Sewn with Joy (29 page)

Alicia strode out and slid her arm through the crook of Joy's arm. “You're a visiting cousin—my visiting cousin. It'll be fun.”

“I…I don't know what to say.”

“Say you'll let us shoot two more scenes. Then we'll be done.”

“Yes, fine. Let's get it over with.” She picked up a copy of the script and scanned it. “But if the bishop says anything negative, he's going to have to talk to my mother about this.”

If Joy's nerves weren't already shot over the idea of having to act in more scenes, sitting down with the small group of cast and crew for their first Bible study did the trick.

As soon as lunch was over and all the Amish women had gone, the group sat around a long plastic table someone had set up just outside the dressing room. Alicia, Georgia, and Kristen were there, in addition to some of the crew. Kristen sat down next to Alicia and then turned to her. “Oh, I hope this chair was open. You're not saving it for Rowan, are you?”

“No, Rowan's not coming. He's sitting outside today eating his lunch. I invited him, but he said he wasn't interested.”

“Wasn't interested?” The cameraman, Steve, shook his head. “Rowan told me he became a Christian. I've even seen him reading his Bible a few times when I get here before everyone else.”

“He's changed,” one of the grips commented. “I've worked with him on other jobs, and he's a lot different.”

“I think it's me,” Alicia stated bluntly. “If I wasn't here, he would be.”

Joy ran her finger over the cover of her Bible. “I don't know if that's true. Maybe he just…” She tried to think of an excuse, but there wasn't one.

“He's been colder to me lately. Ever since I mentioned the idea of a Bible study.” Alicia opened the Bible in front of her—the one she'd taken from the nightstand in her hotel—and thumbed through it. “I'm sure he thinks this isn't for real. That I'm just trying to get his attention.”

“It's his loss then.” Kristen patted Alicia's hand. “We know you're not doing this just to impress him.”

The others around the table nodded, but Joy didn't quite understand. What she did understand was that the others were waiting for her to start the Bible study. Without hesitating, she opened her Bible to Psalms.

“One psalm has meant a lot to me. Psalm 86. The psalms are actually songs, most of them written about twenty-five hundred years ago. Many were written by a man named David, and others were written by men whose names have been lost in time.”

“Well, that sucks. Writing a great song that stands the test of time and no one remembers your name,” Steven said.

“You shouldn't use the word
sucks
at a Bible study,” Kristen chided as she fiddled with one of the bobby pins keeping her bun in place.

“This is a Bible study?” asked another of the grips. “I just thought we were getting more pie.” He took a piece from the pie on the table in front of Joy.

“You get both.” Joy met his eyes with a pleased smile. “Pie… and we're going to talk about God and the Bible. I don't think we need to use the term
study
.”

“Yeah, it sounds like something old church ladies do, and Alicia is as far as you can get from an old church lady.” Steven chuckled.

Surprisingly, Alicia ignored the comment and instead handed her Bible to Joy. “Can you find it for me? I'm not sure where to look.”

“Sure. The Bible has sixty-six books—sort of like chapters—and Psalms is in the first part, which is called the Old Testament.” Joy glanced around, and saw that she was losing her audience. “But the easiest way to find Psalms without looking at the table of contents is with this trick.” She placed the Bible on the table in front of her. She stood it on its spine and placed her finger in the middle. And then she let the Bible fall open, half on either side. “This is Psalm 35. If we just flip a few more chapters later, we'll get to Psalm 86. Here, let me read the first verse: ‘Bow down thine ear, O Lord, hear me: for I am poor and needy.' What do you think that means?”

“Bow down your ear?” one man asked. “Sounds like this David dude was asking God to lean down to listen to him.”

Joy couldn't help but smile. She tried to imagine one of their ministers saying
dude
, but she couldn't. “Yes, that's wonderful. What else?”

Alicia leaned over her Bible, studying the words. “It says he was poor and needy, so he must be an ordinary person—not rich or anything.”

“Maybe he's even homeless,” Georgia commented.

“Do you think so?” Kristen scowled. “How would we still
have his words? Homeless people didn't read and write back then. Maybe he just thought he was poor.”

The way they were listening and interacting brought a surge of happiness to Joy. “Actually, David was a king. He had a palace made of gold, silver, and expensive wood. It just goes to show that it doesn't really matter what you have. You have nothing if you don't have God.”

The conversation continued. Many commented about some of the richest people they knew who were miserable.

“A couple of the best actors I've worked with have committed suicide,” Alicia said softly. Then she looked away.

An uneasy feeling settled in Joy's gut, and she dared to speak what everyone was thinking. “I imagine someone around this table has considered suicide, but I hope all of us know that is never the answer. The true answer is doing what David did. He turned to God. Finding hope is understanding our own need, understanding that even if we have everything, without God we have nothing. It's asking God to bow down and listen to us. And it's feeling free to say what we need to say to Him without being afraid.”

No one around the table spoke, but she could tell they were considering her words.

They read the rest of the psalm, and when they were finished Alicia rose and left the table without a comment.

“What's got into her?” Kristen asked, watching her go.

Steven scratched his head. “Maybe she's still upset about Rowan.”

“Or maybe she's thinking about a friend who committed suicide.”

Joy nodded. “Reading God's Word has a way of digging up stuff. God's Word is often called a light, and sometimes when light shines into places that have been dark awhile, it's hard to face what's hidden there.”

Kristen leaned forward and shut her Bible. “That's easy for you to talk about. You haven't lived the way many of us have, Joy.” Her voice was curt, and Joy tried to ignore the sting it caused inside.

“I have junk hidden inside too,” Joy managed to say. “Pride is a big one. Thinking that being good is good enough—that I really don't need God. That's probably the biggest sin of all.”

A few of the others nodded, but she could tell they didn't believe her. Yet the more time she spent at the set, the more she knew it to be true. She had a relationship with God, and knew better, and still tried to do things her own way. Wasn't that a greater sin?

Joy closed her own Bible and rose. “If any of you would like to meet again tomorrow, we can—”

“Wait! We're not done yet.” Steven pulled off his baseball cap and pressed it to his chest. “It doesn't seem right ending without praying. Can I say something, Joy?”

“Of course you can.” She sat back down, folded her hands, and lowered her head.

“Dear God, thank You for bringing Joy here to remind us what really matters in this life. Thank You for bending down Your ear to us. Uh, amen.”

A chorus of amens echoed around the table, and they all went separate ways. Joy sat in her chair for a moment, content. She'd forgotten about her own upcoming scene until Georgia spoke.

“The next scene is a close-up, and Rowan wants to make sure we have some powder on your face. Follow me.”

Joy followed, and with each step her nerves shimmied up her arms and down into her fingers, causing them to tremble. What had she gotten herself into this time? She wasn't looking forward to finding out.

It had been too easy to memorize lines. Too easy to play a part. Too easy to forget the bishop was against the television show. Too easy to accept the praise and accolades of a job well done, and that's what bothered her most. So when the rest of the cast and crew stayed at the set for dinner, Joy excused herself and hurried to the quilt shop. She knew it would be empty, and that's just what she needed—space to think, time to pray.

Fading sunlight filtered through the windows, yet the burden Joy carried seemed to darken the room with each breath. Was it just a month ago when she'd chatted with Elizabeth about how she appreciated being Amish? She'd always liked knowing exactly what was expected of her, but during the last few weeks those lines blurred. She'd dared to step out, and she knew one thing for certain—the line between black and white wasn't as clearly drawn as she'd expected.

Instead of unlocking the door and turning over the sign in the window to Open, as she usually did when she entered these doors, Joy moved to the small room Elizabeth had once used as an office. These days Elizabeth had a bookkeeper take care of all the books off-site, but the older woman occasionally slipped in the back “to catch her breath,” as she liked to say. Joy wasn't surprised to find a notebook and Bible on the desk. She sat down and looked at the book.

“What do You require of me?” she whispered, knowing God heard and trusting He would answer.

In her mind's eye, she saw a row of people—her parents, those in her community, the local ministers, and even the bishop. Her whole life she'd watched and listened to them all. Like Matthew, she'd been quick to learn the rules and consistently stick to them. Yet not once had she questioned whose rules they were. Were they really from God, for God?

Tears filled Joy's eyes, and she rested her elbows on the desk, leaning over it. “I wish the answers were more plain,” she mumbled. “Why can't You just send me a letter and tell me what to do? Elizabeth says to listen to Your still, small voice, but how can I be sure? What if I make a mistake? What if I lose them…him…?”

Emotion caught in her throat, and a tear tumbled down her cheek. The teardrop fell onto Elizabeth's open notebook and the words the older woman had written there, and Joy quickly brushed it off with her thumb. Her tear smeared a word that caught her eye.
Grace.
It was underlined three times. Joy couldn't help herself. She had to know what that word meant to Elizabeth. She leaned forward to read her friend's words.

Grace is knowing I can't do anything to make God love me more. Grace is knowing nothing I do will make God love me less.

Joy read the sentences again, realizing she didn't believe what they said. Not really deep down, where it counted. Yes, she'd always known God loved her, but did she honestly believe it was unconditional love? Did God love her if she worked on a television show? Did God love her if everyone in Pinecraft disapproved of her—especially Matthew?

Did He love her if she failed to share His love?

She leaned back in the chair and let those questions play through her mind. If her role in life was to show love, then was she making the right choice…choosing to love many? Choosing to hurt one?