The Reverend’s People, a Show and a Circus Reborn

Florida had people.

Reverend Elijah had promised this.

"I've got people there."

He had neglected to explain what people meant.

Miriam had imagined a family.

Perhaps a mother.

Brothers.

Aunts.

A house with too many chairs around a table.

She had imagined being introduced.

This is Miriam.

This is my wife.

This is Grace.

Instead, Reverend Elijah's people appeared to consist of anyone who had ever climbed aboard a train, boat, wagon, automobile, or bad idea and discovered there might be money in Jesus.

Some were related.

Most claimed to be.

Nobody seemed particularly concerned with the distinction.

There were brothers who weren't brothers.

Cousins acquired in Georgia.

An aunt from Alabama who was nobody's aunt.

A man everyone called Uncle who had joined them after losing a card game somewhere outside Tallahassee.

There were children.

Miriam never entirely determined whose.

There was also a monkey.

The monkey belonged to everyone and no one and had a better understanding of the operation than Miriam did when she first arrived.

They were revivalists.

They were also carnival people.

Mostly they were people who understood that Americans would pay money for hope if hope were properly presented.

The Depression had been hard.

Salvation, however, remained surprisingly resilient.

People who could not afford shoes could sometimes find a nickel for Jesus.

People who had lost farms still feared losing Heaven.

And Reverend Elijah's people were not unreasonable.

Admission was free.

Salvation was free.

Prayer was free.

Everything was free.

Donations were gratefully accepted.

Bibles were not free.

Especially the ones with gold lettering.

Those were beautiful.

There were ordinary Bibles for ordinary salvation and better Bibles for people who wanted something impressive on the parlor table.

There were little cards with scripture.

Pictures.

Ribbons.

Candles.

Crosses.

And, eventually, photographs.

There were songs.

There were testimonies.

There were healings of ailments Miriam suspected had not existed before the service began.

There was a collection plate.

There was always a collection plate.

Miriam watched.

Miriam learned.

And eventually Miriam understood.

Jasper was not a Reverend.

Not really.

He was a grifter.

When they had found his people, the grift had been a dwindling circus on hard times with dwindling talent and unbecoming animals. But as he worked his people, he had a fine divine revival.

This revelation that he was just a grifter was considerably less upsetting than it might have been.

Miriam had known worse men.

At least this particular scheme involved singing.

And food.

And sometimes animals.

The animals were useful.

People liked animals.

At Christmas they staged a living Nativity.

There was a donkey.

The donkey gave rides afterward.

For donations.

There were sheep until keeping sheep became inconvenient, after which there were goats.

Nobody complained.

Apparently livestock identification was not essential to salvation.

Grace had been Baby Jesus while she was small enough.

She was excellent at it.

She mostly stared.

People found this holy.

She found this to be safe.

As she grew, she became less convincing as the newborn Christ and was reassigned.

She became a shepherd.

Again a safe assignment.

She had no idea how grace was working in her life.

Like any child she was taking it for granted.

But Lucy who had become Mirriam who became Mary knew. And was very grateful to God and Jesus. She skipped over Elijah, but then tacked on gratitude to him as their vessel. He would not grow angry at this if he found it in her thoughts, and this made her feel more secure.

This required very little theological adjustment and considerably less sitting still.

Miriam becoming Mary was also very beneficial.

Of course she became Mary.

Reverend Elijah announced that Miriam would be baptized again.

“After all this time, she is now ready to accept Jesus into her heart as her only lord and savior and renounce Satan!”

Miriam stared at him.

She had already been baptized and thought she had renounced Satan.

This again?

Apparently that baptism had been for Miriam.

Or for practice.

This one was the real deal - a show for his people.

By then, Miriam understood enough not to argue.

Into the water she went.

Lucy had gone into the water once and become Miriam.

Miriam went into the water and became Mary.

Reverend Elijah emerged with the mother of Jesus.

Of course he had married the mother of Jesus.

It was exactly the sort of thing Reverend Elijah would do.

Mary was tired.

She was tired in ways Lucy could never have imagined.

But she had Grace.

Grace was growing.

Grace could read.

Mary made certain of that.

She taught her letters.

Numbers.

Words.

Books when they could find them.

Writing when there was paper.

Arithmetic because arithmetic was useful, particularly around people who collected donations.

Mary had received an education once, long before the people who took her, long before she was sold, long before the brothel, Jasper, Miriam, Jesus, Elijah, Florida and Mary.

Much had been taken from her.

That had not.

So she gave it to Grace.

Reverend Elijah gave Grace another education entirely.

Grace learned how to stand before a crowd.

How to smile.

How to pass the plate.

How to tell when people were going to give.

How to recognize the difference between a believer and a customer, although frequently there wasn't one.

She learned songs.

Scripture.

Stage entrances.

Animals.

Boats.

Trains.

Money.

She learned that a miracle improved considerably when there was an audience.

She learned that Reverend Elijah had been chosen by God.

Reverend Elijah mentioned this often.

Grace was proof.

By the Grace of God she had come to them.

It became part of his testimony.

The storm.

The sea.

The tiny child delivered into his hands.

He told it beautifully.

Mary listened from the side.

She knew that wasn't exactly how it happened.

But Mary also knew something about stories.

Tell one long enough and people stopped asking what came before it.

Years passed.

The Depression loosened.

Then there was a war.

There were uniforms everywhere.

Florida filled with young men training to go somewhere else.

Reverend Elijah discovered that soldiers prayed too.

So did their mothers.

Business remained good.

Mary continued being Mary.

Reverend Elijah continued being Reverend Elijah.

And Grace grew too large to be Baby Jesus.

Then too old to be a shepherd boy.

She became less useful to the show as she became more useful to herself.

She became less useful to Rev. Elijah as a pubescent girl.

Mary did not mind. She was happy that Grace had become less useful as a prop and proved to be useless in schemes. She couldn’t remember which leg was lame and limped on the wrong one or forgot to limp. This secretely delighted Mary. Grace was very smart, but was very clumsy. She wasn’t eleghant or sweet. She was a tom boy. She like the animals. She became a great hand. When she became more coordinated, she was good at cooking, cleaning, caring for animals, and other people. She was beloved. And that was all Mary had wanted for her. She didn’t have to perform.

She had never wanted Grace to become particularly good at being anything Reverend Elijah required.

She wanted Grace to become Grace.

Even if really she had been someone else.

Deep inside the trunk was a little discoloring white hat.

HATTIE.

Mary kept it because it belonged to Grace.

She had no idea where it would eventually go.

She had no idea that names could travel backward.

She had no idea that sometimes things lost to the water take the very long way home.

Grace was going to find her own way.

Just like that trunk with her hat.