7

Nony had seemed a bit flustered when she first came in—ready to burst with her news about Mark’s sabbatical, I suspected—but she waited calmly while we all found a seat, some on the couch, some on Yo-Yo’s mismatched table chairs, some on the floor. Then, looking like a queen beneath her crown of braids, she smiled. “Sisters, God is so good to us. Let us give Him some praise! Think back upon this week, and let us pour out our gratitude for His mercies . . . His abundance . . . His loving-kindness.”

So our chatter turned to praise, not one at a time, but several at once, for all the good things God had been doing among us. “An’ that includes Becky Wallace, our new sister in God’s family,” Florida tossed in.

“And that Becky got to spend time with her little boy on Mother’s Day,” Stu added. That news sparked several shouts of “Hallelujah!” and “You’re a good God! Oh, yes!”

I wanted to praise God, too, but the biggest thing on my mind was that Hakim wouldn’t be in my classroom on Monday, and I didn’t feel thankful about that. Finally I raised my own voice: “Thank You, God, for Hakim, for giving me the privilege of being his teacher this year, for all the gifts and potential You’ve created within him. And thank You, God, for going with him wherever he is, even though he’s no longer in my classroom.” My voice caught, and I felt a hand squeeze mine. Hoshi’s long, smooth fingers. I squeezed back.

Nony wrapped up our praise time with one of her favorite Scriptures from the Old Testament: “Father God, thank You that the plans You have for us are to prosper us, not to harm us, plans that give us hope and a future!”

“That’s right,” Florida chimed in. “You sayin’ it now.”

Nony’s voice got emotional as her prayer followed the familiar verses from Jeremiah 29: “Even though we sometimes find ourselves in a strange land, just like the Israelites of old, You never forsake us. You have promised that if we call upon You and seek You with all our heart, that we will find You and You will bring us out of captivity, back to the place from which we were exiled. Yes! Thank You! Thank You!” Nony suddenly laughed aloud and clapped her hands. “Thank You!”

Startled, I opened my eyes; others did too. Nony wore a smile so wide and joyful it lit up her whole face, even as tears wet her cheeks. Knowing what was behind her joy, I couldn’t help it; I started to laugh.

Ruth looked back and forth between us. “So what is this laughing? A secret you two know? Not so nice to laugh in our face.” She sniffed.

“Better tell ’em, Nony.” Frankly, I was eager to hear more than she’d given me over the phone.

Nony took the wad of tissues someone passed to her and wiped her eyes. “You all know that Mark and I have quarreled many times about my desire to go home to South Africa. God has put such a burden on my heart for my people, wounded by the many years of apartheid, suffering from the ravages of HIV and AIDS—especially the children.”

“Dat we know!” Chanda broke in. “We wanna be hearin’ de good part!”

Nony laughed again. “All right. The good part! Two days ago, Mark told me the university has granted him a one-year sabbatical from the history department! He said he applied several weeks ago but didn’t want to tell me in case it was denied.”

“Sabbatical? What’s that?” Yo-Yo’s forehead wrinkled into tire treads. “Somethin’ like the Sabbath?” Yo-Yo, who was anything but Jewish, nonetheless got half her religious education behind the counter at the Bagel Bakery.

Nony’s eyes danced. “I had not thought of that. But I suppose it has the same root meaning—a time of rest, a time to set aside your work. For Mark, it means taking a year off without pay, but he can have his job back when he returns.”

“So de mon jus’ wan’ to loaf aroun’? Not work?” Chanda rolled her eyes. “Me had me fill of dem loafers sittin’ on dey behinds, eatin’ me food and sayin’ dey broke.”

I stifled a giggle. That would be DeShawn, otherwise known to the prayer group as “Dia’s daddy,” who suddenly showed up after Chanda won the lottery. Chanda finally got wise to him and gave him the boot . . . though I wondered how long that would last.

“No, no, nothing like that! Mark’s taking a sabbatical for me, so that we can go to South Africa for a year—together, as a family!”

Adele, sitting on one of Yo-Yo’s hard chairs with her arms folded across her ample bosom, tsked through her teeth. “Nony, if Mark is doing this for you, there may yet be hope for the male species.” Yo-Yo snickered. “Though my guess is,” Adele went on, “none of us wants to think about you being gone from Yada Yada for a whole year.”

Adele’s comment pulled a plug out of the dike. Suddenly everyone was talking at once: “Oh, Nony! We will miss you so much!” and “Are you really going to go?” mixed with “When will you come back?”

Ruth held up her hand like a traffic cop. “What is she—gone already? Let the lady tell us what the plans are.”

Nony flashed a grateful smile. “Mark has to finish this semester, of course. And we will have to find a renter for our house—so many things to do! So we haven’t set a date yet—maybe August? Oh! One thing I ask for your prayers. Mark has applied to teach at the new University of KwaZulu-Natal in Durban, a merger of several small universities that opens next January. He is quite excited about it; I am too.” Her voice softened, almost shyly. “Because then going to South Africa would not be just for me, but for him too.”

It didn’t take a math genius to realize that if the Sisulu-Smiths left for Africa this summer, but the school year did not start until January, Mark’s one-year sabbatical might be more like one and a half. I suddenly felt bereft. That was a long time—too long to be without Nony in my life. And what about Hoshi? Nony and Mark were practically family to her! Her only family . . .

“But we need to move on,” Nony said graciously. “There are many other prayer concerns, I know. Hoshi? Why don’t you begin?”

In her careful English, Hoshi Takahashi asked us to pray for what she should do this coming summer when classes ended in June. “I only have one more year at NU. Then”—she smiled, a bit sad—“even bigger question of what I should do.” She left unsaid the painful reality that she might not be welcome if she went home to Japan.

Ruth waived her turn, saying Ben was behaving himself, if she didn’t count him being crotchety, and everything else was fine. Delores didn’t mention anything about being bitten by the pit bull—just “Keep praying for Ricardo.” Her lip quivered slightly, and I wanted to launch myself across the room and wrap my arms around her. Oh God, how easily I take Delores’s strength and upbeat attitude for granted! But it’s been almost a year since Ricardo got laid off. She’s really hurting. I glanced at the bandage peeking out from her sleeve. And maybe scared.

Edesa Reyes—the young African-Honduran student who often babysat for the Enriquez family—gave the older woman a quick hug. “I went on rounds at the hospital with Delores recently, and realized many of those sick children might not be there if they had good nutrition, regular shots, and checkups. I have completed almost two years at Chicago Community College in social work, but . . .” She looked around shyly, her bouncing corkscrew curls held back from her warm, mahogany face with a colorful orange headband. “I’ve been thinking I could be more help to the Latino community if I switched to public health. Will you pray God will show me what to do?”

I put Hakim into the prayer hopper next. “And pray for me, because . . . I feel like I failed him. I wanted so badly to make it right after discovering he was, you know, Jamal Wilkins’s little brother.”

“Jodi.” The way Adele said my name felt like she’d just told me to sit up straight. “Don’t keep beating yourself up over that boy. You can’t fix everything—haven’t you learned that yet? Give him over to God, and concentrate on your job: praying for Hakim. You can do that.”

I wasn’t sure if Adele was chastising me or encouraging me—probably both—but I gave her a weak smile. “I know. You’re right.”

Nony gently nudged us to keep going so we could hear from everyone, and finally it was time to pray. Nony began simply, “El Shaddai, You are the All-Sufficient One, and Your sufficiency is all we need. You already know each of the needs we have shared here tonight, and we thank You—yes, thank You!—that Your plans are to prosper us and not to harm us, as Your Word says. But keep us alert, Father, for the Evil One schemes and plots to shake our trust in You . . .”

IT FELT GOOD TO TURN ALL OUR NEEDS, all our tangled feelings into prayers for one another. Before we left, we helped set Yo-Yo’s apartment back in order, called for Ben Garfield to bring the boys back and pick up Ruth, and made sure everyone had rides. Stu didn’t even blink when Florida announced that she’d been elected for taxi duty into the city.

As promised, I gave Nony and Hoshi a ride home. We dropped off Hoshi at her dorm, then drove another half-mile past the NU campus, turned onto a lovely tree-shaded side street, and pulled up in front of the Sisulu-Smiths’ neat brick home with ivy climbing all around the door and window shutters. Nony hesitated before getting out. “Don’t think Mark’s home yet. I . . . hope everything’s all right.”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

She gave a half smile. “I’m sure it is. It’s just that . . . for some reason he seemed upset just before we left to pick up Hoshi. Somebody came to the door—getting signatures for something or other, he said—but after that, he seemed all uptight and snappy. We barely spoke on the way to Yo-Yo’s house; I’m sure Hoshi noticed.” She shrugged. “Oh well. Maybe he was cross about having to go to that department meeting tonight. It’s probably nothing.” She opened the door. “Better go rescue the babysitter. Marcus and Michael tend to pull a few tricks when Mom and Dad aren’t home.”

“Can I use your bathroom?” I asked, opening my door. “All that coffee I drank at Yo-Yo’s is suddenly yelling, ‘Emergency!’ ”

Nony laughed, and we walked up the brick walk together. As she fumbled with her house key, she suddenly peered into the ivy that clung to the brick masonry. “Look at that. Someone stuck trash in there. I hate that!”

She reached toward the ivy, but I danced urgently on my toes. “Uh, can you hurry with that key? I really gotta go.”

“Sorry. Forgot.” She unlocked the door, and I pushed it open, dashing toward their half bath, which was just off the front hall.

A few minutes later I came out, but the front door was still standing open and no Nony to be seen. Puzzled, I came back outside and found her sitting on their front stoop, her shoulders shaking with silent tears.

“Nony!” I sat down beside her. “What’s wrong?”

She turned to me, her eyes frightened, and handed me a crumpled pamphlet—the litter she’d pulled out of the ivy.

“Oh, Jodi,” she whispered. “I didn’t know . . . I didn’t realize . . . such hate existed here in my adopted country too.”