With slow labored steps, I made it to the second floor of the home. It had been the longest day and all I wanted to do was finish my tasks so I could go home. My rent was freshly paid and considering how hard I worked to have the payment, there was nothing more that I wanted to do than go home and enjoy my space worry free for another thirty days. The only problem was that whenever it was almost time for me to go, there was always one more thing to do "real quick" before I left. It was literally the worst part of the entire day, because I always felt like a slave missing the ride with Harriet; left looking for the another chance to make a run for it.
As I gathered my keys and belongings, I wondered if there was enough gas in my car to get home or would I have to stop before getting there. What was dinner going to be? Did I have enough money to get something good today or was it a make it work at home kind of day? It didn't even matter, just as long as I was finally out of there.
Work had really began to take its toll on me mentally and physically. It was way too close to my personal life which made it significantly difficult to respond to most ridiculous requests the way I would if there had been a stronger boundary line between business and personal. At this point, I didn't know what my life was doing. I had been begging God to help me make some sense of things. He had been telling me something over and over again, but I wasn't ready for what he was saying so I kept ignoring it. And because it was the exact opposite of the word that had been given to me at church to keep waiting and serving, I was thinking that maybe what I was hearing wasn't even God. Serving was worship. So, it had to just be my frustration talking.
Heading into the Master Bedroom to put some items away and let everyone know that I was leaving for the day, I was met with the faint sound of the shower running. It was a bit odd for this time of day, but this meant I would be able to leave without feeling bad [even though I had been there for thirteen hours]. It was always so hard to leave that place. It wasn't the enjoyment of staying because I didn't enjoy it, but during the goodbyes, I would almost feel guilty for the normalcy that I knew awaited me at home. It was the weirdest feeling everyday. The closer I moved into the room, I could hear a confrontational tone that was not hidden well by the sound of running water. I wanted to leave, but I couldn't move my feet. What was going on?
"Listen girl, he's your husband and you have to convince him not to do this. I know it's his dream, but if he does this...how will he still have time to do what we need him to do for us? You already know he be late doing our stuff. How will he do that too? You gotta tell him no."
I didn't want to believe my ears, although they were confirming what my spirit had been speaking to me for months; at least what I believed it had been speaking. I just needed to leave and pretend that I didn't hear anything because if I stood there any longer, what I could initially call a coincidence was about to be a full-fledged case of eavesdropping. And because I am often loyal to a fault, I was even tempted to let it be known that I could hear what sounded much like Judas bargaining his monetary gain for Jesus' life. I was far removed from the old sayings of my parents and grandparents. I was on to much cooler things now so I thought, until my dad's voice was audibly clear.
"You gotta hear some things, and you gotta NOT hear some things." And I had a feeling this was one of those things that I needed to hear but NOT hear.
My heart shattered as I recognized that the dream and opportunity of someone so gifted was being killed by the power and manipulation of people within their inner circle. Then I was reminded of what I had been ignoring from the Holy Spirit for weeks.
Maybe I had heard God. Maybe it wasn't just my frustration speaking.
The drive home was somber. As I sat in the car replaying the words I heard, I picked up my phone and texted my man. Well he wasn't technically my man; our story was still in the trenches of hell, but I knew for sure that he was part of the "there" that I couldn't get to if I stayed where I was, and I finally knew why. The words that floated right through the sound of shower water running and right into my ears told me that what I honored wasn't what they honored.
I calculated the risks and counted the costs. It was time to go THERE.
As I yielded to what God had been telling me for weeks, he finally spoke something different.
"When you get THERE, don't be Jezebel. Be Deborah."