Jesus Land by Julia Scheeres Page B

elbows him sharply.
    If God is in control, why does He allow so many bad things to happen? I lay my hands in the jeweled light on my lap and spread my fingers. If God is all we need, why does it so often seem that He is not enough? God may be enough for Mother, but I need other things, too. Immediate, solid things. I need Dad to stop beating the boys and Jerome to leave me alone and Mother to be kind.
    “. . . A passage from the Bible that helps put things in perspective is Proverbs 3 verses 5 and 6: Trust in the Lord with all your heart; do not lean on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him and He will direct your paths.”
    Mother offers me a roll of butter rum Lifesavers and I take one before she passes the roll to David. He takes several, and Mother elbows him again as candy drops loudly to the floor and rolls under the pews. Mother shakes her head and closes her eyes, exasperated, and David peers over at me with a mischievous grin. I smile back at him. Ding dong .
    “When we surrender ourselves to God and allow Him to take control of our lives, we can endure every battle and face every foe, confident of the outcome. We can say ‘Thank you, Lord, for giving me all the comfort I need. You are mine and I am yours and I trust your authority.’ What an amazing gift!”
    Maybe God’s punishing me for not praying regularly. I used to pray all the time, but cut back when I didn’t see results. Jerome didn’t stop bothering me, Mother didn’t get any happier, and my chest is still flat.
    Reverend Dykstra’s voice softens and I look up to see his head bowed.
    “Thank you, dear God, for all you have done for us. Apply your Word unto our every heart, and bring us into Thy courts again this evening. Forgive us our sins, oh Heavenly Father, and hear us in Jesus’ name. Amen.”
    He raises his head and nods curtly at Mrs. Molestra, the hunchbacked organist, who launches into “Savior, Like a Shepherd Lead Us.” The congregation rises. Mother thrusts a Psalter Hymnal into the space between us, and when I look at her she smiles; a warm, sweet smile, the one she reserves for church people and strangers. This throws me off-guard and I look away, unbelieving, before looking at her again and smiling feebly in return as I take a corner of the hymnal. Mother smiled at me !
    They say that God works in mysterious ways that our finite human minds cannot comprehend. Maybe I should pray harder.

    I grew jealous of him.
    “What an adorable little black boy!” strangers gushed as Mother walked us down the sidewalk, me dangling from one hand, David from the other. “A miniature Bill Cosby!”
    They’d pinch his cheeks, pat his spongy hair, ooh and ahh over him. And they’d ignore me. After all, Lafayette was swarming with tow-headed toddlers. David was unique.
    After the strangers finished their poking and prodding, Mother would nudge David to say thank you. “Tank ew,” he’d say in his high little voice, and they’d gush all over again. Sometimes I’d get so jealous, I’d reach behind Mother’s legs and pinch him. Then I’d feel bad when he got in trouble for crying.
    My competition for attention was fierce, and sometimes painful.
    Once he rode his tricycle down the stairs at our house and crashed into a wall; everyone rushed over to console him. I took one look at all the commotion and rode my trike down the stairs right after him.
    Another time we sang “King David: Kindhearted King” in Sunday school and I raised my hand to demand a song about “Queen Julia.”
    I was convinced that David got special treatment because he was black.

CHAPTER 5
BODY PARTS
    The pool spreads out before me, purple-blue in the deep end and turquoise in the shallows. I stand on the high-dive platform, knees bent, toes curled over the sandpaper edge. Mary waits at the far end of the water.
    “Ready?” I shout. She gives me two thumbs up.
    I bounce twice and push off the board, soaring for a long moment before knifing