Hands on her hips, Edesa Baxter stared at the two full laundry baskets sitting by the back door of the apartment. There were times when living on the third floor of the House of Hope suited her just fine. No running feet overhead from kids living in the other apartments. No percussive thumps coming through the ceiling from speakers sitting on the floor. No loud voices and footsteps going up the stairwell past their apartment, except for Cordelia Soto and her kids living across the hall, also on the third floor. And she loved sitting on the window seat that hugged the bay windows in the front room, feeling like a bird hidden among the leaves of the trees planted along the parkway below.
Sí, there were a lot of things she liked about their third-floor apartment.
But laundry day wasn’t one of them. Not when the two washing machines for general use were clear down in the basement. And especially not when one of the dryers had recently died, and the other one took twice as long to dry clothes as it should.
Why hadn’t she asked Josh to take the laundry down before he headed out on his round of errands that morning? She didn’t know when he’d get back. Vandals had stolen the recycling bins the city provided for their building, and he was haggling with the Department of Sanitation about providing replacements. Plus he had half a dozen other stops for the House of Hope—she couldn’t remember what all he’d said. Just that he’d had to borrow Gabby Fairbanks’s car because of all the running around.
“Mommeeee. Want more apple juice!” Two-year-old Gracie tugged on Edesa’s skirt, holding up her sippy cup.
Absently Edesa got out the bottle of juice and filled Gracie’s cup without asking, “What do you say, niña?” as she usually did. How was she going to manage Gracie and two laundry baskets going down three flights? It wasn’t like she could just wait another day. Each of the six apartments in the House of Hope had been assigned a laundry day, and Wednesday was her day. And she’d really like to get the laundry done and folded before tonight when they had their weekly “household meeting” with everybody.
Besides, it was her birthday. Twenty-seven years old today. Not a “milestone” birthday, but still . . . she wished they’d canceled the household meeting and gotten a babysitter so she and Josh could do something special, maybe go out to dinner? It seemed like a long time since they’d had a night out.
Twenty-seven. Somehow that sounded a lot older than twenty-six, and made the three-year difference between her and Josh seem even wider. Here she was, almost thirty, and he’d still be in his twenties—
No, no, don’t go there, she told herself. It was God who’d brought them together and she loved Josh, loved the Baxter family she’d married into, loved the child they’d adopted. And maybe someday Gracie would have a brother or sister.
Except . . . more kids, even more laundry! Edesa rolled her eyes heavenward. Make that “someday,” Señor.
Well, she couldn’t just stand there. “Come on, niña. Let’s see who’s home. Maybe somebody can watch you while I get the laundry started.” Edesa took Gracie by the hand, went out into the stairwell, and knocked at the door across the hall. No answer. Not surprising. Cordelia—a sweet Latina mom with two youngsters—took her kids to Little Village two or three days a week to play with their cousins while she did housecleaning jobs. It was fun having another mom on the same floor who spoke Spanish, even though she and Cordelia came from different countries.
No one was home in 2A or 2B either. Where was everybody? Some of the moms had jobs, but usually somebody was home. Gracie plopped down on the second-floor landing. “I’m tired. Don’t wanna walk.”
Edesa picked her up and continued on down to the first floor. No point in knocking at 1B. Gabby was at work and both her teen boys were in summer camp programs this month. Edesa shook her head. Those two boys couldn’t be more different. P.J. was into sports and was the spitting image of his dark-haired dad, while Paul, a budding musician, had inherited his mom’s “Orphan Annie” curly hair.
She knocked on 1A. Her last chance. If Tanya or Precious or Sabrina weren’t home, she’d just have to—
The door opened. “Hey, Miss Edesa.” Sabrina, Precious McGill’s eighteen-year-old, wearing her year-old toddler on her hip, stood in the doorway looking bored. Edesa didn’t blame her. It was hard being a teenager with a baby, missing out on summer’s fun. “Mama’s not here if you’re looking for her.”
“Actually, I have a favor to ask. Could you watch Gracie for fifteen minutes while I get my laundry into the washing machines?” She’d worry about getting it dry later.
Sabrina shrugged. “Sure.” The pretty black teenager held out a hand to Gracie. “Want a hot dog, sweetie? I was just gonna feed Timmy some lunch.” She rolled her eyes at Edesa. “Now maybe he’ll let me set him down. Been clingy all mornin’, ain’t ya, you Lil’ Turkey.”
Edesa tried not to wince—not her choice for Gracie’s lunch—but she thanked Sabrina profusely before running back upstairs. Beggars couldn’t be choosy, as the Americans liked to say.
But she had no sooner lugged both baskets down the outside back stairs and unlocked the basement door when her cell phone rang. Edesa snatched her phone out of her pocket. Caller ID said Kathryn Davies. “Buenos días, Sister Kathryn! Cómo estás?”
She heard laughter on the other end. “That’s what I need, Edesa. Someone to make me use my Spanish. Uh . . . tienes tiempo para hablar?”
Did she have time to talk? “Uh, well, sure, for a few minutes . . . Wait just a moment.” She tapped the Speaker button and set the phone down on top of the dryer that wasn’t working. Hopefully that was one of the errands Josh was doing today, getting parts to fix it. “Okay. What’s up?”
“Well, you said to call and tell you about my meeting with the pastoral team Monday night. Sorry I didn’t call yesterday. I’m trying to make up work time I took off over the weekend when Olivia and her sister were here. In fact, I’m on my way to work right now—just left the school—but didn’t want to wait too long before I told you what’s happening.”
Edesa stuffed assorted underwear, dish towels, and socks into the first washer as Kathryn talked breathlessly. Then she sorted wash-and-wear into the second washing machine—both of which had seen better days, but at least they still worked. Gracias, Jesús.
But as her caller went on, Edesa stopped sorting clothes to listen more carefully. She’d never heard Kat Davies talk like this—about realizing that starting a food pantry had to be God’s idea or it would flop, and realizing she couldn’t do it alone, that others would need to feel called as well. “So I’m wondering if you would pray for that specifically, Sister Edesa, that God would call others to catch the vision for a food pantry at SouledOut. I can tell people about it, yeah, me and my big mouth are good at that.” Edesa heard Kat give a self-deprecating laugh. “I might be able to twist a few arms or drag people into it. But that’s not the same thing as being called by God. I—” The girl’s voice seemed to catch.
“Oh, Kathryn, sí, I will be so glad to pray with you about this. When did you say the pastors suggested you start?”
Kat’s voice on the speaker sounded almost like a whisper. “September. But Pastor Cobbs suggested doing a trial run in August—right after I’m done volunteering with the STEP program the end of July.”
“Oh.” Edesa almost laughed. “What’s that—less than three weeks away? We certainly do need to pray! Only God can pull this off! Let’s pray right now.” Turning on both washing machines and with the phone to her ear, Edesa slowly walked back up the outside stairs to her apartment, praying every step of the way.
“Oh, thank you, Sister Edesa. I appreciate it so much—Oh, hey, I’m here at the coffee shop. Gotta go. But if you don’t mind, I’ll call back in a day or two. I have a feeling I’m going to need a lot of prayer.”
Edesa kept thinking about the phone call as she picked up Gracie, promising Sabrina she’d return the favor by keeping Timmy soon, read a Winnie the Pooh story to Gracie before putting her down for her nap, and then fixed a quesadilla for her own lunch. Funny how Kat’s phone call was affecting her. The enthusiastic girl had come to her first with her idea, and seemed to consider her a major prayer partner in this project. But did God mean for her to be a major player in this project as well?
Licking the melted cheese off her fingers, Edesa realized something had shifted. For weeks now, she had felt God nudging her to gently challenge Kat to a deeper walk with God, to come alongside and help channel her enthusiastic ideas into “reasonable service.” But right now, Kat’s call was challenging her.
“Señor,” she breathed, head in her hands over her empty plate, “if You are calling me to get involved in this food pantry idea, please make it clear.”
It was only when she finally rose from the small kitchen table and filled the sink with soapy water to wash up the breakfast and lunch dishes that she realized she’d never added detergent to the two loads of dirty clothes.