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Tonya
The woman with the crazy hat stepped up to the pulpit and welcomed them all to church. There was only a spattering of attendees, and nearly half of them were Puddys.
Tonya gritted her teeth. She had been so angry with Vicky that she could’ve slapped her, but her final words had been like a splash of cool water.
Divorce was sometimes God’s way of setting someone free? Was that possible? Up to this point she’d thought that God had had nothing to do with any of this. It couldn’t have been God’s plan for Roy to have an affair. It couldn’t be God’s plan for her marriage to end. Marriage was sacred. It was till death. She couldn’t believe that God had wanted all of this to happen. But maybe God was making the best of a bad situation. Roy had not been a very good husband, and maybe God was setting her free of that. And for the last some-odd years, her heart had not been in the ministry. She’d been doing it for God, sure, but more so, she’d been doing it out of habit. Yet she’d served him fearlessly and faithfully for years. Maybe he was giving her a break. She didn’t know.
The woman in the hat introduced herself as Rachel and announced that they did not yet have any musicians so they would be singing their hymns a cappella.
Beside her, Emma groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Tonya didn’t know if her daughter was disgusted by the use of the word hymns or the lack of an instrument. She thought maybe both.
Tonya stood when she was told to stand, she opened her hymnal to the hymn they announced, and she started to sing the words, but they felt flat. Her heart felt empty. The peace that had greeted her upon her entrance was gone. Now she was just tired, uncomfortable, and wanted to go home. The second song did not help. It was a long dirge she didn’t know well, and it went on for eons.
But then the third song started.
“My hope is built on nothing less ...” Pfft! Hope? What is hope? I have no hope! “... but wholly lean on Jesus’ name ...” Wait, I haven’t been doing that, have I?
She stopped singing and just listened. Emma looked at her curiously. There weren’t very many people there, but they had some strong and beautiful voices. It sounded like far more than a dozen people singing. It sounded like a giant choir was behind her. She focused on their voices. Not only behind her, but all around her. Her chest grew tight, and she clutched the back of the pew in front of her. She squeezed her eyes shut and bowed her head.
Why is this so hard, God? I’m sorry I haven’t been leaning on you. I haven’t been leaning on anything. “... all other ground is sinking sand ...” It’s so true. I’ve been standing on other grounds, on marriage, on motherhood, on my church, and I’m sinking, Father. I’ve been sinking for a long time, but I’m sinking so fast now and I don’t know how to stop it.
A sob erupted out of her, and she tried to keep the noise down. She knew Emma was still watching her.
Please help me to be strong for Emma. I need to be strong for Emma.
“Emma needs to see you leaning on me.” The voice came out of nowhere. It wasn’t audible, but it was there, inside her head, and it was definitely not her own voice. It was firm but gentle, and she gasped at it.
I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for everything, for the marriage, for the divorce, for not loving others like you want me to, for being angry at you, for not leaning on you ...
Something settled over her then. She felt it on the top of her head, then her shoulders, and then it fell over the rest of her, covering every inch. She knew what it was. She’d felt the same thing when she was six and she’d first asked Jesus to save her. It was forgiveness. It was a clean slate. Tears gushed out of her.
Thank you, Father. Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, thank you ... “In every high and stormy gale,” the congregation sang. She stood up straight, shot her arms up into the air, opened her mouth wide, and declared the next line with every part of her being, “My anchor holds within the veil!”
She’d had an anchor since she was six. She didn’t know when she’d stopped holding onto it. When life got too busy, or when life got too hard, or when life didn’t go the way she’d thought it was supposed to go. At some point, she’d let go, but she was done. She was grabbing hold of that anchor and she was never letting go again. “On Christ the solid rock I stand,” she belted out, “all other ground is sinking sand.
“All other ground is sinking sand.”
