Her Presumption: She Supposed!
Prologue
I wrote the first draft of this piece in my journal one Sunday afternoon many years ago. I was sitting in church and eavesdropping on a group of women judge the length of another lady’s skirt as she walked by. I was irritated, but instead of confronting them, I pulled out my pen and wrote a draft in my journal.
She, the lady, and I became friends a few year later, and I was surprised to hear all she had been through before she made up her mind to try Jesus.
I should have interrupted and confronted them…
The lightning struck 20 years ago, and about 15 years ago, the thunder followed.
10 years ago poured the storm and in 5–4–3–2–1 years…, she is still living in the aftermath of the flood.
She is in a tunnel. But where is the light at the end of it?
She heard some say a couple of years ago that “THERE lies the light.”
And yesterday, on the radio, she is sure she heard it again, “THERE LIES THE LIGHT”
And yesterday, on the radio, she is sure she heard it again, “THERE LIES THE LIGHT”
She is in bed surrounded by the very things she holds dear and despises…She is surrounded by the man that seems able;
She is surrounded by the food that fills the vacuum the man cannot fill;
She is surrounded by the exercise equipment that vows to take away the food’s venom;
She is surrounded by the magazines that tells her who she ought to be; and She is surrounded by the friends that “beat around the truth” in ‘love.’
She whispers, “I will go tomorrow, maybe I will see the light tomorrow”
She crawls out of bed and her heart beats with the thought “THERE LIES THE LIGHT.” She is determined to present herself in the best light possible. Rummaging through her closet for the best wear…a cute flowery skirt with a black shirt to match. She had caught the eyes of many beloved in that skirt, and everyone tells her she looks wonderful when she wears that shirt. This will not be different, she will be noticed today. Her make-up was on point…, she knew it.
She stands at the door in her cute skirt and face beautifully made-up. She peeks into the chapel and takes the first step. This is her first step to freedom, to acceptance, and to liberty. She took the first step, and SHE SUPPOSED that loving hands will lead her to the right pew for her kind.
Then, necks turned, eyes popped and lips moved.
“Who the heck is that & what is she doing here?””She is supposed to know better…this is Church””This is Church…how dare she walks around looking like that””Oniranu…I don’t want to see you around her””What virtuous woman comes to Church looking like that””And she expects to catch a good man””Damn, she graced my bed a couple of years ago””Remember the girl I told you about…hmm, there she is. She was good!”
“She needs to get a make-up clue”
The voices are louder, the words are harsher and the scowl pierces.
Their sense of Right is engulfed in fear and loathing.
The people in the LIGHT seem blinded to her heart and what is left of it. Her heart is like ashes floating in the air after a fire. Her heart is like the debris left behind after the house collapsed. Her heart is like the waste sediment left behind by the flood.
She is lashed by our tongues, criticized by our eyes and poked at with our fingers. She turns to run and it is back in the wrong direction. She feels the sting of the wind slash across her face trying to turn her around. But she keeps running, because she is running away from our poking fingers, from our lashing tongues, from our Bibles, the weapon we employed to slap her across the face.
We glared at her with the Bible in one hand and a Stone in the other…
The door was open, the people were dressed nicely and the food was served. How does a woman suffering from ulcer consume over-spiced food drowned in chili pepper?
Did you not know that it burns?
She aspired to glory, but SHE SUPPOSED we could help her get there.
Originally published at www.adeolafadumiye.com.