Out Of Darkness

by Smith, Stephanie Jean

  Sometimes when people sit next to me they feel that I need to be entertained. They have never heard of a comfortable silence and so they run their traps during the whole trip. The ride down was uneventful, but because of all the detours due to flooding, the trip took six hours.

  I was worried that my stomach would act up, so I was extremely careful about what I ate. I didn’t want to have a leaky butt for the rest of the trip, and I certainly wasn't trying to back into the nasty bathroom in the back of the bus.

  When the bus pulled in front of St. Matthew's AME, the members were waiting to welcome weary travelers. They were exceedingly gracious, and accommodating; they led us unto the dining hall where a home cooked meal awaited us.

  I didn’t even bother to peruse the wondrous delights the members of St. Matthew's had lovingly prepared for I knew I wouldn’t be eating the delicious fare. I sat down and ate a banana, a package of crackers, and three aspirins. A light snack that my queasy stomach could handle. By that time, my friend, the ruptured tendon in my right ankle was making its presence known. It gave me three sharp pains letting me know that at some point before the day was over it was going to fail me.

  After changing out of my traveling clothes, I made my way up to the sanctuary and waited for the program to start. Then this sleazy pastor from another church who traveled up from Omaha with us started talking to me about how much he like the way I presented myself. He rambled on about how unique that is in people today. The only thing I heard coming out of his mouth was blah blah, blah blah blah blah.

  I’m glad I wasn’t sitting alone, or I would have gotten up and left. At that point, my ankle was in too much pain for me to roam around the church aimlessly. I try to avoid this pastor at all costs because there’s something about him that makes we feel like I need a bath after I’ve been in his presence. I didn’t vomit in my mouth, but I came close, Pastor Sleazy found new prey and moved along much to my relief.

  St. Matthew's is a small church and the choir stand was sort of spread out. There were seats on both sides of the pulpit and another section behind the pulpit that sat up higher. We took up one side, and the rest of our choir members climbed up to the higher section and came down for each song. We sang a song that I lead called “It’s Only A Test”. The acoustics in the church were perfect; it was like wading in surround sound. Out of the corner of my eye I could see that one of the pastors in the pulpit hopped up and started dancing around as if he were the scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz. I didn’t look his way again, or I would have lost my train of thought and cracked up laughing, and that wasn’t in the song.

  I was so proud of the choir; we did a fantastic job, and I truly could hear the blending of our voices. Our pastor got up and preached his little heart out, but by that time I lost focus because the pain in my ankle was on the rise. The aspirin I took was useless, and my pain was so severe I could feel my eyes tearing up.

  After our pastor finish preaching, I was ready to get back on the bus, but we were asked to sing another song. Was the service over? NO! There was a lot more talking and glad-handing to be done before the service could end. I couldn’t sit back down because it took me too long to get up the last time, so I leaned against the wall. Surely the service would end soon, right? NO! More talking and then they had to give out certificates for those people who worked on the program. I couldn’t stand any longer, so I sat on the stairs near the wall. The bus was supposed to leave at four-thirty; however, the service didn't end until four-forty.

  I had a plan; first, I would hobble down to the restroom, then once I reached my seat on the bus, I would remain seated until we got back to Omaha. When we make plans God just laughs at us. I was doing well as I made my way to the lower level. I was half way there. I know I could make it, and then boom. My right ankle said get the f@#$ off me heffa! I fell down, knocked the woman behind me down, and fell on top of her.

  I remember falling as a child and trying to get up quickly before anyone saw me. Well the whole church saw the fall, and pandemonium broke loose. A friend and kids from my Sunday School class ran to my aid. My face was flamed with embarrassment and my damn ankle and both knees hurt worse than ever. I got up and got back on course to go to the restroom. When I got to the restroom it was full of my choir members changing back into their traveling clothes. All of the sudden I couldn’t breathe. I kept trying to catch my breath, and I felt as if I were being smothered. I had to calm down because the ladies around me were getting upset which upset me even more.

  I got myself together, splashed some cold water on my face, and my mind focused on getting back on the bus. I winced at the thought of that long walk to the damn bus. All the while I’m praying Jesus; please don’t let me fall again. My sister and a friend were waiting for me. I handed my purse to my sister, and she took it to the bus. My friend followed me all the way to the bus and made sure I made it to my seat. I put my hat on my head and faced the window so no one could see me cry. I asked someone else to take roll call for me, and I laid back into my seat and tried to rest. The pain in my ankle kept getting worse. I found someone who had Motrin, thank God for Motrin. I took the Motrin, massaged my ankle, and knees all the way back to Omaha.

  There’s a member of my church that has OCD. The closer the bus got to Omaha he had to make a public service announcement every time the bus passed a mile marker. Omaha 68 miles. Omaha 65 miles. Omaha 60 Miles. I was wishing for a frying pan so I could crack him right upside his head. Okay this shit was funny on the way to Boonville when he cracked jokes about how small Boonville was and how it only had three exit signs. Well damn it, Omaha has many exit signs. To have someone chirping that, at you, every five minutes is annoying as hell. Of course, he was sitting in front of my pastor who was sitting across from me. Now I was getting a pain in my head. Omaha 50 miles. Omaha 48 miles.

  It took even longer getting back to Omaha because parts of Hwy 75 flooded and we had to take another detour, which made our trip back home closer to seven hours. I called my sister and told her I needed help getting into the house. Amazingly enough by the time we got back to Omaha my ankle was still sore, but the pain and subsided a little. I dropped off my passenger, and my nephew pulled me into my house. I sat in my chair and put my legs up and didn’t move until four in the morning when I texted my pastor and certain members of the church that I would not be attending church service today. I took some pain reliever, went to bed, and didn’t get up until 2:00 that afternoon.

  Some smart-ass from my church asked me if I would write a story about my trip to Boonville. She said I could call it "The Cushion" because the lady I landed on was pretty cushy and broke my fall. I told her hell no! That shit’s only funny when it happens to other people. Therefore, if anyone asks me if I had a good trip, I will be honest and say that it was a f@#$%*! nightmare. All of my most embarrassing moments rolled into one. Of course, it was marvelous to fellowship with the little church in Boonville, but I will not be getting on a bus for a very long time to come.

  Who Would Believe This

  I’ve worked under some mighty strange circumstances, but none more so than when I worked at the bank. There were several occasions when I said to myself that this person is crazy as hell! Two of my sisters and I were injured in a car accident, in the early 90’s. I was off work for almost three weeks; when I got back no one had worked my projects. I stayed late and worked weekends until my work was caught up then I posted to another department.

  I ended up in what was essentially the fraud department for the bankcard division. Everyone in this department had some serious issues. My supervisor was this blonde, putty face trick who did nothing all day except call her boyfriend. She was so nasty that she had makeup all over her phone, her clothes, and any paperwork she handled, but she was one of the "normal" ones.

  The snob I shared a desk with was always trying to get me into trouble for not completing projects she thought I should have finished; the problem was they were her projects. She also talked badly about her husband s
aying that he was a big baby and always waking her up early in the morning begging for sex. One day her husband picked her up from work, and he was well over six feet tall and wider than the doorway. I looked at one of my other co-workers, and we couldn’t contain our laughter; I tried to imagine this man whining for sex. He had this funny look on his face and then he looked at his wife as if he knew she’d been talking about him.

  The most dangerous member of the staff was a little petite disabled woman who was okay as long as her pain medication was current. One day we were short staffed, and she had to help me, and another co-worker operate the phones. She did the billing for our department, and she felt that it was beneath her to have to answer phones. It was lunchtime, and we were the only ones there, this woman stood up grabbed her cane and beat the hell out of her computer. She wailed on that computer for about ten minutes. My co-worker and I sat there watching her waiting to see what else she would do. I’m not ashamed to kick a cripple; I knew if she approached me, I was going to whip her crippled ass. That was a first for me; I had never seen anyone throw a tantrum like that in the workplace and not receive a pink slip. After the computer beating ended, she hobbled out of the office and didn’t return for several hours.

  After six months of this hell, I was eligible to post to another department, thank goodness a position opened up in the Risk Management area. I have to say that this was the best department I ever worked, with the exception of one employee. This guy thought he was a super hero. Let me tell you what I mean, sometimes he would come in all bruised, with black eyes, scrapes, and sometimes bandaged hand or arm. He would walk around waving his hand in the air wanting someone to ask what happened, but I never would. Of course, some dumbass would always ask him what happened; this was one of his responses.

  He drove his mother to Kansas City for the weekend to shop and eat at a new restaurant; he and his mother were dinning near the window when he saw a woman being robbed. He quickly ran out the restaurant, chased the robber down, and tackled him and held him until the police arrived. The man in question was about 5’11 weighed at least 350 lbs and difficulty walking, but he chased down a robber. Yeah right! I have my own opinion about what happened. I think he threw himself against the wall a couple of times had his mother bandage him up so he could create this outlandish story about the robber.

  He kind of lost it for a while after his mother died; on the morning of her funeral, he brought donuts in for the department. Then he sent all the ladies in the department roses, at one point he began stalking one of the ladies in the department who had marital problems. She said sometimes she would look out the window, and he would be there parked in front of her house. Someone warned him that he was being investigated by HR, and he quit. Thank God!

  The next person I’m going to mention was not an employee of the bank but an employee of the cleaning contractor for the bank. I had an office at the time, and I brought my stereo in from home, I began noticing that someone else was using my stereo; when I turned the power on I noticed that it was on the radio option instead of CD. I hung around after 5 pm; around 5:30 pm, the custodian came around, and he was shocked and angry at finding me in my office. After that incident, a lot strange situations happened with other employees in my area.

  At the end of one day, my friend was emptying the coffee pots in our area when she found this custodian standing in the utility closet with the lights off. He had his back to her, so she shut the door and left him to his own devices. I still don’t know what he was doing in the closet, and I’m sure I don’t want to know. Another lady stayed late one night and she heard someone having a conversation, she said it was more like a shouting match. Everyone in our department was gone except her, so she stood up to see who talking; it was this custodian arguing with himself.

  Another time I stayed late, I had my stereo blasting; I was the only one on the floor. The custodian went into the conference room next to my office and threw a fit; he was slamming chairs and beating against the wall. I had a feeling that he was trying to scare me out of my office. Little did he know I had a hammer in my desk; I pulled it out because I planned on splitting his head open. I called a friend of mine to let him know what was happening, and he told me to leave. I didn’t leave I sat there holding my hammer waiting for him to come into my office. Twenty minutes later, he came out of the conference room and moved on; I didn’t leave until he left the floor. I reported him to my manager, and told him about the other things this nut had been doing. He was moved off the floor temporarily, but I stopped staying late unless someone else was in my area.

  Another time the custodian’s supervisor came looking for him; he said the custodian’s name was Phillip. I didn’t see Phillip until I was waiting for an elevator to leave; the elevator door opened, and he stood there staring at me, he didn’t get off the elevator nor did I get on. I said, "If you're Phillip, your manager is looking for you." He responded in this high-pitched voice claiming that he didn’t know Phillip. It sounded as if he were singing a creepy opera. Okay I was scared, I stepped back and reached into my purse until I found a weapon. The only thing I had was my fingernail file and my keys, but I planned to do some damage, or at least gouge out an eye. After that incident, I stopped working late all together; a couple of months later I found out that Phillip had been fired. I guess his crazy antics got him in trouble on another floor.

  What lesson did I learn from these situations? If I have an inkling that a person isn’t playing with a full deck, I give them wide berth! I’ve also learned that the office environment is full of potential weapons. Lastly, if a situation doesn’t seem right run!

  Providence

  I'm a work in progress. When I think of how far I've come, I can't help but say thank you Lord.

  Divine Intervention

  God Always Has A Plan

  Good Works

  His Door Keeper

  Let Our Light Shine

  Standing In The Need Of A Blessing

  Divine Intervention

  I believe in God and the many miracles his love and mercy has brought into my life. It amazes me when non-believers demand that God prove that He’s real. God allows us free choice by faith. I can't prove that God exists, just like non-believers can't prove that he doesn't exist. He’s is real for I can feel him in my soul.

  Those who would demand such an act are closed to the possibility of miracles in the first place. They could be immersed in a miracle, totally oblivious, claiming it to be a coincidence. So whether, you believe my Father’s magnificence or not he uses everyone for his will. I’ve seen evidence of divine intervention all my life; you never know when God’s going to use you to benefit someone else. I have to admit there are times that I have been called to do his will and didn’t want to follow his plan. Not because I didn’t want to please God, but because I didn't think the recipient worthy.

  One evening I was shopping at a store where you bag your own groceries. I had just paid for my groceries and was in the process of bagging them when I saw my cousin Jeri walk in the store. Now my cousin is a worthless beggar that never pays you back. She has many excuses for not being able to maintain a job (I just can’t keep my eyes open at work. I must suffer from narcolepsy, etc).

  I saw her and decided to skip the bagging station. I pushed my basket of un-bagged groceries out the door. When I reached the parking lot, I was running with the grocery cart. I popped the back hatch of my SUV and began throwing groceries in the car. Hotdogs, potatoes, hamburger, cheese, buns, chips, ice cream, pop, etc., flew into my vehicle.

  Not once did I stop to consider how my actions might have looked to bystanders. They probably thought I had stolen someone’s groceries. I didn’t relax until I got in my vehicle and pulled out of the grocery store’s parking lot.

  The whole time I was throwing my groceries in my vehicle, I was trying to tune out the message that God was sending me. I knew how much money my cousin needed: I was receiving a message of twenty dollars in my head. The message kept runni
ng repeatedly in my mind; give her twenty dollars. In my hysteria, I even think I yelled out no! No, I refuse to give her twenty dollars; she’ll never pay it back.

  I didn’t go straight home after leaving the store. I had been meaning to wash my vehicle all week, so I stopped at the car wash, and you won’t believe who pulled in behind me. Yes, my cousin Jeri had followed me from the grocery store; my getaway was not as swift as I had thought.

  She got out of her car and begged me for money; she told me that she only needed twenty dollars for her mother’s medicine. Now I knew she was lying to me. My aunt’s medicine is delivered to her house by mail. I had two options I could bust her out and deny her the money, or I could follow God’s plan and give her the money. Once I gave her the money, immediately I felt a state of rectitude invade my body. I knew that she would never pay me back, but it didn’t matter.

  ***

  Many years ago I used to bring my parents lunch. I worked downtown, and my lunch break was an hour, usually the timing worked out great. One day I was running late because I was covering for my boss’s secretary. It was so hot outside that I almost called my parents and told them that I couldn’t make it and would bring them dinner instead. I had a feeling that I was supposed to take them lunch, so that’s what I did. I picked up two fish dinners and lemonade because neither of my parents liked soda.

  I was a couple of houses away from my parent’s home when I saw an elderly man standing on the corner. I sat at the stop sign and watched him because I was waiting for him to cross. The more I watched him the more I realized that he wasn’t standing on the corner; he was trying to step off the curb, but he was afraid of falling.