Free Dance Into Destiny by Sherri L. Lewis

your religious clichés. You know what He really wants?”
    Shara shook her head. She wanted to know more than anything. “What?”
    â€œHe wants to be your friend. Talk to him naturally like you would your best friend. Tell Him what you’re feeling—what’s bothering you. Ask Him questions. Have a normal conversation with Him. Most importantly, be real with Him. What’s the point of a relationship if you can’t be yourself?”
    Shara took those words to heart. From that night on, her prayer life and relationship with God had radically changed. Her “friendship” with God had grown over the years to the point where Shara now did consider Him her best friend.
    As she pulled on her sneakers, she looked around her bedroom. Her apartment building was old, but they had kept things up nice. She still had most of the same furniture she’d brought from home when she left for college. Her old wooden twin bed and matching dresser were scratched but still sturdy. She still had her childhood bookcases, now buckling under the weight of her college and grad school books. Everything was old and country, but it gave her apartment a cozy feel.
    Shara headed outside for a quick run. She loved jogging in her midtown Atlanta neighborhood. Even though her rent cost more than it would have if she lived in an Atlanta suburb, she needed the cosmopolitan pulse of the city around her. It served as a constant reminder that she’d succeeded in escaping South Georgia and that with God’s help, she could accomplish anything else she put her mind to.
    Tangee flashed across her mind again. The sense of foreboding she’d felt in prayer that morning was growing stronger.
    What is it, God? What’s wrong with Tangee?
    Shara turned onto Ponce De Leon street and sped her pace, as if she was trying to outrun the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. A late evening discussion at Mother Hobbs kitchen table came to mind. Mother Hobbs was teaching her about intercession and related that sometimes, God would put someone in her spirit with such a sense of urgency that she’d feel spiritually “sick” unless she prayed for them. During those times she’d literally have to groan and travail for them in the spirit until God did something, or at least brought peace about the situation.
    Was that what she was supposed to do about Tangee right now?
    Shara turned onto Moreland Avenue. On days she didn’t have class, she ended her run in Inman Park and then stopped at the Starbucks in Little Five Points for tea and a muffin. She hoped the tea would settle her stomach. She would talk to Mother Hobbs later and they could pray for Tangee together.
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    Shara stood at the edge of the track, watching the kids do their laps. Jamil was rounding the corner, making a silly face as he ran by. Tangee came around holding her stomach. She stopped long enough to tell Shara, “I’m sick. I gotta go to the bathroom.”
    Shara figured she had to throw up again. Maybe God had been telling her that morning that Tangee was experiencing a lot of sickness with the pregnancy. When she came back from the bathroom, Shara would tell her she needed to see a doctor soon.
    A few minutes later, Danae came running up with a frantic look on her face. “Miss Shara, come quick!”
    Normally Shara would have ignored her. Most of her girls were drama queens and overreacted about everything. Seeing the fear in Danae’s eyes though, she knew to take her seriously.
    â€œWhat is it?” Shara asked.
    â€œIt’s Tangee. She in the bathroom screaming and crying—and there’s blood everywhere!”
    Shara’s heart froze. “Go into the church and tell Mother Watkins to call an ambulance.” Mother Hobbs had to pick today to be out of the office.
    Danae stood there, wringing her hands with a panicked look on her face.
    â€œNow, Danae!” Shara screamed, bringing her out of her