The Meal

*** WARNING: READER’S DISCRETION IS ADVISED. The subject matter in this story will be triggering for many who have dealt with abortions. This is in no way justifying or condemning abortion. It is merely telling a story. If you are triggered by the subject of abortion, it is suggested that you read no further than this advisory. If you read beyond this advisory, you are willfully admitting that you subjugated yourself to the triggers that may possibly take place and are therefore liable for how you feel after reading this story. This is your only warning. If you read the next paragraph, it is your fault for reading it. Please, do not read this story if you are triggered by the subject of abortion. This is not the time to be curious, brave, or strong. May the Lord reveal the intent behind the pages. ***

There, she stood, as grounded as the tree beneath her, and as strong as the mountains in the distance. She marveled at the view before her: a restaurant, two stories high, with an opening cut into a corner of a window in the back of the room. It was the breathtaking view she had always wanted to see on Earth.

Her feet felt like she stood on clouds, but it was certainly wood. She couldn’t tell what kind. It must’ve been the kind of wood rich people put in their homes back on Earth. It was the perfect kind of wood flooring.

It made sense to have such a view as this on a dinner date with Jesus Christ. The gold medallion tree was the healthiest she had ever seen, stretching toward the second floor. Its flowers and branches were easily accessible with an outstretched hand. The snowy mountains in the distance, combined with a cool sunlight, made for a beautiful backdrop. The railings were made of sturdy wood covered in blue morning blooming vines. She couldn’t help but feel like they were made and decorated out of habit rather than necessity. The imagery produced serenity.

That was exactly how she felt as she wiggled her toes and smelt the fresh food being made behind her. She could tell they were using pork and eggs. She was surprised pork was on the menu. It didn’t make sense, but her being here didn’t make much sense either. Her mind remembered so many sins, all of which she didn’t fully repent for.

“I have a meal prepared for you,” is the last thing Jesus said before having an angel escort her to the restaurant. “I will be arriving shortly afterward.”

“What possibly could Jesus want,” she wondered. However, as soon as she walked up the stairs and caught sight of the view, all else disappeared. The three chefs in the kitchen working behind a grand island, the round table and the five chairs tucked beneath it, and the angels standing guard at the stairwell on the other end of the room.

All she saw were the mountains standing behind and above the gold medallion tree. The flowers reflected the sunlight so beautifully that she couldn’t help but stop and take note of the image. It occupied her mind. She had been doing a lot of that on the way in. Everything was so strange and breathtaking. She had the time despite having just arrived. It was already better than anything she had ever witnessed in her life. It was the kind of image that solidified she was in heaven.

Her feet kept her grounded as the footsteps of the Lord approached behind her. Her mind automatically shifted to Jesus, and her body followed along. However, before she could turn completely to Him, He placed His arm around her back and placed both of His hands on her shoulders.

“What do you think?” He asked, looking at the view.

His aura had already dimmed the light coming from the sun above. The mountain seemed less wonderous now that he had entered the atmosphere. The flowers seemed to bow on instinct. Everything paled in comparison to His eminence.

“It’s beautiful!” she exclaimed, turning back to the opening in the restaurant. “I never got to see anything like this on Earth!”

Jesus smiled and chuckled, “I figured you would appreciate it. You’ve always had an eye for nature.” She simply nodded and smiled brightly. Jesus took notice of her demeanor and smiled with her. “I didn’t get to see that smile very often in your life. You endured much heartache.”

“Yes,” she breathed. “It was hard.” She turned to God. “But You carried me through it. I made it. My name is written in the Book of Life. I’m in heaven, with You.”

“As we’ve always wanted.” He stretched a hand towards the round table. “Come. Have a seat. The meal is almost done.”

“Yes. Okay! It smells really good! It almost smells like pork.”

Jesus wrapped His arm around hers and walked her to her seat.  “Yes! Thank you for that. They’ve been honing their craft for some time now. They would be the best in heaven at these dishes they are making.” Once there, He pulled out her chair for her and let her sit. Then, He slid her close to the table and walked to the other side of the table.

“What dishes are they making?” she asked.

“I wouldn’t dare steal that honor. They’ll tell you in a bit.”

Jesus sat down in His chair and looked towards the view. While He was admiring, she was looking at the table. It was made of the same wood as the floor, but it was a lot less polished. It seemed to be freshly made. She grazed her hand across the surface and tried to feel for any splinters or ridges in the sanding.

Jesus, without turning to her, said, “It’s flush. Don’t worry.”

“Oh!” she withdrew her hand. “I was just admiring. I didn’t think-.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything, nor do you have to defend yourself,” He explained. He looked at her. “I am only confident in My handiwork.”

She shook her head and looked at Jesus more intensely. “You crafted this table!?”

“I am a carpenter, aren’t I?” He said, smiling.

“Wow!” she shouted as she grazed her hand against the wood once more. “It’s so level and smooth!”

“Thank you,” He accepted with a smile.

She marveled at a new section of the table. Without looking up, she asked, “How long did this take you?”

“Three days.”

She looked up. Jesus smirked. They both began to chuckle.

“You do mighty works in three days. We all know that!”

“That I do… and you do mighty work in three days as well…” He said cautiously. “Three specific days come to mind.”

She looked at Jesus, confused. There was a lot she had done in three days. Her mind was quickly gathering response after response, but His tone and His current gaze made it hard for her to pinpoint which three days He was referring to.

She had lived 76 years on Earth. She had done many things in many weekends in America over those 76 years. Whatever He was talking about was serious. It couldn’t have been something as simple as building her own cheap furniture in three days or cleaning her house in three days. It made her withdraw again. She started to fear.

“Father,” one of the chefs called. “I’m done.”

She was a small, slender woman. She fashioned a tie-dyed rainbow belt across her white cloak and an anklet with the name Brittney written on it. Her skin was brown, hair bunched into a pony tail with an afro puff on the end, and her almonds eyes were big. She looked like family to the woman, but she couldn’t have been. She had never seen her before.

“You haven’t set your dish onto the serving plates, pretty,” God noted.

“Oh!” she giggled and went back to fixing the plates.

The other two male chefs with her, who were bigger, and a lot stronger, started to rush their preparation. Their massive arms flipped pots and pans around like they were sheets of paper. They looked like athletes. Also, they were darker in skin than the girl.

“Take your time! You’ll all be eating soon. You have all the time needed,” God warned. “Revel in the moment, not rush.”

The two men froze for a moment and then calmly went back to preparing their dishes. God smiled and returned his gaze to the woman sitting across from Him. She was staring at the chefs by this point. She couldn’t figure it out, but all three of them seemed familiar. She kept trying to look at their faces, but none of them looked familiar in the slightest. Their demeanor was the only thing that let on that she needed to remember them.

She stared at the little girl fixing her meal. She seemed so young, but everyone did in this place. She recognized that from the moment she entered. Her grandmother looked a third of the age she was when she went on to heaven. She gave her the same familiar feeling. Had she been with the friends and family who welcomed her to heaven? It didn’t seem so.

“Leave the plates on the island. I will have these wonderful angels bring the food to us. Come, sit,” God ordered.

The girl came from around the island, keeping her head down to the floor, avoiding eye contact with the woman. God waved her over to his left side, the only seat by itself between God and the woman. She hurried to her seat and stopped. She looked at God, who smiled, stood from His chair, and pulled the chair out for the girl.

“I see you haven’t forgotten yourself,” Jesus said.

“N-n-no,” she agreed.

“Britney,” the woman called. “Is that your name?”

“Huh- no! No. Sorry,” the girl answered.

“I noticed the anklet. It said Britney. Is that someone you know? That’s my name. Do I know you?” She questioned.

The girl sigh nervously. “Uh-… yes. Yes, I know you. But uh-… I’m sorry. He told me to wait.”

“All will be revealed momentarily,” God said confidently.

“Do I-?” Britney stopped herself from speaking as she retreated to her memories. She searched frantically for something to remember the girl by, but she could not remember. All the clues she had were three days, three people, and all of them were presumed to have known her at some point in her life. She couldn’t remember them. None of their faces or mannerisms triggered any memory.

“You boys about done?” Jesus asked.

“Yes, sir,” the larger one said.

“Almost,” the other responded.

“Your sister needs some company,” Jesus suggested.

“I’m almost done, sis! Don’t sweat it!” the smaller one encouraged.

“O-o-okay!” she responded.

Britney was at a loss. All three of them were related, but none of them seemed to trigger a memory for her. They looked like family, but she remembered her family. She remembered every half-cousin’s girlfriend’s baby sister’s pet. Her mind was the sharpest it had ever been in her existence. She could remember which side of her face a mosquito bit in the summer of 92’. These faces – these people – were nowhere in her memory. But why?

A loud crash sounded in the kitchen. Jesus rose from His seat and hurried over to the bigger man, who seemed to be staring frustratingly down at his dish. God extended a hand to his back and spoke softly in his ear. The boy nodded, wiping his face with his forearm. God patted his back and continued to whisper to him.

Britney watched how the girl was reacting. She could tell she was still nervous, but she seemed calmer than she did when she walked over to the table. She seemed settled-in. It was confirmed when she looked Britney in the eyes and smiled gently.

She leaned towards Britney and whispered, “I hope you like the dish I made. I put a lot of effort into being able to make it the best. I’ve got it down to a science. Just for you.”

“Just for me?” Britney asked. The little girl nodded. Britney reached out to the girl for her hand. The girl placed her hand in Britney’s hand and Britney sincerely said, “Thank you so much.”

The girl nodded exciting and retracted her hand back to her lap. She watched the others as God brought the boys over from the kitchen. The larger one seemed angry while the smaller one seemed determined. The two of them looked at their sister and glanced at Britney. They turned their heads away together. They were definitely different, but definitely related.

The two boys sat in the remaining two chairs. The bigger boy sat closer to God. God sat back in His chair and waited for the four of them to prepare their hearts. The two boys and girl were disturbed deeply by something. That was obvious. It was something that they had carried with them for years, and all of them related to Britney. She knew this, and the more it was confirmed, the more she feared what was coming. Her mind gathered the most terrifying answer.

Angels came into the kitchen and gathered the dishes. They cleaned off the surfaces of the kitchen, made everything sparkling and clean, and stood near the island, waiting on the order of the Lord.

God reached out from His seat to the girl and the big boy. They reached out for Him and simultaneously reached out to the person on the other side. The whole table was holding hands, ready to pray.

“Bow your heads,” God said. They bowed their heads. “I am here. I am with you. I am for you. I am. This meal is blessed because I say it is. This time is blessed because I will it to be. This moment is for My children, whom I love dearly. Let their hearts be open. Amen.”

“Amen,” the rest said in unison.

“Okay,” God sighed. “Let us begin.” He looks to Britney. “Everyone here knows who you are. They know your mannerism, your secrets, your success, your failures, and your entire being. We all know because we have watched you and been with you all our lives. You are right in thinking you do not know any of these people. You are right in deducing that all of them are family. You three, tell her your names.”

The two smaller ones looked at the big boy. The big boy looked at God, frustrated. His eyes were red from holding tears. He was exhausted. Whatever he had been carrying up to that point had come to the front of his mind. Though he was solid and muscular, as fit as a professional football player, he seemed like a little boy. She didn’t know why it felt like he was so much younger than her. It all made sense when he looked at Britney and said, “My name… is Cantavious Jackson Michaels.”

Britney gasped. Her jaw dropped and her shoulders slumped as her memory took her exactly where she didn’t want to return. She was 26, weeping terribly in her car over what she had forced herself to do again. Her friend passed a blunt to her and encouraged her to inhale deeply. She needed to be high. She couldn’t process how she had let a third man place her in the position to kill her child. She had done, for the third time, what many women were terrified to do even once. She had an abortion, claiming the life of Cantavious Jackson Michaels.

He was the youngest of his siblings, so the outburst of emotion made the most sense. It reminded her of when she sat in that car, high, and started to bang her head on the dashboard and against the window. She wanted to forget that she had aborted her third child. She wanted to forget the men who led her to this place of sorrow. She wanted to end her own life instead. Only by the grace of God and presence of her friends did she not succeed.

As she sat, weeping uncontrollably in the arms of two female friends, she made a declaration. She would never place herself in the position to hurt her children ever again. That she would forgo sex in order to never have to add to the deaths of Cantavious Jackson Michaels, Shameka Alazae Michaels, and Jordan Jameeks Michaels. Those were the names she had given her children in the car that day, withholding the last names of their fathers because they were not around to claim them.

Now, those three names sat before her, professing the names she gave them with tears flowing from their eyes and their mouths quivering with violent sadness. Britney fell back from the table and plopped against the ground weeping once more. She covered her face as she wailed loudly for all to hear.

Her children rose to comfort her but God lifted His hands and they all froze. He rose from the chair and walked to all three of the children. He kissed them on the cheek and whispered, “It is love,” in their ears.

He circled over to Britney Leshae Michaels, who buried her face into her elbow. He knelt down next to her and laid a hand on her shoulder. She violently removed His hand from her shoulder and backed away from Him into a wall. She looked up through the tears in her eyes and looked at their faces again. She pinned herself against the wall, lowered her head into her knees, and wept more.

The angels wiped their eyes and watched to see how the Lord would mend this devastating news. They thought He would move closer to her so that He would wrap her in His arms, but He fell to His knees and wept with her.

The five of them wept in whatever way they knew how. Britney stayed secluded and embarrassed against the wall. Cantavious turned his head away and leaned frustratingly onto fists. Shameka buried her head into the table and covered her face with folded arms. Jordan stayed still, aggressively clasping his hands together in his lap, letting the tears flow from his face until they were dry. God stayed knelt beforethem. Only God knew why they had to confront this pain.

As the wails and sniffles silenced, God wiped His eyes clear and reached out for Britney. Feeling His presence, Britney looked up and saw God reaching for her. His face was filled with sorrow and determination. She wiped her eyes and stayed still. God moved closer, never lifting from His knees, and reached again. She did not budge. He moved to where she’d only have to reach out and she’d be able to grab His hand.

“Did I not hear your sorrow in that car?” the Lord asked. “Did I not comfort you in the bed that night? … Did I not name them with you?” The Lord wiped His face again and reached out once more. “Didn’t you name him Cantavious because you liked the word cantar, which means to sing in Spanish? But you didn’t like anyone in heaven calling your baby Cantar, because it sounded too rough, and you didn’t like Canta because it didn’t have enough flair. So, you settled on Cantavious because it sounded like cantar and canvas put together. You wanted him to be able to sing and experience views of the world you never got to see.”

Britney nodded from behind her elbow.

“Did you not name her Shameka because that was the middle name of a friend you had back in elementary? A time when you still felt innocent. A time when you felt free. A time you wanted to return to after you had realized what sex did to your relationships and your body.”

Britney wiped her eyes and looked at God.

“And Jordan was his name because Michael Jordan was your father’s favorite player, and more than anything, you needed and wanted your father to be in your life, especially after you had just abandoned your motherhood. You didn’t need him in and out of jail apart from you. You didn’t know how to be a mother, and your mother was not the most attentive because she was always jealous of your assumed innocence. You needed your father beside you to comfort you, hold you, cherish you, love-.”

Britney thrusted herself into the arms of the Lord and wept. God held her tight as she remembered what it felt like to be calmed by His spirit and held by His arms. It wasn’t just a feeling anymore. In this place, it was real, it was physical, and it was amazing. She had a father, and He was heavenly.

The angels hurried to all of them and provided them with cloths to wipe their faces and arms to release their pains into, even though they needed them just as much. Everyone wiped their faces and composed themselves so as to further the healing. God lifted Britney from the ground and held her tight in His arms and He reached for Shameka.

Shameka automatically rose, even while nervous. She looked at her brothers, who nodded and told her to go to Him. She walked slowly over to God and Britney, unsure of anything but the will of God.

“Are you ready?” God whispered to Britney. She nodded. “Come, baby girl.”

Jesus stepped back, gripping Britney’s hand so that she would be comforted. Shameka grabbed Jesus’ other hand and He pulled the two of them together. They hugged, and Jesus hugged them both.

“I’m so sorry,” Britney cried out. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“I know. It’s okay,” Shameka said. “I get to hug you now. That’s all that matters.”

“My baby!” Britney cried further. “God, my baby!”

God held them both as their bodies trembled. For the first time, she could smell her daughter’s hair. She could feel the slight muscle in her slender back. She could feel the silky hair gliding across her chin. She lifted her eyes and could see a younger version of her own mother that she remembered from a photo album she looked through back when she was ten. Her memory was so sharp, it scared her. Quickly, she could match the two of them as grandmother and granddaughter.

This one was slain when Britney decided to abort her to spite her father. He was in and out of jail like her father. He tried to control her, ordering her to give birth to her child while she knew he wouldn’t be a good father if she did. While he was in jail, she went to the clinic and aborted Shameka Alazae Michaels. On top of the pain she endured during that time, she also took a beating from that man who impregnated her.

This was the little girl she lost that day. She was barely taller than her and certainly slender. Her hair managed to grow longer as well. She would’ve certainly drawn attention on Earth. The same attention that her mother drew.

She gave her a mother’s first kiss. She swayed with her from side to side, feeling every part of her that she missed out on in life, even daring to pinch her cheeks before kissing them both.

“My beautiful little girl,” she smiled.

“Mom,” she replied before lowering her head and crying again.

God reached for Jordan, who immediately walked over to them.

Britney and Shameka separated, holding each other’s hands. Britney reached up to Shameka’s face and caressed her face with her fingertips.

“You are so beautiful, baby,” Britney said.

“Thank you,” Shameka said. “So are you.”

“Thank you.” Britney turned to Jordan and faintly smiled. “My strong, handsome son.”

Jordan smiled as he leaned in to hug her. They embraced one another, sobbing gently as Jordan fell to his knees. Britney kneeled beside him and covered him in her arms. Jordan fell on all fours and wept, hitting the ground beneath him.

“This wasn’t- how I was supposed to act,” Jordan confessed. “I wanted to be- the strong one… but I’m so weak.”

“You’re not weak at all,” God said. “You are healing. It is not easy for anyone.”

“Yes, baby,” Britney confirmed. “I am so sorry for what I did to you.”

He was the one she feared to have alone. His father wanted nothing to do with him nor her. Left alone, she was convinced by many to have her first abortion. Everything in her knew that what she was doing was wrong, but fear persuaded her like her ancestor in the garden, and she listened just as her ancestor taught her to. This was the abortion that opened the door for alcoholism, drug dependence, and hypersexuality. Nothing could control her unless it allowed her to forget that day. Yet, here she was remembering it all over again.

Cantavious came over as Jordan was being comforted. He looked down at Jordan and his mother. Overwhelmed, he knelt down with them and hugged his mother. His weight forced Britney to the ground completely. He sobbed the loudest and buried his face into her womb. She huffed and puffed from trying to hold him up, but she laughed and caressed his head.

“You are big,” she said. “I love it.”

Cantavious squeezed her as he tried to compose himself before rising from her belly. Britney, free from the burden she had carried up until that moment, smiled. She reached up to her other two children and they all held hands as Cantavious smothered her.

“You are all so tender-hearted and warm,” she noted. “The only damage the world ever brought you was me.” She looked to God, “Thank You for rescuing them.”

Jesus smiled. “Well… It’s hard to not want to, you know? Wouldn’t stop doing it for any other profession, even carpentry.” They chuckled. “Come, let them show you. Come, Cantavious.” God ordered.

Cantavious rose from Britney’s womb. He looked at the snot and tears remaining in her cloak. “I, uh-… I’m sorry.”

“No,” Britney stopped. She held as much of his cheek as she could. “I did this. You have nothing to apologize for. I am sorry for what I have done to you.”

Angels offered them napkins and handkerchiefs. Cantavious wiped his face, but Britney refused. Instead, she grabbed Cantavious’ face and kissed him all over, from the cheeks to the forehead to his nose and back to his cheeks. Cantavious giggled as he was showered with love.

She held her forehead to his forehead and said, “All is well within my soul. My God. All is well. I wanted to believe I had lost you all, but here you are. Free from anything that could’ve ever hurt you.”

Jordan helped Cantavious to his feet and Shameka helped her mother. The five of them stood together and observed each other’s faces. Closure had begun. They had cried their tears, sought forgiveness, and healed. Now, it was time to create new experiences.

They took to their seats, with the boys sliding the chairs out for the women. The angels returned to their posts and awaited the command of God. When God waved to them, the first meal was brought out.

It was a simple dish. A bowl of rice, eggs, bacon, ham, and sausage. Chopped white and green onions, minced garlic, paprika, seasoned salt, black pepper, cayenne pepper, soy sauce, butter, and a pinch of salt was added to the mix. It almost tasted of fried rice, but remained in the realm of brunch.

Britney was familiar with this dish. She had made it time and time again in life. It was simple, cheap, and filling. However, this bowl smelled much better than what she was accustomed to making. She felt a little embarrassed that she couldn’t make it this good before, but she remembered she was now in heaven. Everything was going to be better than before.

“A simple dish. Rice, eggs, bacon, sausage, and ham,” Jordan introduced. “I saw you had made this a lot in life. You didn’t use the same seasonings as me, but-… I wanted to make it the best dish you had ever tasted, so-…” He waited on God.

“Let’s eat,” God confirmed.

The five of them lifted their bowls and ate. Just as she expected, everything tasted amazing. It was all fresh. It was all cooked well. It was all good. It took her a second to realize that she had already eaten half of the bowl. Yet, she did not feel sluggish like she used to.

“My, oh, my,” she exclaimed. “That’s was so delicious, baby.”

“Thanks… m-mom,” he said with glow.

“I’ve never made this dish so well in all my life.”

He blushed. “I-… I don’t know. I just watched and learned… A lot of cultures up here so… I blended a few ideas. I hope it’s okay.”

“Baby, it’s fine. It’s more than fine, it’s glorious.”

“Thank you.”

“Why’d you choose this dish, Jordan?” Jesus asked.

“Oh… right.” He cleared his throat. “I chose this dish because it was the first dish you made after… you know-…”

“Do not hide it,” God demanded. “Tell the whole of it.”

“After…” He held his head down. “After you aborted me… You went home and got drunk and- tried to cut yourself- which was sad, but-. Then… after God calmed you down. You rose up, went to the kitchen, and made this dish. I couldn’t figure out why, but God was saying you’d be able to explain?”

“Aww. Well, yes. It was a dish my grandmother made for us whenever we stayed with her. There was a lot of us kids, so- it was just one of those dishes that didn’t cost a lot of money, with the price of rice being so cheap and all. Pork was also one of the cheaper meats to buy from the grocery store so, that’s what she made,” she explained.

“One day, I asked grandma… her name is Eloise Mae George. She’s my mother’s mother. One of the sweetest people I had ever met in my life. I asked her to show me how to make it and she did. Now, she used a lot more butter than me and way more butter than you, but somehow, when she whipped that thang up… Lawd- excuse me. Boy, it was so delicious. I was surprised by how cheap it was to make, so that became one of my staples as I got older. That was one of the only meals I could afford at the time, working to become a model while also trying to do this customer service job for this phone company… I just didn’t have the money. It was all I could afford, and it reminded me of a better time. If I had to guess, I-… I’d say it was because I wanted to be a kid again, without responsibility. Innocent. And it reminded me of my grandmother, who passed away early in my life.”

“Oh ok,” Jordan answered. “That’s cool. I met Gigi. She is very sweet. I should’ve learned more from her then. I didn’t know the exact reason, so I didn’t want to bother her.”

“Oh, I’m sure she would’ve loved that.”

“She hasn’t cooked in a long time. I think she’s still on a break. Cooked a lot in life so… seems like it’s going to take a lifetime for her to get past that.”

“I’m sure I can get her to whip it up for us. I was one of her favorite grandchildren. That should be fun.”

He smiled innocently. “I would love that… mom.” He struggled.

“Son…” she smiled. “It is hard to say despite all the times I’ve said it in life… Oh, you must meet your siblings! Whenever they arrive…” She stopped. “I’m… I’m sorry… I… I’m very grateful to be able to address you as my son now- also. Thank you, my son.”

They all smiled. Another dish was set before them. It was steak, cooked medium well, but tender to the touch. Asparagus sat to the side of it in bunches. Mashed potatoes rounded out the plate. It was a meal she had dreamed of eating in some foreign land or even a foreign city. It made her dream of all the places she wished she could’ve seen in her life.

“I- uh…” Shameka spoke. “I made this meal because you always said you wanted to go to Paris and eat a nice steak or lamb with mashed potatoes and asparagus. It ended up being a dream only, but… I don’t know. I just wanted you to have that dream meal in a dreamy place. I mean, it’s beautiful, right?”

“Aww, baby that is so sweet! Yes. It is very beautiful.”

Shameka blushed. “Thank you. Like the others, it’s made the way you like it.”

She held her chest. “You all are as sweet as I could’ve ever hoped for.” She looked at the view. “This is the kind of view I’ve always wanted this meal with. Paris, Fiji, Hawaii. None of those places compares to this- not that I know.” She laughed. “But- as with everything- I just expect it to be better here.”

“Well Tay could probably make it better than me, but-.”

“Don’t do that,” Cantavious interrupted. “You did just fine.” He cut into the steak and showed her the slightly pink meat. “See? That’s good! Don’t downplay it!”

“Okay, okay, Tay. I hear you.”

“Tay?” Britney said. “That’s perfect. Tay. Tay Tay.”

He blushed as she played with his nickname. “It’s my nickname. You can call me that, if you want.”

“Whatever you want, baby boy. I’m just-.” She felt the tears rising. “I’m so happy. I never stopped wondering what happened to you all. I never stopped thinking of you. What you’d sound like, smell like, who changed your diapers. Whether you were jealous of all my other babies- I… It still doesn’t feel like I deserve this.”

“You do deserve this!” they all corrected in their own manner.

She laughed. “I love you all… I just need time to welcome the idea. You saw my life. I made mistake after mistake. I jumped from struggle to struggle. I struggled as a mother. I struggled as a wife. I just- struggled! I have no idea how I made it to 76, other than the grace of God.”

She looked at Jesus. He smiled as he mouthed. “Love you, baby.” She smiled in return. She then took a knife sitting on the table. She cut a piece of the steak off and chewed on it. The seasonings were simple but she could tell it had been smoked in a certain fragrance.

“It’s basic,” Shameka explained. “Salt and pepper, smoked with applewood chips. It’s really good with this.” She pointed a bowl of chimichurri sauce.

Britney cut another slice and dipped it in the sauce. She tasted the combination and smiled big. Quickly, she cut another piece of steak and dipped it in the sauce. She had never tried something so delicious in her life.

“Wow!” she exclaimed. That is all she could say.

Abruptly, she rose from her seat. She took a mouthful of potatoes, asparagus, and piece of steak swallowed in chimichurri sauce. She reached out for Shemeka. Shemeka went to grab her hand, but Britney motioned for her to eat a mouthful as well. She listened to her mother and stuffed her mouth with asparagus, mashed potatoes, and steak dipped in chimichurri sauce. She grabbed her mother’s hand and they hurried over to the amazing view. Only when Britney was able to see the view clearly did she begin to chew.

She turned Shemeka to the view, pointing at everything her eyes took in. Together, they chewed and enjoyed the view. Britney placed a hand on both shoulders and leaned her head on Shemeka’s arm. All of her kids were taller. She felt like the child.

She was a child when she terminated her pregnancies. She was altogether a different child then and now. Now, she was free of burden again. After they finished chewing, they stood for a moment and received the view.

“Nothing better than taking in steak, and a view, with my daughter,” she spoke. “I wish…” She hesitated. “I wish I had seen.”

Shemeka turned to her and hugged her. She waved to the others, who took their own mouthfuls and joined them in the same moment. They were a family reunited, and yet, a family doing something new together for the first time.

Britney fell to her knees. She wept bitterly as she held onto the rail for support. Jesus moved the children to the side and knelt beside her. He didn’t speak. He only placed a hand on her hand and waited. He could see what they could not. She was self-loathing again.

“If I had known,” she said. “If I had known it could feel this good.”

“You couldn’t have known,” He countered. “You were raised in a home absent of love. An imprisoned father. A jealous mother. Distant grandparents. Estranged aunts and uncles. You only knew to fend for yourself, and that couldn’t even stop the pain you endured. You only knew to protect you. It’s how you were raised. To be selfish and self-serving. There weren’t many places you knew to turn to in your younger years. You didn’t expand your mind until afterward.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked. “Why didn’t you stop me before I went to that clinic?”

“Remember when you first told yourself to get an abortion and you immediately said, ‘No, that’s not right’?” He asked. “Where do you think that thought came from?” She pondered. “Remember when I sent that older woman, Felicia, to tell you, you were glowing during that photoshoot when hadn’t even begun to show? Remember when you felt convicted walking past the protesters, James, Elizabeth, and Joshua,s begging you not to abort your child? If you think on it, I told you many times not to do this, but you had determined your steps each and every time. So, I chose to walk with you through that.”

“My God,” she wept. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Shhh,” He said. “It was forgiven a long time ago. Way before you knew about it. Long before you knew you were even capable. I saw the evil in you and I took it with Me to the grave. Way before you even started to repent. You know that. There is nothing else to apologize for. It is finished. It was finished a long time ago. Walk in that forgiveness.”

“I just-… look at them, Father. Look at these blessings I threw away. I-… Why do You still love me after what I’ve done?”

“Just as I knew the depth of your sin, I knew the height of your love… Now, which one do you think you’ve been displaying this evening?”

Her children picked them up. They huddled around her and embraced her. Jesus stepped back from them and smiled. “Are you not a mother?”

She looked at them. “I am.”

“Of how many children?”

She smiled. “Seven beautiful babies…”

“Oh, but you were a mother to many more than that.” He approached her. “Remember when you volunteered to fill backpacks for back-to-school programs? Remember when you bought Christmas gifts for children through a donation? Remember your nieces and nephews, and cousins? Remember your children’s friends? You did all this and more, because you were always mothering children. Now, think… How many times did you think of these three?”

“All the time,” she confessed.

“Exactly,” He said, wiping His face of tears. “Who would I be to know this and still hate you? To see the remorse, to feel the pain, to recognize about-face from the way you were, and still hate you? That is not who I am, nor is it who I want to be. You are my child. My daughter. And I would never give up on you so easily.”

Britney detached from her children and hugged God tightly. God kissed her several times on her forehead and hair as He held her tightly against his chest. She was the smallest in the room and yet the room was the most impacted by her. Jesus signaled for the others to return to the table, and when Britney was ready, she returned as well.

As she sat, Jesus reminded her, “While your actions said a lot, did you enjoy the steak, mashed potatoes, and asparagus?”

“Oh!” she turned to Shemeka. “Clearly, it was lovely. The best steak I’ve ever had. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Thank you!”

Angels walked around and placed a dessert before each of them.

“Now, Cantavious. Care to tell us what this is?”

“It’s a lava cake- well- kinda,” Cantavious said cheerfully. “It’s a brownie, for your brown skin. Uh- with ice cream! Cookies and cream, your favorite.”

“Oh, my favorite,” she said in unison.

“Yes. Uh-… I- uh- made it because I thought it explained you the best,” he admitted.

She tilted her head. “How so?”

“Well- um-… So… The brownie is the external, the brown skin, but also the hardened demeanor you had. I watched as you kept to yourself. You were short with people and not really inviting, but- uh- As you walked more with God, I noticed some of that shortness melt away, like lava. So- uh- While others in your younger years only witnessed the hardened side of you. Those who got to know you, like I did, got to witnessed the soft, sweet side of you- hence the ice cream. But cookies because- it’s your favorite- but- um- It’s also like- a representation of- some things you hadn’t completely removed. Some triggers and- just things…” he waited.

“Oh!” she replied, impressed. “A dessert with layers. Impressive!”

He smiled and sighed. The angels brought the lava brownie and ice cream. With a simple puncture from a spoon, fudge poured out of the brownie, blending with the ice cream. Everyone’s eyes got big as the dessert poured over their spoons.

“This ought to be good, too,” Jesus noted.

One by one, they partook in the dessert. Each managed to hum as the brownie melted in their mouths. It was the quietest they had been the whole afternoon. Britney looked around the table, flabbergasted by the beauty displayed by her children.

She watched each of her children eat. They were so dainty. Cantavious was the only one who ate with a lot of emotion. She wondered what made him want to sculpt his body the way he did. She also wondered why they looked almost like humans. She began to think of how different their lives would’ve been had she not aborted them. Would they have been athletes? Drug dealers? Models? Sinners? Saints? She wanted to feel like she made the right decision in aborting them, because their lives turned out better than anything she could’ve done on her own, but she knew that wasn’t the answer. She confirmed that suspicion when she found Jesus gazing at her.

He said plainly. “No parent should be estranged from their children.” He wiped his mouth with a cloth. “You missed their first steps. You missed their first words. You robbed them of the first hugs, kisses, afternoon naps, and most of all, you robbed them of a full experience with Me.”

He continued, “They do not know of My mercy to the same depth as you. They do not know of My love to the same degree. You robbed them of that. Not only did you rob them and yourself, but you robbed Me. I had plans for each of them and you intervened because of fear, pettiness, and instability. There is nothing you spared them of. I do that. What you think is arrogance. Magnifying the life you lived and its hardship above the will, love, and might of Me. You did not spare them. I did. You lacked foresight and made your life harder than it should’ve been. Piled up sins, invoked My wrath, and ushered in consequence after consequence.”

His tone became harsh to her, “I would’ve raised your boys to be pillars strong and big enough to lift you out of your misery, but you robbed Me of that opportunity, as so many before and after you have done. You played god, taking innocent lives into your hands, and ended up embodying satan. If not for My Son, and for your faith and repentance…”

He calmed and finished with, “You gave into fear, which I’m not blaming you for. I am only speaking truthfully, and you know it is true. You gave in and let it control you. I would’ve made you an example of motherhood. You had the heart for it all along. You could not see the future. You could not predict how many people I needed them to see nor how many I needed to see them. You stopped friendships from blossoming, fathers from changing their ways, and ended a line of believers destined to come from your seed. You took My desires and gutted them.”

She bowed. “I’m sorry…”

“You are already forgiven,” He declared. “There is no more to apologize for. That’s what this meal is. There is only opportunity to move forward in love. To know your eldest children. To discover the hearts created by your blood. To put face to name. No more dreams. No more imagination. They are here. They are willing. Know them and be healed.”

He placed a hand on Cantavious’ back. “Did you know he is also a marvelous painter on top of an athlete?” He grabbed Shemeka’s hand. “And she is such a good poet.” He pointed to Jordan. “And he can make some of the most bizarre contraptions from things he finds lying around. A masterful engineer. If you are still looking for answers to questions, let the questions be these. Who are these three? How great are they? I know you will find a most wonderful answer.”

“I…” She froze. “There is just so much.”

“You’re already taking your first steps,” He encouraged. “Just keep walking.”

She somberly nodded. Then, she refocused her attention on her children. They had facial features that reminded her of family. They each had a little something from their fathers. Cantavious had his dad’s eyes. Shemeka had her father’s hair. Jordan was slender like his father. They all had something.

Jesus signaled for the angels to gather the plates. They moved to clear the table but Britney stopped them.

“Actually,” she said. “Can you leave the plates? Can you instead fill them again? I’d like to sit with my babies for a while, if you don’t mind.”

The angels waited for Jesus, who replied, “It’s quite lovely being able to sit with your children, isn’t it?”

She smiled. Thus, Jesus signaled for the angels to bring more food. They filled their plates again. However, none of the food was touched. Each plate became a candle, only sitting there for the aroma – a different kind of consumption.

They talked, and would continue long after the angels had cleaned and departed from the kitchen. Long after the sun had set. Long after the food had chilled. They conversed until the lifetime they spent apart felt like a day, and the pain of before felt more like a breath before the dive into healing. The atmosphere shifted.

By the time the conversations had satisfied, God was hunched over the rail, staring into His hands under a moonlight above the mountains in the distance. The children had taken over the conversation, displaying a connection to each other that Britney just couldn’t intertwine with yet. They had lived full lives in this place, so it made sense for them to be closer. Jordan had taken his role as big brother seriously, and that intention passed down with each sibling. Britney was just fine sitting and listening to their interaction, but something called her to God.

She approached Him as He stared into His hands. Before she could reach Him, tears dripped from His eyes. The droplets splashed onto His hands, but He did not move. She was concerned for Him.

“Did you know there’s an entire community for children thrown into rivers, pools, or bathtubs?” He spoke. “Thousands of them…” He refused to wipe His eyes. “There’s another village-worth of children cooked alive in microwaves and ovens, or left in cars during a hot summer day. Another for children shaken and beaten to death. These children were not even alive for five years, yet their number reaches the millions…” He said.

She stood still, unaware of how to help. All she could ask was, “Why are you telling me this?”

He laughed, but then looked away. Finally, He wiped His face. “Because soon I will bring justice to these unrepentant murderers…” He turned to her. “And their children will need fathers and mothers to comfort them when their parents are given their final judgment.” There was wrath in His eyes, but He closed them quickly. He looked at her again and asked, “Do you think you could be a mother to more than seven?”

She looked down and thought. “I… I don’t mind a big family.”

He smiled, wiped His eyes again, approached her, and hugged her. With a simple kiss upon her temple, He said, “I wish they had all learned as you did.”

“I had a good Father.”

“They all did… but not many had the heart that listens.”

He kissed her temple again. They held each other for a moment before the laughter of the three children returned them to the table. They reengage in the reunion filled with the aromas of food from a world quickly forgotten. What remained was an opportunity to correct a mistake made from a life lived long ago.

END