One Prayer Away by Kendra Norman-Bellamy Page B

Renee had been hurt in some small way for the callous things she said would have certainly satisfied Beverly’s human side—the side of her that grew up in the rough neighborhoods of Miami, where people like Renee were often dealt with harshly.
    Prayer had indeed been the lifeline that saved Beverly from what could easily have been a total meltdown after her husband of thirty-one years left. Another tear dropped from her eyes and landed on the calendar that covered much of her desk. Today would have been their thirty-fourth anniversary, the third one that had come and gone since Lester abandoned her for a girl almost half his age. It was only on their anniversary date that Beverly cried, but unlike the early days of her ordeal, she no longer saw her tears as weakness, but as a symbol of strength. In spite ofthe hurt and shame of it all, she had risen victoriously and had proven to herself as well as anyone else who doubted her ability to live independently, that she could.
    Beverly often admitted to patients in her sessions that being alone was one of her greatest fears. She’d gone from depending on her parents to depending on her husband. Before Lester’s desertion, Beverly had never lived alone and had never had to solely sustain herself. For the first few weeks, she’d fretted about the little things: how she would be able to pay her mortgage; how she’d function, no longer having a man to depend upon for the feeling of safety during the night hours; who would keep the car serviced and the lawn manicured? Many responsibilities that she’d never had to worry about were thrown at her all at once.
    In that moment of her life, Beverly found herself understanding why many of the battered women she saw made the dangerous choice to go back to their abusers. Fear controlled them and made them believe that they
needed
these men in their lives in order to survive. Most times, it was the men who had convinced them that they were nothing without them. And in the end, no matter what Beverly told them in their conferences with her, the women chose to go back. Fear was such a controlling factor, and when Beverly finally came to the understanding that what she was feeling was fear, she was able to face it, make her prayers specific, and trust God for the strength she needed.
    She hadn’t seen Lester in almost three years, and the river of love that she used to have for him had turned into a cesspool a long time ago. Still, sometimes she reflected on the hurt that his downright disrespect of her had caused. When Beverly wept now, she felt as though she was not only crying for herself, but for Virtue and all eighty-eight of the women and children who currently occupied the beds at HCW. Degreed education had made Beverlyqualified to tell the women at the shelter how to go on, but divine experience had made her worthy of
showing
them.
    Using a soft handkerchief, she dabbed at each eye, careful not to smudge the foundation that she’d so carefully applied that morning. Her crying cycle had ended, and Beverly found reprieve in knowing that it would be at least another year before she’d have to do it again. It would be another hour before her last client for the day would arrive, so she settled back in her chair and took advantage of the free time that she had by sorting through the mail that had been placed in her box earlier in the afternoon. None of it was urgent; it was mostly sales flyers and other advertisements. Beverly opened an envelope from Black Expressions Book Club and began flipping through the pages of their most recent catalog, searching for a book that might catch her eye. When her office closed over the approaching Christmas holiday, she’d need something to read while she sat snuggled in her favorite blanket near her fireplace.
    With both her parents deceased, and since she and Lester never had any children or grandchildren, Christmas had never been a big day of celebration in