividing wall. Reverend Tides did the same, making quick steps to keep up with CJ's longer strides.
Neil never made it a practice to walk out of church before the altar call and benediction, but today he had to make an exception if he was going to catch his bishop and pastor before they left the premises. He grabbed his Bible and keys and took the long way around the sanctuary to locate Shaylynn so that he wouldn't walk in front of people and disrupt the minister, who was now talking from the podium.
Neil saw the tears in Shaylynn's eyes when he squatted beside the place where she sat. He wanted to hold her and comfort her, but there wasn't time. Not right now. Instead he pressed his keys in her hand. “You drive the truck home; I'm gonna ride with CJ.”
Questions swam in the water of her eyes. “But—”
“Please, suga. Do this for me. I'll explain everything when I catch up with you guys later this evening. I promise. But right now I have to go.”
“Okay.” Shaylynn closed her hands around the keys. “Do what you need to do. I'll take care of the truck and the kids.”
As Neil rushed out of the church, he mulled over Shaylynn's words. Besides the fact that they demonstrated how much she trusted and supported him, he thought of how “family like” the words had sounded; how naturally they'd flowed from her lips. When Neil rounded the corner of the church and saw Reverend Tides's armor bearer close one of the passenger doors, and then climb in the driver's seat of the vehicle in which they'd arrived, he pushed the thoughts of Shaylynn aside and broke into a sprint. Right now, he needed to have only one thing on his mind.
TWENTY-TWO
When Theresa yawned, the truth that God still worked miracles became evident to everyone inside her ICU room, as well as the family members who'd been forced to wait for updates in the family waiting room down the hall. Hardly a dry eye could be found. Even the lady who had been Theresa's primary attending nurse for the duration of her hospitalization had cried. And though no tears manifested from Dr. Hale, the firsthand sight of it all had rendered him speechless. He'd had to sit in the same chair that he'd grabbed for CJ the night before.
En route to the hospital, Neil brought Reverend Tides and CJ up to speed on last night's restlessness and the song he'd been inspired to write in the middle of it. “And when you said the words ‘Breathe, Jesus,'” Neil had told CJ, “I finally realized why God had given me this song. It was for you and Theresa.”
Reverend Tides had sat silently in the front passenger seat for all of Neil's speech, but soon after he finished talking, the bishop turned to CJ and said, “When we get to the hospital, tell the doctor to pull the plug.”
“Sir?” CJ looked terrified.
“God is giving the release,” Reverend Tides told him, “and either you're going to trust Him or not. I wouldn't tell you to do this if I didn't know that it was what God is saying. If there's paperwork to sign to authorize the process, sign it. I don't know what His will is, but whatever it is, it will be done.” He looked at Neil who sat beside CJ in the backseat of the Cadillac. “And while the doctor is shutting down the machine, you sing.”
Neil swallowed hard. The thought that all of this was being done because of a song was unnerving. What if all their uses of the words “Breathe, Jesus” were just coincidental? Doubt was smacking Neil in the face with both hands.
As if the bishop could detect both their lingering apprehensions, he spoke once more before turning back around in his seat. Pointing at each man, he said, “You sign, you sing, and then let's all stand still and see the salvation of the Lord.”
Had the miracle not happened, CJ would probably have never found forgiveness from his in-laws. Just like Jesus did when He entered the room of the ruler's dead daughter in Matthew, chapter nine, Reverend Tides put everybody out of the ICU room with the exception of those who needed to be there. Aside from the bishop, only CJ, Neil, Dr. Hale, and the attending nurse remained. Theresa's parents weren't at all happy about the temporary ban that their son-in-law had the audacity to authorize despite their protests, but CJ apparently didn't have the time nor energy to worry himself with their displeasure. They were all on a mission.
Reverend Tides appeared to have no reservations about what was about to take place, but while the doctor began the task of shutting off the equipment, CJ appeared to be holding his breath as he held Theresa's hand and kept the back of it pressed against his lips. The bishop knelt beside Theresa's bed and prayed silently, and when he knew the time was right, he opened his eyes, looked at Neil, and nodded his cue.
The song wasn't complicated, and the lyrics had played loudly in his head for so long that night that by the time Neil got up and wrote them down, he had already memorized the words, but with his nerves now on end, he hoped he remembered what had been written on the paper he'd left on his bed at home.
With two fish and five loaves of bread ... The five thousand hungry, you fed. And children of Israel were free ... Because you parted the sea. You are the same, Lord ... You never change, Lord ... So please, Jesus, do this for me. I ask you to ... Breathe, Jesus ... . Breathe, Jesus ... Breathe, Jesus ... Breathe. Oh, won't you just breathe, Jesus ... Breathe, Jesus ... Breathe, Jesus ... Breathe. And I'll tell the story ... Give you the glory ... I'll testify and ... shout the victory. And all will know ... Without a doubt ... That it was you ... Who brought me out. I know ... I'll live ... indeed ... if you just breathe ...
By the time Neil was singing it for the third time, it was evident that God was in the middle of doing something incredible. The machines were no longer attached, but Theresa's chest was still rising and falling; something that would not have continued if she weren't breathing on her own. Reverend Tides had anointed her with so much blessed oil that her entire forehead was glistening.
While Neil made his fifth go-round on the lyrics, the attending nurse was taking vitals and documenting her findings with visibly trembling hands. The seventh time around, others in the room had caught on to the simple but meaningful lyrics, and they sounded like a harmonizing quartet with everyone except Dr. Hale joining in on the chorus of “Breathe, Jesus,” and they continued to softly sing the two words even after the rest of the song had stopped being sung.
“Breathe, Jesus ... Breathe, Jesus ... Breathe, Jesus ... Breathe ...” they sang.
The chant-like vamp seemed to go on forever. It didn't stop until Theresa squirmed in the bed in a manner that almost seemed like she was stretching her body, and then opened her mouth in a lengthy yawn before becoming still again. The sight of it sent CJ to his knees in tearful thanksgiving.
“I have been doing this for twenty-two years,” Dr. Hale said once all of the family had been allowed back into the room to witness the aftermath of the miracle, “and I can honestly say that I've never seen anything like this before.”
Neil had never seen anything like it before either, and he was more shaken by it than anyone realized. For more than half of his life he had been told by different ones, including the late Dr. Charles Loather Sr., that his singing carried a special anointing that could produce miraculous results. Neil had seen people give their hearts to God under the sound of his singing, but what he'd just seen was almost too much to digest. Deacon Burgess had told him only a few days ago that his singing could raise the dead, but Neil hadn't taken that literally.
“What does this mean? What's going on with her now? Does this mean she's going to be okay?” Theresa's mom broke into Neil's thoughts. She stood at the head of her daughter's bed, stroking her hair, while Theresa's father sat in a chair, dabbing at his eyes with a monogrammed handkerchief. The phenomenon had overwhelmed him almost as much as it had CJ.
“Well, as you can see, she is still not awake, so it's too soon to declare her as out of the woods,” Dr. Hale said, all the while scribbling notes on his clipboard, “but she's not on life support, which is a remarkable improvement. As we speak, I'm preparing to order a series of tests so we can find out where she is right now.” He handed the clipboard to the attending nurse, and, without a word, she excused herself with quick footsteps. “Our largest immediate concern is whether any damage was done to the brain in the weeks that she's been unconscious. Very recent tests showed that there was absolutely no brain activity, so we have to find out what short- or long-term concerns that may have created.”
Dr. Hale stuck his ink pen in the top pocket of his uniform and crossed his arms. “Judging from the extensive movements she made a moment ago, I predict that there's no damage so serious that it resulted in any paralysis.” He looked at CJ. “That is also remarkable, by the way.” Dr. Hale turned his eyes back to Theresa's mother and finally gave a more direct answer to her inquiry. “If I were to give an expert conjecture, I would say that she is semi-comatose at this moment. As a part of the battery of analyses we'll be running over the next few hours, we'll be using various forms of stimuli to see if we can rouse her. If she responds to the stimuli, my educated guess will be proven accurate, but until we have the results of those tests, I cannot give you any concrete answers.” He paused, and looked around the entire room. “All I can say right now is you should be very thankful to your God for answering your prayers for breath.”
Replies of “Amen” seemed to be uttered from everyone simultaneously.
“I understand that everyone is excited about this turn of events,” Dr. Hale said, “but please understand that we will need the crowd to thin.” He looked at CJ. “Reverend, there are times when we will need even you to leave the room. I hope you understand.”
“Yes. Fully.” It was good to see a genuine smile on CJ's face.
“We'll be removing her from this area for some of her tests, and my guess is if you sing a few more rounds”—the doctor looked at Neil—“we'll be removing her from this area permanently in the next day or so.”
Neil felt his face flush under the pressure of the eyes that turned to look at him. He didn't know how to respond to Dr. Hale's words, so he didn't. At least, not verbally. All Neil offered in return was a slight duck of his head and a smile.
The doctor had more advice, and he looked around at everyone in the room as he offered it. “At this point, although Mrs. Loather is not strong enough or alert enough to open her eyes or respond in words, I do believe she, like many semi-comatose patients, can hear and understand what is being said around her. If you're going to speak to her, say encouraging things. Let her know you're here and that you are wishing her well. Believe it or not, something as simple as that can play heavily into how well and how speedy she recovers.”
“Thank you, Dr. Hale.” CJ extended his hand.
Upon accepting it, the doctor said, “I wish I could take the credit for this, Reverend. It would look amazing on my resume. But there comes a time when even we doctors must admit that it was out of our hands, and this is one of those times. Congratulations on getting your wife back,” he said as their handshake broke. “And congratulations on being connected to such people as these”—he pointed at Reverend Tides and Neil—“who are connected to your God enough that they can offer such a healing source.” He shook his head in wonderment as he walked toward the door, mumbling, “I never would have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes.”

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