was full, so I drove around the block and squeezed into a space in front of a row house.
“Hurry,” Ella said, scrambling out of the car. “We’re going to be late.” I followed her and Zed followed me, lagging behind. The church was made of bricks with a white steeple and was fairly small. We entered through a basement side door into a fellowship hall, where a few people lingered, drinking coffee and chatting.
“This way.” Ella hurried up a staircase that came out into a foyer. Esther was across the way, and Simon rode on her hip. When he saw Ella, he reached for her. Music was playing in the sanctuary, and soon we were inside. It took me a moment to realize that the men sat on one side and the women on the other. I settled into a pew in the middle of the room with Esther, Ella, and Simon. Zed found a seat closer to the front with some friends.
“David leads the singing,” Ella whispered. Sure enough, the man we had seen in front of the courthouse two days before stood up front. There was a screen behind him with an image of a waterfall.
Many of the women wore head coverings, but not all. Several other Africans were in the congregation, plus quite a few Hispanics. A group of teenage girls sat in the row in front of us wearing short skirts. A few, even in the cool spring weather, wore tank tops. One of the girls turned and said hello to Ella.
David’s voice was deep and loud. I didn’t recognize most of the songs until a few hymns at the end, including “How Great Thou Art.” Simon couldn’t settle on sitting with his mom or Ella. Finally he scurried across Ella’s lap to me, and I gave him my cell phone to play with. He liked that and leaned against me, his compact little body melting against mine.
A woman who worked for six months in an orphanage in Honduras spoke about her work, using a PowerPoint presentation of the facility and the children. Many had lived on the streets and were tough and wily, but their hearts softened when shown care and kindness. She also had photos of a merry-go-round and swing set the church had paid for. She said the children had to be taught how to play and use their imaginations. They hadn’t been encouraged to do that before.
The next image was of a group of little boys playing soccer.
“Futball!” Simon said, dropping my phone and clapping his hands together.
Ella giggled as she retrieved my cell from under the pew in front of us. By the time the presentation was over, Simon was fussy and Esther took him back, holding him securely against her big belly. He rested his head on her shoulder. After a few minutes his eyes grew drowsy and he slept. It wasn’t until the pastor started his sermon and Ella nudged me that I realized I’d had my attention fixed on Simon.
I tried to listen to the teaching, which was on forgiving seventy times seventy, but my mind kept wandering. Could I forgive Marta for being so cold and stingy? She was spending the day fasting and praying, but she was totally without empathy for me. The best thing I could do was get out of her home and her life. I had no business letting myself be mistreated by her. She had the ability to give me all the information I needed in ten minutes, information I was sure she had. The fact that she didn’t was just more evidence that I needed to take care of myself, that I couldn’t trust anyone else to take care of me.
“We forgive because God forgave us,” the pastor said.
I wanted to raise my hand to say that in order to accept God’s forgiveness, we had to admit that we had done something wrong. He didn’t just give forgiveness freely. I wasn’t so sure God expected us to forgive people who didn’t admit they had done anything wrong—people who went on their merry ways, living in denial and oblivious to what had been done to us. People like Marta and whoever else was keeping secrets from me.
At the end of the service, David led the benediction and then dismissed the congregants. Simon stirred on Esther’s shoulder, and Ella tried to take him so his mother could stand, but the little boy began to cry.
“’Tis fine,” Esther said. “David will get him in