into the den, she had two things in mind: the pre–Thanksgiving Day menu saved on the computer and a different kind of meal that she’d be requesting just as soon as Stan got home.
11
Lightning Done Struck
Nettie Thicke Johnson took a long swig of sweet tea and leaned back against the fluffy floral sofa her son Nate had gifted her two Christmases ago. She’d been on the phone for the past two hours, calling members, especially those she hadn’t seen in the past three months, and encouraging them to come out for the early morning Thanksgiving Day service. “Break bread with Christ before you break bread with your family,” she’d gently admonished, referring to the special Lord’s supper that would be offered Thanksgiving morning. Most people had made a halfhearted promise to be there. Others told her they’d moved their membership, either to Reverend Jenkins’s church, the Methodist church, or a church out of town. Nettie gazed into the distance, remembering how just two short years ago, there would have been standing room only at any service her son conducted. Nate Thicke had been the drawing power, no doubt about that. Things had not been the same at Gospel Truth since he and his family had left Palestine and moved to Turks and Caicos.
Nettie picked up the phone to dial again, but it rang before she got the chance. “Hello?”
“Miss Nettie? This is Anne Black, returning your call.”
“Hey, Sistah Black, how you doin’?”
“Doing fine, Miss Nettie, miss seeing you, though.”
“Well, child, that’s just why I’m calling. To find out why we haven’t seen you at church lately and to invite you to early morning service Thanksgiving Day.”
“Miss Nettie, no disrespect, but I’m not too keen on the new pastor.”
“Now, baby, Revered Doctor O—”
“You mean Reverend Doctor Oh No? Because that’s his favorite word. You can’t even breathe and be a Christian according to the way he preaches.”
“The good reverend doctor,” Nettie continued without acknowledging Anne’s dig, “is preaching the unadulterated word of God. It might not taste good going down, but this religious medicine is good all the same.”
“All he does is tell us what we can’t do. Why can’t I buy a lotto ticket? You can’t win if you don’t play!”
“He’s preaching Bible.”
“Where in the Bible does it say I can’t watch Grey’s Anatomy? What’s wrong with enjoying The Price Is Right? And who’s this ‘Moral Board’ that decided what is and isn’t sinful on TV? It doesn’t matter, Miss Nettie,” Anne continued, her voice softer. “The TV shows weren’t even the last straw.”
“Well, what was, baby?”
“It was when Sistah Jones escorted me back to the choir room so I could cover my arms. Miss Nettie, it was ninety-five degrees that day!”
“But the book plainly says ‘no elbows can show.’”
“Doctor Oh No ’s book, not the Good Book. I’m sorry, Miss Nettie. I’m going home for Thanksgiving. But even if I was going to be here, I wouldn’t be attending Gospel Truth on Thanksgiving, or any other day. Again, I don’t mean no disrespect to you. I’ve always admired your faith. Even after Reverend Thicke resigned, you know I was still in that choir stand every time the church doors opened. But I have to tell you something. When it comes to Doctor Obadiah’s heaven, I don’t think anybody in Palestine, save for you and Mama Max, can make it in.”
Nettie’s heart was heavy as she hung up the phone. She understood Anne’s frustration; the new Gospel Truth rules were stricter than normal. But desperate times had called for desperate measures. Reverend Doctor O had done what he felt necessary to to bring order back into the house of God. “Humph. Those folks better off keeping their money in their pockets rather than wasting it in slot machines and bingo halls,” Nettie muttered to herself as she walked to the bathroom. “And who cares about an anatomy—gray or any other
11
Lightning Done Struck
Nettie Thicke Johnson took a long swig of sweet tea and leaned back against the fluffy floral sofa her son Nate had gifted her two Christmases ago. She’d been on the phone for the past two hours, calling members, especially those she hadn’t seen in the past three months, and encouraging them to come out for the early morning Thanksgiving Day service. “Break bread with Christ before you break bread with your family,” she’d gently admonished, referring to the special Lord’s supper that would be offered Thanksgiving morning. Most people had made a halfhearted promise to be there. Others told her they’d moved their membership, either to Reverend Jenkins’s church, the Methodist church, or a church out of town. Nettie gazed into the distance, remembering how just two short years ago, there would have been standing room only at any service her son conducted. Nate Thicke had been the drawing power, no doubt about that. Things had not been the same at Gospel Truth since he and his family had left Palestine and moved to Turks and Caicos.
Nettie picked up the phone to dial again, but it rang before she got the chance. “Hello?”
“Miss Nettie? This is Anne Black, returning your call.”
“Hey, Sistah Black, how you doin’?”
“Doing fine, Miss Nettie, miss seeing you, though.”
“Well, child, that’s just why I’m calling. To find out why we haven’t seen you at church lately and to invite you to early morning service Thanksgiving Day.”
“Miss Nettie, no disrespect, but I’m not too keen on the new pastor.”
“Now, baby, Revered Doctor O—”
“You mean Reverend Doctor Oh No? Because that’s his favorite word. You can’t even breathe and be a Christian according to the way he preaches.”
“The good reverend doctor,” Nettie continued without acknowledging Anne’s dig, “is preaching the unadulterated word of God. It might not taste good going down, but this religious medicine is good all the same.”
“All he does is tell us what we can’t do. Why can’t I buy a lotto ticket? You can’t win if you don’t play!”
“He’s preaching Bible.”
“Where in the Bible does it say I can’t watch Grey’s Anatomy? What’s wrong with enjoying The Price Is Right? And who’s this ‘Moral Board’ that decided what is and isn’t sinful on TV? It doesn’t matter, Miss Nettie,” Anne continued, her voice softer. “The TV shows weren’t even the last straw.”
“Well, what was, baby?”
“It was when Sistah Jones escorted me back to the choir room so I could cover my arms. Miss Nettie, it was ninety-five degrees that day!”
“But the book plainly says ‘no elbows can show.’”
“Doctor Oh No ’s book, not the Good Book. I’m sorry, Miss Nettie. I’m going home for Thanksgiving. But even if I was going to be here, I wouldn’t be attending Gospel Truth on Thanksgiving, or any other day. Again, I don’t mean no disrespect to you. I’ve always admired your faith. Even after Reverend Thicke resigned, you know I was still in that choir stand every time the church doors opened. But I have to tell you something. When it comes to Doctor Obadiah’s heaven, I don’t think anybody in Palestine, save for you and Mama Max, can make it in.”
Nettie’s heart was heavy as she hung up the phone. She understood Anne’s frustration; the new Gospel Truth rules were stricter than normal. But desperate times had called for desperate measures. Reverend Doctor O had done what he felt necessary to to bring order back into the house of God. “Humph. Those folks better off keeping their money in their pockets rather than wasting it in slot machines and bingo halls,” Nettie muttered to herself as she walked to the bathroom. “And who cares about an anatomy—gray or any other
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