The Color of Hope (37 page)
Stephanie walked slowly back up front, talking as she went. “The one time Sam went to church would be her last. She didn’t know if she belonged at the ‘black church’ or the ‘white church.’ She wasn’t sure she belonged at either.”
Back at the podium, she surveyed the crowd. “I don’t know if
that bothers anyone else, but it sure bothers me. When we aren’t what Jesus calls us to be, it affects other people. If we can’t love enough, can’t be ‘one’ enough to worship with one another, it affects other people.”
Stephanie knew she needed to wrap it up, but her adrenaline was going.
“You know what else bothers me?” she said. “And I know I’m about to get in trouble, but I don’t care. In honor of Sam, I’m saying it—the fact that we even have a black church and a white church in this town bothers me.”
She was surprised to see a few people stand in agreement.
“They were founded like that in the 1800s,” she continued. “Have we not progressed beyond that?” She started walking again. “Where does the Latino family go who comes to town? Where does the Asian brother or sister go?” She paused. “Where does the biracial girl go? Call me crazy, but I believe we can change.”
More people stood, including teens, with a smattering of “Amens.”
Stephanie looked out at them. “I believe we can come together, not just today in honor of Sam—which is beautiful—but every day going forward, in honor of God. I’m crazy enough to believe that with God, all things are possible.”
Everyone stood now with loud applause. Stephanie returned the mic and gathered her notes from the podium to sit down—and her heart started racing.
Then she grabbed the mic again. “I think I want to
do
something crazy . . .”
S
tephanie couldn’t believe she was leading a crowd of people down Maple Street. Head high, arm linked with Teri’s, every step felt steeped in purpose and conviction. She had no doubt this was inspired—she never walked, and certainly not in heels. Yet the idea had come to her clearly to announce a unity prayer walk that would proceed along Maple and end midway between the two churches, a total distance of about seven blocks. Stephanie had told them, “I don’t care If only ten of us go. If you care deeply about praying toward unity, let’s gather after the service and do it.”
The instructions had been simple. They would pray silently as they walked, and they’d pray in a circle once they reached the destination. But Stephanie was starting to wonder how large this circle would be. Every time she looked behind her, the crowd was growing bigger.
A cameraman ran past them and turned, walking backward as he filmed the procession of mourners who had reason to hope. Next officers on motorcycles zoomed by, redirecting traffic as the group spread more and more into the street.
Teri turned wide eyes to Stephanie. “This is amazing. I had no idea you planned all this.”
“I didn’t,” Stephanie said. “This is all God.”
Stephanie was so taken with everything happening around them she’d almost forgotten the charge. She set her mind to praying and imagined what it would look like if she could see all the prayers rising from Maple Street to heaven.
When she got midway between the churches, she picked a spot and stopped, which happened to be in front of somebody’s home. A woman walked out, clearly stunned by the mass of people moving up the street.
“What’s going on?” she said.
Stephanie met her in her walkway, unsure of the reaction she’d get. The woman had to have been aware of the memorial service . . . but what did it mean that she hadn’t gone?
“I’m sorry,” Stephanie said. “We’re coming from the service for Samara Johnston. It’s a prayer walk for unity between the churches.” She hesitated. “Are you a member of Calvary?”
“All my life,” the woman said. She appeared to be in her fifties. “I couldn’t go to the service for that poor girl because I had to take Momma to the doctor.” She looked down the street. “You say it’s a prayer walk for unity?”
“Actually, we’re stopping right here between the churches to pray now.” Stephanie saw more and more people coming, forming a circle. “I hope it doesn’t bother you too much. We shouldn’t be long.”
“Won’t bother me at all,” she said. “I’m joining you.” She walked across her front yard. “Hey! Y’all can make the circle larger by standing in my yard. Come on up here!” She turned to Stephanie. “I’ll tell the neighbors to do the same.”
Stephanie smiled. “Thank you so much.”
Walking back, Stephanie saw the circle trying to take shape.
Most of her family was in one section, Teri with them. Stephanie linked hands with Lindell to one side, Teri on the other. Aunt Gwynn linked with her sisters, Estelle and Gladys, Keisha with Janelle and Cyd. Marcus and Charley were near as well, though not near one another.
Stephanie grew more and more worried as the circle widened, and they moved farther and farther back. People were still coming. How would they accommodate everyone?
But one woman stopped short of their circle and formed another. The idea caught on and spawned at least four additional circles, smaller but large in their own right.
Charley suddenly moved from her spot, looking as if she’d seen something. She left the circle, searching, and minutes later returned with her mom. Stephanie watched as they came toward them.
Her mom spoke, eyes on Teri. “Miss Schechter, my name is Dottie Willoughby.” She paused. “This is about the hardest thing I’ve had to do in my life. I didn’t attend the memorial service. Honestly, I was too ashamed. But when I got word of what was happening down here, I had to come.” Her eyes were moist. “I am so very, very sorry about Sam. I will never understand your pain. I’m just . . . so sorry . . .”
Teri reached for Dottie’s hand. “It’s not your fault. You’re hurting too.”
They held one another, clutching tighter as they cried together.
Teri took Dottie into the circle as a chain of whispers passed and people realized what was taking place. Charley was visibly moved, taking her mom’s hand—then Stephanie watched as Marcus moved from his spot and walked over to Charley.
Charley looked surprised. Marcus didn’t say a word. He simply grabbed her hand and stood beside her.
Todd and Travis entered the big circle, Travis carrying a bullhorn he must’ve gotten from an officer.
He lifted it to his mouth. “If we can have your attention, please . . .” He turned a different direction. “Attention, everyone, please.”
Travis and Todd spoke to one another as they waited for the crowd to quiet down.
“To say we are overwhelmed is an understatement,” Travis said. “Pastor Todd and I were just asking one another why we hadn’t come up with the idea of a unity prayer walk. We’ve been praying for unity, and for God to move in a special way with these two churches. But an idea like this never entered our minds.” He turned toward Teri. “For God to do this on a day like today . . . We’ll never forget it.”
He passed the bullhorn to Todd.
“Unity is the prayer,” Todd said. “By your presence here, is it safe to say we’re all in agreement that we want God to bring unity in the hearts of members of Calvary Church and New Jerusalem Church?”
An amazingly loud cheer went up.
Todd nodded. “Amen. Okay. But here’s a harder question. For the members of these churches, are you all willing to put
your
will aside and accept God’s will for us, whatever it might be?”
Stephanie watched Dottie say “Yes” with the rest of the crowd.
“And are you willing to keep praying until we sense what God’s will is?” Todd asked.
“Yes” and “Absolutely” rang out.
He handed the bullhorn back to Travis, who said, “Todd and I are about to pray. But first I want everyone to take in this sight, all of us wearing red ribbons of unity in honor of Samara Johnston.” He looked around at the crowd. “Let’s not lose sight of the fact that red also symbolizes the blood that Jesus shed so we
could
dwell in unity, so we could be healed from deep within.”
Travis gazed out among them. “Let us not forget that red is the color of hope.”
C
harley watched the circles slowly breaking up and the people lingering as if they wanted—no, needed—to remain in this moment. And it didn’t escape her that Marcus had not yet let go of her hand.
He guided her to the outskirts of the crowd and paused several seconds, staring into her eyes.
“I got it wrong,” he said. “I made last weekend a cautionary tale, a warning to avoid the complications of crossing color lines. But hearing Sam’s heart in her journal all this week . . . that wasn’t the lesson at all.” He spoke deliberately, with the weight of all that had happened. “She would tell us to avoid the status quo. She’d tell us to be led by love, to be who God called us to be. I lost sight of that, of
Him
, like you said.”
“I’m not sure what you’re saying,” Charley said.
“I’m saying I want to continue building our relationship.”
Charley sighed. “Marcus, so much has filled my heart in just these last two hours that I haven’t begun to process.” She looked
into his eyes. “I’m sure it’s the same for you. There’s no way you can know what you’re really thinking or feeling right now.”
“That’s not true.” His fingers entwined in hers, he brought her a little closer. “I know exactly what I’m thinking and feeling. I love you, and I can’t let complications get in the way of the most meaningful relationship I’ve ever had. I don’t want to start or end my day without connecting with you. I don’t want to see you at school or church and pretend— Charley, what’s wrong?”
“I don’t know.” Tears had begun streaming down Charley’s face. “I guess . . . it’s been so much. Losing Sam, about to lose my brother, feeling like I lost my grandpa—the one I thought I knew, anyway—and losing you.” She stared up at him. “I never thought I’d hear you say you love me.”
He ran a finger down her face, tracing a tear. “I do. I love you. More than I thought possible.”
He took her into his arms and held her, both of them cherishing the closeness for several seconds.
“I love you too.”
Marcus pulled back so he could see her. “But how could you really know what you’re thinking or feeling right now?”
“What a ludicrous statement. Where did you get that?”
“Charley! Marcus! You don’t want to miss this!”
They turned and saw Stephanie waving them over. Standing in a cluster around her were Tiffany, Claire, and Dee, each holding the string of a red helium balloon, and Jackie, Marcus’s teenage cousin who had been watching the little girls at the house.
Charley and Marcus went to join them.
“Where’d you girls come from?” Charley said.
Claire was taking in the sight around her. “We saw everybody on TV and wanted to come,” she said.
“And Jackie bought us red balloons at the party store!” Tiffany said.
“Balloons?” Marcus said.
Becca chimed in. “They wanted to have their own little memorial service.” She smiled at the girls. “The plan was to go outside, say a few words, and send the balloons up in Sam’s honor.”
“Aww.” Charley felt teary again.
“But when they caught all this on the local news”—Jackie gestured around her—“they wanted to come down and do it here, with the family.” She blew out a sigh. “It was something getting over here. Had to park way down Main and walk the rest of the way.”
“You girls ready?” Janelle asked. “Maybe you should stand in the middle of all of us.”
They looked at one another, a little uncertain, then shuffled a few feet toward the middle of the mini-circle of family members.
“What should we do now?” Dee asked the other two.
Claire shrugged. “I don’t know.” She turned to Todd. “Dad, what should we do?” she called. “You’re the pastor.”
Amid light laughter, Todd came forward. “I think you girls should say whatever you want. This is your time to remember Sam.” He stepped back.
The girls whispered among themselves. Then Claire started. “Sam . . .” Her voice quavered. “We miss you so much. And . . . we love you . . . so much.”
Claire looked to Dee, who waited, looking downward. Then with sad eyes, she said, “You were our bestest fourth friend. And you never got tired of pushing us on the swing.”
She elbowed Tiffany, who was swiping a tear from the side of her eye. “I can’t believe . . . I’ll never see you again.” Tiffany pressed a fist against more tears. “You were like . . . my big sister.”
Charley looked at Janelle, who had tears streaming as she listened to her daughter.
“But Mommy said I’ll see you again one day,” Tiffany said. She looked at Janelle. “Right, Mommy?”
Janelle nodded. “That’s right, baby.”
“Jackie has to take the ribbons off first,” Claire said, “so they don’t tangle any birds or anything.”
The girls held their balloons carefully while Jackie untied the ribbon from each one, then they lifted the balloons high above their heads.
“One, two, three!” they shouted together. “For Sam!”
They released the red balloons, and the group watched them sail upward, a small yet glorious sight moving slowly, farther and farther away from them . . . to the sky.