3
The United Worship Center had five hundred members on the roll books, but about three hundred attended faithfully every Sunday. Before they started the choir only about a hundred attended on the regular. These men, women, and children had become Shar’s surrogate family, since her mother hadn’t been attending much lately because she was always feeling ill but never had a chance to sit down and rest. Her father just flat out refused to step foot inside the church. They had come to Chicago by way of Louisiana, where the rest of Shar’s family still lived, so it was nice to have sisters and brothers in Christ that she could talk to from time to time.
“Hey, Shar, I heard that you’ve got the solo today. I can’t wait to hear you,” Sister Barbara Tucker said as she passed by, carrying an armload of Bibles. Sister Tucker was the head usher, and it was her job to make sure that things ran smoothly in the sanctuary during service.
“Let me help you with those, Sister Tucker,” Shar said, as she took four Bibles from the stack Sister Tucker was carrying.
She put the flower Pastor Landon had given her in her mouth as she passed out the Bibles.
“You’re sweeter than sugar. Thanks for helping me. But you need to get on.”
Shar took the flower out of her mouth and hugged Sister Tucker, then headed toward the choir stand.
“It’s nice of you to join us. You’re such a busy and important person that we are just plum grateful whenever you show up,” Nettie Johnson said.
Every family had one member who made a sister think about doing some premeditated repenting. Like jumping across the seats and slapping the taste out of Nettie’s mouth, even though Shar knew full well that she would be begging the Lord’s pardon for doing so. Not wanting to do something that she knew was wrong, Shar plastered a smile on her face and hoped the Lord would forgive her for lying as she said, “Why, Nettie, I never knew that you cared so much about my comings and goings, but I’m glad to be with you all this fine Sunday morning.”
“I don’t care what you do, Shar Gracey,” Nettie spat. “But when you keep the pastor out on the stoop when he should be in the church getting ready to deliver one of his fine messages, then it’s all of our concern.”
“I wasn’t keeping Pastor Landon from his duties,” Shar protested.
“Oh really?” Nettie pointed toward Shar’s hand. “Nice flower.”
Looking as if she’d been caught in the cookie jar, Shar began sputtering, “I . . . I—”
“Hush, you two. I’m not in the mood to referee,” Mother Barnett chimed in. “My knees haven’t given me a bit of trouble all morning. And you know what that means.”
Mother Barnett always claimed that she could tell what the weather was going to be like by the way her knees ached. If her knee was feeling itchy, then it was going to rain. If her pain was terrible, then it was going to be a gloomy day. But on days when she had no pain at all, Mother Barnett said, the good Lord wasn’t trying to tell her nothing about the weather that day, but about some good news coming to somebody.
“So, who is gon’ get some good news today?” Shar asked, hoping that Mother Barnett would say that the relief of pain in her knees was about God showing her that Landon was going to be proposing today.
Mother Barnett rubbed her knees as if she was checking for pain, then she said, “I guess the good Lord will reveal it to us before the day is over. Who knows, maybe my Herbert is finally coming back home.”
Ten years ago, Mother Barnett’s husband had run off with the cigarette girl who had rented a room from them. To this day, Mother Barnett kept a light in the window for her husband and prayed that every no-knee-pain day meant that Herbert was coming home. As far as Shar was concerned, that would be a waste of a good no-knee-pain day. Good riddance to bad rubbish was the way Shar saw that one. For the life of her, she couldn’t understand why women ran after all these no-account men, who wasn’t thinking about them two seconds after they walked out the front door. She sure wouldn’t waste a nickel on a box of tissue, crying over one of ’em.
Calvin started tuning up the piano as Marcus fiddled with his guitar. Not many churches allowed their choir to sing with musical instruments. “Okay, everyone, stand up so we can warm up those vocals,” Calvin instructed.
Calvin could be temperamental at times. Shar never liked to get on his bad side on the days that she was scheduled to sing. Because if she made him mad enough, he’d just cancel her solo. And there was no way she wanted to continue living in a world where she was poor, colored, and not allowed to sing. So Shar immediately jumped out of her seat and did as she was instructed.
“Place your hand on either side of your mouth and use the tips of your fingers to hold up the weight of your cheeks,” Calvin said as he looked around to ensure that everyone was following his instructions, then he continued, “Now keep your lips very loose and floppy and blow, like you would after you finish a day of washing and ironing or of standing all day on your elevator boy job.”
Hot, tired breaths blew all across the choir stand.
“Now, hold that pose and make a dopey MMMMMM sound.”
The choir followed suit.
When they finished warming up, Calvin smiled at the group as he told them, “I have a surprise for you all.” He hesitated, then trodded on, “Thomas Dorsey will be at our church today.”
“So now we know why you made sure that Shar had the only solo today.” Nettie’s venom was now directed at Calvin.
Shar didn’t understand Nettie at all. The girl didn’t live dirt-poor like the rest of them. Her father was in city politics, and he treated Nettie like a princess, giving her everything that her heart desired. But for some reason Nettie disliked her and made it seem as if Shar had everything that she wanted. When Shar knew that she didn’t have much at all.
Calvin cleared his throat. “I’m not playing favorites, if that’s what you think, Nettie. But when a man like Thomas Dorsey visits our church, I think Pastor Landon would want me to put our best singer up, don’t you?”
Nettie was glaring at Calvin as Mother Barnett said, “Why’s this Thomas Dorsey interested in us anyway?”
Calvin’s chest puffed a bit as he said, “United Worship Center is one of the few churches around that believes in worshiping God in song and music. Mr. Dorsey taught himself how to play the piano and loves the sound of music. So, when I told Mr. Dorsey that I played the piano and that we had the best singer in Chicago at our church, he said to me, ‘I got to come see that.’ ” Calvin raised a hand and added, “Now, I’m not completely sure that Mr. Dorsey will be here today. He just told me that he would try to make it. So, whether he shows up or not, we all need to do our best and sing for God’s glory for the congregation, right?”
“Right,” the choir members aswered back.
But Calvin’s news got Shar to thinking. Maybe Mother Barnett’s no-knee-pain day wasn’t about Landon proposing at all. Maybe it was a sign that Mr. Dorsey would offer her a spot on his touring choir and then she would be able to earn enough money to get her mama to a doctor.
Calvin looked to Shar. “Are you ready?”
“I’m ready, but what if he doesn’t show up until after I get finished singing?”
“You let me worry about that. Now let’s grab hands and pray real quick because they’re getting ready to start service.”
Sister Betty said the welcoming prayer, and then the choir sang two praise songs. Shar was mumbling the words most of the time because she couldn’t concentrate. She looked to heaven and silently prayed, Lord, forgive me. I know I should have my mind stayed on you during praise and worship time, but I surely wish you would send Mr. Dorsey to service today.
As the deacons passed the collection plate, the door opened.Shar sat up with a look of expectation on her face. But her facial expression changed, and she leaned back in her seat as she watched Miss Mattie Perkins from two doors down drag her late self into the church house. When the collection plate made it to Shar, she emptied her purse of all the coins she had, hoping that her sacrifice would be noticed by God.
Calvin began playing the music for “His Eye Is on the Sparrow.” The choir stood, and Shar walked down and took her place in front of the choir. She looked to heaven one more time and silently prayed, Well, Lord, he didn’t come today. But I’m gon’ sing this here song to You, like I should have wanted to do in the first place.
Shar opened her mouth and began:
Why should I feel discouraged?
Why should the shadows come . . .
The moment Shar belted out the first few words, people began clapping and standing up all around the sanctuary. Her voice had a soulful, blues-like feel to it that somehow became all gospel when Shar Gracey opened her mouth to sing. It was like pairing the blues with a little dose of heaven. Shar had a voice that could make angels stop and listen. The sanctuary door opened again. This time, Thomas Dorsey walked through the door, and a smile appeared on Shar’s face. The devil himself wouldn’t have been able to turn that smile into a frown.
I sing because I’m happy and I sing because I’m free.
Shar was no longer in the mood to just sing the song. She began walking around the church performing. Letting all the saints know that she was happy because if God’s eyes was on the sparrow, then she sure ’nuf knew He was watching over little ol’ Shar Gracey as well. Didn’t He prove it by having Mr. Dorsey walk in the church while she was singing so good, that folks was nearly ’bout ready to break out into a shout?