Dance Into Destiny (26 page)

A
few weeks later, Keeva rolled over, reaching blindly to silence the annoying phone. “Hello?”

“Keev, it's me. Get dressed. I want to take you somewhere.”

“Shara, it's 6:30 on a Sunday morning. Are you insane?”

“Come on, Keeva, this is really important. I'll pick you up at 7:15.”

Keeva gave Shara the evilest look she could muster when she pulled up at her apartment building. “This better be good.”

“It will be. I promise.”

Keeva sat in a sleepy daze in the car for a while. She brought her hand to her mouth to cover a yawn.

“Keeva, your finger is empty!”

Keeva finished yawning. “I know. Mark came over last night and I gave the ring back.”

“Oh my goodness. Why didn't you tell me? I would have let you rest this morning.”

Keeva waved her concern away. “No, it's cool. I'm fine, actually. Anyway, I probably need one of your little surprises right about now.”

“Are you okay? How did it go?”

Keeva rolled her eyes. “How do you think?”

She closed her eyes and laid her head back on the headrest, thinking about the previous evening.

 

She knew giving the ring back would be difficult, but she hadn't expected it would be that bad.

Mark had paced back and forth in her loft. “You get in with these holy rollers and all of a sudden you're throwing away everything we've worked so hard for! What did those people do to you? What about our future together? What about all our plans?”

“Our plans? Those were
your
plans. I don't care about the big house, fancy cars and country clubs and all that stuff. And I certainly don't want to be a politician's wife like my mom.”

“I can't believe you're saying this.”

“Mark, I've been unhappy in this relationship for a long time. I've been trying to tell you that. I can't marry you. Why can't you accept that?”

“Because I love you. How can you say you're unhappy? We've had a wonderful four years together.”

“You've had four wonderful years. I'm telling you I've been unhappy.”

“I can't believe you've let them brainwash you. I've heard about those holy roller cults, but I never imagined you'd get taken in by one. You're too intelligent for that.”

“It's not a cult. And this has nothing to do with the church. This is about you and me. Don't bring the church into it.”

“How can I not? Our relationship was perfectly fine until you started going there. They've changed you. Why can't you see that? I don't know who you are anymore.”

“You never knew who I was before.
I
didn't know who I was before.”

Her voice softened. “For the first time in my life, I feel like I'm finding out who I am and know what I want out of life. I've never felt that before. I always did what my parents did, and thought what my parents thought, and accepted the dreams they had for me and let go of my own. Then when we got together, I did what you did, and thought what you thought. Now I want to be my own person. I want to live my own dreams.”

“Oh, so this is my fault now? I was controlling you and keeping you from living your dreams? I can't believe I'm hearing this. Why don't you call me when you're making sense.”

 

Keeva jumped, remembering the force with which the door had rattled from his anger.

“Keeva?” Shara looked over at her.

“You know what's funny? When he left, I sat there, waiting to cry, but no tears came. All I felt was . . . relief. I mean—I know it will probably hurt later, but . . .” She let out a long breath. “I don't think it's over in his mind, though. He left screaming for me to call him when I'm making sense. I hope he doesn't try to drag this out.”

Shara rubbed her arm.

They pulled up at a large church building.

Keeva read the sign,
New Life Christian Church
. “What's this?”

Shara answered, “This is one of our sister churches. Bishop Thompson really helped Pastor Kendrick out when he was first getting started. I want to show you something.”

Keeva was overwhelmed by the size of the church. The sanctuary was huge like a performing arts theater. The choir looked like an army.

They had two dancers on stage during the praise and worship. Keeva was sure that was what Shara wanted her to see. Was that what Shara meant by dancing being about Christ? They were good and it was a nice addition to the praise and worship, but it still wasn't anything like Alvin Ailey.

A large choir sang and then a sign flashed at the bottom of the screens,
Epichoreago Dance Troupe.

Shara bounced in her seat. “Here we go.”

One dancer came out on the stage and the music started. Keeva recognized the song, “Set the Atmosphere,” from one of Shara's CD's—Kurt Carr's
Awesome Wonder
. It was one of those songs Shara drove her crazy with, playing it over and over.

The dancer moved passionately to the words of the song and then was joined by other dancers who came down the aisles. They all met at the front and danced a perfectly choreographed worship scene. Their white, satin outfits flowed and billowed with every movement they did.

Tears streamed down Keeva's face. The dancing was beautiful, but it was more than that. Something deep inside of her was stirring, engaging in a dance of its own. She felt as if something were coming alive in her soul, like things were coming together and making sense. She stood while the dancers were still dancing, overwhelmed by the beauty of it. The tears kept flowing and she lifted her hands. She wasn't the only one moved by it. By the time the song reached its climax, others were standing and lifting their hands also.

The CD stopped playing, but the church musicians picked up right where it left off. The dancers kept dancing, improvising. People flowed down to the altar. Keeva didn't know why, but she was drawn also.

She was feeling that God-thing again, coming over her in waves. It was so strong this time she could barely stand up. She started trembling. Bishop Thompson suddenly got up, walked across the stage and stood in front of her. He whispered in her ear and then softly touched her forehead.

Keeva felt a huge wave of the God-thing, and next thing she knew, an usher was helping her up off the floor. She slipped back into her seat beside Shara.

When they got back to the car, Keeva said, “Shara, I'm never going anywhere with you again. I can't believe he pulled a Benny Hinn on me!”

“What?”

“That falling out on the floor thing, like they do on Benny Hinn's show. You know that guy on the Christian television station.”

Shara stifled a giggle.

“What happened to me?”

“I don't know. You're the one that fell out on the floor.”

“Shara! Explain it to me. I thought that stuff was fake when I saw it on TV.”

“You tell
me
what happened.”

Keeva put her hand to her cheek. “I was watching the dancers and . . . it spoke to me. When I was watching the lead dancer, it was like something in her was talking to something in me. Then Bishop Thompson came up and whispered something in my ear like he knew me. What was
that
?”

Shara said, “Remember the first time you met Mother Hobbs and you swore I told her something about you, and you asked me if she was psychic? And then when Pastor preached that sermon the day you got saved and you swore I had been talking to him? It's the Holy Spirit talking through a prophetic gift.”

“Then he barely touched me and I felt the God-thing like in praise and worship, and—”

“The God-thing?”

“Yeah, that's my name for it. Sometimes in praise and worship, or when Pastor Kendrick is preaching, I feel this thing. It's like waves of . . . I don't know, goodness and warmth and love . . . like electric tingles. Anyway, I felt it when he touched me, but it was much bigger, like a big tidal wave. I felt like I was engulfed in . . . I don't know—the God-thing is all I can say. Then I was getting up. What
is
that?”

Shara smiled. “Actually, the God-thing isn't such a bad name for it. I guess that's really what it is—the presence of God, or the Holy Spirit. What did he whisper in your ear?”

Keeva's eyes sparkled. “That God called me to be His dancer—to dance to display His glory. Not only will I dance, but I will lead a group of dancers. I'll bring life to those I lead, and my dance troupe will bring new life to those that see us dance. Then he said God was releasing His anointing on me to fulfill His purpose for my life.”

“Keeva, that's a great word!” Shara slowed down as she approached a stop sign.

“What do you mean?”

“That's what we call it, a word from God. It's like God sending you a message through another person. Sometimes He talks to us through other people to give us direction or to confirm something that we're thinking, but we're not sure it's Him.”

“Does that mean that's what my purpose and destiny is?”

“Sounds like that's a part of it. You'll have to seek Him for direction and insight.”

“What do you mean, ‘seek Him'? I always hear you guys saying ‘God said' or ‘the Lord told me'. What does that mean? You can actually hear God talking to you?”

Shara wrinkled her nose. “You don't hear an actual voice. You just get this impression in your spirit.”

Keeva frowned.

Shara was quiet for a second as she looked over her shoulder, then sped up to merge onto the freeway. She continued, “It's almost like thoughts inside your head that you hear, but it's not you thinking them, you're hearing them, but they don't sound like a voice, they sound like thoughts. It has this feeling to it though, like the God-thing feeling and you know it's not from you, it has to be from Him.”

“Well, how do you know it's Him and not you?”

“I don't know. You just know. There's this scripture that says ‘my sheep know my voice.' I guess it's all a part of building a relationship. When I first met you, I couldn't recognize your voice on the phone. You'd have to say, ‘this is Keeva.' Now that we're close friends, I could pick out your voice in a noisy room full of people. It's the same way with God. As we familiarize ourselves with hearing His voice by spending time in His presence, it becomes easier and easier to hear Him. Of course, you have to check it with the Word. If it doesn't line up, it's not Him. It takes some time to learn how to hear God and even longer to trust that it's Him speaking. I think the most important thing to realize is that He's always talking and wants to communicate with us about even the smallest details in our lives.”

Keeva shook her head. “There's so much to learn about God, I feel like I'll never understand Him.”

“The day you fully understand Him is the day He ceases to be God. I'm sure we'll spend all of eternity still searching out the mysteries of God. He's too awesome for any human mind to understand.”

“Yeah, I guess that's part of what makes Him God,” Keeva said.

Shara looked at the clock on the dashboard. “You want me to drop you off at home?”

“Nope. It's still early. If you stop driving like I'm Miss Daisy, we can get to our church in time for praise and worship.”

Shara smiled. “Our church, huh?”

Keeva nodded. “Yeah. Our church.”

K
eeva found herself struggling to pay attention to her client. The fall semester was halfway over. She had started her counseling practicum and was working with real people.

She looked at the frumpy woman sitting in front of her. She was a thirty-seven year-old mother of three and was worried about everything. She worried that her kids weren't getting the best education in their private school and that she wasn't spending enough time with them because they were starting to act out. She was worried that her husband was getting bored with her and that he may have an affair if she couldn't keep him interested. She was concerned that the property values in her exclusive neighborhood weren't rising as fast as in the neighborhood a few blocks over.

Keeva had to work hard not to snap in disdain that the woman's problems weren't real. She pictured herself screaming, “
You want to see problems? Go down to Bankhead Highway and see the kids there whose parents are on crack and would just as soon sell them for their next fix. Check out the sixteen-year-old selling her body so she can get high. All you need to do is get a new hairstyle, put on some makeup, and for God's sake, get some decent clothes. Your kids need a good beatin' or at least to be told ‘no' for once in their life. Go home and do all this, and I promise your sad little life will get a lot better.”

Keeva felt guilty for feeling that way. To this woman, her problems were as real as a crack addict's. She imagined her on Oprah, crying into the tissue Oprah handed her. She saw Dr. Phil giving her the advice she needed to make her life better.

“What do you think?” the woman asked.

Keeva looked at her, startled, realizing she hadn't been paying any attention. She recovered quickly. “What I think doesn't really matter now does it, Mrs. Kennedy? What do
you
think? What decisions do you need to make for
you
? What choices will empower you?” She put on her best concerned face.

“You're right. I guess the answers are really deep down. I need to listen to my inner self. I saw that on Oprah the other day. She and Dr. Phil were discussing . . .” she trailed off into another flood of words.

Keeva zoned out again, resisting the temptation to look at her watch. What would Shara do with this patient? She pictured her laying hands on the woman and casting out the spirit of worry and self-pity. She could see Mrs. Kennedy falling out on the floor, slain in the spirit. She must have giggled because Mrs. Kennedy stopped mid-sentence and looked at her in horror.

Keeva froze
.
She wanted to smack herself. She could hear her mother's voice in her ear chastising her that her daydreaming was going to get her in big trouble one day.
Think girl, think!
“I'm sorry, Mrs. Kennedy, I was imagining something. This is a new therapeutic technique we're using. I want you to close your eyes with me and imagine your husband . . .”

By the time she finished, Mrs. Kennedy was almost on the floor . . . in a fit of laughter.

“We call this technique creative imagery.” Keeva coined a new term as it came to her. “I want you to use this every time you're overwhelmed with your problems. Whether it be your husband, your children, the center where you volunteer, whatever it is, use creative imagery to bring the situation to a place where you can handle it.” She looked at her watch. “Oh dear, we were having such fun, I lost track of the time. I don't want to be late for my next client.”

Sorry for that lie, God
. Thankfully, she didn't have anyone else. She couldn't take another person today.

Mrs. Kennedy wiped the tears of laughter away. “Thank you so much, Ms. Banks. I haven't had so much fun and laughed so much in years.”

Then you definitely need to get a life
.

Keeva felt sorry for her. It was sad that that the most fun she'd had in years was a laugh on the couch with her therapist. Keeva was glad she had been able to help. It felt good to know she had been able to aid in alleviating another person's suffering.

This might not be so bad
. Keeva had to shake herself to remember the only reason she had gotten Mrs. Kennedy to laugh was because she had been so bored and annoyed with her that she hadn't paid attention to her meaningless rambling and had had to make up a “therapeutic technique” to save her grade.

 

Shara had a fit of laughter as Keeva recounted the Mrs. Kennedy story to her later in the church office. Keeva had stopped by before going up to the dance studio.

“Now what did you call it? ‘Creative imagery?' What were you thinking about anyway that you weren't paying attention?” Shara asked.

Shara almost fell out of her chair laughing when Keeva recounted the scene of Mrs. Kennedy being slain in the spirit. “Your imagination is out of control, girl. You gotta rein that thing in, or better still, put it to some good use other than tricking your patients.”

“Like what?”

“Write stories or plays or choreograph some of those dances you see in your head when your favorite songs are playing. Do something with it, girl, otherwise it's going to keep sneaking up on you at the most inopportune times.”

Often, they'd be driving or studying and Keeva would slip into a daydream listening to music. She could actually see images in her head of her and the kids dancing. She smiled as she thought of a piece she and Shanique were working on together. Ever since that day at New Life Christian Center, she had been flooded with creative ideas for choreography.

“See, there you go again. Earth to Keeva. Seriously though Keev, what are you going to do when you've got one Mrs. Housewife right after another one, all day long, every day, five days a week?”

Keeva shuddered. She had been thinking about that a lot since she started her practicum. She couldn't even make it through one patient without taking a trip to her dream world. What would she do when she had to see them all day to pay the bills? She had never actually thought about what it would really be like being a therapist. She did like helping people. It just seemed more meaningful when she was helping her kids.

The door flew open and Danae ran in screaming. “Miss Keeva, Miss Shara! There's a fight on the basketball court. This time it's serious.”