Short Stories
If anyone could be said to be the poster child for suffering, it was Sister Claudine McFell. Though she was only 35 years old, she seemed a good two decades older, as she dragged her emaciated body to and fro, her thin shoulders stooped and long face grimacing as though every step was a ponderous labor.
Whenever she entered Holy Oak Bridge Church, she drew the immediate observation of all those present, as she slowly made her way to the front pew and grunted as she eased down into it.
“How you doin’ this mornin’ Sister Claudine?” someone nearby would ask and her response was always to fix her large, mournful eyes on the face of the inquirer and take a long, weary breath before replying.
“This poor body of mine is failin’ more and more every day and tragedy tries to knock at my door each dawn, but I am holding on to the Lord’s unchangin’ hand, waitin’ for my change to come, bless God. We all know this world is nothin’ but one of sin, struggle, toil and trouble ‘til we close our eyes one last time on this earth and take our final breath. Yes, indeed, Lord Jesus, life is sorrow, sorrow, sorrow!"”
Sister Claudine went on with detailed descriptions of physical ailments, lost husbands, wayward children, money troubles and worse, her voice quivering as though she were being shaken.
To those who heard her list of griefs, she was the embodiment of noble suffering. She must surely be holy or why else would the devil bring so much adversity to her?
Every Sunday morning before service started, she held court before her fellow worshippers, bringing many of them to tears. She was truly the "queen" of despair.
Then Jarlene Butler joined the church.
Everyone noticed her immediately because of the large smile on her full face when she entered the sanctuary.. She was a robust and pleasant looking woman of forty-something. There was a glow about her presence that made those who saw her feel good.
"Glory to God! The Lord is so wonderful, isn't He?" she said to everyone she passed by on her way to take a seat right behind where Sister Claudine sat, surrounded by her entourage.
"Every day is a blessing, brothers and sisters. Jesus has been so faithful to me, I just have to shout it!"Sister Jarlene would enthuse.
She would then go on to share all the things God had done in her life, telling how he had saved, healed and delivered her from sickness and poverty. Folks got so inspired that they were already excited by the time the service got started. It got so that everyone looked forward to Sister Jarlene's coming on Sundays.
Well,not exactly everyone.
Though she pretended to accept the joyous new congregant, the icy look in Sister Claudine's eyes revealed her true feelings. It was obvious that her followers were gradually abandoning her.
When she entered the church building now, hardly anyone spoke to her. Those who did acknowledge her gave only a polite nod, quickly averting their attentions to the jovial Sister Jarlene. Even the pastor extolled her nemesis' virtues during his sermons.
In one month's time, this merry matron of faith had transformed the entire atmosphere of Holy Oak Bridge Church into one huge praise festival and Sister Claudine McFell felt uncomfortably out of place.
It was a muggy Thursday afternoon when her nephew Cedric stopped by for a rare visit. He wasn't the swiftest deer in the forest and had been in frequent trouble with the law for breaking in homes, but, well, he was family.
"Hey, Aunt C.," he greeted, "what's up?"
She sighed, wearily.
"Well, bless God, you know how achy my joints get when the weather is humid and this old house is fallin' apart, just like me."
Though it was good to get a chance to let her miseries be heard again, it clearly delivered none of the personal satisfaction she derived from her holier audience.
It was obvious that his mind was on some other matter.
"Say, Aunt C, you think you can dig around and let me hold a few bucks? I mean, it's hard to find a job once they find out you did a few stints in jail. Makes it real temptin' to go back to the old ways, know what I'm sayin'?"
An idea came to her suddenly and the deceitful words that flowed out of her mouth next surprised even her.
"Well, Ceddy, 'fraid I can't help, 'cause you know how the devil has kept me down with barely a cent to make ends meet. We can't all be like this one sister that just joined my church, no,indeed. Now, from what I hear, that woman is in the land of milk and honey. I heard some say she keeps all kinds of valuables in that house she rented at 2342 Higgins Street. Sister Jarlene Butler,um hm. I suppose it's the Lord's will for folks like you and me to suffer."
He had left soon after.
The following Sunday morning, Sister Claudine entered the sanctuary and noted that many of the people there were engaged in animated semi-whispers.
"Sister Claudine, did you hear the awful news?" one teary female member asked. "Sister Jarlene's house was broken into the other night."
"Horrible," nodded a distressed deacon. "Thank God, she wasn't home at the time, but she was so shook up, she decided it was safer to go live with her son one city over. She won't be able to come back here. Such a shame!"
Sister Claudine dragged herself, slowly, to her usual pew and shook her head.
"It's like I always said to you. This life is nothin' but sorrow, sorrow, sorrow!"
"Amen!" they agreed.
No one saw the corners of her mouth turn up as she lowered her body down into the seat.
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