Free The Yada Yada Prayer Group Gets Caught by Neta Jackson Page A

words of that processional, the one the choir at Adele’s and Chanda’s church had sung the Sunday Yada Yada visited.
    We’ve come this far by faith
Leaning on the Lord!
Trusting in His Holy Word
He’s never failed me yet . . . I’m singing
Oh, o-o-o-oh, o-o-o-oh! Can’t turn around
We’ve come this far by faith . . .
    GOD’S PEACE MUST HAVE PUT ME TO SLEEP because I was still in the recliner when I woke up the next morning, mere minutes before the alarm went off in our bedroom. And I did feel peaceful for most of the day after the Baxter men left for their summer jobs. After walking Willie Wonka, I put on some gospel music to help me tackle the pile of mending that filled an entire laundry basket; had to turn it off to take a phone message for Denny from West Rogers High. Even delivered iced tea to Becky Wallace, who was down on her knees in the backyard weeding the flower garden.
    â€œWe shoulda planted some tomatoes in that real sunny spot.” She rocked back on her heels, wiping the sweat off her face with her arm as she took the glass of iced tea. “Maybe next spring.”
    Would Becky still be here next spring? Surely—
    She squinted up at me. “Hey. I got some good news.”
    â€œWhat? ” I sank down onto the grass. That’s what I needed. Some good news.
    â€œKnow how I been tryin’ to find some kinda job I can do at home till I get this monitor off my ankle? Telemarketing or stuffin’ envelopes—somethin’ like that.”
    I nodded. The classifieds section usually disappeared before we even picked up the newspaper from the front porch each morning. But not many work-at-home ads panned out. Some wanted money up front for the “kit” which was “guaranteed” to double or triple your investment in the first month.Others did background checks, and that was the last she heard from them .
    â€œAnyway, talked to my parole officer, an’ he says I can get a regular job—you know, workin’ somewhere away from home. I been on house arrest almost three months with a clean record” — Yeah, I thought, except for the time Stu caught you high on weed that one night — “so all I gotta do is tell him my work schedule, figure in travel time to an’ from, an’ be here when I’m s’posed to.” She shrugged.
    â€œThat’s great, Becky! Really!” I could only imagine how stircrazy she must be, stuck here at the Baxter/Stuart premises on Lunt Avenue. “But, how are you supposed to go out looking for a job? I mean, that usually takes a lot of running around.”
    â€œI dunno. Guess I gotta talk to the PO ’bout that part.” She squinted at me again. “You got any ideas for jobs? ”
    Jobs? Huh. If I did, I ought to be checking them out myself. Almost blurted that I might be joining the ranks of the unemployed, too, but I swallowed the thought. No, no, I wasn’t going to go there. “Definitely will keep my eyes and ears open, Becky.” I took her empty glass, then hesitated. “Don’t be anxious about anything, but in everything with thanksgiving present your requests to God . . .”
    â€œSay, Beck. You wanna pray about it? Like now? ”
    PRAYING WITH BECKY ABOUT A JOB made me feel hopeful about mine. Maybe I was ready to graduate from prayer kindergarten and move into first grade. Just had to remember to keep giving stuff to God instead of worrying it to death, like Wonka with his nasty old rawhide bone. And it was working. Peace followed me around most of the day—that is, until Chanda called me late that afternoon to ask could I pick her up at six fifteen? The reception started at seven.
    â€œI can’t believe I agreed to take Chanda George to one of those time-share promotions!” I fussed to Denny, who got home at five o’clock and was getting ready to go for a run along the lake.
    He snickered, pausing to sort