The Color of Hope

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Sunday, August 1





Eyes barely open, Stephanie entered the kitchen earlier than planned Sunday morning for the sole purpose of telling everyone to be quiet. She’d gone to bed at five, counting on at least four hours of sleep. But as much as she’d tried to bury her head under the pillow, she couldn’t escape the rising voices in the kitchen—and it was only seven.

“Could y’all please keep it down in here?” Through half-shut lids, she could make out Cyd—with Chase on her lap—Becca, and Aunt Gladys at the kitchen table. “Are you aware there’s such a thing as a whisper?” Stephanie said the last word in a hushed voice in case they needed a demonstration.

“I’m sorry, it’s my fault.” Becca had on her robe. “I knew somebody’d be up over here. I had to see what y’all thought about the morning paper.”

Stephanie rubbed her eyes and came closer. “What’s in it?”

Cyd turned it around so she could read it. It was The Rocky Mount Sentinel, and the headline below the fold on the front page read LOCAL QUEST FOR UNITY STIRS DIVISION, RACIAL TENSION.

Stephanie leaned over and skimmed the first few lines. “Oh my goodness, they’re talking about Calvary and New Jerusalem?” She snatched up the paper.

“Yes, ma’am,” Aunt Gladys said. “Keep reading.”

Stephanie turned the page to see how long it was. “This is, like, a whole profile of Hope Springs and the churches.”

“I learned a lot I didn’t know,” Becca said. “It’s quite sobering.”

Stephanie slid into a seat at the table, eyes back on the front page, and read aloud. “. . . ‘known for its quaint, small-town feel . . . people still don’t lock their doors at night . . . but there’s a dark thread that runs through the history of the town.’” She looked up. “Dark thread?”

“Mm-hm,” Aunt Gladys said. “Keep reading.”

“Oh my goodness!” Stephanie looked at Cyd. “Did you read this?”

Cyd helped Chase spoon up some applesauce. “About the Hope Springs man who participated in the Greensboro sit-ins of 1960?”

“Yes!” Stephanie continued reading. “Says he was attending North Carolina A&T, heard about the sit-ins at Woolworth, and joined in with his classmates, and came home to Hope Springs that weekend. ‘My family and I were awakened in the night when a brick came crashing through the living room window. All the men in sheets on horseback, yelling. I’d never been that scared in my life.’” Stephanie felt the hair rising on her arm. She looked up. “Can you all believe this?”

“You’re not surprised, are you?” Cyd said. “That’s what Jim Crow was about down here in the sixties, maintaining segregation at any cost.”

“But this happened not far from right here.” Stephanie pointed at the table. “This is so eerie.”

“Can y’all lower your voices in here?” Libby stood in the kitchen doorway looking as half-present as Stephanie had a few minutes before. “I’m really trying to catch up on some z’s.”

Stephanie turned to her. “Libby, did you know there was a Klan raid near here in 1960?”

“You’re surprised?”

Stephanie sat back and stared. “Okay, Cyd said that too. Why are y’all acting like this is nothing?”

“Steph, it’s not that it’s nothing,” Aunt Gladys said. “It’s just not surprising, especially for me. I lived Jim Crow. I remember when we couldn’t eat at the Main Street Diner. And don’t get me started on all the mess that went on when they started changing up the schools.”

“Question.” Libby lifted a finger, yawning. “Why are we having such an uplifting conversation early Sunday morning?”

Stephanie picked up the paper. “The joint worship service made the front page. They’re talking about how these new young pastors at Calvary and New Jerusalem want to change the status quo but have run into opposition.”

“Are you serious?” Libby came and looked over Stephanie’s shoulder.

“They’re saying the opposition is based on racial prejudice,” Becca said, “and telling about a history of opposition here to bringing black and white people together.”

“It’s even more pointed than that,” Cyd said. “The article touches on the tension that surrounded school integration and quotes an anonymous source who says Skip Willoughby was on record as being against it. Then they quote another anonymous source who says he was the one who called the boycott.”

“Todd was bothered by the picture it painted of Skip,” Becca said. “But at least the reporter went to Skip personally for a quote. His objections in the paper are the same ones he’s given from the start. And they’ve never been based on race.”

“Well, he’d never say it, not to Todd,” Aunt Gladys said. “But hear me when I say that’s his number one reason.”

“Aunt Gladys, shh,” Libby said. “Charley’s sleeping in there. And anyway, you can’t be slandering the man like that.”

“Call it what you want,” Aunt Gladys said. “I know way more history than they got in that article. But I’ll say this . . .” She took a sip of coffee. “I’m all for the boycott.”

“What?” Stephanie looked at her. “Why?”

“Becca, you know I love you and Todd, always loved his family—but we’ve got our own style, our own way of doing and being. Church is the one place we can have to ourselves to do and be.”

Stephanie pointed at the paper. “They do make the point that both Calvary and New Jerusalem members are joining in the boycott. Here’s a quote from a New Jerusalem member: ‘I admire Pastor Travis for attempting it. But bottom line, if we have to change who we are and what we do to accommodate white people—which we do every other day of the week—no thank you.’”

Cyd sighed. “I wish people could see our church in St. Louis. Living Word has been multiethnic from the beginning, and that’s what I love about it. The love, the unity, the bond in Christ . . . it’s a beautiful picture of what heaven will be like one day.”

Becca nodded. “That’s the vision Todd and Travis have. They’ve been praying that members of both congregations would catch that vision. In fact, they’re praying together right now at the house, after seeing this.” She sighed again. “I wonder what effect this article will have on the service this morning.”

Stephanie had been listening to the conversation and scanning the article simultaneously. “Listen to the end of the article,” she said. “’Martin Luther King Jr. famously noted that eleven o’clock Sunday morning is the most segregated hour in America. Unlike schools or lunch counters, there’s no court decree or law that can change that. If there is to be change in Hope Springs at eleven o’clock this morning—and every other Sunday morning—perhaps it will require a change of heart.’”





Several carloads made the less-than-two-mile drive from the Sanders’ household, pulling into the high school parking lot. Given the boycott, Stephanie wondered if they’d be among the only cars there. But with a full fifteen minutes to go before the start of service, the lot was teeming with vehicles.

“Wow.” She gazed out of her backseat window.

Lindell was beside her. “Looks like turnout hasn’t been affected.”

“Yes, it has.” Marcus was driving. “Never had to hunt down a parking spot like this. Somebody even took my reserved spot. This is way more people than usual.”

Charley nodded from the passenger seat. “I bet that article drew a lot of people.”

“Did you call home to see how your family was taking it?” Stephanie asked.

“Yeah, right before we left,” Charley said. “Mom said Grandpa was livid about the way he was portrayed. Wonder what he’ll say when he hears all these people showed up.”

Marcus found a spot, and they all hopped out.

Lindell looked around. “What happened to the rest of our caravan?”

“They probably went to the other side of the lot,” Stephanie said. “We’ll catch them inside.”

Stephanie walked inside with her mind on church, but as they passed the administrative office and classrooms, she began to take notice of the actual school. Soon these spaces would be filled with students. Lord, do I have a place here? Would I even know how to connect with the kids?

Two ushers stood outside the gym doors, handing out programs.

Stephanie whispered to Charley, “I’m assuming that guy’s from Calvary? I’m a little surprised.”

“I’m surprised to see him too,” Charley whispered back. “He’s a longtime member.” She glanced around. “I see more Calvary members than I expected to, but a lot of the people you might think are from Calvary . . . I’ve never seen before.”

Charley and the Calvary usher greeted one another. He looked as surprised to see her as she was to see him.

The four of them walked into the gym, where seats were filling rapidly. Stephanie looked for Cyd and Cedric, or Janelle and Kory, or even her other relatives who’d come, but couldn’t spot them.

“I see some empty seats over there,” Charley said.

They followed her to a row three-quarters of the way back. A teenage girl sat alone on the end, with a few seats between her and another couple in her row.

“Sam, hey, good morning!” Charley said. “Mind if we sit by you?”

“Good morning, Coach,” she said, moving her legs aside for them to pass. “Morning, Mr. Maxwell.”

“Good morning, Sam.” Marcus smiled. “I think this is the first time I’ve seen you without a volleyball in your hands.”

Sam smiled. “Yes, sir.”

Charley introduced Stephanie and Lindell to Sam, then took the seat beside her, followed by the rest.

Stephanie glanced around and saw Todd and Travis mingling. When her little nephew Chase took off across the gym, she spotted Cyd, who carted him back to a seat across the aisle. Janelle, Kory, and the kids were with them.

“So you attend New Jerusalem?” Charley was asking.

“No, ma’am,” Sam said.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Charley said. “Have you been attending Calvary, and I’ve somehow missed you?”

“No.”

Stephanie didn’t want to be rude, but she looked at the girl again. Sam was fair-skinned; if Stephanie had to guess, she’d say mixed.

Sam played with her purse strap. “We don’t go to church. My mom says she doesn’t feel welcome at either one.” She glanced tentatively at Charley, then back to her purse. “I saw the article in the paper this morning, and since it was both churches together at school . . .” She shrugged. “I figured it’d be okay for me to come.”

Stephanie’s brows bunched. “Sam, I hope you don’t mind my asking, but why wouldn’t your mom feel welcome at either church?”

“I’m not really sure,” she said. “She’s never told me the whole story.”

“I’m really sorry to hear that,” Stephanie said. “I’m glad you came today.”

“Thank you.” Sam stood. “Excuse me. I want to go to the restroom before it starts.”

Stephanie’s eyes followed after her, noting her plain, worn jeans—genuinely worn, not designer-worn—and fitted shirt—but not designer-fitted. Sam tugged it down self-consciously. Everything about her seemed self-conscious.

“I don’t know why,” Stephanie said, “but my heart goes out to that girl.”

“She’s a great kid, going into tenth grade,” Charley said. “Nice. Polite. Kind of stays to herself, though.”

“Marcus mentioned volleyball. She’s on the high school team?”

“No,” Charley said. “She came to my summer clinic, and she’s got a love for it, but I’m not sure if she’s ready to try out.”

Travis was walking by and stopped to shake hands.

“Are you as surprised as we were by the turnout?” Lindell asked.

Travis nodded. “Definitely. A lot of people read the morning paper and came from neighboring towns to support what we’re doing. And I’m sure some are here out of curiosity. I believe God is at work even in that.”

Todd came to the microphone up front. “Good morning,” he said. “Could everyone take your seats, please? I want to say a few words before we get started.”

Sam slipped back in and took her seat.

When the gym quieted, Todd said, “I think most of us are aware of the article in this morning’s Rocky Mount Sentinel. Pastor Travis and I pondered whether to address it in the service. We decided to do so briefly.” He paused, looking out at the crowd. “We’ve known from the beginning that there would be controversy surrounding the joint worship service. Ultimately, we moved forward because Pastor Travis and I felt a deep conviction that this was what God was calling us to do.”

Something in Todd’s delivery struck Stephanie, as if he were feeling the weight of it all—the article, the boycott, and who knows how many personal messages he was getting. He wasn’t this sober when he gave the message at his own father’s funeral right before Christmas.

Todd continued, “This is our fourth combined service, and I have to admit that I thought by now we’d be on the upswing. If I’d imagined the type of news article I’d want to see, it would be one in which our churches served as a model of what was possible everywhere. I’m a little disappointed that instead, our state of affairs was likened to 1960s Jim Crow. I’m disappointed that there are more people here from outside of Hope Springs than there are those who live here.”

Lindell elbowed Stephanie. “Is it just me, or is this a different spin than Travis had?”

“But we’re so thankful to those who have supported this vision from the beginning,” Todd continued. “And we’re thankful to those from neighboring towns who have come out to support us.” The praise and worship team—a combined ensemble from both churches—had come up beside him. “We’re about to begin our time of praise, and later in the service we’ll have a special time of prayer, asking God to give us His vision going forward.”

Stephanie elbowed Lindell back. “Is he saying the vision of unity and love might change? Seems like we just need to pray like that article suggested—that people have a heart to catch that vision.”

She glanced the other direction at Sam. “This might be more important than we realize.”