Читать книгу Sex In The Sanctuary - Lutishia Lovely - Страница 14

Vivian scooped the last bite of butter pecan cheesecake onto her fork and moaned audibly as it melted in her mouth. Her eyes were closed, and they stayed that way as she chewed, swallowed and reached for her napkin, dabbing her mouth before falling back against the plush, wicker chairs at Whispers, her favorite beachfront restaurant. “It should be illegal for a piece of cake to taste that good,” she said as she grinned, shaking her head and reaching for her almond mint tea. “I feel like a stuffed pig.”

“Well, you definitely look like you were enjoying yourself,” Carla commented as she downed her last bite of deep-dish apple pie and pushed the plate away. “And if you’re a stuffed pig, I must be a beached whale!”

Carla was often referred to as “big pretty” in private male conversations. Carla had never been a skinny girl, nor had she ever suffered low self-esteem. She was big boned and shapely, like an oversized coca-cola bottle, with expressive eyes and a ready smile. Her personality attracted both men and women like bees to honey. Even after many years in Los Angeles, her Georgian twang was as strong as ever, and when she got excited, which was often, it became even more pronounced. There was not a jealous or pretentious bone in her body. Carla enjoyed life and came as close to being an angel as anyone Vivian ever met.

They had met three years ago when her husband, Reverend Stanley Lee, was appointed to a local Church of God In Christ, COGIC, assembly after serving in an Atlanta suburb affiliate for five years. A progressive and contemporary thinker, Reverend Lee had consciously sought out like-minded religious leaders of other denominations with whom to network and possibly bring about a much-needed spiritual change in the city’s atmosphere. One of his first phone calls had been to Vivian’s husband, Derrick, and after inviting them to dinner—an evening that lasted from seven that night until two in the morning—Vivian and Carla were fast friends.

It was also during this first meeting that the seeds were sown for Ladies First, a group of pastors’ wives from different churches all over the city meeting once a month to discuss ways to best serve God, their husbands and the female members in their congregations. Carla was very attuned to the women in her church and empathetic with their needs both spiritual and emotional. She was particularly sensitive to single women, including single mothers, wanting to get married. She had been both. And when it came to loving yourself no matter what your weight, Carla could have been the poster girl. She was beautiful inside and out, and she saw herself that way. She believed she was made in the image of God and that “God don’t like ugly so he sho’ didn’t make it.”

Vivian’s forte was with women looking for their spiritual purpose in God, as well as overcoming issues of self-doubt, self-worth and self-esteem. Other core members of Ladies First included Chanelle Robinson, Terri McDaniels, Ruth Edwards, Pat Lange and Rebecca Collins, the only ordained minister in the group.

It was this group who sat fat and happy, having stuffed themselves with the delicious cuisine at Whispers as they planned their quarterly women’s fellowship meeting. It was a one-day affair, including various seminars, symposiums and discussions and a special luncheon speaker, held at the Beverly Hilton Hotel in a beautiful, chandeliered ballroom. Each quarter, a specific topic was selected, and all of the activities, including the luncheon speaker, centered on this subject. Vivian thought she had a poignant, if a bit explosive, topic for an upcoming session.

“My proposed theme for the fall fellowship is called S.O.S.,” Vivian began, having sat up from her reclined state and looked from one face to the next, before continuing.

“S.O.S.?” Terri questioned.

“That must stand for Sick Of Somethin’,” Carla bellowed. “’Cause God knows we are all…Sick—of—Somethin’. Sick of no-good Negroes, sick of hard-headed kids…”

“They are blessings and not curses,” Minister Rebecca injected, only half teasing. “Watch your witness!”

“Sick of cookin’, cleanin’—first our house and then the Lord’s house,” Carla went on dramatically, although now she had taken on the intonation of a plantation slave. “I’s so tired, massa,” she moaned. “Nobody knows de trouble I see,” she began to sing, so loudly that some of the other diners turned around with a mixture of curious, comical or censoring looks on their faces. Carla couldn’t have cared less. She was enjoying herself.

“Girl, will you shut up,” Vivian whispered loudly, barely able to keep an unladylike guffaw from erupting. The other ladies at the table were giggling, and Chanelle held a dainty hand up to her mouth to suppress a belly laugh. “You’re right, you know, we are all sick of something, but that is not the meaning behind this S.O.S.” Vivian paused, still smiling, and took another sip of tea. The table became quiet, waiting for her to go on. “S.O.S.,” she continued, “stands for the Sanctity of Sisterhood.” She waited a beat while everyone replayed the name in their minds.

“As you know, sanctity means set apart, holy and sacred, among other things. I believe that we as sisters, as women of the faith and as women in general, have gotten away from the sanctity and solidarity that our being female used to mean. I’ve had this on my heart for a while now, and recent conversations have only served to stir it up again.

“What exactly do you mean?” Ruth asked, leaning forward and tilting her head slightly as she squinted against the sun sparkling off the ocean waters. “Are you talking about women being more Godly, treating themselves with more respect?”

“Themselves and each other. Following the golden rule of doing unto others as you would have them do unto you. It seems we don’t respect each other anymore, we don’t care about each other anymore, and I guess that does come from not being Godly and not caring about ourselves. Even more to the point, ladies, I’m talking about our behavior with the opposite sex. The standard of decency has been lowered dramatically, and now it’s survival of the fittest when it comes to relationships, both forming and sustaining them. For instance, I remember a time when it was not okay to go after someone else’s boyfriend, much less her husband. Those times, sadly, are a thing of the past.”

“It still ain’t all right to go after mine,” Carla insisted with a look of indignation.

The ladies nodded and murmured their agreement as Vivian continued.

“Of course it’s not all right, Carla, but try and tell that to Susie Q. Single down the street. We used to respect what belonged to other people. We used to think more of ourselves than to try and entice a husband away from his family, or a man away from a committed relationship. And if we knew someone who was like that, that person was not popular. They didn’t flaunt their actions for the world to see because other women just wouldn’t stand for it. Older women would give her a piece of their mind and younger ones would shun her company. And I’m not putting all of the blame on women, because there used to be a higher standard for men, too. However, I am focusing on women because that’s whom this fellowship is designed to reach. Now, I’m not saying that we were perfect, but there used to be a time when we didn’t just open our legs for every Tom, Dick and Harry that came along.”

“You better preach, sister,” Minister Rebecca intoned. “I counsel women all the time who are hurting behind some aspect of male/female relationships. And it usually centers around three things. Usually they are single and celibate wanting to get married, single and fornicating wanting to get married, or married and not happy often because of the constant self-applied pressure to keep her man.”

“Been there, done that,” Carla replied.

“I have these conversations all over the country, all the time,” Rebecca repeated for emphasis. “Most of the pain I encounter centers around either the need or desire for a relationship, or the pain caused by one that is not working well.”

“Exactly,” Vivian continued, her friend’s comments confirmation that she was on the right track. “I became filled with all these questions. Why is this happening? Why do we not value ourselves more? Why are we so careless with other people’s feelings, with our own? Why is it no longer unusual to have multiple partners—even in this age of AIDS—for some women to sleep with five, ten, even fifteen men or more during their lifetimes? Why is virginity such a rarity and celibacy so unappealing? Why are there so many single women in the church? Why aren’t there more marriages? Why is there adultery in so many Christian marriages? Why is the divorce rate in the church the same if not higher than that of the general society, and why are seventy percent of Black children born out of wedlock with an inordinate amount of those pregnancies happening within our church walls?”

“That’s a lot of questions!” Carla exclaimed.

“Seventy percent?” Ruth inquired incredulously. “Are you sure?”

Chanelle, petite and soft-spoken, nodded. “I heard that statistic recently. It was while listening to one of those talk shows on my way home, the Larry Elder Show. Most of the time I can’t stand the man, I think he’s arrogant and ignorant, but on this topic we were in total agreement. Seventy percent is too many kids, Black or otherwise, to be born without intact families. But that rate is only in the Black community. I think for Whites it went down to fifty-five percent and for Hispanics it was in the twenties or thirties. Don’t quote me, but the percentages were in that range.”

Vivian held out her hand, counting on her fingers as she went on. “One. Men aren’t getting married because they don’t have to. Like my grandmother used to say, ‘Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?’ We don’t make them wait anymore, or want anymore; we give it up too easily and too frequently. Sex is like chewing gum these days—everybody’s got a piece. Two. When a woman is married or in a committed relationship leading to marriage, other women don’t consider these men off limits. Instead of seeing it as a chance for another sister’s happiness, they see it as a challenge to their own. And don’t let the sister try to do the right thing and remain chaste until marriage. Sex becomes the carrot the other woman dangles to get the greyhound around the track. Three. Because relationships are being entered without commitment, they fail easily, leaving behind a trail of broken hearts, bruised spirits and empty promises. All of this gets put into a nice grocery bag to be carried into the next relationship. Oh, and there might be a child or two in that grocery bag, and that’s a whole ’nutha issue.”

“I don’t know if this is an issue we can tackle in one Saturday,” Carla twanged. “Just trying to get women to keep their panties up and their dresses down could be the whole day.”

Vivian smiled. That was one of the things she loved about Carla, that she was real. None of that I’m-so-heavenly-bound-I’m-no-earthly-good stuff, or that I’m-so-o-o-o spiritual mentality; Carla was open and honest about her own past, which made it easy for her to sympathize and be nonjudgmental of others. Her Ladies First sessions were always overbooked.

“You’re right, Carla,” Vivian responded. “That is why I have a proposal that this next fellowship not be one Saturday, but a series of four Saturdays during the month of September.” Vivian reached into her Gucci purse and pulled out some papers, passing them around before continuing. “Ladies First. The S.O.S. Summit” was in large, bold type across the top of the first page. “This series,” Vivian continued, “would cover four specific areas, one per Saturday, following the “S” theme: Spiritually Speaking, Sacred Sex, Setting the Standard versus Society’s Status Quo, and the Sanctity of Sisterhood.” The ladies glanced through the outlines Vivian had distributed as she spoke.

Pat asked a question as she looked at her copy. “Why isn’t there anything about men in here? When it comes to adultery, affairs, fornication, all of what we’re discussing, they’re just as much to blame as we are.”

“True,” Vivian answered quickly, having considered this herself. “But like I said earlier, this meeting isn’t for or about men; it’s about women. Let’s let our husbands handle the brothers.”

Rebecca signaled the waiter for more water, and asked, “Why are we calling this a summit instead of a conference?”

“Ooh, thanks, Rebecca,” Vivian answered. “I meant to address that first. When God was speaking to me about this, He specifically said ‘summit’ and not ‘conference.’ I was confused at first because when I looked this up in a meeting context it said ‘a meeting between two heads of state.’ However, when I researched the meaning further, I understood God’s intent for this meeting. The summit is the apex, crown, head, height, peak, pinnacle, it’s the very top. These words and other definitions are in your packets. God has said this is what we’re reaching for in our relationship with Him and each other. And that we will be the ‘heads of state’ in the state of our womanhood, the state of our well-being and self-esteem, the state of our sexuality and spirituality. We will be the head and not the tail!”

“Well, God betta’ talk about His daughters!” Carla crooned while swaying in her chair and patting her well-coiffed braids. “What did you say? Apex? Crown? Top? If you don’t know…you betta’ axe somebody!” She high-fived Chanelle sitting beside her, and the others nodded their agreement and threw in their amens.

“You’ve got it, Carla.” Vivian said. “That’s where God wants us to be—at the summit of our lives in every way. And these are some of the ways we begin to get there. First topic: Spiritually Speaking. Dealing with a woman’s love for the God in her and therefore for herself. Of her body being a temple, that kind of thing. Looking at the necessity of loving oneself before love and respect can be given to others. Healing our spirits and reclaiming our souls. Next, Sacred Sex, and I think you’d be great here Carla. Dealing on a frank, in-your-face level about the very definite role sex plays in our lives.”

“So, I’m the only one at this table getting any, is that what you’re saying?” Carla asked with a smile.

“Now, you know that ain’t true,” Terri countered, patting her oh-so-pregnant stomach.

“I think all of our men are taking care of home,” Vivian crooned easily as she eased back in her seat with a smile. “But your story, which you’ve shared before, your knowledge of what it’s like to be single and horny, celibate and not, having a child out of wedlock and overcoming all of that to become one of God’s leading first ladies is a special kind of testimony. That’s what these ladies need today, real talk.”

“I used to get so tired of going to those singles seminars,” Pat began. “And hearing these women of God quaintly telling me to hold on, wait on God, get busy for the Lord, don’t look, it will come when you least expect it, it’s better being single because you can serve God more, and my favorite—marriage is hard, marriage isn’t all you think it is! Stay single as long as you can, they’d encourage. Of course, they were all going home to husbands.”

“Exactly,” Vivian continued. “I’ve been married for fifteen years and was a workaholic before quitting my job to help Derrick, so even though I remember lonely nights, it’s not the same as Carla’s story. Nor could I ever tell any story with your passion,” she teased, lightly grabbing her friend’s arm. “The point is, all of our stories are unique and they’re all needed. There’s a myriad of situations out there, where sex and relationships are concerned, that need to be addressed.”

Vivian paused and took a sip of her tea before proceeding. “Setting the Standard versus Society’s Status Quo deals with Godly values versus the world’s values. I think we need to draw a more definite line about what’s acceptable as a woman of God and what’s not. I think we’ve all been guilty of not stressing that enough in today’s lax society. It’s like we see so much sex that we’ve become desensitized. Having a baby and not being married is no longer the exception in our neighborhood but the rule. Not enough of us are sending the message that while we all make mistakes and God forgives, this behavior is not okay. It is not in the best interest of the woman or baby, and it’s not God’s ideal family design.” Vivian waited while the waiter poured more tea and continued. “And not having sex? That isn’t even a serious consideration for many of our young women. Being a virgin is so rare that such an admission brings applause.”

Rebecca looked up, her eyebrows raised. “Just because somebody is still a virgin?”

“Seriously,” Vivian continued. “Derrick and I were at a Christian concert the other night, and one of the young female singers proudly stated she was twenty and still a virgin. The audience cheered. Now, I’m not saying the statement wasn’t worthy of applause, but I do believe that reaction points to how unusual virginity is these days.

“The fourth and final Saturday would cover the summit theme, the Sanctity of Sisterhood. How can we be our sister’s keeper? And should we? How can we care about each other the way we used to? Respect each other like we used to. Uphold each other like we used to. I don’t want to oversimplify these issues, but I believe there would be a lot less husbands stepping out if there weren’t so many willing women to step out with, and more marriages if there weren’t so much casual sex. That we as women would feel better about each other if we felt better about ourselves. I think it’s time to really take up the cause for the Sanctity of Sisterhood and become the women who give honor to the glory of God as we set the standard for women all over the world to follow. It’s time to be the head and not the tail—above only and not beneath!”

“Unless it’s beneath our husbands,” Carla murmured.

Rebecca rolled her eyes at Carla and patted Vivian’s arm.

Vivian hadn’t realized how vehement she’d become as she finished her summit descriptions. She hadn’t noticed her eyes had become misty. The table was quiet. Chanelle folded and refolded her napkin. Ruth sat back and bowed her head as Pat looked out over the water. Carla leaned forward and spoke softly, gently teasing this time.

“And you say you can’t be passionate.”

Vivian wiped away a tear before it had the chance to run down her cheek and managed a weak smile. “I did say that, didn’t I?” She looked out over the ocean, enjoying the April breeze and remembering the conversation she’d had with Tai two weeks ago, when after Tai had initiated it, they’d discussed King’s affair.

“I’m so sorry.” Vivian wished Tai were there so she could give her a hug. “What are you going to do and how can I help?”

Tai was silent a moment before she responded.

“Tai, you still there?”

“Yeah, girl. I’m here. I’m thinking about your question, and I really, really don’t know. I’m so tired of this, so tired of feeling hurt and unappreciated and…” Tai’s voice trailed off into weary silence.

“Have you and King talked about it?”

“Not really. I asked him about Hope and he said nothing was going on.”

“Who’s Hope?”

“You remember her. She’s the one who did the dramatic reading from the Book of Ruth when you guys were here, very active, talented. On fire for the Lord, or so I thought.”

“Oh, yeah. Short, pretty girl? Lots of energy? Big smile?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I remember her.”

“Well, about a year ago she started a ministry within our church called KARE, Kingdom Arts Reaching Everybody, which emphasizes nontraditional ways for youth and young adults to serve God, like acting, dancing, sports and stuff. It’s a very good program. I was excited about it and approved it wholeheartedly along with King. In fact, I don’t doubt that she loves God.”

Vivian had leaned back in her oversized lounge chair. She had taken the phone out on the patio and stared at the beauty of her flower garden situated just beyond their heart-shaped pool before closing her eyes and trying to hear with her inner as well as outer ear. “So what happened that has you now thinking her zeal is for your King and not the King?”

“It’s not a specific incident; it’s just a feeling I have,” Tai responded. “She dresses differently, changed her hairstyle, seems to be more conspicuous, move lively in the services. I don’t have any proof that they’re having an affair, but I don’t have any proof that they’re not.” Tai laughed nervously. “Do I sound paranoid?”

“Maybe, but you have your reasons. Have you asked her?”

“Believe me, I was going to. King made me promise I wouldn’t.”

“Is that a promise you can keep?”

“I don’t know, girl, I just don’t know. What I do know is that I’m not going to continue living my life like this. King is seeing somebody. He spends too much time away from home or in his office. We’ve drifted apart again. I’m tired of putting up with his shit. I’m tired period.”

“Are you thinking about leaving King?” Vivian could barely hear her own question, she spoke so softly.

“I’m thinking about being at peace. The children love their father and he loves them. I’d never want to take that away from them. But at the same time, a woman can only take so much. You know this isn’t his first time. Or the second. How can I be guaranteed it will be the last? It was supposed to be the last time the last time.”

Vivian was quiet, praying silently in the spirit. “I just feel,” she said finally, “I just feel you should really seek God on how He wants you to handle King, and this situation. Move with His spirit and not your emotions. I’m not getting a definite word on this Hope girl, but I’m not getting an all’s clear either. I do know that whatever is going on, God is right there with you. He’s in control, and whatever happens, you’re going to be all right.”

“I know I will,” Tai said without conviction. “It just doesn’t feel that way right now.”

Vivian glanced at her watch, sitting up as she did so. “I’ve got to get to the Ladies First meeting. In fact, Tai, I need to talk to you about that later on. But right now, let’s pray. Heavenly Father, we thank you, we bless your name…”

“Vivian, are you okay?” The words of concern from Carla snapped Vivian out of her reverie.

“I’m sorry, y’all. Yes, I’m okay—just a lot on my mind.”

“Anything we can help you with, pray about?” Rebecca inquired softly.

“Thanks Rebecca but no, not at this time. I just ask that we all keep this summit lifted in prayer as I believe it will be life changing. I pray it will be life changing to all who attend.”

Carla eyed her friend, feeling the turmoil that was going on inside her. She knew that a special prayer would be sent up for Viv and for whatever was bothering her during her prayer time later. “Well, if we’re finished here,” she began, breaking the silence. “I’ve got two nappy-head kids on their way home soon. Best get to steppin’ so I can be there to greet them.”

“Yes, ladies, we’re finished,” Vivian replied as the waiter placed the check on the table. “I’m really excited about this and appreciate all of your input. Any suggestions on where to have the next meeting?”

“You guys are welcome to have it at my place.” Chanelle had just purchased a condo and was anxious to break it in. “I haven’t had a lot of people over and would love to practice my hosting skills. I also ran across a vegetable quiche recipe that I’d love to try out.”

“Oh, Lord, here we go being somebody’s guinea pig.” Carla, blunt as always, spoke what others were thinking, “Can you cook, girl?” Chanelle nodded a yes. “Humph. I better bring a pizza, y’all, just in case.” They all laughed as Chanelle insisted no one would be poisoned or go hungry at her house, thanking Carla all the same for her generosity.

“Who wants to pray?” Vivian asked.

“I will!” Carla jumped in enthusiastically. “Lord knows we need to pray.” They all grabbed hands and bowed their heads. “Father God,” she began. “Please help Chanelle cook this food next week…” Everyone laughed in spite of themselves.