“You better be right, Imp Two. If wrong, we all burn,” Imp One threatened.
Imp Two crept away, wishing he knew how to pray.
Chapter Eleven
Mother Reed hung up the phone and moseyed her way—she never rushed—to the kitchen where she had a cream cheese pound cake baking in the oven. Her lilting voice floated in the air as she hummed about the goodness of Jesus. Slipping her hands into mittens, she took the cake out of the oven. The golden brown cake was perfect, and she smiled in satisfaction. She untied her apron strings and laid the apron over the back of the chair. Shuffling down the hallway, she stopped and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Today she was feeling well, and it showed in the clarity of her eyes and the smoothness of her face. There were no tense frown lines on her brow, and for that, she was grateful.
“Nobody should have to be old and sick,” she mused out loud when her phone rang.
It was Esther. After a few minutes of conversation, Mother Reed cut to some real talk. “Esther, I’m glad to know you’re still speaking to Mother. After our last conversation, I thought you might be a little peeved with me.”
“Oh, I know that you have my best interest at heart, and you gave me some things to look at about myself. I appreciate growth, even when it hurts.”
Mother Reed gripped the phone receiver tight before her arthritis caused her to drop it. “Now that’s a sign of maturity. Honey, you gon’ be just fine. So what can an old lady do you out of this afternoon?”
“How about a little company?”
Mother Reed smiled. “Well, now, I’m right popular today. Reverend is coming by. How ’bout tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow it is. I’ll come by after work.”
“Sounds good. I’ll see you then. I’ll even save you a piece of my famous pound cake.” Mother Reed knew that would make Esther drool. She loved her some pound cake.
“Did you say pound cake? I’ll definitely see you tomorrow.”
Mother Reed shuffled toward her living room when her doorbell rang.
“Coming,” she called out.
When she opened the door, Reverend Gregory entered. “Mother Reed, you are looking mighty good this afternoon.”
“Now, Reverend, you trying to charm an old lady?” She looked at Briggs. “Is this handsome young man our temporary pastor?” she beckoned them into her living room.
Briggs offered his hand. “I’m glad to meet you. May I call you Mother Reed?”
“I’d be mad if you didn’t. Please, sit down. Tell me a little about yourself.” Mother Reed’s anointing was so strong that she sensed the greater purpose of his visit before he spoke.
Briggs’s body rocked forward. “Well, I was born and reared in Nashville, Tennessee. My parents raised me to love the Lord and to serve Him. I was called to the ministry after college, but like others, it was difficult for me to accept it. I was twenty-four years old when I embraced and surrendered my life to Him.”
Mother Reed’s smile was appreciative. “I like the fact that you didn’t tell me who your daddy was, being the big-time preacher that he is. God bless the child who has his own relationship and knows his purpose. So, how can I help y’all?”
Reverend Gregory spoke in plain terms. “Mother, you know that I love my congregation, but I also know them. We can be a staid bunch when we want to, slow to change and to let others in. I’m hoping you meeting Pastor Stokes today will help him later on.”
“I’m glad you didn’t try to mince words. So you want my stamp of approval, do you?” Mother Reed cackled with glee.
Reverend Gregory nodded in agreement. “That’s about the size of it.”
Mother Reed examined Briggs, and he, in turn, considered her. She nodded her head as though she had made a decision, and then rose to her feet. “Let’s all go get us a little taste of cake and punch, while I study on this some more.”
They followed Mother Reed into her large, airy kitchen. She gestured for them to sit as she uncovered the cake and began to cut and lay slices on the small china plates. Reverend Gregory poured punch into the crystal goblets on the table.
As Mother Reed sat down, she spoke. “I don’t like my drink in plastic. I like to have a crystal glass to pretty up the picture. There’s enough ugliness in the world today. You gentlemen are looking awful nice, sitting here in my little ol’ kitchen. Tell you what, Reverend, leave this young man with me for a couple of hours so we can get acquainted.”
Reverend Gregory appeared to like the idea. “That sounds fair. What do you think, Briggs?”
Briggs chewed and swallowed his cake. “I would be honored to stay here and get to know Mother Reed.” In obvious enjoyment, he gobbled up the rest of his cake.
“Well, that’s settled then. Mother Reed, this is mighty good cake. You know how to make my mouth water, and some of your baking usually does it,” Reverend Gregory got up to leave and transferred his cake slice onto a paper napkin.
Both Mother Reed and Briggs walked the reverend to the door. Once alone, they returned to the kitchen.
“You ate that pretty quick. Have another slice,” Mother Reed sipped on her punch and looked at him over the rim of her glass. “Well, now, son, anytime you feel like telling me about the lump in the middle of your heart, Mother will be glad to listen.”
Briggs looked up shocked and stared at her in silence. She patiently waited. She was used to God using her in strange ways, and she had learned to stay out of His business and just be obedient. She pulled herself up from the table and placed her glass and plate in the sink. Briggs joined her, filled the other side of the double sink with dishwashing liquid, and ran water into the sink. As it filled and bubbles grew, he told his story.
“So where do I begin?” he asked, shutting off the water, and rolling up his sleeves.
“At the beginning,” she said. She handed him a dishcloth to wash the dishes. Then she sat behind him, giving him the space to tell his tale.
“All right. In my senior year of college, I lost my way for a while. I graduated, but it was tough going. I had a major disappointment and felt rejected because of it. Like the prodigal son, I lived a riotous life. I now realize that my behavior was a direct result of me trying to dull the pain. I was promiscuous, and as a result I . . .” Briggs hesitated in his story.
“I’m not judging you, son, I’m just listening,” Mother Reed prompted.
“I got someone pregnant.” He turned around, waiting to see Mother Reed’s reaction.
Mother Reed’s countenance held no judgment, and her compassion flowed over him.
Briggs placed the clean plate on the dish rack. “I wasn’t stupid. I knew better, but at twenty-three years of age, I thought I was invincible. Nothing bad could happen to me.”
“And . . .” Mother Reed encouraged him to continue.
His shoulders drooped. “I wasn’t very supportive when the woman told me. I only thought about how it would effect me. My main concern was how I was going to break it to my parents, especially my father. He had high hopes for me, and I was about to disappoint him.”
“So you . . .” She wanted him to tell it all.
“It was all taken out of my hands. When I realized how selfish I was being, I went to talk to her, but it was too late. She had gotten an abortion. You see, when I first met her I was bowled over by her good looks. She was a runway phenomenon, a top model who hit it pretty big during her teens. She was raking in the money and men vied for her attention. I needed that ego boost when we were together and everyone was trying to get with her and envying me.”
Mother Reed nodded her head that she was listening.
“When she told me about the abortion, it broke me. I tried to talk to her, but she just grumbled and told me I ruined her life. I really hit bottom after that.” Briggs’s eyes filled with tears.
Mother Reed was still and prayed that he would have the strength to tell it all. “What God reveals, He means to heal,” she encouraged.
Briggs sighed. “I went on a party
ing binge, ended up losing my job, and couldn’t half pay my bills. It was a full year of a downward spiral. One day after partying all Saturday night, I woke up face down in my own vomit. It was not a pretty sight. That’s when I heard the radio in the background, my R&B station had changed to gospel during the morning, and a minister was preaching his Sunday sermon. He was expounding on all men falling short of the glory of God, and that we as black men needed to get up and not stay in our fallen state. Our families and community needed us.”
“Yes, that’s right,” she added in agreement.
“So I got up, washed up, and then cleaned up. I didn’t answer the call that morning, but it was the beginning.”
“So, I ask again about the lump in your heart,” Mother Reed urged with kindness.
Briggs looked at this feisty petite powerhouse who was like a dog with a bone. He cleared his throat and continued. “When I realized the damage I’d done, I went back to those I had offended to beg their pardon. The list was long, but I got through it. In my attempt to make amends, I began dating the woman that I had gotten pregnant. She was still a hot commodity, and I misunderstood my euphoria of having her temporarily on my arm with the reality of having her permanently in my life. In trying to make matters better, I muddied the waters. That’s the lump you see in my heart.”
Briggs didn’t feel it was right to tell her that in trying to make amends, he had married the woman without loving her, and that was what Monica had never forgiven. He was doing penance for his unborn child and the child’s mother.
“Son, deliverance is close for you. I’m glad you were open enough to speak your heart. It doesn’t matter who is around. When God wants to move, He always does it with decency and in order. You’re safe here.”
Briggs nodded his head and began to cry, sobbing out his misery. Mother Reed lifted her hands in prayer. She waited until he quieted before she said, “Son, look at me. I need to share something with you.”
Briggs was embarrassed by his display of emotions, but he had been strong for so long that when he felt his release, the floodgates opened and he couldn’t push them back. It had been so difficult for him, his father appeared invincible, and all the men of God around him looked infallible. Where was he to turn with his pain?
“You’re suffering the weight of rain,” she said simply.
Briggs was an intelligent man, but he didn’t understand. “The weight of rain?”
“Yes, ya see, when the storms of life rain down on you, they’re heavy. So heavy that we start to think that the weight is all we have to look forward to. When that happens, we make decisions from a place of desperation. In most cases, that causes a bigger mess, and the rain gets heavier.”
“How do you get out of it?” he asked, seeking answers.
“You don’t. What you do is get under the wing of our Father; there is refuge there. And although the rain keeps coming, you’re protected, until He sends the rainbow. And when the weight of the rain has lifted, you get to reign. Don’t get inpatient during the wait.”
Briggs complained. “But the pain makes me feel weak and ineffective.”
“Chile, don’t let the devil fool you. Cast that fool right out of ya head. Your pain doesn’t make you less than, it means you still feeling, still living with an open heart. But it’s time for a change, and you have to be tired of something to change it. Mother is so happy to see you coming out of the old and embracing the new. I don’t know you so well in the flesh, but in the spirit, I see it. Listen . . . The revelation of a truth may be a bitter pill to swallow, but the effect of the antibiotics is sure to cure the disease. Don’t run away from truth; stay in it, and get healed from the scars of deception and the fear of exposure.”
Mother Reed stood and placed her hand on Briggs’s shoulder. “You know you can lose your mind waiting for your lie to be discovered. Let truth illuminate the darkness, and let the rays of that light bring life to what was once dead. You will find that your burdens will be light and your yoke easy if you just believe in truth. Truth teaches and frees you. Understand that truth brings along its partner in healing—mercy. Together, they destroy the plans of the enemy, turning the tables, making crooked roads straight. You know what? When truth leads you and is the center stone of your life, you gon’ be so awesome that the devil is gon’ shout . . .” Mother Reed said as she broke into a two-step in her kitchen. She then danced over and pulled meat out of the refrigerator and items out of the cabinets.
Briggs looked at Mother Reed in astonishment. He now knew that he stayed this afternoon for him, not for her. This wonderful woman already knew a lot about him, and flesh and blood did not reveal it. Would she still want someone in his shape to lead Love Zion’s congregation? A man who loved his wife, but was never in love with her?
Consequently, he had erected a lie that they were both caught in. Monica’s bitterness was present every day, making sure that he paid for failing to give her the love and kind of life she felt she deserved. She had given up a promising career to be his wife. And she never let him forget it. How could he change things around so that the lie they were both living could become the truth that they both needed? He looked to Mother Reed hoping she had the answers.
“Pastor, don’t look at Mother like she walks on water. I’m just me, an instrument God chose to use to help set you free. You do have work to do in your life, but I also feel that a man who has been through something has something to offer. Trials and tribulations make us strong; they are the molding of us. I don’t want no man leading me who ain’t faced a trial or two in his life.”
“Amen, to that,” Briggs echoed.
“So I suggest we get to work talking a little bit more about all that you’ve been holding back. While you do that, I’m going to season and flour these pork chops, heat up this frying pan and get us a little supper. Would you like that?”
“Yes, and I want to thank you for allowing the Lord to use you. Somewhere along the way I stopped talking about the real problems in my life. Oh, not that I appeared perfect. I discussed church issues, things relating to wanting to be a better man of God, but not the real things that were going on in my life. You know, a lot of it was due to shame. If I let people know my life wasn’t perfect why would they want me to help them with theirs?”
“Whew, I believe that’s the enemy’s oldest trick. Keep us in the dark, and we get so used to it that the light hurts our eyes, so we avoid it.”
“You know you right. Talk to me now,” Briggs quipped and did a two-step of his own.
“Right now, we done made the adversary so mad with just this conversation. I bet his imps are paying a heavy price for failing to keep you in the dark,” Mother added with glee.
She placed the pork chops in the frying pan and sat down at the table. “Now, go on, Briggs, let’s get it all on the table. Don’t leave nothing out ’cause Mother got all night. You know what? Call the reverend and excuse yourself from this evening’s meeting. God got work for us tonight.”
“All right. This was a long time coming. I need to do this for me and for my ministry.” Briggs made his call and returned. “Now, Mother Reed, where was I?”
The cold, dank, darkness of the cement was slimy from the writhing bodies squirming to and fro. The only alleviation from the blackness was spurts of flames that sizzled as they hit the cold pavement. Noises of agony and shrieks of pain were moaned out in a constant flow heard echoing throughout the tunnel-like area. During the spurts of flame, splatters of blood could be seen on the walls and floors as sounds of whipping ricocheted off the walls.
“You are nothing, you rotting filthy beasts; imbeciles, all of you. Sent to do a job, yet you fail time and time again. How did this happen? Speak, you dung!” The Leader’s long solid form raised itself up over the writhing bodies, and venom dripped from his fangs.
“But, Leader,” they hissed, “we have done all you asked us. It’s that woman; time and time again, she has thwarted us. When will her illness take over?”
&nbs
p; They moaned as one, as the invisible licks continued to flail against their scales.
“Do not question me, imps! Do what you are told,” The Leader bellowed. “If you fail him again, you will be moved back into the Lake of Fire.”
“We will not fail you, Leader,” they chorused. “We will go to the Roger creature. He is malleable.”
“Then go and wreck havoc,” he commanded as they scurried away into the evening.
Chapter Twelve
Roger stretched and sat up in his small rusted iron bed. His sagging mattress gave as he stood up in the dingy, fetid room. His back was sore from lying in a dip in the mattress, and he bent his long, lanky form forward and touched the tips of his fingers to the floor before he straightened and rubbed his face. He could feel the stubble of the spotty beard under his hand. He had once been a handsome man. Now, alcohol, drugs, and hard living had beaten out paths on his face. He shuffled over to his window and looked out into the night. It was dark, but his neighbors liked it that way. Most, like him, were just getting up. He wandered over to his dresser and counted the loose change and crumpled dollars lying there. Taking a swig of the lukewarm forty-ounce beer, he tried to think of who he could hit up for a few bills to tide him over.
“I hate this place; it stinks in here!” he complained as he fell back on his bed. His drink sloshed against him, his rumpled sheet, and the wall as he growled out his annoyance. In his tantrum, the bed frame clanged against the wall, and his neighbor banged back.
“Mother of God—shut up in there! Some of us work for a living,” a voice shouted through the paper-thin walls.
The once beautiful Victorian home had long ago been turned into a rooming house, with each decade seeing each room shrink smaller and smaller. Roger couldn’t be choosy. He had to live where he could afford to. He remembered when he lived well and his home was the envy of all his friends.
“Phony fools,” he groused as he chugged down what was left of his beer.
The Devil Made Me Do It Page 9
