The dawn was on the edge of the horizon. Though the room was dark, there was also a subtle darkness that had settled upon her soul. The inward darkness was not heavy, but it weighed upon her usual exuberance for another day’s journey. There was also a persistent urging that she go to the window seat in the bedroom. No ominous portent existed, just a direction to go and sit on the floor and lean on the wide window seat that served as a makeshift altar.
In the darkness, she recalled a conversation at a funeral the previous day about the seemingly high number of people who had recently died. In various places in this country, folk were dying-some from sickness, some from violence, some just died. Perhaps this was the cause of her heaviness. The headlines of the week came to mind. The voting rights act did not pass. Vladimir Putin continued to threaten invasion of Ukraine and amassed soldiers in preparation. Historians critiqued a new book that claimed Anne Frank was betrayed by a Jewish notary. Supreme Court Justice Stephen Brayer announced plans to retire. Omicron COVID infections had dropped in Northeast after rising in early January, but in the Midwest the infections are soaring. The three officers involved in the murder of George Floyd were going on trial. The political career of Boris Johnson, prime minister of the U.K., was in trouble because of a birthday party he hosted in 2020 when the government had imposed restrictions on indoor gatherings. Violence upon young people by their peers was rampant. Death seemed to be everywhere and in everything.
The woman was not depressed, but she needed a glimpse of hope. She sat in the darkness, asking God for a glimpse of divine movement. She knew it was somewhere, but she could not see it. Then she sat at her makeshift altar in the silence of inarticulate prayer. She just wanted to see some glimmer of light in the pervasive darkness. At the window, the cold began to seep through the coverlet she had wrapped around herself. When she shifted her weight to wrap the throw more snugly against her, she saw that the day had fully come. She had no answers, no amazing revelation—just silence. The weighted darkness was still within. She would just have to wait for an answer to her silent prayer. The woman rose from the floor and began to prepare for the day ahead. It was the Sabbath. She went to worship-Virtually. The sermon subject was the hemorrhaging woman (Luke 8:40-48). During the preaching, she understood a sign of God which she had overlooked—the President had said that he was looking for a Black woman to replace retiring Supreme Court Justice, Stephen Brayer. In the news of death and the potential of death, here was a ray of hope. There were others to be seen. The woman had not asked for solutions—just some sign of God’s intervention. In the shelter of God’s presence in worship, her focus shifted, and she glimpsed a divine movement.
Resources
Blockson, Charles L.. African Americans in Pennsylvania. Harrisburg, Pennsylvania: RB Books,2001.
Kelley, Robin D.G. and Earl Lewis. To Make Our World Anew: A History of African Americans, New York, New York: Oxford University Press, 2000.
Weems, Renita J.. I Asked For Intimacy: Stories of Blessings, Betrayals, and Birthings. San Diego, California: LuraMedia, 1993.
Weems, Renita J.. Just A Sister Away: A Womanist Vison of Women’s Relationship in the Bible. San Diego, California: LuraMedia, 1988.
*Psalm 91:1
Dorothy Watson Tatem, D.Min., ACC
Senior Associate
Next Step Associates, LLC
Cassandra W. Jones, Ed.D.
CEO & President
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