Free She Who Finds a Husband by E.N. Joy Page B

only mean one thing,” Paige concluded. “Something’s wrong.”

Chapter Eight
    Deborah sat up rocking in her bed with her knees to her chest and her arms wrapped tightly around her legs. She couldn’t get rid of the pounding in her head, a pounding that was a result from crying all morning long.
    â€œThe Lord is my Shepard; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: He leadeth me beside the still waters . . .” Deborah had been reciting Psalm 23 ever since early this morning when she decided not to go to church.
    Fully dressed in her Sunday’s best, Deborah had every intention of going to New Day Temple of Faith to get her praise on when she awoke this morning. But that nagging voice in her head had chased her around the house while she got ready for church, and it kept hurling insults at her about being a phony and fake Christian hiding her sins. That voice had finally broken her down and convinced her that the last place a wretch like her needed to be was in church. The stench of her past sin would stink up the place.
    Now here she sat, rocking back and forth like she belonged in a loony bin somewhere, reciting the same Bible verse over and over while staring off into a daze. She’d hoped that her voice would drown out the one that had been taunting her, but it had yet to work.
    â€œThat stupid Helen!” she ranted right in the middle of walking through the valley of the shadow of death. “I wish she were . . . I wish she would just . . . why did she ever have to step foot in New Day in the first place? That was my church! My church! And now here she comes tainting the life I’ve built there. Here she comes digging up the bones I’ve buried. How dare she. Who does she think she is?” Deborah despised the day that the Lord had made just a few months ago when Helen showed up at New Day.
    By now Deborah was out of the bed pacing back and forth in anger. Somewhere between walking in the valley of the shadow of death and not fearing any evil, she’d decided to shift blame from herself to Helen. Never mind the actual act that she had committed four years ago, the act that Helen obviously had found pleasure in dangling over her head. Helen had no right to all but threaten to reveal her dirty little secret. It was Deborah’s secret. Who was Helen to try to take ownership?
    Once again there was pounding. Deborah jumped back in bed in the same position, only this time she covered her ears with her hands in order to drown the pounding out.
    â€œThe Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want,” Deborah started again. Her lips were fixed on the scripture, but her mind was fixed back to the very day she had been reminded of the heap of dirt she’d swept under the rug.
    Deborah loved when Pastor assigned her an altar duty, be it reading the announcements or assisting during altar call. But her favorite had always been the welcoming of first time visitors. It did good for her spirit to welcome first time visitors and encourage them to keep coming back to New Day. Pastor had even shared with Deborah on more than one occasion how some visitors who were now regular members said that one of the reasons they came back was because of the warm, sincere, Holy Ghost welcome they’d received from Deborah.
    All along Deborah had just thought she was doing a simple assignment weighing low on the totem pole compared to the pastor’s assignment of delivering God’s Word. It reminded her of something Mother Doreen would say to members when they’d complain about an assignment they received from Pastor, such as door greeter. “You never know what part of the service is going to minister to someone, so never deem one assignment too small and you too big to do it.”
    But on one particular Sunday a few months ago, Deborah would have given anything to be the door greeter. That way she would have seen the enemy coming and braced herself.
    â€œHere