The time was nearing six in the evening when Ibie James drove her mint green Hyundai car into the fenced-in compound of the grey and blue painted building that housed four apartments, one of which she had been living in with her daughter, Grace for over seven years. She waved briefly at the young security man who stood on a side of the widely opened black gate.
Some of her neighbours’ children were playing in the large compound, talking and laughing as they jumped ropes and rode bicycles. Watching out for them, she carefully drove to her assigned parking space.
On seeing Grace’s official car, a midnight-blue Mazda 626 where it was parked, she was surprised that Grace, a fresh lawyer who worked with Lawal & Adesola Chambers had returned home. Ibie usually got back before her as Jones Cosmetics Manufacturing Company where she was the General Manager was just about thirty minutes’ drive away.
Ibie, five feet-seven inches tall and slightly light in complexion, turned off the engine of the car. Then she got down and closed the door gently. As she walked round to the front passenger side, she straightened the lavender pink skirt suit she wore. The glittering peep-toe shoes with platform that she wore matched her suit. Her jewellery, including watch and the hand chain was silver tainted with gold.
Opening the passenger door, she took a document file and her handbag from the floor of the seat. The black leather bag had been given to her by Grace two weeks ago in celebration of Mother’s Day in Lily of the Valley Centre, the church where they both worshipped. The parish was one of the eleven branches of The Life Church, and Mother’s Day was celebrated annually on the second Sunday in the month of May.
She locked up the car with the remote control key in her hand. As she walked in, she saw one of her neighbours. She waved and greeted him with a smile.
She entered the house, took the sweeping staircase to the first floor and turned left toward her apartment. Using her key, she unlocked the front door and stepped into the coolness of the spacious beautiful three-bedroom apartment. She locked back the door.
The cream-coloured living room which had a high ceiling finished with Plaster of Paris, and windows that overlooked the backyard was elegantly furnished, complete with crimson red sofas with flared arms, a matching center rug, two ceiling fans and a window unit air-conditioner. Two framed motivational messages and two photos: one of herself and the other of Grace hung on the walls. Also, a huge full-length portrait painting of herself, dressed in traditional attire was in a corner of the large room while the dining area was on a side by the kitchen.
Her daughter was not in sight.
Knowing Grace must be in her room, she called out, “I’m back.”
The single mother of one removed her high-heeled shoes and sat down tiredly on the three-seater sofa. The day had been very busy for her at work. She was glad it was Monday and she didn’t need to go to church for a worship service.
Opening her handbag, she brought out her cell phone, a sheet of paper, and a pen. She had to call Pastor Femi Crowther, the pastor in charge of Lily of the Valley Centre.
She was the pastor in charge of the singles department but she worked hand in hand with the pastor in charge of the parish just as every head of department and minister was expected to do.
Pastor Lucky had been the pastor of the parish for five years but when he moved with his family on official cross-posting to Cote d’Ivoire five months ago in December, Pastor Femi was transferred from the headquarters of the church to take over and he resumed on the second day of January.
Pastor Femi, whom Ibie guessed should be about her age of forty six years or a few years older, was a widower having lost his wife to cancer as he told the ministers during a meeting. He was the pastor in charge of the branch of the church in New York, USA but had relocated to Nigeria last year with his two children, both teenagers.
Immediately he got to Lily of the Valley Centre, he set to work, quickly blended and got to know most of the members. Everyone liked him and found him easy to talk to.
This evening, Ibie needed to get his approval concerning the theme for the coming Singles’ Summit so she could forward it to the printers. She would want the flyers and banners for the programme to be ready by Saturday so that she could hand them over to the committee in charge of publicity after service on Sunday. The details of the programme would also have to be announced on Sunday.
As she searched for Pastor Femi’s name on her phone, her heart fluttered slightly. This is silly really, she told herself.
When the tall, dark-skinned and handsome pastor got to the church and told them he was a widower, Ibie prayed that day that if he had the mind to remarry and was the right man for her, God should connect them.
She was sure that all the twenty three ladies above the age of thirty in the parish must have done the same thing as well: hoped and prayed! But the pastor could have even found a woman to marry or might not plan to remarry, for all they knew.
Men still approached Ibie for a relationship but she had not found a man worth having among them. Presently, a director of the company she worked with, a French man had been showing interest in her. He would like to marry her but she had told him she was not interested because they were not of the same faith. She would not compromise her walk with God just to get married. That would be a recipe for disaster. She needed a certain type of man: good and godly.
She still prayed regularly to have a husband but she must admit that there were times she wasn’t as hopeful as she used to be. She used to pray to get an older man to marry but at this point in time, she wouldn’t complain if she was the older one, as long as the age gap was not much. Because of her age, she knew that quite a number of men were out of her reach. As such, whenever she met a man who was a good Christian, old enough, single and available, she prayed fervently.
She took good care of herself and was still beautiful – even if she had to say so herself – but who would want to marry a woman with a twenty four-year-old daughter when there were many single ladies without such a baggage? And in the case of Pastor Femi, her daughter, Grace was even older than his two children, Abbey and Bola. Why should he consider someone like her for marriage?
At a time, friends and relatives asked her, “When are you going to get married? What are you waiting for?” With time however, such questions began to reduce until they eventually stopped. What people told her now was “We are praying for you,” “Don’t worry, God will give you a man to marry.”
When she was in her twenties, it never occurred to her that she would be unmarried till now. She sometimes wondered if she was destined to get married. Was there a curse in her family or was she suffering for certain sins she committed when she was younger? Could this delay have something to do with the wife of Grace’s father? Did she curse Ibie when she had an affair with the woman’s husband and had a child for him? But that happened when she was in her twenties and did not know God!
These depressing thoughts came to Ibie’s mind often but whenever they did, she rejected them and confessed God’s promises to her instead. No curse would work against her. She knew that nothing was impossible for God to do. She believed in miracles but … could it happen in this case?
She also knew that she had reasons to be grateful to God in spite of everything. Today, the last Monday in the month of May; she received a letter of promotion at work. And in about a month’s time, July specifically, she would be forty six years old. She also had Grace.
Femi was her pastor anyway, Ibie reminded herself regularly. She must be careful so she wouldn’t make a nuisance of herself. To keep her emotions in check, she tried to avoid him unless she had a good reason to see him. She couldn’t help wondering why Femi returned to Nigeria with his children.
To be continued.
Author: Pastor Taiwo Iredele Odubiyi
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