35

Whoa. That whole Cross thing stayed on my mind all afternoon. Hope and joy. Suffering. Resurrection. Jesus said, “Take up your cross and follow Me.” That meant we went through that cycle too. Hope and joy. Suffering. But never despair, because then came the promise of resurrection.

But at least I remembered to bring the money we’d already collected for Sara’s “belated birthday present” as Yada Yada gathered at Nony’s house that evening. To my delight, Hoshi was still at the house since the ReJOYce campus meeting she and Sara attended started an hour later. Hoshi beamed as others added to the collection.

Ruth was the last one to arrive, lugging a baby carrier. “A cold her brother has,” she announced, lifting a pink-cheeked Havah out of the swaddled blankets, leaving us to figure out whether that was the reason she didn’t bring Isaac, too, or whether leaving one fussy baby with Ben was more than enough. Seeing what Hoshi was doing, Ruth dug in her purse, stuffed several bills into Havah’s tight baby grip, and cooed, “See? Havah wants to help Sara too . . . okay, sweetie, let go now . . .”

Finally, Hoshi shyly handed the basket of bills to Adele. “Will this be enough for—how do you say—a ‘makeover’?”

Adele pocketed the money without even counting it. “Just right.” She handed a gift certificate to Hoshi in exchange. “Tell Sara to call that number for an appointment.”

Nony, her sculpted braids freed from the African headwrap she’d worn that morning, poured tea and passed a plate of sugary lemon bars as the conversation drifted to Holy Week celebrations.

“Easter sure was the biggest day of the year when I was comin’ up Baptist,” Florida said. “Didn’t matter how poor we was, my mama decked us out in lacey anklets, patent leather shoes shined with Vaseline, ruffled dresses—and new underwear in case we got run over. And an Easter hat! Mm-mm. I felt so grown-up wearin’ a big ol’ Easter hat like all the big mamas.”

Adele fanned herself with a small paper plate. “You forgot hair. Mama pressed mine—first straightened it with Vaseline and a hot iron comb, then curled it with iron curlers heated on the stove. Ouch. I think that’s when I decided I wanted my own salon, to save little girls from all that torture.”

Florida was shaking with laughter now. “Same, same. But first, we had to make it through Good Friday. Always had seven different preachers, preachin’ the Seven Last Words of Christ. Sometimes lasted till midnight!”

Stu grinned. “And I thought our Good Friday service was long. In the Lutheran church, we prayed the fourteen Stations of the Cross. We walked solemnly from station to station around the church, where somebody read the relevant scripture: Jesus condemned to death . . . Jesus carrying His cross . . . Jesus falling under the weight—all the way to His death and burial. After each station, everybody said, ‘Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy, Lord have mercy,’ and someone blew out the candles at that station, until the whole church was dark.” She twisted a strand of long hair around one finger. “Easter, of course, was full of light and joy, lots of banners and big organ music.”

Yo-Yo rolled her eyes. “Huh. Only time I ever remember goin’ ta church with my mama was Easter. Oh, yeah. Couple of times we went at Christmas. Kinda got the idea if you showed up on Easter and Christmas, you could forget it the rest of the time.”

“At least you went to church,” Becky said. “I thought Easter was Easter eggs and Easter bunnies. My dad took me to an Easter egg hunt once when I was little. A couple of months later he split, an’ I don’t remember ever seein’ him again.”

Florida squeezed Becky’s hand. “That’s why Jesus came, girl, to heal all that.”

“At least the Easter bunny has not made it across the border into Mexico!” Delores huffed. Then her eyes got wistful. “But the whole country celebrates from Domingo de Ramos to Domingo de Gloria—Palm Sunday to Easter. Every year on Viernes Santo, Holy Friday, there is a big procession through the streets in every town. A man wearing a bloody crown of thorns carries a cross, escorted by men dressed as Roman soldiers. Everyone ends up at the Catholic church to repent of our sins that sent Jesus to the cross.”

Chanda shook her head. “In Jamaica, Easter just a big party, like a carnival. Mi remember mama looking so sad, down on she knees, praying for all dem heathens, not even know what dey do. But she not so sad she not make Easter buns and cheese!” Chanda closed her eyes and sighed. “Mm. Dem buns so sweet and spicy and full of raisins! Mm-mm.”

“Sounds like hot cross buns,” I said. “My mother used to make them—sweet rolls with a cross of white frosting. You can get them in the grocery stores, but they don’t taste anything like homemade—not that my kids have ever had the homemade version.” Everyone laughed. “But what I remember most is sunrise services. I always thought that was so exciting—getting up while it was still dark on Easter morning, going to a local football stadium, a bunch of churches all together usually, and watching the sun rise, then singing some glorious hymn, like ‘Christ the Lord Is Risen Today!’ ”

Heads nodded. Several had been to at least one sunrise service.

Yo-Yo squinted thoughtfully. “At the Bagel Bakery, we’re makin’ a lot of foods for Passover. Funny that the Jewish folks have a holy day same time as the Christians.”

Ruth, who was jiggling Havah over her shoulder, practically choked. “Same time as . . .!” She rolled her eyes. “Oy vey.”

“What? What’d I say?” Yo-Yo threw out her hands.

“Here.” Ruth handed the squirming baby to Adele. “What? You don’t read your Bible?” She tapped her noggin with one finger. “What feast was Jesus celebrating with His disciples the night Judas betrayed Him?”

“Huh. Passover, of course,” Florida said. “But that’s Old Testament stuff, Ruth—pardon me sayin’ so. We ain’t under the Law an’ all that anymore, thank ya, Jesus!”

Yo-Yo snorted. “You said it. I have a hard enough time keepin’ the Ten Big Ones, much less all them itty-bitty rules in the Old Testament.”

Ruth tsked-tsked through her teeth. “Oy, oy, oy. It’s time all you New Testament Christians celebrated a Seder, along with Jesus, who seemed to think it was important to show His disciples the hidden meanings in the ancient Passover meal.”

Most of us looked blank. “Seder?”

“Seder—the Passover ritual celebrated in Jewish homes all over the world to remember God’s deliverance from Egypt.” Ruth’s exaggerated patience sounded like she was talking to my third graders. “For Messianic Jews, the Seder takes on a deeper meaning, foretelling the coming of the Messiah.” Ruth got up and paced around Nony’s family room. “Hm. Hm. How could we do this? . . .”

Hoshi glanced at her watch and started to slip out of the room.

“Hoshi, wait one moment,” Nony said quickly. “Let us pray with you before you go to meet Sara.” Nony turned to Ruth. “Please forgive the interruption, my sister. But Hoshi must leave.”

Ruth nodded, still deep in thought, murmuring to herself.

Nony stood with an arm around the slender Japanese student and prayed that Sara would receive our gift as an offering of our love. Adele, still holding Havah, who had fallen to sleep over her shoulder, added a prayer of blessing over Hoshi for “walking her talk” by loving Sara.

Hoshi whispered, “Thank you” and slipped out . . . but the prayers just kept coming. Florida asked God for mercy at Chris’s final hearing later that month, when his fate would be decided by a judge in the juvenile court.

“Thank you, God, that he wasn’t sent to adult court,” Stu murmured.

“Yes! Thank ya, Jesus.” Florida had to blow her nose.

“Nony?” I heard Avis ask quietly. “Has Mark heard from the university yet?”

Eyes opened. Nonyameko shook her head. “Not yet. We are trusting God to do what is best.”

But Avis prayed that Mark would receive favor from the University of KwaZulu-Natal, and that we could send out this couple with gladness in our hearts.

Well, that last part might be a stretch, I thought with a pang.

“And bless de whole Baxter family,” Chanda said suddenly, “feeling so sad wit’ losing dey sweet dog.”

She took me by such surprise, a lump grabbed me in the throat. I reached over and squeezed her hand. But it reminded me that I had something to share. “Um, sisters? I’d appreciate your prayers, because I volunteered to help the school at the JDC put on a play. The regular English teacher got mono and had to take a leave. Denny told me they were looking for a substitute, so . . .” I sucked in a big breath. “That’s how I’ll be spending my spring break. It’s a big stretch for me, but with one of our own children at the JDC, seems like a responsibility I need to own too.”

“Jesus, Jesus . . .” Florida grabbed the tissue box.

Adele chuckled. Couldn’t blame her. It was pretty funny. Me, Jodi Marie Baxter, taking on a classroom of juvenile delinquents—well, guess they were “innocent until proven guilty”—even if it was for a short time. But, still chuckling, Adele prayed for me. “Lord, don’t know who’s gonna learn more, the boys and girls at the JDC, or Sister Jodi here. But it’s so unlikely, it’s gotta be one of Your ideas. And whatever comes out of this drama thing, Lord, wash it all over with Your love.”

Avis wrapped up our prayers, and we started to break up the circle when Ruth said, “All right. Gonna be tight but we’ll do it.”

We all looked at her. What in the world was she talking about?

“Seder. At our house this Thursday, the night Jesus celebrated Passover with His disciples before Judas betrayed Him. Six o’clock. Bring your children. It is very important that the children understand—that is the Jewish way.”

“At your house?” I blinked. “What about Ben? I mean, how is he going to feel about a bunch of Christians celebrating a traditional Jewish feast?”

“That,” Ruth said, a puckish gleam in her eyes, “might be the whole point.”