Not to the Swift

Chapter 5

The choir filed in from the back room, their Sunday best covered in simple black robes. Dottie the choir director took her place near the front and nodded to the Bishop, seated next to the First Lady in the two large chairs behind the pulpit, under the great wooden cross.

Bishop Simms rose and approached the pulpit. "Welcome to New Hope Tabernacle, my brothers and sisters in our Lord Jesus Christ. The Tabernacle—the tent of meeting."

Damon, the organist, struck some riffs between each phrase as Bishop Simms gave the call to worship. "And we are gathered here on today for that purpose. To meet with the Creator who made us and gave us air to breathe this morning. He didn't have to do that. He could've withheld His breath from us. But He gave us the gift of this day, to give Him praise."

The choir hummed out their harmony and the organ music shifted to a staccato Gospel number. Aimee brought in a light drum beat with a tap-tap-tap on the crash, laying out a clear beat. Some of the worshipers softly clapped and stepped side to side with the music.

Simms continued in prayer. "Almighty Lord Jesus, all of us as families are gathered into Your one great Family, to meet You here, and to praise You in the light of Your glory."

Dottie repeated that last phrase, and the choir voices boomed out.

In the light of Your glory, in the light of Your face.

In the light of Your holiness, I am changed.

"In the light of Your goodness," Dottie prompted. In the light of Your goodness.

"In the light of Your holy face," she shouted. In the light of Your face.

"You know every trouble that holds me." Every trouble that holds me fades away.

George clapped and made his way back to his pew, sliding in between Chris and LaTasha, then slipping an arm around his wife and swaying with her to the rhythm of the song.

Dottie continued calling out the next lines and the choir and congregation followed the familiar tunes with ease.

Can't stop praisin' His name, I—can't stop praisin' His name, I—

"In the light of Your glory!" In the light of Your glory...

René tugged at LaTasha, and she leaned away from George to listen to her daughter. George edged his ear closer so he could make out the words.

"Mama, why Miss Dottie always sing everything twice?"

"Don't talk like a thug," LaTasha corrected. "Why does Miss Dottie—"

René sighed. "Why does Miss Dottie always sing everything twice? And why do we have to sing the same lines so often?"

"Probably so they can take root in your thick skull, heathen child." LaTasha squeezed René's shoulder. "Or maybe more for your brother's."

René giggled and belted out the tune with off-key enthusiasm.

George glanced at Chris and noted for the first time that he could almost look Chris in the eye without turning his head down. The young man stood, hands folded on the pew in front of him, mumble-singing the song. How you have grown, son.

Chris noticed and flashed George a smile that warmed the older man's heart. George placed his right arm across Chris's narrow back and rested a hand on his son's shoulder. His other arm held LaTasha close, and he saw René's hand in her mother's. This is not bad, not bad at all. You doin' good, George.