The Yada Yada Prayer Group Gets Decked Out (10 page)

Lord Jesus, please don't let Josh hit another skid over Carmelita's
death . . . He takes things so personally . . . And what's going to happen
to Carmelita's baby? . . . Jesus, have mercy on little Gracie. She's so innocent,
but she's had such a hard life already . . . Maybe they can find the
father . . . but he's probably some no-good jerk who abandoned
Carmelita when he found out she was pregnant . . . Oh God, in Your
great love and mercy, Gracie needs You now . . .

Avis took me home again.We sat in front of my house in her car as the streetlights came on, holding hands with the heater running, and prayed for Manna House, its staff and volunteers and residents, facing yet another trauma. “ . . . And Father, we
thank
You
for what You are going to do in baby Gracie's life,” Avis prayed. “Thank You for bringing her to a safe place before her mother died. Help those who care for her to bear fruit in every good work. And help Gracie to grow up in the knowledge of You and to be strengthened with Your power. Rescue her, Lord, from the kingdom of darkness that took her mother, and bring her into the kingdom of light . . . ”

After an
amen
,Avis glanced at me and grinned. “I've been reading the first chapter of Colossians.”

O-kay.
I was going to have to reread Colossians, find all that good stuff.

Denny brought home takeout from Eng's Asian Cuisine on Western Avenue, a large order of General Tso's chicken with rice and one order of Thai spicy chicken wings, which was more than enough for the three of us and cost ten bucks. Josh arrived shortly, his nose and ears red from his walk from the Morse Avenue el station. He looked around as he shed his knit hat and jacket. “Seems kind of lonesome around here without Willie Wonka. You guys thought of getting another dog?”

Every day.
“Sometimes. But we're at work all day and you kids are both at school . . . Come on, sit down. Food's hot.”

We made small talk while Denny served up the chicken and spicy wings—how long I'd have to be on crutches, how Josh's classes were going, how the West Rogers High Panthers were doing this year without their basketball stars from last year's senior class. But Josh didn't seem to be eating much, just pushing his food around on his plate.

“What's up, Josh?” Denny finally cut through the small talk. “You said you wanted to talk.”

Josh sighed and pushed his plate away. “Yeah.” He blew out a long breath, as if letting out something bottled up inside. “Edesa wants to adopt Gracie.”

His announcement hung suspended in the air for a long, startled moment . . . then words tumbled from my mouth before they were even complete thoughts.
“Adopt?
But, but . . . that's a huge decision! She shouldn't feel obligated just because of Carmelita's note. Carmelita didn't even
ask
her! Oh, Josh. Manna House needs to call DCFS, if they haven't already. I'm sure Illinois has all sorts of laws and regulations in a case like this. Indigent mother; abandoned baby. Maybe there are other relatives—”

“I
know
, Mom. I feel so confused. Edesa cried and cried when they found Carmelita. But now . . . it's like she's got her mind made up. She feels responsible for Gracie. More than that. A commit-ment. She's really bonded to the kid, feels that God brought Carmelita and Gracie into her life for a reason. But . . . ” The pain on Josh's face was palpable. “Where do
I
fit into this?”

9

M
y heart ached. “Oh, Josh.” Leave it to my big mouth to blab away before I even listened to what he was feeling.
Oh God, please help me curb
my knee-jerk tendency.

Denny's brows knit together. “Go ahead, son.”

Josh talked and we listened for the next half hour. “I still have a couple of years before I get my BA, and Edesa's got another year of school at least . . .We haven't even set a
wedding
date, much less talked about starting a family! . . . But she's my fiancée; doesn't this affect me too? . . . What if she adopts the baby now, or even becomes the foster mom? Doesn't that leave me out? . . . But if I say it's a bad idea, and she's determined . . .” Josh's head sank into his hands. “Oh God! I don't want to lose her.”

It was several minutes before I trusted myself to speak. Denny's face was furrowed with concern. I realized now that Josh didn't need our opinions. He needed us to
care.
And to pray with him for wisdom. He needed us to pray for Edesa and for Carmelita's baby girl and this whole, sad, complicated situation. To help carry the burden he was carrying right now.

The three of us held hands—Josh gripped ours as if holding on for dear life—and we prayed and cried together. When he finally pushed his chair back and reached for his jacket, Denny said he'd drive him to the el station.

“Just a word of advice, son. Encourage Edesa to talk with others she considers her spiritual mentors.”

“Delores,” I blurted. “She should talk with Delores Enriquez.”

Denny nodded. “Delores would be good. But the
most
important thing is, whatever the decision, the two of you should make it together.”

FOR ONCE, I didn't get on the computer and send an e-mail to the whole Yada Yada list asking for prayer—though it was tempting to unleash the prayer warriors. But I felt God's Spirit holding me in check.
Just pray, Jodi. That's your job right now.

But what am I supposed to pray? I'm not exactly unbiased. Josh is
my son, after all. I have his well-being at heart.

What about Edesa, Jodi? She's part of his heart now. Can you trust
Me with your son and your future daughter-in-law?

Could I? I wanted to. But I knew I could use some help. Avis. She already knew about Carmelita's death. Swinging into her office on my crutches the next morning before school started, I shut the door and blurted, “Edesa wants to adopt Gracie.”

To her credit, Avis's mouth made an O. Then she said, “Oh my.”

Well, at least I didn't have to explain it to her. “Please, just pray for Josh and Edesa right now. Josh is upset and confused.
They
need a lot of wisdom, and
I
need to trust God and keep my big nose out of it.”

Avis smiled. “At least you're honest.”

“Huh! You didn't have to agree with me—about the big nose, anyway.” I wiggled my nose between thumb and forefinger. “Is it really . . .?”

“Jodi! That's not what I meant. Come on, let's pray. The bell's about to ring.”

I FELT ENCOURAGED after praying with Avis. Funny how God had used Yada Yada—this curious prayer group of multiflavored sisters—to teach me so much about the importance of the body of Christ and how much the different parts need each other. Avis even agreed that the rest of Yada Yada should
at least
be told about Carmelita's death—and she offered to make the calls herself, to let me off the hook.

But even I was distracted from the drama going on at Manna House by the snowstorm that blew in while I was still at school that day. A heavy fog blanketed the entire metro area, as if the snow clouds were so loaded, they just sank down on the city.When the fog finally lifted the next day, we had eleven inches of new snow.

But did they cancel the public schools? Ha! This was Chicago. I would have loved to walk to school on Friday and savor the quiet beauty of new snow weighing down the broad arms of the occasional fir tree, like a picturesque Christmas card. But Denny had to drive me; I still couldn't put much weight on my sprained ankle. At least the city snowplows
had arrived during the night and plowed out the municipal parking lots, including the schools, leaving six-foot snow mountains in various spots, much to the delight of the kids playing King of the Mountain.

Avis drove me home again. Denny didn't get home until late, saying he'd shovel our walks in the morning. I was looking forward to a day at home, back in the recliner with my foot up. But Josh called that night, saying they were having a funeral for Carmelita at Manna House on Saturday morning and could his dad be one of the pallbearers?

I knew it was a sacrifice for Denny to have to put on a suit and tie on a Saturday morning. But he agreed I could stay home. “Right. You shouldn't push it, Jodi. Josh and Edesa will under-stand. You put in a four-day workweek on crutches. Give yourself a break.” He shrugged into his overcoat and pecked me on the cheek. “Sorry about the sidewalks . . . but at least you're not going anywhere.”

Stu called, asking if she and Estelle could ride with us. Denny hustled out to the garage, collar up, wading through the drifts, with Stu and Estelle stepping right behind him in his man-size footprints. I sank into the recliner a few minutes later, grateful that Denny understood without me having to convince him. Yes, I needed a day to rest as my ankle was healing . . . but he knew it would be difficult for me to be there, seeing Edesa with the baby, knowing the inner turmoil Josh was going through, having to make nice, pretending this huge decision wasn't hanging over their heads. Even if there was more to talk about, Carmelita's funeral wasn't the place to do it.

Was I being a wimp? Probably. At least I had a quiet morning for some much-needed prayer and Bible reading.
That
part of my day had been buried all week by the weather, early schedules, and the sheer annoyance that everything I did took longer on crutches.

For a while I just sat, soaking up the quiet. Praying for those at the funeral, and yes, praying for Carmelita's baby, that a good home could be found for her. Praying for Josh and Edesa and their future, praying for Amanda, who would be home in another week for her monthlong winter break . . .

Whoa.
It was December tenth already. Only two weeks until Christmas! We didn't have our tree. I hadn't done any shopping—
couldn't
do any shopping until I was more mobile. We hadn't done any decorating except for getting out our Advent wreath table centerpiece. When was I going to—

Jodi, Jodi, Jodi.
The Voice in my spirit cut into my rising tide of anxiety.
Is that what Christmas is all about?

Well, no, but—

It's My birthday! You love to celebrate birthdays. How are you going
to celebrate My birthday this year? I don't need much. I had a pretty
simple birth, you know—stable, feed trough, common folks. Of course,
there were those magi who showed up with some awesome gifts . . .

I smiled, my muscles relaxing. Okay, good reminder. Christmas is Jesus' birthday. And yes, I loved to celebrate birthdays for my family and Yada Yada sisters. I'd been having fun the last few years digging up the meaning of everyone's names and creating a card or gift to go with the names . . .

My smile grew bigger. God had many names, didn't He? I'd never really explored the names of God and what they meant. As long as I was anchored to this chair, why not look up some of the meanings of His names, for His birthday?

The front doorbell derailed my thoughts.
Huh
. I wasn't expecting anyone. Probably the Jehovah's Witnesses or some political petition. I returned to jotting my notes. If I ignored it, they'd go away.

Excited, I found my fat study Bible and started to dig.
Elohim,
“God the Creator” . . . El Roi, “The God Who Sees Me”
(Whoa. I'd never heard that one before) . . .
Jehovah Jireh, “The Lord Will Provide” . . .
Immanuel, “God with Us” . . . Abba, “Father. Daddy. Papa”—

The doorbell rang again. I sighed. Maybe it was the mail carrier needing a signature or something. I dumped my Bible and notebook on the small table beside the recliner, grabbed my crutches, and made for the door. I peeked through the peephole. Oh. Just a kid with a shovel, probably trying to earn some money. I snickered. Good thing Denny wasn't here; he always said no, as if it was an affront to his manhood. Me? I was a sucker for kids trying to earn money.

I opened the door. “Yes?”

“Morning. Would you like your walk—” The kid suddenly grinned big. “Miz B?
You
live here?”

Did I know this kid? I opened the frosty storm door so I could get a better look at him. He was wearing the typical winter gear of urban boys: knit hat, hooded sweatshirt under a padded team jacket. The boy pushed the hood of his sweatshirt back, still grinning. “Don't you recognize me, Miz B?” And there he stood, big as life. A couple of years older, but—

“Hakim Porter!” I threw the storm door open wide. “I can't believe it! Come in! Come in! I was just thinking about you a couple of days ago, wondering what you were up to. And here you are!”

“Oh, uh, don't know if I should come in. I was just lookin' for some shoveling jobs in this neighborhood, and saw your walk needed . . . ” His eyes traveled to my crutches, and he suddenly seemed flustered. “What happened, Miz B? You okay?”