41

The best gift, indeed! Ben Garfield had become a Christian?! I was so excited I wanted to call all the Yada Yada sisters and tell them. Then I realized Yada Yada was meeting this weekend . . . somewhere. I checked the list taped to a kitchen cupboard door. At my house, yikes! They’d find out tomorrow anyway. Let Ruth tell them.

If Ben told her. Communication between those two was weird at best.

But when we got to church the next morning, sure enough, Ben and Ruth’s pearly green Buick was already in the shopping center parking lot. And there they were, taking up half a row with two baby carriers, two diaper bags, and the twins, dressed in—what else?—matching knitted sweaters and caps, though Havah’s was yellow and Isaac’s blue.

But what I noticed most was that Ben was wearing his yarmulke. What was that about? By his own admission, Ben hadn’t been a very religious Jew. But maybe his Jewishness made even more sense now that he saw the fulfillment of the Old Testament prophecies about a coming Messiah.

I was so moved that Ben and Ruth had come to church together, all I could do was give Ben a big, long hug. “Welcome,” I whispered in his whiskery ear. And I didn’t just mean welcome to our church. By the look he gave me, I think he understood.

Chanda and her kids showed up, too, along with Rochelle and little Conny, the cutie. What was going on? Chanda was a member of Paul and Silas Apostolic Baptist, like Adele. On the other hand, Rochelle’s parents were members here. Maybe Chanda’s household was taking turns at both churches, since Rochelle had moved in. Or—

Sheesh. I sure hoped Chanda wasn’t chasing that fine Oscar Frost.

Avis led worship that morning. Peter must have told her about the “Bada-Boom Brothers” praying with Ben yesterday, because she couldn’t stop smiling, couldn’t stop praising. The call to worship was from Psalm 125: “Those who trust in the Lord are like Mount Zion, which cannot be shaken but endures forever!” she cried. “As the mountains surround Jerusalem, so the Lord surrounds his people both now and forevermore.”

Beautiful, I thought. Let Ben know our faith is rooted in his.

The praise team followed with the spiritual, “Tell me, how did you feel when you come out the wilderness? . . .” The whole congregation leaned into the song, clapping and singing it again and again. I snuck a glance at Ben and Ruth, each bouncing a five-month-old on their hips in time to the rhythmic music. “Did your soul feel happy when you come out the wilderness? . . .” Neither one was singing the words, but both had the kind of wobbly smile that betrayed a well of happy tears.

Between clapping, singing, the sunshine streaming in through the wall of windows, and temperatures predicted in the high eighties—hot for April—a lot of handkerchiefs came out to mop sweaty faces, and a couple of men propped open the glass double doors. During the lengthy service, several of us walked and jiggled the babies in the back of the room when they got fussy, since we didn’t have a nursery yet.

Afterward, the Garfields were mobbed by greeters, both friends and strangers. Ruth took me by surprise when she sought me out and pulled me aside. “You prayed; God answered, Jodi. Toda raba . . . thank you.”

I flinched. “Um, to be honest, Ruth, I forgot to pray for Ben until the middle of the Seder. Worse, I forgot to tell the other Yada Yadas to pray like you asked.”

She patted my arm. “Do not worry. God answered, yo? My prayers, your prayers, all the Yada Yada prayers that have gone up for my Ben. God is faithful.”

I grabbed her in a hug. “Yes, God is so faithful,” I murmured as Stu and Estelle joined us. “Uh . . . hi guys. See you all tonight? Yada Yada’s at my house. Pass the word, will you? I’ve gotta zip home and clean house”—I groaned—“not to mention finish lesson plans and grade a zillion more homework papers.”

Estelle wagged a finger in front of my face. “Slow down, Jodi Baxter. Stu and I will bring snacks tonight, won’t we, Stu?” She elbowed Stu in the ribs. “An’ I’ll be down an hour early to run yo’ vacuum cleaner or whatever else you think needs doin’.” The finger wagged some more. “An’ don’t you be oh-no-ing me. You should know by now I’m a stubborn old woman. Now”—She eyed the room from side to side—“where are them babies? I’m not leavin’ till I get me some sugar.”

BY THE TIME the Yada Yadas started arriving at five o’clock, I had finished the stack of papers I had to grade, my lesson plans would at least get me through the next two weeks, and Estelle had swept through our house as if her hair were on fire. Stu brought down her homemade cranberry bread, still hot from the oven—though Josh and Amanda sweet-talked her out of two whole slices on their way out the door to the SouledOut youth group at the church. “Your cranberry bread is my favorite, Auntie Stu,” Josh teased.

“Don’t you ‘Auntie Stu’ me, you overgrown sheepdog,” she grinned, flicking his shaggy hair out of his eyes.

I was surprised to see Hoshi come in with Nonyameko. I peered behind them. “Is Sara with you?”

Hoshi shook the silky black ponytail at the nape of her neck. “No. But she wants me to tell all of you thank you very much for the gift certificate.”

“Mm-hm. That Adele sure did work wonders on that girl,” Florida murmured, her mouth full of crumbly cranberry bread.

Hoshi laughed. “Yes. It has given her more self-confidence. So, today I tell her, ‘Sara, you will have to go to ReJOYce tonight without me. I cannot come.’ It will be—how do you say?—good for her.” Hoshi winked impishly.

Nony slipped an arm around the girl’s slender waist. “The truth is, sisters, Hoshi misses Yada Yada more than she lets on. And tonight she needs prayer for her future, after graduation. But we will share later, yes, my sister?” She gave Hoshi a tender kiss on her long, smooth cheek and sat down in our overstuffed chair.

Whoa. I kinda sorta remembered that Hoshi was scheduled to graduate from Northwestern University this year, but I hadn’t given any thought to what came after. Would she return to Japan? Or . . . what?

Ruth bustled in without any babies, but we mobbed her anyway. Those of us from SouledOut knew the good news already, and everyone else found out soon enough that Ben had prayed with “the brothers” to receive Jesus as his Messiah. I waited until the hugs and hubbub died down to satisfy my curiosity. “Um, Ruth, why did Ben want to come to SouledOut? Don’t get me wrong—I’d love to have my favorite grouch at our church.” Ruth and I both laughed. “But, what about Beth Yehudah? I mean, that’s Christian and Jewish. I’ve learned so much about my own faith from you two.”

Ruth rolled her eyes. “Beth Yehudah yesterday, SouledOut today. A church marathon we did this weekend!” She thought a moment. “But for Ben, he considers Denny and the other Yada Yada husbands as true brothers, who accepted him, even valued him, for who he was. He wants to worship with them for a while . . . or ‘hang,’ as Yo-Yo would say. Oy-oy-oy.”

By now, most of the group had arrived, and Avis rounded us up, encouraging us to start our praise and worship time. Chanda slipped in scowling as we sang one of our old favorites: “Hold to His hand, God’s Almighty hand . . .!”

“Are you okay?” I whispered to her.

She muttered something dark about the terrible parking. I wanted to guffaw. Well, yeah, Chanda, if you’re going to insist on driving that monster SUV. But I didn’t. She’d bought the thing so she could haul kids and families around, bless her. So I just gave her a hug and brought in another chair from the dining room.

As I sat down again, Avis was opening her Bible. “I want to share a scripture from Hebrews, chapter twelve,” she said. “ ‘Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a huge crowd of witnesses to the life of faith, let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily hinders our progress. And let us run with endurance the race that God has set before us. We do this by keeping our eyes on Jesus, on whom our faith depends from start to finish.’ ”

My ears perked up. Whoa. More verses about running the race, moving forward, like the ones God had showed me in Philippians last week.

Avis closed her Bible. “It occurred to me as I read these verses that they speak both to the one running the race of faith, and to the ‘crowd of witnesses’ urging the runner on. Each one of us in this room finds herself in both roles—running the race of faith, and encouraging each other when we falter.” A gentle smile bathed Avis’s face as she looked around the circle. “I just want to say thank you, my sisters, for being there for my family this year. It has been so hard to see my precious daughter suffer abuse in her marriage, and now have to deal with HIV. Thank you especially, Chanda, for taking Rochelle into your home.”

Chanda squirmed. “Aw, irie, mon! It’s all good. For we too!”

Edesa, her nutmeg skin glowing in the warm evening, leaned forward with a wide smile. “I, too, want to say gracias to Chanda for her encouragement. She made a generous donation to the new Manna House Foundation, and promised matching funds to anything else we can raise in the next two years. We can start building this summer!”

“Awright, Chanda!” Yo-Yo punched the air, spurring a general round of clapping and hooting and praise to God.

Chanda was genuinely embarrassed. “Mi tink dat was supposed to be anonymous, Edesa girl. But since you got such a big mout’, mi say dat dis group help mi see dat lottery money belong to God anyway.” She folded her arms across her bosom as if to say, An dat’s dat.

I watched Chanda, realizing what a wonderful, funky sense of humor God had. He could use anyone and anything, no matter how ordinary or unlikely—in fact, He seemed to like “ordinary” and “unlikely” the best!—to work out His grace in this world.

Nony spoke. “That word is for me tonight, Avis. To press toward the goal. To set aside every weight. To run with endurance.” She pulled a long envelope from her bag. “Mark got a reply from the University of KwaZulu-Natal—”

Eyes widened. “Did he . . .?” several started to say but did not finish.

Nony smiled and shook her head. “No, he has not yet been accepted. But they are interested, and would like to interview him in person, so we—”

We? I had expected her to say, “So he is flying to South Africa for an interview.”

“—are leaving for South Africa as soon as the boys are out of school in June, as we had planned before.”

A collective gasp seemed to suck the air out of the room for several moments. But Nony’s heart was in her smile. “Mark says it does not matter if he is offered a job at the university or not. If God is calling us to South Africa as a family, we will better know what our options are if we are there in person. All of us. Northwestern has extended his sabbatical for two more years. Praise You, Jesus.” Her eyes closed and her hand lifted in silent praise. Just as suddenly, her eyes opened, and she turned to Hoshi. “We have asked Hoshi to consider going with us when she graduates in June. She has become a much-loved member of our family, and there is quite an international community in KwaZulu-Natal, many Asians as well. But . . . it is up to her, of course.”

Now my heart really started to flutter. Nony and Mark leaving? Hoshi maybe leaving too? What was going to happen to Yada Yada? I knew God wanted us to reach out beyond our little group. But did that have to mean losing each other?

Someone said, “Hoshi? What are you thinking?”

Hoshi seemed surprisingly calm at such a momentous crossroad. “That is why I wanted to come to Yada Yada tonight, to ask all of you to pray with me about my future. I had always planned to return to Japan, but”—her almond eyes saddened—“as you know, my family has turned against me. I am grateful for Nonyameko and Dr. Smith’s invitation to accompany them. It is true; they are my family now. But . . .” She grew thoughtful. “Befriending Sara and getting acquainted with what ReJOYce is doing on campus has touched me deeply. There are so many lonely, empty souls on the Northwestern campus. I feel drawn to work with them, but . . .” She took a deep breath. “I don’t know what God wants me to do. So I ask you, dear sisters, to pray.”

“Exactly what we should do.” Avis reached for the hands on either side of her. “What other prayer requests do we have tonight?”

“Oh, help me, Jesus!” Florida’s cry made me jump. She’d been strangely silent all evening, but suddenly pent-up words burst out. “Pray with me, sisters. Chris’s final hearing is a week from Wednesday, last week of the month. I can hardly sleep nights, worried about my baby.” Her head wagged from side to side; she thumped her chest. “He didn’t do nothin’, I know it. I believe that with all my heart. Pray, sisters. Pray that the judge will see the truth.” Her head wagged harder. “Don’t know what I’ll do if he—”

The tears started to flow.

I felt torn. I’d almost forgotten that Chris’s hearing was coming up! He hadn’t said anything to me during play practices; maybe he wasn’t supposed to talk about it. I wanted Florida to be excited about coming to see the play, but Chris hadn’t wanted me to tell her what he was doing. With Florida all torn up about the upcoming hearing, how could I share my excitement at what God was doing with this “homegrown” play—in my life, in the lives of the boys taking part? And I needed prayer. Oh boy, did I still need prayer! God would have to pull it together or it would fall flat.

But several sisters had surrounded Florida; others were laying hands on Hoshi and Nonyameko and starting to pray. I blinked back hot tears, joined others on their knees beside Florida, and laid a hand on her shaking shoulder as Yada Yada pelted heaven.

Lord, hear my prayer too. Please, don’t forget this play . . .

AS WE BROKE UP OUR CIRCLE, Ruth asked, “So. We meet where next time?”

“I’m next on the list,” Avis admitted. “But that’s the weekend of Peter’s and my first anniversary, and we might—”

“Your anniversary?!” Yo-Yo screeched. “Hey, guys, know what that means? It’s Yada Yada’s anniversary too! Two years—and we haven’t killed each other yet.” People started to laugh. Had it really been a year since Avis “jumped the broom” with Peter Douglass? Two years since God had thrown us together at the Chicago Women’s Conference as Prayer Group 26?

“Our anniversary, too, Yo-Yo.” Becky grinned. “We got baptized in Lake Michigan right after Avis’s wedding last year—remember?”

“Yowza.” Yo-Yo high-fived everyone within reach. “We gotta do somethin’ special. Really party—hey! Delores. Your man doin’ a gig at La Fiesta that weekend?”

Delores shrugged. “Not sure. I’ll find out.”

Florida shook her head. “I dunno . . . might not feel like partyin’ if Chris’s hearing don’t go right.”

I grabbed her and whispered in her ear. “Have faith, sister. Have faith!”