No Ordinary Noel

by Pat G'Orge-Walker

  She was dressed in her traditional all white everything. 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 puddles 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.

  She chuckled. While fastening her seatbelt and giving him the once over, she said slowly, “You look like you are still holding on to about a quart of faith so I sure hope you’re ready to roll for the Lord this glorious day.”

  Judging from the way that 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 became more like a Mama Betty than the Sister Betty he needed.

  She adjusted the scarf around her neck and pointed to the car 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 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.

  Much to the reverend’s surprise, he 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 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.”

  Chapter 5

  Another twenty minutes passed and the Reverend Tom and Sister Betty were still on Highway 29 chatting about everything and nothing. It was raining hard and the driving was slow and cautious.

  As they continued to forge their way, they approached a huge billboard set off a little way from the highway.

  “Oh my.” Sister Betty craned her neck to see through the downpour and the rapidly moving windshield wipers. “It looks like somebody won the South Carolina Mega Lottery. Our schools can use the assistance. It’s about a hundred and sumpthin’ million win from what I can tell.”

  “Saying it’s for the schools is just an excuse to have folks gamble away their hard-earned money,” the reverend said sharply. “God doesn’t approve of gambling. The Bible says not to throw your pearls after swine.”

  “But God . . .”

  The subject lit the reverend’s hot button and he refused to let Sister Betty sway him when it came to that subject. “There are no buts,” he said. “Imagine if I took the church’s money and spent it on lottery tickets to help get us out of this fix?”

  Sister Betty felt she’d chew a hole in her bottom lip to keep from saying her piece. She turned away and continued to look out the window as she thought, Why not? You wouldn’t be the only one or the first at Crossing Over who does. Even she’d bought a raffle ticket a time or two at the senior center. In fact, she’d won a savings bond and a floral centerpiece.

  Reverend Tom and Sister Betty continued to drive in silence for the rest of the way. Neither would sway the other and at that moment, they faced issues that were more important.

  “Just look at God,” Reverend Leotis Tom said as he strummed his fingers along the edge of the steering wheel. He slowed down the car and lowered his window. He became excited as they passed the Crossing Over Sanctuary church.

  “Everybody in and around Pelzer knows Crossing Over Sanctuary is a blessed church. Hallelujah, we don’t owe a dime on those six acres where it sits. Mortgage-free is the way to be,” he boasted as he pointed along its perimeter.

  “God’s showing me that despite our current lack of finances and with half the tithes-paying congregation gone, He’s still in the blessing business. By this Christmas, His promise will be fulfilled and we’ll be blessed with ten more mortgage-free acres right across from where we worship now.”

  “I’ll hallelujah to that and you can raise the heat,” Sister Betty replied through her chattering false teeth. “The vision God gave to you to purchase and build on those ten acres will bring a lot of good to a lot of folk. I’m proud of you for following God’s lead. It’s a big responsibility for a young pastor.”

  The Reverend Leotis Tom ignored his shivering and smiled, nodding his head in agreement. “Never had I imagined, at the age of thirty-three when I started pastoring, that God would show so much favor.”

  “Yes, indeed. That’s what I was trying to remind you about last night when you were talking all crazy like somebody with no faith.” Sister Betty chuckled. “But I guess if God used David when he was a kid to slay a giant”—she shifted her Bible in her lap—“I guess even with the smell of Similac baby Christian milk still on your pastoring breath, He can use you, too.

  “Okay, I know you’re excited . . .” Her lips fluttered from the cold and that made it hard to keep her false teeth from falling out. She couldn’t even finish the sentence before he butted in.

  The reverend shivered just slightly, but it wasn’t from the cold. He blurted, “Sister Betty, isn’t it wonderful to just feel the presence of the Lord all over this land?”

  Sister Betty nodded her head in agreement, then murmured, “I’d like to feel Him, but I’m frozen.” She would have said something more but her teeth and lips seemed frozen.

  The reverend finally rolled up the window with the image of Crossing Over Sanctuary fading behind them. He turned toward Sister Betty and confessed, “I haven’t told you everything.”

  “Oh really . . .” she whispered.

  “Yes, I’m afraid I wasn’t as forthcoming as I should’ve been. When it appeared yesterday that anarchy would topple the church and me, well, I didn’t bother to finish spreading the bad news to the congregation.”

  “Let me guess,” Sister Betty replied through clenched teeth that’d finally warmed a little. “No one in the congregation knows we have until Christmas for a miracle to happen.”

  “No ma’am, they don’t.”

  “And of course, you know that I know there’s something else you haven’t told me either. I always know when you’re trying to spare my nerves.”

  He didn’t question how she’d known. As usual, she’d trumped him. At that moment, how she knew and what she knew didn’t matter. She knew.

  Warmed up enough to allow her frozen lips to part, Sister Betty turned toward the reverend. “Now listen, son . . .”

  She called him son. That meant despite everything that had gone down in the past ten minutes, she was about to nail his butt to the wall. Of course, she’d do it respectfully. After all, he was still her pastor.r />
  “Stop acting like I don’t know that the payments on the Promised Land are almost three months late,” she said sternly.

  She watched his face cringe and tried to soften her rebuke. “At least Crossing Over ain’t got a mortgage to worry about and its taxes are up to date.” She reached over and tapped him on his shoulder. The move caused him to jerk around and face her. “I’m proud that you’ve stepped up to the plate and that you’ve been secretly returning half your salary back into the church’s bank account.”

  Reverend Tom’s jaw gaped. He was about to explain why he’d not shared that part with her, but she quickly shifted her Bible again, and pointed it toward him.

  “I ain’t blind either. I can see even with all the fundraisers and soul revivals we’ve held that more folks are leaving the Crossing Over Sanctuary, and even quicker during the past year and a half.”

  The reverend should’ve felt relieved that he wouldn’t have to continue to carry the burden and keep it from her. Nonetheless, when he saw her push her cap and her wig along with it to the side without shame, he knew she was just winding up.

  “Even if I am blessed with enough money to carry me through in comfort, I know that the country is in a crisis. There ain’t a day gone by that I don’t find out that a lot of people here and about have lost jobs, and to a degree, have lost their faith. Of course, when that happens tithes got to fall off.”

  The Reverend didn’t need rocket science to tell him that somebody on the Finance Committee had talked too much or Sister Betty was more of an insider with heaven than he’d known. One thing was for certain, he’d continue to listen and show respect so he could find out who the leak at the church was. It wasn’t as if she was going to shut up before she’d had her say, anyway.

  The reverend continued to hold his peace, waiting for Sister Betty to pause and let him say his piece. “I’ve been thinking about one fundraiser in particular,” she said slowly. “I know I was against it in the very beginning because I could see nothing good coming out of it.”

  When Sister Betty was deep in advisory mode using political correctness to keep things in perspective she often closed her eyes. It made her appear a bit more thoughtful. It also caused her not to see the smile that began to spread across the reverend’s face. It hadn’t taken but a few more minutes before she’d provided the opening.

  “Every time Bea and Sasha get together with a plan, folks around them come close to backsliding. This time I think they may be on to something.” Sister Betty shuddered suddenly. She thought perhaps that it had gotten colder. “I like this idea of a Seniors Prom right here in Pelzer, right after the Thanksgiving holiday. I attended the one held in Belton a few months ago and it was just wonderful. Whenever I talk about it to seniors I know, they all start reminiscing and everything . . .”

  “Oh really.” Reverend Tom took a hand from the steering wheel and laid it across the back of her seat. He was about to say more, but decided to let Sister Betty open that door just a little wider.

  “Oh, they just love it. In fact, I’ve heard that many of the seniors from other churches who went to the one in Belton are coming to this one, too. I’ve already discussed it with my old friend, former Congresswoman Cheyenne Bigelow. Many folks don’t know that she’s the one who helped put the one in Belton together.”

  “I don’t believe I know a Miss Cheyenne Bigelow.” As soon as he said that, he stopped. He liked the planning side of Sister Betty and didn’t want to stop the flow.

  “I didn’t expect you to know her because you’re anti-political except when it comes to our first half-black president. That’s okay with me ’cause I like the handsome fella and his beautiful family. But ’cause she’s had a very colorful personal and political life, Cheyenne Bigelow keeps a low profile, so you don’t need to bring up her name, in case you’re thinking about doing so.”

  Sister Betty let her words linger for a moment and when he said nothing more, she continued. “If it’s a success, then other churches will want to take turns having it on a yearly basis.” She grinned like a giddy young schoolgirl. She liked the idea that her pastor hadn’t interrupted again and let her have her say; not that she’d expected different from him. “It probably won’t be in time or make enough to help our current fiscal mess, but it’s still a good idea.”

  The reverend’s smile couldn’t get much wider without his lips meeting somewhere in the back of his head. That’s when the smile slid from Sister Betty’s face and her right knee twitched. And the pain, she was certain, didn’t come from the coldness.

  Sister Betty never stood a chance. The reverend had already made up his mind. “I’m placing you on the board with Bea and Sasha.”

  He saw the look of civil disobedience flash upon Sister Betty’s face but he would not budge. “I need you to keep them in line. You did such a great job in Las Vegas. . . .”

  Sister Betty’s heart raced, and if she hadn’t been strapped in that car seat, she’d have fallen over. Oh Lord, my sins have found me out. Why didn’t I just tell him everything that happened in Las Vegas? I almost backslid when Bea and Sasha dragged me into the casino in Las Vegas. I gambled . . . I won money and I liked it for a moment.

  She hadn’t told anyone about what really happened once she’d returned from the Annual Mothers Board meeting. She’d done a miserable job of babysitting Bea and Sasha. Plus, she didn’t want the teasing that would come from the members. Sister Betty returned from Vegas feeling they stood a better chance of forgiveness from him if he thought they’d done a little prostituting instead of casino worshipping.

  “That’s a load off my mind.” The reverend continued smiling. If he’d sensed a change other than her usual rebellion, he didn’t respond.

  Just as Sister Betty’s tongue was about to launch into her many excuses, the reverend’s cell phone rang.

  “Hello.” He clutched the phone to his ear as his head shook from side to side as though that action alone would negate what he heard. “What are they doing at the bank? You tell them I’m coming down there!” The reverend seemed not to care that he was screaming into his phone. “You tell them that for me!” He slammed down the cover on his phone, disconnecting the call.

  “Sometimes they make you want to snatch off your collar and grab a pistol!”

  The reference to a pistol caused Sister Betty to flinch. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

  The reverend’s hands were almost bluish from clamping down on the steering wheel, but his face was turning red from the anger. “The Devil is at the bank with demons in abundance.” He drove off with the wheels of the car screaming through the rain.

  Chapter 6

  How Reverend Tom managed to get him and Sister Betty to the Piece of Savings bank in less than twenty minutes was anyone’s guess. His car looked as if it had had a mud bath when he careened into the parking lot. He and Sister Betty didn’t look much better.

  “My Lord Jesus, I didn’t think we’d make it without the police chasing us here.” Sister Betty stood shaking like a wind-up toy and she kept tossing her Bible from one hand to her other. “Next time, I believe I’ll walk the ten miles.”

  Once they entered the bank, neither Reverend Tom nor Sister Betty was surprised to see a few members of Crossing Over Sanctuary. The dismal economy played the great equalizer in the lives of many of the church members. They were in dire need of financial assistance. He’d done as much as the church’s budget allowed for several families and it still wasn’t nearly enough.

  Reverend Tom and Sister Betty made their way into the bank’s outer lobby where they ran across more of their congregation, who’d ventured out in the storm seeking assistance. When he saw their defeated looks, it reminded the reverend of his purpose and the vision God gave him.

  He felt his muscles and his jaw tighten. His mission was indeed critical and he quickly returned to the problem at hand. Lucifer had thrown a monkey wrench into the plan. However, Reverend Tom believed that between their prayers, he and S
ister Betty were enough to turn that monkey wrench into a boomerang.

  “You wait for me out here in the reception area,” the reverend told Sister Betty. “It shouldn’t take too long to see if they’ve changed their minds.”

  “I still don’t see why you think they would.” She looked to her pastor for an explanation. He hadn’t fully explained why they’d rushed when they were going there anyway.

  As much as he needed to hurry, he gave her the short and edited version of the urgent phone call. “BS—Bea and Sasha—visited the bank a little while ago. Apparently, they left before we arrived because I don’t see nor hear them about.”

  “Bea and Sasha came to the bank?” Sister Betty gave a questioning look. “Why would they come here?”

  “Yesterday, during the morning service, Mother Sasha accused me of embezzlement. She said I misused her one hundred forty dollars and twenty-six cents tithe and offering. It was the full amount she gave for the entire year.”

  “Say what!”

  “Oh hold on. It gets better. Apparently, she came here to order the bank to audit the church’s accounts and find out what happened to her money.”

  “And why did Bea come?”

  “BS always follows one another.” The reverend shook his head and straightened his minister’s collar. It was a reminder of who he was in God’s plan, because at that moment, he could’ve become a criminal.

  It took Sister Betty a moment to comprehend what her pastor told her. She clasped her hands together and her eyes silently pled when she asked, “Do I still need to work with them? I’m not in the best of health. Those two would kill me. You know how I feel about dying just yet. . . .”

  Reverend Tom pivoted and walked away without responding. He could only handle one crisis at a time. Sister Betty’s would have to wait.

  About fifteen miles away from The Promised Land development and five miles away from the Piece of Savings Bank sat one of Pelzer’s long time restaurant eyesores, The Soul Food Shanty on Ptomaine Avenue.