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Authors: LaTonya Mason

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BOOK: Good to Me
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“Pastor, with all due respect,” Reverend Hubbard persisted. “Reverend Adams and I have always led the call to worship. Reverend
Miller hasn’t even had a chance to do it yet, and you’re gonna let Minister Phillips do it? That’s out of order, Pastor, don’t
you think?”

Pastor King sat quietly for a minute. He looked like he was thinking of a way to respond tactfully. Ever since last week’s
end-of-the-year meeting, the church had been in an uproar. The older charter members of the church were most perturbed with
the changes Pastor King talked about making.

Charity remembered how he had started the church meeting with a brief sermonette on Joshua and how God commissioned him to
break out of Moses’ mold because he was now dead. “Following tradition will keep you out of the Promised Land,” he said. He
admonished the church to get prayed up because God was “getting ready to send Damascus Road Baptist Church on a Damascus Road
experience.

“We can’t continue to do thangs the way Momma, Grandmomma, and Big Momma ’nem did ’em,” he’d joked to break the uncomfortable
silence. “I believe God is raising the standard and wanting to take Damascus Road to a new level. Amen? And if you will,”—he
looked around slyly—“that can be evidenced by the fact that God has blessed us with our first female minister, Minister Phillips.
He’s breaking us out of tradition, church. I’ve been pastoring this church for fourteen years and there are some things we
are still doing that were done when the church started thirty years ago.”

The dignitaries on the front row sat as rigidly as the two older reverends in the study were now.

“I’m sorry, Reverend Hubbard, but I don’t see how that’s out of order. If you think it’s necessary, we could talk about it
further in our next ministers’ meeting. When is that? Second Saturdays? Next Saturday? Let’s talk about it then.”

Reverend Hubbard crossed his legs, rolled his eyes, and shifted his body in the direction of the door. “Since we don’t have
an assignment this morning, do you even want us to sit in the pulpit?”

Charity felt her eyes stretch open. She knew the older reverends could get an attitude, but he was being insubordinate. “The
seating arrangements have not changed,” Pastor King replied.

As if they had been resurrected from the dead, the ministers in the back began to encourage Charity in an attempt to convince
her that she was more than capable of preparing the congregation to worship.

“All right, everyone has their assignments, let’s pray and dismiss.”

Everyone met in the center of the room and held hands. Charity stood between Reverend Miller and Minister Adams, and across
the room from the older men.

“Minister Phillips, see me after service, please. Everyone bow your heads,” Pastor King admonished. “Dear precious and wise
heavenly Father, we thank You this morning for our life, health, and strength. I thank You, Lord, for these men and woman
of God you have entrusted to me, and the sheep out in the fold, bless each of them, Father. Prepare this church for Your coming,
may You find us to be a church without spot or wrinkle. Bless the furtherance of the worship services, and may our hearts
and minds be stayed on You. In Jesus’ name, we pray. Amen.” Lifting his head, he said, “Go in peace.”

The first two rows of pews on both sides of the church were reserved for its dignitaries. The deacons, charter members, and
church mothers occupied the seats. Charity tried not to look at them as she focused on the praise and worship team. Charity
looked out in the pews to find her best friend, April. She found her three pews back watching every move Minister Adams made.
Charity smiled, shook her head at April, and closed her eyes so that she could visualize the words the praise team sang regarding
welcoming the King into the sanctuary.

Charity focused on the words of exultation and found strength to do what she would have to after they finished this last song.
Before the soloist gave her final note, Charity was already at the podium with the microphone in her hand.

“Is He welcome this morning, saints? Is He welcome in this place? Then stand to your feet and welcome the King, invite Him
in. When is the last time He sat down on you? Let us not sit down on Him.”

The praise and worship team continued to sing softly, and Charity began to pray. And the more she prayed, the more the atmosphere
changed at Damascus Road Baptist Church. Most people from the third row of pews to the back of the church and even those in
the balcony stood. Some lifted their hands, some swayed from side to side, some had tears streaming down their faces, but
they all looked relieved that something was happening.

“Oh Lord, You are welcome in this place,” she prayed. “Have Your way, Father God. Lord, we know You to be a healer, heal right
now in the name of Jesus. Someone needs a deliverer, deliver right now in the name of Jesus. Someone needs a provider, provide
Lord in Your Son’s matchless name. God, we know You to be a restorer, a waymaker, a mind-regulator, a heart mender…”

Charity could not believe how fast the words came to her mind to say. She felt uncomfortably hot, like she had a fever all
over her body. Even her ears felt like they were on fire.

The praise and worship team ended their selection as she ended her prayer. The congregation’s worship was so loud, Charity
could not be heard. “God bless you, saints. We will remain standing and join in with our choir as they lead us in our opening
song.”

“I’mma stop calling you Lil’ Bit,” Pastor King said as Charity walked into his study after church. “You’re a little ole thing
but you pack a lot of power. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Charity just blushed and sat in the chair facing his desk when he motioned for her to sit.

“Thank you, Pastor. I didn’t know it was in me either. It was truly the anointing of God.”

“You ain’t telling me nothing I don’t know. We could see it all over you. You know, our worship services will never be the
same.”

“Praise God for that. But you didn’t call me in here to talk about me. Is there something I can do for you?”

“In fact it is; I wanted to apologize to you for the Reverends’ behavior this morning. It’s going to take a while for the
walls of traditionalism to be broken down in this church, but I feel a change a coming. Be strong, Minister, you were called
here for a time like this. I believe that you are going to be very instrumental in this transitional stage.”

“Praise God.”

Pastor King reached down to pick up his briefcase. “Have you seen
Today’s Gospel
magazine yet?”

“The January issue?”

He looked at the cover of the glossy magazine. “No, the February one with Yolanda Adams on it. The one with your article in
it.”

“No. I didn’t know they came out this early.”

He handed her the magazine. “Page seventy-four.”

Charity turned the magazine over and flipped through its pages until she found her article. Seeing her name and photo in the
national magazine made her want to cry. “God is so awesome for making this possible.”

“You know what I realized about your article? I was thinking about how you’ll be ministering to people you don’t even know,
that you may never see, and in places you’ve never been.”

“I didn’t even look at it that way.”

“Thomasina thinks the same thing and she called me last night. She would like for you to write an encouraging article about
single mothers and Mother’s Day. She said the word count and pay would be the same as it was for your ‘I Have No Man’ article.
The deadline is Wednesday. Can you do the assignment?”

Without hesitating Charity answered, “Yes!”

He looked proud of himself as he slid a piece of paper to her. “Here’s everything you need, including her phone number. Make
me proud.”

“Thanks for thinking of me, Pastor,” she said, standing to leave.

“Remember the day I picked you up from school?” he asked.

She nodded.

“You were what? Seventeen or eighteen? Now you’re a grown woman. That goes to show how old I’m getting to be.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything but I’ve been noticing those gray hairs.”

“Those come from keeping up with seven associate ministers,” he joked.

Charity did remember the day he picked her up from school. He’d just been installed as pastor of the church and had implemented
a “lunch with pastor” program wherein he’d draw a student’s name monthly and have lunch with them. On the day he was supposed
to have lunch with Charity, he arrived too late. So he asked if he could sit with her in her last two classes and drive her
home. Charity felt awkward having her pastor follow her around school, but she also felt special. She was trying not to act
too differently while he was there and risk having her classmates “call her out.”

After school they talked all the way to Charity’s house. Their conversation continued in the driveway for three hours as she
slowly revealed that her biological mother was an alcoholic who had lost custody of Charity after her stepfather molested
her. Charity was four years old when the Department of Social Services (DSS) took her from the hospital after recovery from
a severe case of gonorrhea and placed her with her paternal grandmother, Louise. Pastor King learned that Louise initiated
an open adoption and allowed Charity’s mother to visit her. Charity was seven when Louise died, and her mother fought for
and won her parental rights. Charity also told him about further occurrences of sexual assaults and continued physical abuse
and neglect she had suffered while in her mother’s care.

Charity didn’t know why she was telling Pastor King all that she had gone through. All she knew was that when she talked to
him, it felt like she was talking to God. It felt good to release all of her hurts and still find acceptance and unconditional
love. That day was the beginning of her healing, and Pastor King gladly accepted the role as her spiritual father. She knew
that there was a change in her attitude when she walked into the house that day introducing Pastor King to Mama Lorraine.
She’d already explained to him how Mama Lorraine was Louise’s daughter, who as soon as she was old enough made arrangements
through the county to adopt Charity. Mama Lorraine made sure that her adoption case was closed and that Charity’s mother’s
parental rights were permanently terminated.

It took Charity twenty minutes to get to her car. She had been stopped by at least fifteen people who wanted to thank her
for blessing them during her call to worship. “Pastor should let you do it all of the time, rather than them dry old reverends,”
one person had even said.

“Minister Phillips,” a male voice called out from behind her.

She had finally made it to her car and thought to pretend like she did not hear her name being called. She fumbled in her
purse for her keys.

“Minister Phillips,” the person sounded closer.

She turned around to find Minister Adams. “You’re still here? You know you usually bolt out before Pastor can give the benediction
good.” She continued fumbling for her keys, hoping he didn’t come to start a conversation. April would never forgive her if
she let the cat out of the bag, and second, she made it a point to never talk to any male alone, no matter who he was. If
it was one thing she was serious about, it was staying away from the appearance of evil.

He grinned. “I was sticking around to tell you how well you did on the call to worship this morning. You were awesome.”

Click, click
, she unlocked her sport utility vehicle by remote.

“Thank you. I’m sure you would have done just as good, if not better had he called upon you.”

“I don’t know. Especially after that royal treatment from the Reverends.”

“I know, right?”

Minister Adams continued even though Charity looked like she was ready to jump into her Explorer any minute. “We make a good
team, you and I,” he said. Charity must have looked confused because he kept talking to explain. “While you were giving the
call to worship I was backing you up on the piano.”

She laughed. “Oh, I didn’t notice. Thanks. And, thank you for the compliment.” She looked around and saw people looking in
their direction. “I need to go. I have to work on something for Pastor. You have a blessed week, okay?”

“Okay…” he looked like he wanted to say more. “You, too. Have a blessed week, too.”

Charity was stressing over the magazine article. Backspacing every line she typed, nothing was good enough for a lead. She
had only three hours to work on it. Emmitt would be dropping off Xavier at 5:00 and they were to be at Mama Lorraine’s for
dinner at 6:00. Maybe if she relaxed a little she could have the eight-hundred-word piece done by then.

“I can do all things through Christ, Who strengthens me. I can do all things through Christ, Who strengthens me,” she repeated.

She read the “I Have No Man” article that Pastor King photocopied from
Today’s Gospel
magazine. She couldn’t believe that she wrote such a powerful article on life after divorce. When she read the five tips
on how to live as joyful single Christians, she realized that she didn’t write the article by herself.
God, just as You helped me write that piece, I know You’ll help me write this one. What do You want to say to single mothers
about Mother’s Day?

She started typing by faith. Before she knew it, she had completed a modern version of the Bible story of Hagar and Abraham’s
separation called, “A Rose for Ishmael’s Momma.” Just as she was writing her byline at the end of the story, she heard a knock
on the door.

“Who is it?” she asked just to be asking. She saw Emmitt’s Nissan Pathfinder through the blinds.

“It’s Xavier and Daddy, Mommy.”

She opened the door and kneeled as Xavier ran into her outstretched arms.

“I missed you,” she said, kissing him as much as he was kissing her. She watched Emmitt walk into the house without invitation
and close the door behind him.

Charity was trying not to notice how handsome he looked in his fitted gray turtleneck sweater and black jeans, and gray and
black snakeskin boots. He was standing in the foyer scanning the house. She was still holding Xavier, and closed her eyes,
inhaling Emmitt’s Cool Water cologne. She felt herself shiver from remembrance of how she would wrap herself up in his arms
just so she could smell him. What she wouldn’t give for an opportunity to do it now.

BOOK: Good to Me
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