Rains of Mercy

Having parents serving in ministry meant being part of kingdom work oneself. As such, Tehillah found herself floating between the children’s church department, set-up, choir, media – all in a bid to ensure the smooth run of church activities. Cleaning the auditorium in preparation for the worship night, Tehillah was grateful that what she had once considered an unbearing chore now became a core part of her being.  She had left home much earlier, not wanting to drive through the tiring traffic typical of London evenings. 

“Who would have the one and only Tehillah arrange chairs when a servant like me sits idle?” Jesse, Tehillah’s Ghanian brother and friend, who had been away in Wales for work, evaded her awareness, hence startling her. Jesse snatched the chair Tehillah had been holding and sat on it. 

“When did the pest come back?” Tehillah rolled her eyes in mock aggravation. The boy was just so annoying. He had had a thing for winding her up since teens church. “There are other things to do before the service starts. Leave the chairs with me. The media unit needs some help with the screens.”

A scowl played up on Jesse’s chocolate-velvety face – a pleasant contrast to his crude personality, and Tehillah feared she had offended him. But Jesse soon started to laugh. “You should see how you look.” He smirked, chuckling even harder. 

Tehillah hissed, smacking Jesse’s hand and continued with preparing for the service due to start in the next hour. “Quit playing and make yourself useful.”

“Hey, calm down, Tehil,” Jesse gave a playful reprimand before joining in to clean the chairs. “You didn’t even ask how my trip went, ma’am.” 

Although Tehillah enjoyed Jesse’s company, she hated how Jesse forced her into getting to know all about his life. Even while they had been several miles apart because of his uni, Jesse had persevered with checking on her and informing her about the growth of the campus ministry he served in.  “Chioma is the only person I care about. How is my sister doing?” Tehillah dusted the last set of plastic chairs Jesse arranged. “How’s her thesis coming along?” Chioma, Jesse’s girlfriend who was doing a PhD programme in Wales was also one of the reasons Jesse frequented the nation. 

“Her project defense is sometime next month. She has really tried. Can’t wait for her to be done so she is back to London.” 

“And then you both will get married and finally allow us breathe.” Tehillah laughed, recalling how Jesse had been all over Chioma when they first met. She had thought her friend was only concerned about the things of heaven or business prior. 

“How about you? What’s going on?” Jesse’s concerned gaze warmed Tehillah’s heart and within, she blessed him and prayed that God would always meet His needs. He as well as Jordan, his younger brother, had seen her through her wilderness years and had been constant through them all – praying for her and encouraging her to stick with God.  “How is work and everything in between been?”

“Same. same.” Tehillah raised her shoulders in indifference, taking off her jacket as the auditorium got warmer with the central heating system now turned on. There was really nothing pleasant to talk about a single mum like her who was finally making the decision to go to school in order to make ends meet whilst her mates held good jobs. “School is okay. Same as work.”

Jesse placed brotherly hands over Tehillah’s shoulder and squeezed them briefly before letting go. “You still owe the gang fish and chips.” He laughed when Tehillah realised that he was talking about the promise she had been forced to make after losing a race many years ago at a church summer-beach outing. 

“That’s a long time. What does the Bible teach about old things?” Tehillah asked, sitting on a chair, Jesse by her side, the auditorium now set.

“Unfortunately, I have no idea what part of Scripture you’re referring to.” Jesse teased, nudging Tehillah with his elbow. “How’s my little man, Richie?”

Tehillah sighed, remembering her blessing from God – the one with whom God restored sobriety in her and had pulled her from the dungeons of hell. Richie. Her blessing. Although he had been a product of her recklessness, she had made up her mind to never consider him a mistake. Mrs Ezegwu had gently drilled that reality into her soul. “There are never errors with God. Even when we make mistakes, He works them together for His glory.” Tehillah recalled the singsong cadence of Mrs Ezegwu’s voice – the empathy that coloured every word she spoke and the plea in her eyes to never let go of God. Despite Amanda’s attitude and persistence to ensure that Tehillah never felt like a part of their family, Tehillah could never discredit her mother. Tehillah remembered the mockful gossip she had heard Amanda spread when Tehillah was discovered with child and she shut her eyes to prevent a sob. Richie. Tehillah drew in a deep breath, Jesse’s attention drawn away by a notification on his phone. With his birth defects, it was a miracle how her boy  still survived. “He is learning to play the keyboard. He is doing really well.”

Jesse returned his focus to Tehillah and gave a reassuring smile. “Let’s catch up when Chioma comes home for Christmas. Let’s go bowling or something. Jordan should be back home as well. He’d want to tag along.” Tehillah nodded and Jesse gave her shoulder another quick squeeze before going to speak to other church members who were arriving for the evening service. 

The auditorium was soon filled with families and friends joining in as the choir led in a simple worship. Tehillah searched the auditorium for Mrs Ezegwu and found her emerging from the rear entrance with Richie in a pram. The woman had insisted that she took care of Richie’s school runs whilst Tehillah focused on trying to build a career. Tehillah walked up to her mother, curtseyed, African-style to greet and then placed a kiss on Richie’s forehead. She carried Richie from the stroller, gave him an orange juice and took him down to the seat in front where she had been sat earlier. As the worship team sang about the Lord’s faithfulness, rebellious tears emerged and in her mind’s eyes, saw  snapshots of her life appear in a postcard of the present – all with God at the centre. Why was God still so mindful of her? Why did He still want to make a meaning out of her life?

Tehillah remembered the Sunday, the devastating bomb blast that had changed the trajectory of her life – the rumble, the stampede that took all she had. She fell to the floor in unabashed surrender. Why didn’t God make her life perfect like Amanda’s? Why did He keep pulling at her heart, reminding her that he loved her? “Why, Lord Jesus?” 

No response.

“Why, Lord? Do you love me as much as Mrs Ezegwu, Jesse and Jordan say you do? Did you have in mind when you sent Jesus at such a time as this – the Christmas season?” Tehillah whispered, waiting, listening like she would to a friend sat by her. “Do you love me? Do you still have me written on your palm? Please reassure this frail heart of mine.” Tehillah clasped wet hands at the base of her braided hair. She remembered her foolish infatuations  resulting in her son, Richie, but then also remembered how God had sent the Ezegwus to adopt her after been made an orphan from the  bomb blast. She remembered how though Mrs Ezegwu hadn’t known much about her she had loved her as her child.  

A peace overwhelmed Tehillah and she stopped to sob. 

Like the drizzle and filter of darkness overshadowing an otherwise beautiful winter day, Tehillah knew that her life might not be perfect but she was loved by God. And she would brighten up her life as she did her room with lights, trees and baubles and multicoloured Christmas-themed decorations. But more still, she would well up in gratitude for the mercy and love that the Christmas time reminded her of – Jesus.