Chanda breezed into Nony’s house, dolled up in silky black pants and a big-print overblouse, topped by a cascade of braided extensions. “Girl, you look good!” I said, giving her a hug. But the moment I let her go, she made a beeline for Stu and gave her a long hug. Over their heads, I saw Nony’s eyes roll up to the heavenlies, and her smiling lips moved silently. Probably thanking God He hadn’t given up on this motley crew.
“We need T-shirts that say W-I-P,” I whispered to Nony as I helped her take a tray of tea and chocolate-dipped strawberries into the Smith’s tastefully appointed family room. The tray had one less strawberry by the time it got there.
“W-I-P?” Nony’s excellent command of English seemed stumped.
I grinned. “Work In Progress.”
“Yes! Hallelujah.” She laughed. “Scripture says we work out our own salvation with fear and trembling.”
The chocolate-dipped strawberries didn’t last long. Delores and Edesa had the farthest to come by el, and by the time they got there, the plate was empty. I gave Edesa a big hug—the bright-eyed Honduran student had been so busy with college classes, we hadn’t seen much of her at the Baxter house lately, even though she was Amanda’s favorite Spanish tutor. Delores had a large plastic bag with her and busied herself collecting small, anonymous packages from different sisters when Avis wasn’t looking.
I was surprised and delighted to see we had a full hand of Yada Yadas that night. Had expected half the group—at least those with kids in Chicago public schools—to be gone somewhere during spring vacation. “Me, I’m taking my t’ree kids on a Disney Cruise,” Chanda crowed. “Leave Tewsday. To-mas, Cheree, and Dia so excited, dem can’t sleep, no way.”
I cast a sympathetic glance at Florida and Delores. No way could those families afford a Disney Cruise.Wasn’t even sure Chanda could, since she’d never told us how much her “winnings” were. But I could have saved my sympathy. Florida lit up. “For real? You go, girl! Someday I’m gonna do that.”
“The whole family is going, yes? DeShawn too?” Ruth asked sweetly—but I suspected the question was loaded.
Chanda brushed it off. “Nah, not dis time. Dat mon say he too busy. Some job he doin’.” Then she patted me on the shoulder, her large eyes pitying. “Like Sista Jodee. Left home alone while she family do de Big Apple big-time.” I pulled my mouth down in a sad clown face, not sure Denny would call visiting his parents “doing the Big Apple big-time.” But Chanda had already turned to Avis. “So you, Sista Avis.What you doin’ dis week of no school?”
Now that was an interesting question. The room suddenly hushed as different ones finished getting their tea and found a seat. I expected Avis to brush off the question, but she pursed her lips, her smooth forehead knot-ting into a frown. “I . . . it’s a bit of a dilemma, actually.” My in-control-and-in-charge principal looked sheepish. “Peter has offered to drive me to South Carolina to see my cousin, Boyd. He’s . . . in prison. Death row.”
“Avis!” several voices cried, some in shock. “You have a cousin on death row?” . . . “Of course you should go see him!” . . . “This is Peter’s idea? Bless that man!” And from Ruth: “What’s to question? I don’t see a dilemma here.”
Avis sighed. “Well, you all can pray with me about it. It is a dilemma, because we’d be traveling together, several days by car, you know, and—”
“Avis Johnson!” Adele cut her off impatiently. “You worried about your reputation? Girl, just get separate motel rooms and don’t worry about what anybody thinks. We not thinkin’ anything.” She made eyes around the room. “Are we, sisters?”
Yo-Yo snickered and Ruth jabbed her. Avis tossed her hand, as if brushing off a pesky fly. “I’m not worried about what you guys think. I’m worried about what Peter’s going to think. It . . . I still feel disloyal to Conrad, dating one of his old friends, much less taking a car trip all the way to South Carolina with him. I don’t want to give Peter the wrong idea.”
That did it. Several people jumped in all at once.
“Wrong, schmong. You’re the one who’s got it all wrong, Avis Johnson.” Ruth wagged a finger in Avis’s direction. “Your Conrad? Happy he would want you to be.Who better than an old friend that he’d trust to treat you right?”
“Don’t forget what God said to the prophet Jeremiah,” Nony said. “God knows the plans He has for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future!” That brought several amens and hallelujahs.
“Sister Avis.” Delores leaned forward. “Think about your cousin. What an encouragement it would be for you to come see him. Jesus said, ‘I was in prison and ye visited me . . .’ ”
“Yeah. What she said.” Yo-Yo jerked a thumb in Delores’s direction.
“Let’s vote!” Stu grinned. “All in favor of Avis going to South Carolina with Peter Douglass say ‘aye.’ ” The “ayes” practically lifted the roof.
Avis’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. “Sorry. I have the deciding vote. But I appreciate what you all are saying. Really. And I’m serious about asking you to pray with me, because”—she made a panicky face—“I need to give Peter an answer tonight.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” I reached for Edesa’s hand on one side of me and Hoshi’s on the other. “Let’s touch and agree that God will make things plain for Avis.” And so we prayed, holding hands around our circle, and the prayers began to flow—not only for wisdom and boldness for Avis, but for “traveling mercies” for Denny and the kids in New York, and Chanda and her kids fly-ing to Florida, and safety for all our kids who were out of school that week, and jobs and MaDear and a quick end to the war in Iraq . . .
Nony’s voice lifted on the tide of prayers. “And thank You, Father God, who hears the cries of the orphan and the widow and the downtrodden, that the South African government has agreed to pay reparations to victims of apartheid crimes, even though it is only a token . . .”
Her prayer went on, but my eyes flew open, and I saw others around the circle sharing questioning glances. When Nony finally breathed, “Amen,” we all jumped in with questions. “Reparations? Really? When? How much?”
Nony was surprised we had not heard about it on the news. The dollar amount was far below what the Truth and Reconciliation Commission had asked for, and some said it was an insult, but Nony seemed grateful that public acknowledgement had been made of the injustices suffered and some reparations given. “It is a beginning, widening the crack in the door of justice.”
Hoshi nodded vigorously. “Tell them what you’re doing now, Nony.”
Nony smiled sheepishly. “You know me, my sisters. I cannot sit on my hands. The United States Congress is considering a fifteen-billion-dollar bill to globally fight the scourge of AIDS. So I’m back to letter writing and making calls to representatives. Such a bill could make a big difference for my country—especially since a third of the money would be earmarked for abstinence education.”
“Huh?” Yo-Yo wrinkled her face. “What education?”
Edesa, who was closest to Yo-Yo’s age, leaned close to her ear and whispered loudly, “Abstinence. No sex. Not sleeping around.”
Everybody laughed—except Adele, who started humming a few bars of “What a Mighty God We Serve.” A few people picked up on the words, filling in until we were all singing, “. . . Lift your voice and say it: He’s a mighty God!”
I had to take a bathroom break—my left leg still got stiff when I sat too long—but when I came back, Stu was telling about the trip to Lincoln Correctional. The group sat open-mouthed and bug-eyed that our “Bandana Woman” was actually getting an early parole—and was coming to live at Stu’s house.
“Lord, have mercy,” Ruth muttered, fanning rapidly with a piece of paper.
“Becky came back to the visitors’ room after she left?” Edesa wanted to know. “What did she say?”
Hoshi picked up the story. “She wanted to know why. Why would Stu offer to let a convicted thief live in her house? And Stu told her, ‘Because Jesus would.’What is that verse you quoted, Stu?”
Stu seemed embarrassed. “Don’t know if I quoted it very well, but the one where Jesus said if we have two coats, we should give one to the person who doesn’t have any.”
“Yes, that is it. And she started to ask each one of us why we call ourselves Christians.” Hoshi’s voice softened. “It was the first time I told her the choice I had to make between my parents and following Jesus.”
“Yeah. Hoshi gave a good answer.When Becky asked me”—Yo-Yo slouched further down on her chair—“I kinda hemmed and hawed, said sometimes I wasn’t sure if I was a Christian or not ’cause I hadn’t been dunked yet.” Yo-Yo suddenly sat up. “And you know what she said? The nerve!”
“What!” we chorused.
“She said I better get off the fence. I could be a pagan like her or a Christian like these guys, but I better choose.”
Adele belly-laughed. “Out of the mouths of thieves!”
The rest of us just shook our heads. Becky Wallace, of all people, telling Yo-Yo to get off the fence. Avis prodded, “And?”
Yo-Yo looked all wide-eyed and innocent. “And what?” Then her grin slipped. “Yeah, yeah, I know what you’re askin’. Okay, okay. I’ve decided. I want to get dunked. You know, baptized. Like Jesus said.”
WE HAD A PRETTY good “Holy Ghost Party” the rest of Yada Yada that night, laughing and singing and thank-ing God that we’d come a mighty long way. Yo-Yo resisted suggestions that she get baptized on Easter—next week!—protesting that it was still only April and the lake was still cold.
“So now you worry about jumping in the cold lake,” Ruth sniffed. “Seems I remember you doing that Polar Bear Plunge on New Year’s Day.”
“That was different,” Yo-Yo insisted over our laughter. “What I was thinkin’ was maybe the first weekend in May—our anniversary.” She must have caught our blank faces because she sounded exasperated. “Duh! The anniversary of that women’s conference thing last year—the weekend we all met, remember?”
Recognition dawned around the room. The first weekend of May. “Bendito sea Jesús!” Delores whispered. “Has it been a whole year?”
Everybody started talking at once—till Yo-Yo yelled, “Hey! Can I finish?”
The hubbub died away. “Thank you very much,” she said sarcastically. “Anyway, I don’t go to no church, you know, I usually gotta work, so I was wondering if Uptown would do the baptizing thing—since four of you Yada Yadas go there already. I kinda like that church, anyway.”
“Absolutely, Yo-Yo,” Avis said. “I’ll speak to Pastor Clark.” She glanced around the circle. “If that’s all, why don’t we close our—”
“Not dat Yo-Yo been showin’ up at any other churches when Yada Yada comes to visit,” Chanda pouted, ignoring Avis’s attempt to wrap up our meeting. “So, what the rest of you sistas t’ink about Paul and Silas last week? What you say, Sista Jodee?”
Oh great. Why is she picking on me? I squirmed, and then blurted, “Okay. I’m glad I went. I especially liked that processional song, the one about ‘Can’t turn around, we’ve come this far by faith.’ But . . .” I groaned. “I still feel so white when I’m in an all-black setting. I mean, I’ve been around you guys for a whole year, and I still don’t blend in.”
“You feel so—what?” Florida started laughing so hard she had to hold her side. Her laughter was so contagious we all ended up giggling. Except—what was so funny about what I said? I was just trying to be real.
Florida finally wiped her eyes. “Jodi Baxter, honey girl. Nobody here wants you to be black. God sure don’t, or He would have made you that way. Just be your white-bread self—that’s fine by me. Most important thing you do is show up. And not runnin’ when this racial stuff gets messy. Now that counts for somethin’.”
She wagged a finger at me. “We all come a long way, baby. Way I see it? We need all the sisters in this Yada Yada thing to show off just how big God is. Praise Jesus! We got a good thing goin’ long as we accept each other for just who we be, takin’ those itty-bitty baby steps along the way. Some day we get there . . . Say, Avis.Wasn’t you tryin’ to close us out?”