“Reverend Tom, now tell me we didn’t shout about it in your study when God showed us back then that there wasn’t gonna be a need for a mortgage? You can’t. And didn’t the good Lord say to name it the Promised Land? Now I already told you that I’m tired from this long trip. I had to go see about a dear ole friend that’s getting up in age and pray with her. Now my body is sore. I ain’t got time to feed you Bible Similac like you a new babe in Christ. You’re the head of the church, and if the head don’t believe, then why would the body?”
Sister Betty went on to say a lot more as he held the receiver away from his ear. His shoulders slumped and a numbing pain began from the back of his head to the front. He held his hands to his ears to avoid the truth of her words..
Headache or not, he respected her words. So he brought the receiver back to his ear and discovered she hadn’t finished rebuking him. He heard Sister Betty’s warning, “If your faith ain’t increased by tomorrow when I go down to that bank, then don’t you come with me. I may have a ton of money in that bank, but I can’t blackmail them with haters and faith blockers in my way.”
The next morning, Reverend Tom was exhausted. Sister Betty’s telephone rebuke had pushed sleep aside and given him a lot to ponder.
However, despite that, on Monday morning he couldn’t help but remember his history with Sister Betty. As he started to read the morning paper, the thought of her brought a surprised smile to his face.
Sister Betty was one of his most senior members and had been a blessing to him ever since he took over as pastor. Her quirkiness was well known to some and a puzzle to most. As far as he was concerned, she was a woman who had God’s ear. He had also adopted her as his spiritual mother, especially since both of his parents passed away long before he had finished college, and she was always telling him what to do anyhow.
She also watched his back and stood between him and the desires of several unmarried females at the church who were looking to add the title of First Lady to their letterhead and bank account. Sadly, there were also a few married women who would have made an exception to their marriage vows had he given them a reason.
Through the good and the bad, Sister Betty had never left his side. She made certain that he knew that God had not left either.
Before he knew it, it was around noon and time to pick up Sister Betty. He rechecked the weather and learned the forecasters had upgraded their report to an almost certainty that an early winter storm would cause havoc on the roads.
As he pulled out of his driveway, Reverend Tom whispered an affirmation: “God in heaven, forgive me for my unbelief and my unmerited pride in what You’ve placed in my hands. But Lord, all days are Your days, too. Now if Moses didn’t let the Red Sea stop him from helping his people, I’m not about to let the threat of a snow storm, lack of finances, or a congregation of unbelievers stop me from helping mine.”
After a short drive, Reverend Tom slowly pulled into the winding driveway of Sister Betty’s luxurious home. Before he could step from the car, she stepped outside to meet him.
Sister Betty was dressed in her traditional all-white everything. At that moment, her everything was a heavy wool overcoat, gloves, boots, and hat. On this particular day, she’d bundled up so tight she looked like a white box with a large Bible attached to its side. She stayed ready for any storm—natural or spiritual.
Sister Betty’s small feet hopscotched through the slush until she made her way inside the car. Without ceremony or waiting for him to open the door, she said, “Praise the Lord, Pastor.”
“Sister Betty,” the reverend replied. He chose to leave it at that.
Sister Betty chuckled as she fastened her seatbelt and gave him the once over. “You look like you still holding onto about a quart of faith, so I sure hope you’re ready to roll for the Lord this glorious day.”
Judging by the way she acted at that moment, it was hard to believe she’d just chewed him out the night before. Nevertheless, the joy only lasted long enough for him to put the car in drive. Before they’d gotten off the block, she’d become more like a Mama Betty than the Sister Betty he’d needed.
Sister Betty adjusted the scarf around her neck and pointed to the car’s heater. “It’s so cold in here I can see my breath. Now turn that thing up. I told you I don’t have hot flashes no more and I need a lot of heat.”
Reverend Tom did as she requested. He then waited a moment until she adjusted to the blast of heat from the heater before he added, “Okay, my short but powerful ride-or-die gal. Let’s go and reclaim the Promised Land.”
“I don’t know how many times I need to remind you that I really don’t like the word die used in the same sentence as my name,” Sister Betty murmured.
“Don’t worry about that,” the reverend laughed as he finally pulled out of the slow-moving traffic. “You are not going anywhere anytime soon. Heaven doesn’t need you up there as much as I do down here.”
“From your lips to God’s ears and His will.” Sister Betty sat back. Her head leaned to the side as she thought, I want to thank you, Lord, for Your grace and for Your mercy, too. A smile crept across her face as she praised her God.
The reverend looked over and smiled, too. “I see you’re smiling,” he said softly. “Are you and God collaborating again?” He let out a laugh when he saw the surprised look upon her face.
“Why yes, Reverend Tom, we are constantly in cahoots.”
“Mind sharing what God has revealed?”
“It’s not so much what He’s revealed to me as much as me discussing with Him where we’re going to end up.”
“Oh, I see. You mean the Promised Land.”
Sister Betty shifted her Bible and winked. “That’s right, me and the Lord; we are chatting about the Promised Land. So now you quit interruptin’ before I have to start speaking in tongues to keep you out of my heavenly business.”
The reverend returned her wink with a smile and turned up the heat just a little more in the car. “Well, Sister Betty, I’ll get us to the bank and see about the Promised Land in about ten minutes instead of forty years.”
DAFINA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2008 by Pat G’Orge-Walker
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
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ISBN: 978-0-7582-7230-0
Somewhat Saved Page 32
