Chapter Three
Kenya was so happy to have eased her way off of the phone with Deacon Morgan. A minute longer and she was sure he would have found the courage to ask her out.
“Lord, that was a close one.” She openly thanked God for call waiting.
To Kenya, Deacon Morgan was tall, dark, and definitely handsome. If he ever had hair, Kenya didn’t want to see any pictures; that man oozed sexiness with the clean and clear scalp. And his goatee appeared as if it were painted on. Cold black.
There was nothing more Kenya would have liked than to go on a date with the handsome deacon to see if more could be established. She was sure it was possible, but she just didn’t know if she was ready. As a matter of fact, she knew she wasn’t ready. Kenya wasn’t at all secure that a recent past would stay in the past.
“Oh to be wooed by a saved man of God,” Kenya declared, shaking her head as she put her cell phone on its charging station. “And, Lord, you made him look so goooood.” Switching her riding boots for her house slippers, Kenya pulled her wool sweater over her head and threw it over on her sofa.
The cool January’s draft throughout her house chilled her body through her coffee-colored camisole. Grabbing for the back of her head, Kenya gave her hair a quick pull to make sure her ponytail holder was still tightly in place as she walked deeper into her home.
Deacon Morgan was hard on her mind. That man was godly, gorgeous, and going after her: a single, saved woman’s dream. This was the reason Kenya wished she had called him first thing in the morning. There was no way she was going to sleep anytime soon. Not even a nap. Knowing all minds had to be clear before her head hit the pillow, Kenya wasn’t going to take any chances. Either that or she’d find herself on some sandy white beach, wrapped up in Deacon Morgan’s big black arms.
“Lord Jesus, help me.” Kenya scooted her five-foot, seven-inch, 140-pound self from room to room, tidying up loose ends.
All it took was a thought to get one going in the wrong direction. And from where Kenya was struggling to come back from, she knew the symptoms all too well.
All in all, the saved, anointed, and sophisticated young woman kind of enjoyed the crush she had on the deacon; something that had been out of the norm for her for quite some time.
Ever since theology school, Kenya had been on the go for Jesus and His spiritual direction for her life. Yes, she had a desire to get married and to be someone’s wife, but it just hadn’t been a priority.
She’d dated here and there, but when she would share how she had no intentions of crossing the line as far as intercourse before marriage was concerned, her phone almost always stopped ringing. And that was just the so-called “saved men.”
There was no doubt Kenya was playing cat and mouse with her copartner. She indeed liked the forty-something, but she knew that was only part of who she was. There was too much she was trying to figure out and deal with about herself. That was the very reason why she wouldn’t dare try getting involved with Deacon Morgan until she knew for sure she was over all of her hang-ups.
Being anointed to speak God’s Word over His people, Kenya didn’t take her calling for granted. She knew even at the young age of twelve she had been different, set apart from the average teenager. She didn’t have the desire to go out to clubs, smoke, or to drink. Boys were cute and she could even recognize the handsomeness behind their walk, but she just hadn’t felt the need to disobey God. The feeling of the Holy Spirit giving her a natural high was all she had been concerned with. And because of that, she took life seriously. This was why she couldn’t believe all she’d gotten caught up in at this stage in her life. Kenya was still on a mission to forgive herself for her own mishaps.
Kenya scooted around, almost leaving her house slippers behind, as she made her way toward the open kitchen. Even with the weather almost spring like, Kenya had a taste for hot chocolate. With a microwave-safe container, Kenya warmed her water for her beverage of choice. Leaning against her cabinets, watching the water come to a boil, Kenya grabbed at relaxation and knew she wouldn’t be leaving her four walls for the remainder of the evening.
The only thing on her agenda for the rest of the evening was to prepare for the next day with prayer. Before she’d shield herself away for one on one with God, Kenya planned on sitting and reflecting on what she really wanted in her life. No doubt she would begin with relationships she had endured.
It was hard enough to dodge being set up on blind dates by family members, but most recently Kenya even had to dodge her pastor’s hints of possibly getting to know Deacon Morgan better. She knew he meant well; for the fact of the matter, she knew everyone who tried to hook her up with someone meant well. But she just felt she couldn’t bring someone into her world, a world she hadn’t always been so proud of.
Sure she was getting older, in her mid-thirties to be exact. Kenya knew people were starting to question why she was still alone. She had been in the ministry since she was a teenager and, because of that, Kenya had been able to use her evangelism as an excuse. Now that she was semi-retired from missions work and was at her church home more often than not, the questions came without guard:
“When you gon’ get married, Sis Kenya?”
“You need to get married and have at least one baby.”
“Don’t pass your child-rearing age ... that ain’t good on your body.”
And when the questions arose from the bold, Kenya would be asked:
“Do you like women?”
“Girl, you ain’t got caught up in some other kind of stuff, have ya?”
No matter how confident she had been and how she thought her ministry spoke for itself, Kenya always came back with, “God has called me to speak and preach His Word. When He is ready for me to be married, God will send my husband to come scoop me up.” And then she would no doubt add, “And you can rest assure you will have an invite.”
Reality let Kenya know that her desire to be and have a companion was just the start. She had believed and knew in her heart that someday she would add wife to her title as well. But “faith without works is dead,” and if Kenya really wanted to share in God’s ultimate testimony—marriage—she had to clear out her guilty excuses. Albeit, great excuses, doing God’s work, but she knew God hadn’t placed a Jeremiah spirit in her. She just used the excuse to buy time. And from being around Deacon Morgan, it looked as though her time was winding up.
In the end Kenya knew she had only been fooling herself. She could honestly make time for the right one if she wanted to. She could even allow Deacon Morgan the opportunity to win her heart. That wasn’t the issue. The matter of the problem was all about figuring out if what she had gotten involved in had become a part of who she really was, was just something that happened, or if it was indeed who she had been all this time.
Kenya wanted and needed to make sure the “old man” was indeed dead. She may have been saved since her childhood years and knew the Word as if she’d helped write the books of the Bible herself, but there was no doubt she was up against one of the toughest mountains of her saved life.
“What in the world have I done?” Kenya wished she had not crossed the line. She still couldn’t believe what predicament she had put her relationship with God in. But if there was one thing she knew, Kenya knew it had been a spiritual battle. One she was unfortunately losing but was willing to fight for.
Sitting on her chocolate-colored suede sofa that faced the view of her lit back porch, Kenya sat with her favorite mug in her hand, settled in the warmth of her home. Just looking at the slight wind easing through the branches on her tree sent a brief chill up her spine. Picking up the remote control, Kenya clicked the electric fireplace on.
Sluggish in nature from the full day she’d had, Kenya slid from her sofa and onto the hairy rug that hugged her floor. Wiggling her toes from the heat the fireplace produced, Kenya leaned her back against the sofa. Thinking about how blessed she was to be able to live in her own home and not have to worry about where her help was coming from, Kenya shook her head of the mere thought of losing all God had blessed her with.
Being young, beautiful, and saved left room for joy beyond measure. God had shown Kenya how just by trusting in Him and doing things His way left peace. And it had up until she had moved without prayer and didn’t take the way of escape that God always sets in place.
Only if she could trust herself again. Only if she could forgive herself.
She didn’t know what she was going to do. There was no doubt that time was running out. Being the well put-together man he was and presented himself to be, Deacon Morgan was going to make a move. Kenya didn’t know if she was strong enough to turn him down, and she certainly didn’t want to drag him into her world until she knew the coast was clear: a world she hadn’t yet closed the door to all the way.
Kenya had never been married but had been in relationships. Some she had been proud of, even when the timing was off; others, the timing had been perfect but she definitely hadn’t been proud of. The next relationship, Kenya wanted God to be in the midst of, through and through. But first she had to make things back right with Him.
Thinking about the drama she had been able to steer clear from for so many years, Kenya rolled her eyes, embarrassed of having to repent for things she never would have thought she would have to confess to.
Bypassing finishing her beverage, Kenya placed her mug on her end table and turned to face the back of her sofa. Resting her palms against each other, Kenya began speaking directly to the Lord for things to come, and things in her past to remain in her past.