Heartstorms
Chapter 1
Laney Albright was a dark skinned, stout little woman with short, dyed auburn hair. Her eyes were always darting, flickering from one point of interest to another and today she was sitting in my living room unannounced almost twitching from the burden of holding in whatever it was she wanted to tell me.
Laney lived in a brownstone ranch house on our street. The house was unlike most of the houses around us which were two story bricks. Her lawn, although it was always perfectly manicured, had a surprisingly bare look. Many times I had passed by it and wondered how something so well taken care of, even with matching rose bushes, could appear so stark.
I asked her to sit down and supplied her with a cool glass of lemonade before I positioned my chair so I would be facing her more directly. Laney licked her lips. She reminded me of a racehorse at the gate trembling with anticipation.
"Okay, Laney, what is it you need to tell me?”
"Well," she began almost breathlessly. "We’ve had a ruckus going on almost in our own front yard this morning!"
“What kind of ruckus? I never heard a thing.”
"You know Faith and Danielle live across the street from me," Laney paused for effect. "Well, they haven’t been getting along for some time now."
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I remembered an incident where I had witnessed the two women a few weeks ago in our Sunday school class as they were coming in the door. I remember being puzzled at the cold look I saw pass between them but had forgotten it quickly as I proceeded with the lesson.
"Have they had a disagreement?" I asked.
"A disagreement?" Laney repeated. "More like a knock-down drag-out. They were at each others throats! I almost couldn’t bear to watch," she added.
The sarcastic thought popped into my head that wild horses probably couldn’t have dragged her away.
"Grown women going after each other almost in my front yard!" she exclaimed. This last declaration was relayed as though it was an unbelievable course of action but the shine in her eyes told me how she really felt.
"Were they actually fighting?”
“Tooth and nail,” she replied.
“Did you try to separate them?”
"Well, at first I was so shocked, of course," she began, "that I couldn’t even think what to do. But finally, I got the presence of mind to yell at them. I called out their names and told them to stop it!"
She was eyeing me, gauging my reaction. "Well, did they?" I asked.
"Why, no!" she exclaimed. "I started to run over there, having in my mind that I’d just have to jump in and pull them apart when a car pulled up and her two kids jumped out."
"Whose kids?" I asked.
"Danielle’s. Faith only has one," Laney offered.
Laney needed no prompting to continue with her story. "About the time I would have been able to do something; Danielle’s daughters were trying to pull her off of Faith. They were yelling, "Mom! Mom! But it was almost like Danielle couldn’t hear them. She wouldn’t even listen to her own two children!" Laney shook her head as though ashamed for them.
My heart sank as the disturbing tale unfolded. I knew that Danielle and Faith had been friends at one time. They usually sat next to each other in my Sunday school class.
Danielle was blonde and tan, in her late thirties and very attractive. Faith was the older of the two by about three years and had more of a serene beauty. She had long brown hair, pale skin, and dark searching eyes.
I recalled having coffee with them once on a cold winter morning last year when we had found ourselves arriving at the same store, shivering and requiring sustenance. There had been fun conversation and laughter before we went our separate ways.
What had brought this animosity about? I thought of Faith’s marriage problems and wondered if that had anything to do with it. A few weeks ago I had heard that Faith’s husband, Wesley, had left her to move in with a young woman not long out of college. He was a professor and the woman had been one of his students.
I had visited Faith and took her some flowers and invited her and her little girl, Chelsea over for dinner but definite plans had not been made. Faith had been kind but non-committal. It seemed to me that though she was hurting badly, she preferred to be alone to nurse her wounds. I understood having reacted almost the same way myself when I was going through my divorce.
I had called her once after that to see how she was doing but no one answered. Two weeks had passed by and I hadn’t called again or visited. A pang of guilt shot through me.
"Laney, I know this is something that’s hard to keep quiet but I think it would be better if we just kept this to ourselves," I said as if being conspirators could be more exciting to Laney than connecting to the grape vine of friends who she probably couldn’t wait to call.
"You haven’t heard it all!" she exclaimed as though I had not spoken. “Danielle told Faith that just because her husband left—it didn’t mean she was welcome to interfere in her marriage!"
"Laney," I interjected. "I really don’t want to hear anymore about what was said." I reached out and placed my hand over hers. She immediately stiffened. "I just want to know if either of them might need me right now. Do you know if they are at home?"
Laney looked a little surprised at my response. "Well, I just thought you needed to know, seeing that they’re both in your Sunday school class," she added triumphantly. The implication was obvious. Laney’s dark eyes flitted away from mine as I tried to look into their depths. The slight would go by unacknowledged—Laney never admitting to herself that she had just tried to wound me. I marveled that she seemed to think nothing of her own actions.
"Danielle is still at home, I think," she replied. "Those daughters of Danielle finally got her inside her own house and Faith left in her car immediately. I imagine they know they’ve made fools of themselves," Laney added as she pressed her dress primly with her hands.
“Whew!” I said with a sigh as I wondered what to do.
Laney licked her lips and took her earrings off and put them in her purse. "Darn things," she complained. "I think they irritate me more every year. Why, I believe soon I just won’t be wearing any at all."
She gave me one of her darting glances and I kept watching those little eyes flicker between me and the rest of my house. "Yes, I probably will just have to lay them down," she added. I recognized that last expression as being a term my grandfather had used sometimes when talking about things people thought they should give up when they got saved and joined a church.
"Earrings are just signs of vanity, don’t you think? You know, I don’t believe we need to wear all the jewelry and makeup and things that we do. It would probably please God more if I just quit wearing earrings all together." She closed her purse and looked back up at me, waiting for my response.
I was a little confused by the direction our conversation had gone. "I’m sure we could be vain about earrings," I replied as I was forming the thoughts I wanted to convey. "But I believe we can wear earrings and not be vain about them too.”
Laney shuffled her feet and looked around again as though uninterested but I continued anyway, seeing my chance to plant a seed. Earrings were not Laney’s problem.
"I could be vain about the color of my hair or the shoes I’m wearing right now. I could be vain about almost anything but it wouldn’t mean that I shouldn’t wear pretty shoes or color my hair. I would need to do something about what was in my heart first where the real problem was at.”
Laney looked at me for a long second as what I said hung in the air between us. "Well, I need to go," she announced suddenly. “Glad I don’t have to give up the earrings though,” she countered with a small laugh.
Laney’s shallowness irritated me. She was the one woman in our church I didn’t want to share anything with because of her appetite for gossip. I’d seen her approach people who were seriously hurting over some terrible occurrence in their lives and I’d seen how she operated. First, she would show concern but soon the questions would begin.
I remembered the time I had seen Laney starting on a young mother from our church who had just found out that her father had been accused of stealing from the company where he worked. Laney was bordering her inquiries with sympathetic remarks as she led the poor, young lady deeper down the path of no return. Soon Laney would know all and her victim would feel trampled, too kind to stop the barrage; not knowing how to deal with her without being rude.
I had interrupted Laney and assured the young woman that I knew it must be an uncomfortable thing for her to talk about right then but that we would remember her in our prayers. When Laney’s eyes met mine, I had seen a smoldering anger there that I never forgot.
"Well, Sister Serena," Laney said as she started to rise from the chair. "I just wanted to let you know what was going on," she repeated. "I had better…."
"Wait a minute, please," I requested.
Laney looked at me warily.
"Could we pray together before you go?" I asked. She looked about as if hoping to find some way of escape but upon finding none gave me a tight smile.
"Sure," she answered.
I reached out for her hands and she gave them to me. I bowed my head and spoke silently to God. I suppose Laney would have been surprised to know that my prayer was as much for her as it was for Faith and Danielle. The prayer only took a few moments and I saw relief on Laney’s face when I lifted my head and said amen.
The day quickly turned into evening as I rushed to fulfill my obligations. What Faith was going through kept coming back to my mind. My heart ached for her and several times I thought of calling her to see if I could help but I put off the thought each time. Something about calling her disturbed me but I never stopped to ask myself why.
I heard a wise woman say once that when deciding on a course of action, she weighed if the direction she wanted to go in was for her or for God. If it was for her she tried not to do it. If it was for God, she tried to do it and if she didn’t know, she waited.
I knew there was a lot of wisdom behind that statement. But on the other hand, I didn’t want to put off a course of action only because I was waiting for some thunder from heaven. Like Elijah found out, sometimes God is in the still, small voice.
Unlike Elijah though, I was not being fed by birds or angels, and when I decided to fix something for dinner I noticed that my refrigerator looked like the refrigerator of a single woman on the go. I knew I had some serious re-stocking to do but I was famished.
I made a rush trip to the store, intent on grabbing whatever I needed so I could get out quickly. At my hurried pace, I didn’t even notice the woman heading toward me until her cart was almost even with mine.
I was disappointed to see that it was Erica Strong. I didn’t feel like talking to her but I couldn’t avoid it. She had stopped her cart when we made eye contact and smiled at me. Like Laney Albright, Erica was not someone I enjoyed encountering.
Erica’s hair was fashioned in what had always looked to me as though it should be saved for a poodle with its long wavy sides, bun on top and sculpted bangs. In my opinion, it didn’t enhance her appearance. It just made her look older. It didn’t help either that her face seemed chiseled with bitterness the way some people’s faces look who seem to be unhappy most of the time.
A couple of years ago, Erica had been one of the women my husband was seen traipsing around town with before our divorce was even final. I had forgiven her but if I had forgiven her, why was I suddenly filled with so much animosity?
"Hi, Serena. How are you?" she asked. I could see the dislike for me in her eyes and I knew she didn’t really care how I was. I replied that I was fine and asked about her in return.
“Oh, I’m doing alright,” she answered. “How’s the bookstore?”
“Good.”
“Frankly, I never thought a bookstore would do very well here.”
“Really? Why?” I asked.
“People don’t read like they used to.”
“That’s true for some.” I was deliberately making my answers short in hopes to end the conversation quickly.
"So, have you seen the new woman Shawn has now?" she asked speculatively.
So that’s why she wanted to talk to me, I thought.
"Really, Erica, it’s just not my concern anymore," I replied tiredly. "We’ve been divorced for quite a while and he’s welcome to see anyone he wants."
She regarded me for a moment with a look that showed she doubted the truth of my reply.
"Well, you really are better off without that two-timer," she responded as if she were in the position to give me advice. "I should have known better myself," she went on. "He’s just a user and he doesn’t even care how much he hurt you or me."
She did look hurt and for a moment I felt a small sense of compassion for her, poodle hair-do and all but the reality of this particular woman standing before me and telling me that I was better off without Shawn was too much for me. I felt anger beginning to churn in the pit of my stomach.
“I don’t see how you stood him all those years you were married to him,” she continued.
My mind was reeling. Was she actually comparing her adulterous relationship with him to our marriage?
“I consider any woman that takes him off of my hands as someone that’s doing me a favor,” she announced. Then she said again with a little shake of her head, “I should have known better.”
“Yes, you should have known better," I found myself replying. "Especially since you knew so personally that he was an adulterer."
I had not planned those words and I was shocked at myself for saying them. I could tell Erica was too.
Her face hardened and she spoke angrily, her mouth curving in distaste. "Obviously you still have a lot to learn about forgiveness, Christian lady."
Her words scorched my heart. The nights I cried myself to sleep knowing Shawn was probably with her flashed through my mind and from the depths of my remembered pain words uncurled and shot out of my mouth like a tightly coiled spring suddenly set free.
"And obviously you need to learn what committing adultery means about a person’s character because if you knew that you wouldn’t be surprised at his behavior now." I said raising my voice as my anger increased.
Erica’s face was turning pale but I continued.
"I think you deserve every awful thing that he’s done to you but you will still never know what I went through because you were never his wife!"
She stepped back as though I had slapped her in the face.
"He never even cared enough about you to even make a commitment to you in the first place,” I spat out at her. “So what right have you got to whine—especially to me?"
I looked at her ashen face and hurt-filled eyes and immediately regretted my words. There was an awkward silence while we stared at one another.
“Erica, I shouldn’t have…,” I began.
“Why let a little detail like that stop you?” she retorted sarcastically as she attempted to push past me. There was a clang as her cart knocked roughly into mine before she turned the corner and headed up the next isle.
I took a deep breath as I headed straight for the checkout line. My face was burning with anger and shame as the clerk added up my total. I wondered if she had heard us. Then, I pushed my cart to my car hurriedly, anxious to get my groceries in the trunk before the tears that were welling up in my eyes spilled over. I pulled away from the store in a rush wanting to distance myself from what had just happened.
I had treated Erica horribly and I knew it. Though some would say I was justified, I knew that hurting her with my words was not part of the forgiveness I had prayed so often about. I needed to talk to Lorene so much. She was the only one I felt I could go to who would understand and my car seemed to head to her house on its own.
So this was what all that time on my knees before God praying about forgiveness had done for me, I thought as I drove. However, I wasn’t blaming God; I was berating myself for my own fickleness. I had just resurrected an old enemy I thought was gone—the double headed monster of jealousy and bitterness.
How often would I have to face these feelings? How long would it be before the pain of my divorce would be gone?
A few minutes later, I was sitting in my friend’s kitchen; a hot cup of tea in my hands and her beautiful calico cat, Harlequin, already curled up in my lap. Lorene was a lovely petite woman in her forties who wore her white hair boyishly short and adored wearing kimonos. She was wearing a blue, floor-length one as she sat across from me, her compassionate eyes revealing she was ready to help in any way she could.
Shamefacedly, I told Lorene about seeing Erica in the grocery store and what had transpired. I even told her about the visit from Laney and how I felt guilty for not reaching out more to Faith after Wesley had abandoned her. Lorene listened quietly.
One of the characteristics I treasured most about Lorene was the deep sense of peace that seemed to surround her. I knew it came from an unswerving trust in God.
She smiled sympathetically when I finished my story and then just put her arms around me while I cried. Harlequin must have decided it was all too much for him and he slipped out of my lap.
“How long is it going to hurt, Lorene?” I asked.
“The divorce?”
“Yes.”
“It will keep getting better,” she replied gently. “You’ve just had a set-back but God will help you get through this too.”
After I cried a few more tears, Lorene walked over to the counter and got a tissue for me and came back and sat down by me again. “Better?” she asked as I took the tissue from her hand and began to wipe the tears from my face.
I nodded. “Thanks.”
Lorene walked over to the stove and picked up the corn-silk blue teapot there. She poured some more of the fragrant hot liquid into our cups. I watched the steam rise from the cup she placed before me and leaned over it inhaling the warm, aromatic mist.
“How’s the store doing?” Lorene asked as she lifted her cup to her lips.
“Doing good.”
“Is David still working out okay?”
“Yes, he’s been a godsend.”
“How’s Rhonda?”
“College is going well. I miss her—can’t wait ‘til Thanksgiving.”
Lorene’s face grew excited. “Jerry, Dianna and Dustin are trying to work it out so they can all be here together then!”
“Wonderful,” I responded happily. “How long has it been since all three of your children have been home?”
“I don’t know—too long,” Lorene replied. “I believe it’s been about two years.”
I looked down at my hands. “Sometimes it seems there’s so much to be grateful for but sometimes…it seems like it’s all just too much to handle.”
“Yeah, that’s life,” Lorene replied thoughtfully. “You want to have a prayer together?”
“Why else do you think I showed up here—just to spill my guts and cry on your shoulder?”
Lorene smiled.
As I left her home that evening, I whispered a prayer of thankfulness to God for Lorene’s friendship. She knew I was aware of what I had to do and she believed in me. "Oh Lord," I spoke out loud when I was back in my car. "Why do I put myself through these things?" And even though I was disappointed in myself and now faced the unpleasant consequences of my actions, I knew He still loved me and would be with me all the way.
Chapter 2
I slept well that night but when I woke up I knew it was time to call Erica and apologize. After some Bible reading and prayer time, I looked up Erica’s number and dialed it. She answered after the third ring.
"Erica? It’s Serena Overstreet," I said quickly and before I had time to explain my reason for calling, I heard a click and knew she had hung up.
"God, please don’t make me go over there," I whispered as I dialed her number again. The phone rang twelve times before I finally gave up.
I was supposed to be at the bookstore in an hour so I dressed quickly and applied a small amount of make-up and ran out the door. I knew where Erica lived and I was half way there when my cell phone rang.
"Serena, it’s Lorene," I heard my friend say.
"Hi Lorene," I replied. "I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so early this morning."
"I know," she acknowledged as I heard her attempt to stifle a yawn. "But I had something to tell you and I wanted to see what you thought about it.”
“Okay, but I’m on my way over to speak to Erica right now,” I informed her.
“Well, I was thinking about your visit yesterday and your altercation with Erica in the store,” she began.
"I'm listening," I replied.
"Do you think that hearing from Laney about Wesley leaving Faith could have brought back some bad memories of your own and made you a little vulnerable when you met Erica in the store?"
I considered what she was saying for a moment.
"Possibly," I replied.
“I was thinking about that and how deeply you must be able to sympathize with Faith since Wesley left her.”
“She was on my mind all day yesterday after Laney’s visit,” I admitted.
Lorene sighed. “Something like that can hit awfully close to home when it reminds you of the pain you went through yourself. Do you think that might have been one of the reasons Erica was able to spark your anger so quickly?”
I lifted my eyebrows in surprise. “I—I never considered that the two incidents were related,” I replied honestly. “You mean when I saw Erica I took everything out on her?”
"Yes," Lorene replied quietly. “Maybe Erica stood for all the adulteresses in the world to you at that moment.”
I was silent for a few seconds as I remembered how upset I had been when I heard about Faith and Danielle’s fight. When Laney told me Danielle accused Faith of trying to take her husband, I had hurt for Faith, not Danielle. I also knew what it was like to be a divorced woman and looked upon with suspicion by a married woman who had once been your friend. I did feel a great deal of compassion for Faith as she went through the pain of a marriage broken by infidelity and I realized that Lorene was probably right.
"So, I need to be more careful with my reactions in this situation because I may be taking it too personally?" I surmised out loud.
"Well, you are Danielle’s teacher too,” she reminded me, “and you might need to be careful about being objective.”
“I hadn’t thought that I might not treat Danielle fairly in all this but after my reaction to Erica, I suppose I had better be careful.”
“It wouldn’t hurt,” she replied.
I was quiet for a moment as I considered how quickly I had reacted to Erica in a negative manner. Lorene was probably right. The empathy I had for Faith and what she was experiencing probably did have something to do with my own vulnerability towards Erica yesterday. Obviously, if that were true, I did need to be careful how I responded to Danielle too.
"What would I do without you, Lorene?" I asked with a small laugh.
"And what would I do without you?" she responded.
“Get more sleep?”
She laughed in response.
“I’m almost at Erica’s.”
“Okay, I’m going back to sleep then.”
“Say a prayer for me first,” I told her.
"You know it," she assured me.
"I know you," I teased. "You'll be asleep again in two minutes." Lorene's nightly need of at least nine hours of sleep was a joke between us and I was smiling as I closed my phone and pulled into Erica's driveway. Hearing my friend’s voice had strengthened me. And I needed all the strength I could get, I thought, as I got out of my car and walked toward Erica’s house.
Erica lived in a small, almost doll-like, white A-frame house with red shutters. I knocked determinedly and heard quick footsteps. There was a long pause before Erica opened the door. Her poodle hair-do was a little mussed but still holding its own even though it was obvious she hadn’t been up long. She was holding a pink bathrobe together at the neck as she eyed me suspiciously.
“What are you doing here?” she asked unkindly.
I smiled and tried to look friendly. "Hello, Erica, may I speak to you for just a moment?" I asked quickly. I was hoping to get to talk to her before she had time to get angry again. I almost expected her to slam the door in my face but she just stepped back with a resigned look and motioned for me to come in.
She didn’t smile as I walked past her. "What do you want, Serena?" she asked.
Okay, I thought, no offer to sit down and have a cup of tea but at least she had let me in.
“Erica, I came to apologize," I began.
Erica’s eyes narrowed. "I figured that’s why you were calling this morning," she sneered. "You want my forgiveness. It wouldn’t look right to the ladies’ Sunday school class if your students heard you were going off on people in grocery stores," she said sarcastically.
The obstinate look on her face challenged me to deny the truth of what she was saying.
I looked down at my feet. Why do I get myself in these messes? I was almost forty-five years old and still learning. I decided to just tell her what was in my heart. I didn’t think she would accept anything else.
"You’re right," I answered quietly as I lifted up my eyes to meet hers. "I don’t want people to think that about me, yet that’s exactly what I did." I paused for a moment as I struggled with the words. "I’m ashamed of my behavior," I admitted.
Erica didn’t smile as she studied my face. Her countenance never changed while her eyes penetrated mine with a cold stare. "You always thought you were better than me," she responded.
"That’s not true," I replied, surprised by her statement. "Why would you think that?"
"The things Shawn told me," she replied.
I winced visibly. I had never heard her say Shawn’s name before in such an intimate manner yet she was standing before me revealing that they had private conversations together—not only that—conversations about me. I didn’t want to let her see what the memory of his unfaithfulness could still do to me. God, help me, I thought.
"Shawn said that you thought you were on a higher spiritual road than everyone else around you," Erica added, not breaking her gaze.
"Shawn was having his own problems," I countered. "And I didn’t come to discuss his shortcomings or argue with you," I stated, feeling as though I were in an uphill battle. "You’re right. I behaved badly yesterday and it’s bothered me ever since.”
“It should,” she countered.
“I agree with you,” I admitted.
“And I don’t think you’re as good a Christian as you think you are,” she added.
I recognized the fact that she was speaking out of the hurt in her heart just like I did yesterday and suddenly I saw Erica differently. Instead of considering her as an enemy, I saw her as someone who lived a sad and lonely life—someone who had known rejection too but who didn’t have the comfort and the healing available to her that I did. At that moment, I felt I understood her vulnerability more than I ever had before and when I spoke I recognized something in my tone that hadn’t been there before either. It was compassion.
“You’re welcome to feel how you like about me but there’s one thing that I want you to know for sure...," I told her gently.
Erica’s eyes narrowed as though she were suspicious of anything I would have to tell her.
"I am sorry that I talked that way to you in the store," I said. "Sometimes things from the past can still hurt me as if they had just happened yesterday."
I thought I saw her face soften slightly while I was talking but then her eyes narrowed again; her gaze was cold and unforgiving. "You’ve been divorced from Shawn for years now, Serena," she said. "Don’t you think it’s about time you got over it?"
"I think you probably understand what it’s like to lose someone you love," I answered. "Sometimes you think you’re over the worst part but a memory, a smell, a holiday like Christmastime can set you back years and it can happen in an instant."
"So, you’re really no different than the rest of us," she replied. "You teach your women’s class but you’re no better than anyone sitting there. You have problems just like they do. Your little world isn’t so perfect after all," she said sarcastically with a note of triumph in her voice.
"You’re right," I told her. "My little world isn’t perfect. If you knew me at all you would know that I go through things and I hurt just like everyone else."
That’s when I noticed the pair of men’s shoes underneath the coffee table. I wondered if there was a man in the next room waiting for me to leave. Well, if there were, he would just have to wait until I finished. I turned and faced her.
"I know there is a God that made you and me," I began. "And I know that He has a plan for our lives. I don’t know why life has to be so painful and people you believe you would be willing to die for sometimes only hurt you in the end but I do know that God cares if we hurt. He sees what we’re going through."
My hand went to my heart as if I were pulling the sincerity for my words from the very depths of my being. "I’m not teaching that class because I’m better than anyone else," I explained. "I’m teaching it because I believe in the God of the Bible and I want other people to know that He loves us and will be with us even during our darkest hours, even when our worlds aren’t perfect and everything is falling apart, even when we meet people in the grocery store we’ve forgiven but old memories and feelings of anger rise up and we say things we shouldn’t. I’m teaching that class because I believe in the One I’m teaching about not because I’ve arrived at some spiritual high place above everyone else," I finished.
Erica’s expression had changed somewhat for the better, I thought. At least her eyes didn’t seem to be full of hate and this time there was no angry retort. She only stood looking at me silently as though she was a wall and I was only bouncing my words off of her. I knew that God could be working in her heart whether or not it showed on her face.
"I just came here to tell you that I am very sorry for the things I said to you in the store and to ask you to forgive me. Will you?"
She stood looking at me silently—her eyes seeming to search mine for any sign of falseness, any attitude of self-righteousness. I waited. I had said what I needed to say whether she accepted it or not.
Finally, she answered almost flippantly, "I forgive you."
She looked a little embarrassed. I smiled and walked towards the door. There didn’t seem to be anything else to say. She opened the door for me and then spoke in a much softer voice. “I appreciate you coming over to tell me that.” I could tell the words were difficult for her to say.
My face was flushed and I started to walk past her but stopped when we were eye to eye.
"Thank you for listening…and for your forgiveness.”
She did not say anything else so I turned and walked towards my car knowing that she was still standing there watching me. Erica did not close the door until I had got into my car and buckled my seat belt.
As I drove on to towards my book store, I rehashed the whole event. I knew I had tried to do the right thing and I prayed that God would bring something good out of it.
By the time I got to work, I was smiling again and there was a peace in my heart that I took for God’s stamp of approval. I was thankful that the rest of the day went by without further drama. Too much in one day wears me out.
Laney Albright was a dark skinned, stout little woman with short, dyed auburn hair. Her eyes were always darting, flickering from one point of interest to another and today she was sitting in my living room unannounced almost twitching from the burden of holding in whatever it was she wanted to tell me.
Laney lived in a brownstone ranch house on our street. The house was unlike most of the houses around us which were two story bricks. Her lawn, although it was always perfectly manicured, had a surprisingly bare look. Many times I had passed by it and wondered how something so well taken care of, even with matching rose bushes, could appear so stark.
I asked her to sit down and supplied her with a cool glass of lemonade before I positioned my chair so I would be facing her more directly. Laney licked her lips. She reminded me of a racehorse at the gate trembling with anticipation.
"Okay, Laney, what is it you need to tell me?”
"Well," she began almost breathlessly. "We’ve had a ruckus going on almost in our own front yard this morning!"
“What kind of ruckus? I never heard a thing.”
"You know Faith and Danielle live across the street from me," Laney paused for effect. "Well, they haven’t been getting along for some time now."
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I remembered an incident where I had witnessed the two women a few weeks ago in our Sunday school class as they were coming in the door. I remember being puzzled at the cold look I saw pass between them but had forgotten it quickly as I proceeded with the lesson.
"Have they had a disagreement?" I asked.
"A disagreement?" Laney repeated. "More like a knock-down drag-out. They were at each others throats! I almost couldn’t bear to watch," she added.
The sarcastic thought popped into my head that wild horses probably couldn’t have dragged her away.
"Grown women going after each other almost in my front yard!" she exclaimed. This last declaration was relayed as though it was an unbelievable course of action but the shine in her eyes told me how she really felt.
"Were they actually fighting?”
“Tooth and nail,” she replied.
“Did you try to separate them?”
"Well, at first I was so shocked, of course," she began, "that I couldn’t even think what to do. But finally, I got the presence of mind to yell at them. I called out their names and told them to stop it!"
She was eyeing me, gauging my reaction. "Well, did they?" I asked.
"Why, no!" she exclaimed. "I started to run over there, having in my mind that I’d just have to jump in and pull them apart when a car pulled up and her two kids jumped out."
"Whose kids?" I asked.
"Danielle’s. Faith only has one," Laney offered.
Laney needed no prompting to continue with her story. "About the time I would have been able to do something; Danielle’s daughters were trying to pull her off of Faith. They were yelling, "Mom! Mom! But it was almost like Danielle couldn’t hear them. She wouldn’t even listen to her own two children!" Laney shook her head as though ashamed for them.
My heart sank as the disturbing tale unfolded. I knew that Danielle and Faith had been friends at one time. They usually sat next to each other in my Sunday school class.
Danielle was blonde and tan, in her late thirties and very attractive. Faith was the older of the two by about three years and had more of a serene beauty. She had long brown hair, pale skin, and dark searching eyes.
I recalled having coffee with them once on a cold winter morning last year when we had found ourselves arriving at the same store, shivering and requiring sustenance. There had been fun conversation and laughter before we went our separate ways.
What had brought this animosity about? I thought of Faith’s marriage problems and wondered if that had anything to do with it. A few weeks ago I had heard that Faith’s husband, Wesley, had left her to move in with a young woman not long out of college. He was a professor and the woman had been one of his students.
I had visited Faith and took her some flowers and invited her and her little girl, Chelsea over for dinner but definite plans had not been made. Faith had been kind but non-committal. It seemed to me that though she was hurting badly, she preferred to be alone to nurse her wounds. I understood having reacted almost the same way myself when I was going through my divorce.
I had called her once after that to see how she was doing but no one answered. Two weeks had passed by and I hadn’t called again or visited. A pang of guilt shot through me.
"Laney, I know this is something that’s hard to keep quiet but I think it would be better if we just kept this to ourselves," I said as if being conspirators could be more exciting to Laney than connecting to the grape vine of friends who she probably couldn’t wait to call.
"You haven’t heard it all!" she exclaimed as though I had not spoken. “Danielle told Faith that just because her husband left—it didn’t mean she was welcome to interfere in her marriage!"
"Laney," I interjected. "I really don’t want to hear anymore about what was said." I reached out and placed my hand over hers. She immediately stiffened. "I just want to know if either of them might need me right now. Do you know if they are at home?"
Laney looked a little surprised at my response. "Well, I just thought you needed to know, seeing that they’re both in your Sunday school class," she added triumphantly. The implication was obvious. Laney’s dark eyes flitted away from mine as I tried to look into their depths. The slight would go by unacknowledged—Laney never admitting to herself that she had just tried to wound me. I marveled that she seemed to think nothing of her own actions.
"Danielle is still at home, I think," she replied. "Those daughters of Danielle finally got her inside her own house and Faith left in her car immediately. I imagine they know they’ve made fools of themselves," Laney added as she pressed her dress primly with her hands.
“Whew!” I said with a sigh as I wondered what to do.
Laney licked her lips and took her earrings off and put them in her purse. "Darn things," she complained. "I think they irritate me more every year. Why, I believe soon I just won’t be wearing any at all."
She gave me one of her darting glances and I kept watching those little eyes flicker between me and the rest of my house. "Yes, I probably will just have to lay them down," she added. I recognized that last expression as being a term my grandfather had used sometimes when talking about things people thought they should give up when they got saved and joined a church.
"Earrings are just signs of vanity, don’t you think? You know, I don’t believe we need to wear all the jewelry and makeup and things that we do. It would probably please God more if I just quit wearing earrings all together." She closed her purse and looked back up at me, waiting for my response.
I was a little confused by the direction our conversation had gone. "I’m sure we could be vain about earrings," I replied as I was forming the thoughts I wanted to convey. "But I believe we can wear earrings and not be vain about them too.”
Laney shuffled her feet and looked around again as though uninterested but I continued anyway, seeing my chance to plant a seed. Earrings were not Laney’s problem.
"I could be vain about the color of my hair or the shoes I’m wearing right now. I could be vain about almost anything but it wouldn’t mean that I shouldn’t wear pretty shoes or color my hair. I would need to do something about what was in my heart first where the real problem was at.”
Laney looked at me for a long second as what I said hung in the air between us. "Well, I need to go," she announced suddenly. “Glad I don’t have to give up the earrings though,” she countered with a small laugh.
Laney’s shallowness irritated me. She was the one woman in our church I didn’t want to share anything with because of her appetite for gossip. I’d seen her approach people who were seriously hurting over some terrible occurrence in their lives and I’d seen how she operated. First, she would show concern but soon the questions would begin.
I remembered the time I had seen Laney starting on a young mother from our church who had just found out that her father had been accused of stealing from the company where he worked. Laney was bordering her inquiries with sympathetic remarks as she led the poor, young lady deeper down the path of no return. Soon Laney would know all and her victim would feel trampled, too kind to stop the barrage; not knowing how to deal with her without being rude.
I had interrupted Laney and assured the young woman that I knew it must be an uncomfortable thing for her to talk about right then but that we would remember her in our prayers. When Laney’s eyes met mine, I had seen a smoldering anger there that I never forgot.
"Well, Sister Serena," Laney said as she started to rise from the chair. "I just wanted to let you know what was going on," she repeated. "I had better…."
"Wait a minute, please," I requested.
Laney looked at me warily.
"Could we pray together before you go?" I asked. She looked about as if hoping to find some way of escape but upon finding none gave me a tight smile.
"Sure," she answered.
I reached out for her hands and she gave them to me. I bowed my head and spoke silently to God. I suppose Laney would have been surprised to know that my prayer was as much for her as it was for Faith and Danielle. The prayer only took a few moments and I saw relief on Laney’s face when I lifted my head and said amen.
The day quickly turned into evening as I rushed to fulfill my obligations. What Faith was going through kept coming back to my mind. My heart ached for her and several times I thought of calling her to see if I could help but I put off the thought each time. Something about calling her disturbed me but I never stopped to ask myself why.
I heard a wise woman say once that when deciding on a course of action, she weighed if the direction she wanted to go in was for her or for God. If it was for her she tried not to do it. If it was for God, she tried to do it and if she didn’t know, she waited.
I knew there was a lot of wisdom behind that statement. But on the other hand, I didn’t want to put off a course of action only because I was waiting for some thunder from heaven. Like Elijah found out, sometimes God is in the still, small voice.
Unlike Elijah though, I was not being fed by birds or angels, and when I decided to fix something for dinner I noticed that my refrigerator looked like the refrigerator of a single woman on the go. I knew I had some serious re-stocking to do but I was famished.
I made a rush trip to the store, intent on grabbing whatever I needed so I could get out quickly. At my hurried pace, I didn’t even notice the woman heading toward me until her cart was almost even with mine.
I was disappointed to see that it was Erica Strong. I didn’t feel like talking to her but I couldn’t avoid it. She had stopped her cart when we made eye contact and smiled at me. Like Laney Albright, Erica was not someone I enjoyed encountering.
Erica’s hair was fashioned in what had always looked to me as though it should be saved for a poodle with its long wavy sides, bun on top and sculpted bangs. In my opinion, it didn’t enhance her appearance. It just made her look older. It didn’t help either that her face seemed chiseled with bitterness the way some people’s faces look who seem to be unhappy most of the time.
A couple of years ago, Erica had been one of the women my husband was seen traipsing around town with before our divorce was even final. I had forgiven her but if I had forgiven her, why was I suddenly filled with so much animosity?
"Hi, Serena. How are you?" she asked. I could see the dislike for me in her eyes and I knew she didn’t really care how I was. I replied that I was fine and asked about her in return.
“Oh, I’m doing alright,” she answered. “How’s the bookstore?”
“Good.”
“Frankly, I never thought a bookstore would do very well here.”
“Really? Why?” I asked.
“People don’t read like they used to.”
“That’s true for some.” I was deliberately making my answers short in hopes to end the conversation quickly.
"So, have you seen the new woman Shawn has now?" she asked speculatively.
So that’s why she wanted to talk to me, I thought.
"Really, Erica, it’s just not my concern anymore," I replied tiredly. "We’ve been divorced for quite a while and he’s welcome to see anyone he wants."
She regarded me for a moment with a look that showed she doubted the truth of my reply.
"Well, you really are better off without that two-timer," she responded as if she were in the position to give me advice. "I should have known better myself," she went on. "He’s just a user and he doesn’t even care how much he hurt you or me."
She did look hurt and for a moment I felt a small sense of compassion for her, poodle hair-do and all but the reality of this particular woman standing before me and telling me that I was better off without Shawn was too much for me. I felt anger beginning to churn in the pit of my stomach.
“I don’t see how you stood him all those years you were married to him,” she continued.
My mind was reeling. Was she actually comparing her adulterous relationship with him to our marriage?
“I consider any woman that takes him off of my hands as someone that’s doing me a favor,” she announced. Then she said again with a little shake of her head, “I should have known better.”
“Yes, you should have known better," I found myself replying. "Especially since you knew so personally that he was an adulterer."
I had not planned those words and I was shocked at myself for saying them. I could tell Erica was too.
Her face hardened and she spoke angrily, her mouth curving in distaste. "Obviously you still have a lot to learn about forgiveness, Christian lady."
Her words scorched my heart. The nights I cried myself to sleep knowing Shawn was probably with her flashed through my mind and from the depths of my remembered pain words uncurled and shot out of my mouth like a tightly coiled spring suddenly set free.
"And obviously you need to learn what committing adultery means about a person’s character because if you knew that you wouldn’t be surprised at his behavior now." I said raising my voice as my anger increased.
Erica’s face was turning pale but I continued.
"I think you deserve every awful thing that he’s done to you but you will still never know what I went through because you were never his wife!"
She stepped back as though I had slapped her in the face.
"He never even cared enough about you to even make a commitment to you in the first place,” I spat out at her. “So what right have you got to whine—especially to me?"
I looked at her ashen face and hurt-filled eyes and immediately regretted my words. There was an awkward silence while we stared at one another.
“Erica, I shouldn’t have…,” I began.
“Why let a little detail like that stop you?” she retorted sarcastically as she attempted to push past me. There was a clang as her cart knocked roughly into mine before she turned the corner and headed up the next isle.
I took a deep breath as I headed straight for the checkout line. My face was burning with anger and shame as the clerk added up my total. I wondered if she had heard us. Then, I pushed my cart to my car hurriedly, anxious to get my groceries in the trunk before the tears that were welling up in my eyes spilled over. I pulled away from the store in a rush wanting to distance myself from what had just happened.
I had treated Erica horribly and I knew it. Though some would say I was justified, I knew that hurting her with my words was not part of the forgiveness I had prayed so often about. I needed to talk to Lorene so much. She was the only one I felt I could go to who would understand and my car seemed to head to her house on its own.
So this was what all that time on my knees before God praying about forgiveness had done for me, I thought as I drove. However, I wasn’t blaming God; I was berating myself for my own fickleness. I had just resurrected an old enemy I thought was gone—the double headed monster of jealousy and bitterness.
How often would I have to face these feelings? How long would it be before the pain of my divorce would be gone?
A few minutes later, I was sitting in my friend’s kitchen; a hot cup of tea in my hands and her beautiful calico cat, Harlequin, already curled up in my lap. Lorene was a lovely petite woman in her forties who wore her white hair boyishly short and adored wearing kimonos. She was wearing a blue, floor-length one as she sat across from me, her compassionate eyes revealing she was ready to help in any way she could.
Shamefacedly, I told Lorene about seeing Erica in the grocery store and what had transpired. I even told her about the visit from Laney and how I felt guilty for not reaching out more to Faith after Wesley had abandoned her. Lorene listened quietly.
One of the characteristics I treasured most about Lorene was the deep sense of peace that seemed to surround her. I knew it came from an unswerving trust in God.
She smiled sympathetically when I finished my story and then just put her arms around me while I cried. Harlequin must have decided it was all too much for him and he slipped out of my lap.
“How long is it going to hurt, Lorene?” I asked.
“The divorce?”
“Yes.”
“It will keep getting better,” she replied gently. “You’ve just had a set-back but God will help you get through this too.”
After I cried a few more tears, Lorene walked over to the counter and got a tissue for me and came back and sat down by me again. “Better?” she asked as I took the tissue from her hand and began to wipe the tears from my face.
I nodded. “Thanks.”
Lorene walked over to the stove and picked up the corn-silk blue teapot there. She poured some more of the fragrant hot liquid into our cups. I watched the steam rise from the cup she placed before me and leaned over it inhaling the warm, aromatic mist.
“How’s the store doing?” Lorene asked as she lifted her cup to her lips.
“Doing good.”
“Is David still working out okay?”
“Yes, he’s been a godsend.”
“How’s Rhonda?”
“College is going well. I miss her—can’t wait ‘til Thanksgiving.”
Lorene’s face grew excited. “Jerry, Dianna and Dustin are trying to work it out so they can all be here together then!”
“Wonderful,” I responded happily. “How long has it been since all three of your children have been home?”
“I don’t know—too long,” Lorene replied. “I believe it’s been about two years.”
I looked down at my hands. “Sometimes it seems there’s so much to be grateful for but sometimes…it seems like it’s all just too much to handle.”
“Yeah, that’s life,” Lorene replied thoughtfully. “You want to have a prayer together?”
“Why else do you think I showed up here—just to spill my guts and cry on your shoulder?”
Lorene smiled.
As I left her home that evening, I whispered a prayer of thankfulness to God for Lorene’s friendship. She knew I was aware of what I had to do and she believed in me. "Oh Lord," I spoke out loud when I was back in my car. "Why do I put myself through these things?" And even though I was disappointed in myself and now faced the unpleasant consequences of my actions, I knew He still loved me and would be with me all the way.
Chapter 2
I slept well that night but when I woke up I knew it was time to call Erica and apologize. After some Bible reading and prayer time, I looked up Erica’s number and dialed it. She answered after the third ring.
"Erica? It’s Serena Overstreet," I said quickly and before I had time to explain my reason for calling, I heard a click and knew she had hung up.
"God, please don’t make me go over there," I whispered as I dialed her number again. The phone rang twelve times before I finally gave up.
I was supposed to be at the bookstore in an hour so I dressed quickly and applied a small amount of make-up and ran out the door. I knew where Erica lived and I was half way there when my cell phone rang.
"Serena, it’s Lorene," I heard my friend say.
"Hi Lorene," I replied. "I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so early this morning."
"I know," she acknowledged as I heard her attempt to stifle a yawn. "But I had something to tell you and I wanted to see what you thought about it.”
“Okay, but I’m on my way over to speak to Erica right now,” I informed her.
“Well, I was thinking about your visit yesterday and your altercation with Erica in the store,” she began.
"I'm listening," I replied.
"Do you think that hearing from Laney about Wesley leaving Faith could have brought back some bad memories of your own and made you a little vulnerable when you met Erica in the store?"
I considered what she was saying for a moment.
"Possibly," I replied.
“I was thinking about that and how deeply you must be able to sympathize with Faith since Wesley left her.”
“She was on my mind all day yesterday after Laney’s visit,” I admitted.
Lorene sighed. “Something like that can hit awfully close to home when it reminds you of the pain you went through yourself. Do you think that might have been one of the reasons Erica was able to spark your anger so quickly?”
I lifted my eyebrows in surprise. “I—I never considered that the two incidents were related,” I replied honestly. “You mean when I saw Erica I took everything out on her?”
"Yes," Lorene replied quietly. “Maybe Erica stood for all the adulteresses in the world to you at that moment.”
I was silent for a few seconds as I remembered how upset I had been when I heard about Faith and Danielle’s fight. When Laney told me Danielle accused Faith of trying to take her husband, I had hurt for Faith, not Danielle. I also knew what it was like to be a divorced woman and looked upon with suspicion by a married woman who had once been your friend. I did feel a great deal of compassion for Faith as she went through the pain of a marriage broken by infidelity and I realized that Lorene was probably right.
"So, I need to be more careful with my reactions in this situation because I may be taking it too personally?" I surmised out loud.
"Well, you are Danielle’s teacher too,” she reminded me, “and you might need to be careful about being objective.”
“I hadn’t thought that I might not treat Danielle fairly in all this but after my reaction to Erica, I suppose I had better be careful.”
“It wouldn’t hurt,” she replied.
I was quiet for a moment as I considered how quickly I had reacted to Erica in a negative manner. Lorene was probably right. The empathy I had for Faith and what she was experiencing probably did have something to do with my own vulnerability towards Erica yesterday. Obviously, if that were true, I did need to be careful how I responded to Danielle too.
"What would I do without you, Lorene?" I asked with a small laugh.
"And what would I do without you?" she responded.
“Get more sleep?”
She laughed in response.
“I’m almost at Erica’s.”
“Okay, I’m going back to sleep then.”
“Say a prayer for me first,” I told her.
"You know it," she assured me.
"I know you," I teased. "You'll be asleep again in two minutes." Lorene's nightly need of at least nine hours of sleep was a joke between us and I was smiling as I closed my phone and pulled into Erica's driveway. Hearing my friend’s voice had strengthened me. And I needed all the strength I could get, I thought, as I got out of my car and walked toward Erica’s house.
Erica lived in a small, almost doll-like, white A-frame house with red shutters. I knocked determinedly and heard quick footsteps. There was a long pause before Erica opened the door. Her poodle hair-do was a little mussed but still holding its own even though it was obvious she hadn’t been up long. She was holding a pink bathrobe together at the neck as she eyed me suspiciously.
“What are you doing here?” she asked unkindly.
I smiled and tried to look friendly. "Hello, Erica, may I speak to you for just a moment?" I asked quickly. I was hoping to get to talk to her before she had time to get angry again. I almost expected her to slam the door in my face but she just stepped back with a resigned look and motioned for me to come in.
She didn’t smile as I walked past her. "What do you want, Serena?" she asked.
Okay, I thought, no offer to sit down and have a cup of tea but at least she had let me in.
“Erica, I came to apologize," I began.
Erica’s eyes narrowed. "I figured that’s why you were calling this morning," she sneered. "You want my forgiveness. It wouldn’t look right to the ladies’ Sunday school class if your students heard you were going off on people in grocery stores," she said sarcastically.
The obstinate look on her face challenged me to deny the truth of what she was saying.
I looked down at my feet. Why do I get myself in these messes? I was almost forty-five years old and still learning. I decided to just tell her what was in my heart. I didn’t think she would accept anything else.
"You’re right," I answered quietly as I lifted up my eyes to meet hers. "I don’t want people to think that about me, yet that’s exactly what I did." I paused for a moment as I struggled with the words. "I’m ashamed of my behavior," I admitted.
Erica didn’t smile as she studied my face. Her countenance never changed while her eyes penetrated mine with a cold stare. "You always thought you were better than me," she responded.
"That’s not true," I replied, surprised by her statement. "Why would you think that?"
"The things Shawn told me," she replied.
I winced visibly. I had never heard her say Shawn’s name before in such an intimate manner yet she was standing before me revealing that they had private conversations together—not only that—conversations about me. I didn’t want to let her see what the memory of his unfaithfulness could still do to me. God, help me, I thought.
"Shawn said that you thought you were on a higher spiritual road than everyone else around you," Erica added, not breaking her gaze.
"Shawn was having his own problems," I countered. "And I didn’t come to discuss his shortcomings or argue with you," I stated, feeling as though I were in an uphill battle. "You’re right. I behaved badly yesterday and it’s bothered me ever since.”
“It should,” she countered.
“I agree with you,” I admitted.
“And I don’t think you’re as good a Christian as you think you are,” she added.
I recognized the fact that she was speaking out of the hurt in her heart just like I did yesterday and suddenly I saw Erica differently. Instead of considering her as an enemy, I saw her as someone who lived a sad and lonely life—someone who had known rejection too but who didn’t have the comfort and the healing available to her that I did. At that moment, I felt I understood her vulnerability more than I ever had before and when I spoke I recognized something in my tone that hadn’t been there before either. It was compassion.
“You’re welcome to feel how you like about me but there’s one thing that I want you to know for sure...," I told her gently.
Erica’s eyes narrowed as though she were suspicious of anything I would have to tell her.
"I am sorry that I talked that way to you in the store," I said. "Sometimes things from the past can still hurt me as if they had just happened yesterday."
I thought I saw her face soften slightly while I was talking but then her eyes narrowed again; her gaze was cold and unforgiving. "You’ve been divorced from Shawn for years now, Serena," she said. "Don’t you think it’s about time you got over it?"
"I think you probably understand what it’s like to lose someone you love," I answered. "Sometimes you think you’re over the worst part but a memory, a smell, a holiday like Christmastime can set you back years and it can happen in an instant."
"So, you’re really no different than the rest of us," she replied. "You teach your women’s class but you’re no better than anyone sitting there. You have problems just like they do. Your little world isn’t so perfect after all," she said sarcastically with a note of triumph in her voice.
"You’re right," I told her. "My little world isn’t perfect. If you knew me at all you would know that I go through things and I hurt just like everyone else."
That’s when I noticed the pair of men’s shoes underneath the coffee table. I wondered if there was a man in the next room waiting for me to leave. Well, if there were, he would just have to wait until I finished. I turned and faced her.
"I know there is a God that made you and me," I began. "And I know that He has a plan for our lives. I don’t know why life has to be so painful and people you believe you would be willing to die for sometimes only hurt you in the end but I do know that God cares if we hurt. He sees what we’re going through."
My hand went to my heart as if I were pulling the sincerity for my words from the very depths of my being. "I’m not teaching that class because I’m better than anyone else," I explained. "I’m teaching it because I believe in the God of the Bible and I want other people to know that He loves us and will be with us even during our darkest hours, even when our worlds aren’t perfect and everything is falling apart, even when we meet people in the grocery store we’ve forgiven but old memories and feelings of anger rise up and we say things we shouldn’t. I’m teaching that class because I believe in the One I’m teaching about not because I’ve arrived at some spiritual high place above everyone else," I finished.
Erica’s expression had changed somewhat for the better, I thought. At least her eyes didn’t seem to be full of hate and this time there was no angry retort. She only stood looking at me silently as though she was a wall and I was only bouncing my words off of her. I knew that God could be working in her heart whether or not it showed on her face.
"I just came here to tell you that I am very sorry for the things I said to you in the store and to ask you to forgive me. Will you?"
She stood looking at me silently—her eyes seeming to search mine for any sign of falseness, any attitude of self-righteousness. I waited. I had said what I needed to say whether she accepted it or not.
Finally, she answered almost flippantly, "I forgive you."
She looked a little embarrassed. I smiled and walked towards the door. There didn’t seem to be anything else to say. She opened the door for me and then spoke in a much softer voice. “I appreciate you coming over to tell me that.” I could tell the words were difficult for her to say.
My face was flushed and I started to walk past her but stopped when we were eye to eye.
"Thank you for listening…and for your forgiveness.”
She did not say anything else so I turned and walked towards my car knowing that she was still standing there watching me. Erica did not close the door until I had got into my car and buckled my seat belt.
As I drove on to towards my book store, I rehashed the whole event. I knew I had tried to do the right thing and I prayed that God would bring something good out of it.
By the time I got to work, I was smiling again and there was a peace in my heart that I took for God’s stamp of approval. I was thankful that the rest of the day went by without further drama. Too much in one day wears me out.