Dance Into Destiny (11 page)

A
s soon as they entered Mother Hobbs' house, all sorts of wonderful smells greeted them. It reminded Keeva of Thanksgiving day at her grandmother's in Alabama. Shara set the table while Mother Hobbs got the serving dishes ready. Keeva tried to help but Mother Hobbs told her she was still considered company.

“You can help next time you come over.” She sat her down at the kitchen table with a cup of chilled herbal tea.

Keeva fidgeted in her seat not knowing what to say. If Mother Hobbs was this great spiritual person, she might be able to tell Keeva she wasn't really a Christian or that she had slept with her boyfriend last night.

Mother Hobbs pulled her shoes off. “Girl, my feet
hurt
, you hear me? That's what I get for trying to be all cute wearing these heels. I'm too old for all that. But you have to admit, lavender pumps with my lavender dashiki? Mother Hobbs was fine today.” With a bit of dramatic flair she added, “The price we women pay for beauty.”

Keeva giggled and relaxed back into her chair.

Shara appeared from the dining room. “Yeah, you were cute and all, but I don't want to hear nothing 'bout your corns or bunions later.”

“Oh please, Miss Bluejean. You wouldn't understand. Don't you be sassin' me either. You ain't as grown as you think you are. Respect your elders.”

Shara laughed and disappeared back into the dining room with some glasses.

“That child is all mouth. Always got something to say.”

Shara called out from the dining room, “I can hear you, old lady. Watch yourself.”

Mother Hobbs pulled dishes out of the refrigerator and put them in the oven to heat up. “So you're in school with Shara? Are you in the Education program also?”

“Actually, I'm in the Professional Counseling program. I hope to work with young people too, but as a counselor rather than as an educator.”

“I think that's even more challenging. I tell you, the state of our young people today is scary. It's good to see good people committed to helping them.”

They chatted for a while with Mother Hobbs, sharing some of her horror stories from her last years teaching school. The doorbell rang. Mother Hobbs went to let Quinton, Pastor Kendrick and his wife in. Shara came in from the dining room.

Mother Hobbs made introductions. “Keeva, this is Pastor and Mrs. Kendrick and this is Quinton Mercer.”

Pastor Kendrick hugged her warmly, as did his wife. Jenell Kendrick was a petite woman with a round, pretty face and a dazzling smile. Keeva recognized her as the lead singer on the praise and worship team.

“I loved the music this morning. You have an awesome voice.”

“Thank you. I'm glad you joined us today,” Jenell said.

Keeva shook hands with Quinton, noticing he was even more handsome up close.

He bowed his head a little. “Nice to meet you, Keeva.” She watched as he also shook Shara's hand.

“Good to see you again, Shara, isn't it? Both Pastor Kendrick and Mother Hobbs have been going on and on about you all week. I'm really looking forward to sitting down with you and tossing around some ideas,” Quinton said.

Shara stood there, shaking his hand. Keeva elbowed her in the side, ever so slightly.

Almost as if startled, Shara said, “Yeah, I'm looking forward to that, too.”

Mother Hobbs and Keeva both eyed Shara and then looked at each other, raising their eyebrows.

Mother Hobbs grabbed Shara's arm and directed her toward the kitchen. She motioned everyone else into the next room. “We almost have everything ready. Why don't you all go on in to the dining room? Go ahead and get comfortable. The food will be out in a minute.”

They all sat around the large antique dining table while Shara and Mother Hobbs brought out the serving dishes brimming with food. Mother Hobbs had made oven-fried chicken, salad, string beans, greens, black-eyed peas, macaroni and cheese, candied yams and cornbread. Everything came straight out of the
Soul Food for a Healthy Heart
cookbook she got from her cooking class at the YMCA. It had taken a while for her to learn to make healthy food still taste like soul food, but she had now made it an art. Her secret was a variety of fresh herbs she grew in her little garden in the back yard.

Pastor Kendrick blessed the table and everyone fixed their plates. They were all quiet for a few minutes as they dug into their food.

Quinton said, “Church was absolutely awesome today. Is it always like that? I've never experienced anything like that before. The music, the Word, the freedom—man, I didn't know church could be like that.” He frowned. “Somebody could have told me not to wear a suit, though.”

“Oops, my bad, man,” Pastor Kendrick said. “I forgot to mention that. I don't believe in having to dress up for church. I think God is happy with us being comfortable.” He bobbed his head to an imaginary beat. “Besides, I can't get my dance on in no suit.”

Quinton laughed. “That was an interesting order of service. Now that I think about it, all you do is praise and worship, and then the sermon. I've never seen a preacher not take up an offering.”

“I know,” Keeva said. “No announcements, no choir, no welcoming of the visitors. It was fine with me, though. Most of the time when they do all that stuff, I daydream anyway.”

“That was precisely the problem,” Pastor Kendrick said. “We found that our members from the neighborhood weren't usual churchgoers. They kept coming to service late every Sunday. We changed service to a later time, thinking they didn't want to get up that early, but they still kept coming late. I finally got some feedback from a few of them and they said they didn't want to be bothered with all that other stuff. They just wanted to hear some good music and a sermon and go home. So we changed everything. I decided the most important elements were the worship to create the proper atmosphere, and the Word.”

“That band is awesome,” Quinton said. “Now that's a powerful evangelistic tool. Some people will come just for the music and then you slip them the Word. Who writes your music? I've never heard most of those songs before.”

Pastor Kendrick nodded proudly toward his wife. “Jenell writes most of the stuff we sing. She's my little songbird.”

Jenell blushed. “Oh sweetie, stop.” He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

Mother Hobbs snorted as she spooned a large portion of macaroni and cheese onto Quinton's plate. “Don't y'all start all that mushy stuff. People are trying to eat.”

Everyone laughed and Jenell blushed even more.

Keeva looked at Pastor Kendrick and then at Jenell. “Wow, you write the music? It was awesome. How do you come up with those songs?” she said.

“Most of them come out of my time with God. As I'm praying, reading the Bible, or spending personal time with Him, they come to me. Sometimes they come out of something my husband preaches or from life experiences. I love music, so my deepest feelings get expressed through song.” Jenell had the same dreamy expression when she talked about God and music she had when Pastor Kendrick had kissed her.

“Have you ever thought of using your band for street ministry?” Quinton asked.

Pastor Kendrick looked up from his plate. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you pick a major street in the middle of your target neighborhood and set the band up with the amps, drums, guitars, singers and everything. You start a concert right in the middle of the street on a Friday night. The people gather around because they're interested and then you just
jam
. You don't even have anybody preach. At the end, let them know where you're from and invite them to church if they want to come. That was one of my ideas that got shot down at my old church.”

Pastor Kendrick nodded. “Sounds like a good idea, man. We may have to look into that.” He smiled. “This is gonna be good. I'm excited about you joining us.”

“So when
will
you be joining us, Quinton?” Jenell asked.

“I resigned from my position at my last church a month ago, so I'm free. After spending the week with you guys, and especially after service this morning, I'm more excited about ministry than I've been in a long time. I'm ready to start
yesterday.
”

Quinton's eyes had a fire in them Keeva recognized. It was that same passion she saw in Shara when she talked about God and her kids, the same look in Pastor Kendrick's eyes when he preached and in Jenell's eyes when she talked about her music.

She looked around at everyone in the room. They were all so committed to this church thing and they each had this energy about them when they talked about it, almost a glow.

Mother Hobbs looked over at Quinton's nearly empty plate. “My goodness, you were hungry. Do you want some more?”

“If this woman feeds me any more food . . .” Quinton rubbed his stomach. “Pastor Kendrick, you ain't slick. I got you all figured out. I'm sure part of your plan to get me here was to have Mother Hobbs spoil me to death. She's waited on me hand and foot all week.”

“Guilty as charged. But it worked right?” Mother Hobbs said.

“Oh yeah, too well. I think I've gained ten pounds since I've been here. She says this is all healthy food, but I'm not buying it. It tastes too good to be good for me.” Quinton leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, I was gonna make a trip back here to go apartment hunting, but I think I'll move into my room upstairs permanently.”

Everyone laughed except Shara, who feigned a scowl. “No way, Quinton. This is my house. You gotta find your own place to stay.”

Mother Hobbs smiled at Shara's jealous daughter act. “Actually, Quinton, I was going to mention that you're welcome to stay here as long as you need to. Atlanta has a lot of different areas, each with their own character. You may want to live here a while before deciding where you want to move, especially with the traffic. You can spend a few months here until you make a decision.”

“Actually, I plan to live in the neighborhood around the church,” Quinton said. “I really want to get a feel for the community and the youth. I feel like I can serve them better if I'm living right there among them, seeing what they see, feeling what they feel, living like they live.”

Everyone was quiet for a moment.

Pastor Kendrick finally said, “That's admirable, Quinton, and I really appreciate your commitment to the ministry, but that neighborhood isn't the best. Let's be real, man, it's downright bad. The drugs and so-called gangs have gotten a little better in the last few years, but still—there aren't any nice apartment buildings or anything there.”

Quinton waved away his concern. “I grew up in Chicago's Cabrini Green Projects, man. There can't be anything here in Atlanta that can touch that. I don't have a wife and kids to think about, so it's not a problem. I see it as a strategy—infiltrate and conquer for the Kingdom.”

Pastor Kendrick nodded his respect. “Okay, I'll help you in any way I can to find a decent place. I know you're anxious to get down here, so let me know when you want to come back to start looking.”

Quinton rubbed his chin. “Actually, I think I'll take Mother Hobbs up on her offer. I'll stay over for a few more days and stake out the neighborhood. I had checked out an apartment building around the corner from the church the other day and need to get some more information on it.”

“Do you have a lot of furniture to move?” Jenell asked.

“Not a bit. I bought my mom a house out in the suburbs of Chicago a while back. I'm gonna leave the furniture with her and get all new stuff. I need some help with that, though. If I try to furnish it myself, no telling how the place will end up looking.”

Jenell's face lit up. “I'd love to help out. I love to decorate and I know where all the bargains are. I'm a professional shopper.”

Pastor Kendrick held up a finger. “Quinton, beware. This woman will have you broke. Your place will be hooked up, but you won't have a dime left.”

“Hush, Michael.” Jenell swatted at Pastor Kendrick playfully. “Quinton, don't pay him no mind. You just tell me when you want to go.”

“Thanks. I'll let you know.” Quinton turned to Shara. “Since it looks like I'll be here a little longer, maybe we can meet some time this week. Maybe I can come to track practice.”

Shara smoothed back her hair. “Sure, that . . . that would be . . . uh good. We meet Monday and Wednesday this week at 4:00, so umm that would . . . you could drop in any time.”

“Great, I'll drop by on Wednesday.”

Mother Hobbs got up from the table. “Who left room for dessert?” She returned with a German chocolate cake.

Quinton groaned. “Oh my goodness, that's my favorite. There's no way you can convince me that's healthy.”

“The cake is made with egg whites and applesauce instead of eggs and oil. The icing—that's another story. Every once in a while, you have to just go for it.”

She cut the cake into thick slices, put a large piece on a plate, and handed it to Quinton.

He eyed it and held his stomach. “On second thought, maybe I better not move in to your house, Mother Hobbs. I'd end up being one of those big-bellied preachers.”

Mother Hobbs pushed the plate closer to him. “I was up all night baking this cake. Y'all better eat it. A little piece of cake ain't gonna hurt nobody.”

“That ain't no little piece of cake. But if you insist . . .” Quinton took a bite and rolled his eyes back in his head. “Hallelujah, Glory to Jesus.” He did a little quiver and shook dramatically. “Hondalashayah. Cake so good, it'll make you speak in tongues.”