CHAPTER TWO

So many horrible things were happening in the world it was hard to maintain a positive, happy outlook. He tried, or at least in his mind he tried. He read books. He counseled his flock. He spent time in the church’s soup kitchen, anything to help raise his spirits. Why was it so difficult this year?

“I am not going to put the choir books out again! This is your job,” yelled Imelda, his church secretary.

“It’s not my job, Imelda. It’s the job of whoever has the time in the moment. Just help me put them out!” screamed Shirley, the choir director.

“Ladies, ladies, what is the problem this time? This is a church. A house of worship, not a wrestling arena. Screaming at one another is neither Godlike nor ladylike. Can’t you resolve your differences peacefully?”

“I’m sorry, Reverend, it’s just that she’s never willing to lend a hand. This is Christmas Day services. You’d think she’d help without being asked.”

“Shirley, I’m certain that she wants to help you, but I did ask Imelda to take on a few extra duties, considering we lost Matilda a few weeks back.” The women nodded at him, feeling shitty for their argument with one another.

“I’m sorry, Reverend. You’re right. Did she ever contact you and say why she left?” asked Imelda.

“No,” he frowned, shaking his head. “I’ve not heard anything from her, and quite frankly, I’m worried about it. She was a loyal and faithful employee here for nearly four years. I can’t understand why she just up and left without notice.”

“People do strange things during the holidays,” said Shirley. “Her family was from the Midwest, I think. Maybe she went back there to be with them for the holidays and decided to stay.”

“Maybe,” he nodded. “But still, she should have said something. Not just left us without a word.”

The women just nodded at him, not saying anything. Shirley was holding the choir books, and Imelda took an armload, smiling at her friend and coworker.

“Let me help you. I can get to the rest of this later,” she smiled.

“Thank you,” nodded Shirley.

He sat in the back pew, letting out a long, slow sigh of relief. Crisis averted. He watched as the women quickly laid out the books, laughing as they did so. Shaking his head, he knew he’d never be able to figure out why women argue and then turn around and laugh with one another as if nothing ever happened.

Their little church was on the outskirts of the Quarter. Everyone wanted to see the inside of St. Louis Cathedral, but then again, there had been a church at that location since 1718. It had been rebuilt, added to, modernized, and rebuilt again over the years. No doubt, it was a beautiful cathedral.

But to him, his little non-denominational church was heaven. The church took over an old dry-cleaning center and made it into a little worship center. Over the years, they’d expanded it to include a daycare center for children under the age of ten. They had a community garden, an outreach center, and, of course, a choir.

This was his home. His happy place, at least for the time being. The problem was that his happy place was turning dark. Stained by drugs, prostitution, gangs, thieves, and more. It was no longer the safe space it had once been for him.

For years, he’d been in charge of the salvation of his community, and he’d done his job well. Lately, it felt as though he were beating his head against a wall. Sin was all around him, and it seemed as if it were strangling him and the people in his community.

“Reverend? Reverend Sizemore?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Shirley. I was lost in my own thoughts for a moment. Too much on my mind lately.”

“It’s alright,” she said, smiling. “We’re done for now. We’ll be back in an hour for service. Do you need anything? Would you like me to bring you a plate of Christmas dinner?”

“Don’t go to any trouble,” he said, waving at her.

“It’s not any trouble at all,” she smiled. “We’ll be back soon.”

The two women left the church, and he watched as they walked off toward their homes. Imelda lived just behind the church with her husband and grown daughter. Shirley lived with her mother two blocks in the opposite direction. They’d been good workers and even better friends to him.

“Alright, Morris old boy, shake it off. There is much to do, and it’s Christmas day.”

He figuratively brushed away his morose behavior and headed toward the back door of the church. He had to get things ready. The new year was coming, and his flock would need direction more than ever.

He hung his robes on the hook at the back door and changed his shoes. If he moved quickly, he could go for his run and get back without anyone knowing he’d left. He needed to get his sanity back, and this was the only way to do it.

By the time he’d returned, it was nearly time for his first service. Splashing cold water on his face, he washed his hands and changed his clothes. Throwing his dirty, sweaty clothes in the wash, he started the machine and walked back into his small bed chamber. Looking in the mirror, he combed his still-thick head of hair and buttoned his collar.

“Reverend?” called someone on the other side of the door.

“Yes, I’m coming.”

“We’re ready, sir. It’s a full house,” smiled the usher. He was a nice young man. Once an addict, he was now clean, sober, and working full-time for the city.

“Then we’d better give them a great show, right, Barry?”

“Yes, Reverend. But then again, you always give a great show.” The two men laughed, walking out to the pulpit together. He was feeling lighter, happier. His run always did that for him, but Barry’s words helped as well.

Shirley and the choir were in perfect pitch together, singing all his favorites and Christmas classics. When the sermon was done, he smiled at the one hundred or so people standing in front of him.

“I hope that you all have a blessed day and enjoy your time with family and friends. I’ll see you Sunday,” he smiled.

He walked toward the doors, waiting to shake hands and say goodbye to those who had come out for today’s service. Just as the last person left, two men in uniform walked up the steps.

“Gentlemen, the next service isn’t for another two hours,” he smiled.

“I’m sorry, Reverend. We’re not here for the service.”