Feelings of Self Abandonment Throughout

Dawn scooted into her place at the table in the prayer room, careful not to smoosh her two year-old’s legs. She liked attending prayer circle, but having two young children made it a challenge. The three women surrounding her at the small, round table were all older, their thinning hair trimmed to their ears. Sweet though they were, they didn’t abide disorder, reserving their disapproval with tight smiles. 

“As you know,” Shirley said, “We’ve been asked to host the Proverbs 31 Woman Benefit Dinner this year. I’d like it to be particularly above board since the First Lady is the guest of honor.” The women on her right and left nodded. 

“Ouch!” Dawn cried. The baby tugged her hair. Just then, her 4 year-old wandered from the desk where she had been coloring. “I’m bored,” she said aloud. Dawn searched for something in her purse to occupy her daughter. She was frozen by the feeling of Shirley’s stare, a stare that may be followed by the words, “In my day,” or “When I had young children.” Dawn was not too young to realize how long ago that was, or that time had a way of blurring things. All she had in her purse were wrappers, a Band-Aid, pennies, and a dollar bill. She was hoping for a piece of gum or sucker or Pop-it toy. She settled for the dollar bill and held it out to Dalia. The girl’s eyes lit up and she tore the dollar out of her mother’s hand. 

Smiling, Dawn turned her attention back to the prayer circle. Shirley’s eyebrows were raised. No one said anything for a long moment. Dawn began to stutter a reply, “You were saying about the benefit dinner…?”

The baby, seeing that her sister got something, became restless, climbing up Dawn’s lap. She complained with a cry.

“Come on, Ru-Ru,” Dawn used her nickname. “Mommy has to pray. Don’t worry. We’ll get you a treat a little later,” not knowing where that treat would come from.

“Do you need to step out?” Shirley asked in measured words.

“Oh no, she’ll calm down in a bit, I’m sure.” But she didn’t. The meeting went on, and Dawn got up and paced with her baby in her arms, shushing and gently patting her on the bottom. She should have packed a sippy cup, but it was hard enough getting clothes on them and out the door. 

She tried to sit again with Maisy in her arms, and apologized when she accidentally knocked the table, rocking it noticeably. The attention on her unexpectedly, she got a nails-on-chalkboard feeling in her gut that warned her she might somehow lose control. It wasn’t the first time. The only way she’d handled it before was to put the children down and walk away immediately. She couldn’t do that here. She took a deep, slow breath, grateful that the room had large windows leading out to a view of the parking lot.

Voices came back into focus, though she hadn’t heard what had been said last. “Isn’t that right?” Shirley asked with a brilliant smile. 

“I’m sorry. Excuse me?” Dawn said.

“That’s ok, dear,” Shirley said and rapped the table twice. “I heard from Dan you have graphic design abilities.”

Dawn paused, wondering how that conversation could have come up. Dan didn’t involve himself in women’s matters. “Yes, I studied graphic design in college, but that was a long time ago,” she said, and this time followed it with a self-effacing laugh.

“Well, we need you to brush up your talents for this event. I thought it’d be particularly nice to have the programs specially designed…and to present the First Lady with a plaque as well.”

“A plaque?”

“Yes, of course you’d only be responsible for its design. We’ll take the design to the vendor, who will print it onto the plaque.”

“Oh, ok. How do you want it to look?”

“Just something like this,” and Shirley pulled out a program for what looked like a funeral. “Except make it look,” she circled her hands in the air, “More lively. Add some flowers or something.”

Dawn looked at the script of the program. There was nothing special about it, though it was bold and straight, and the lines neatly in order. Nothing any word processing program couldn’t do. Dawn thought about the First Lady and how this print didn’t evoke her at all. She felt ideas nibbling at her brain, but she didn’t know if she could draw like she used to, and she knew Shirley’s expectations were high. She most of all didn’t want to embarrass her husband, who was friends with the pastor.

“That’ll be easy enough to get together for next week, right?”

“I uh, I don’t know,” Dawn said, bouncing the baby on her lap. She thought of her drawing board stowed away in the garage. It would be hard to move it to Dan’s office for her use. 

“Well of course you can. This is simple. I know you love these precious babies, but you can make time. That’s why we encourage women to stay home. I’m sure you’re seeing the benefits of that.”

Dawn looked around the table and in the women’s silence felt the weight of their agreement. How funny, she thought. They looked so similar to each other. “I guess. Ok, I’ll do it.”

“Let’s pray.” The group bowed their heads. The soft flow of each woman’s voice had a calming effect on Dawn and she became sleepy. She thought about what might be in the refrigerator for lunch and hoped both girls might nap at the same time. When Barbara said a holy “Amen,” and Dawn hadn’t prayed, she felt guilty for letting her mind wander.

The group of pray-ers clustered together in the foyer afterwards. Dawn leaned against one of the large pillars near the coffee station, one child on her hip, the other clinging to her leg. 

“You look bedraggled, honey. Everything ok at home?” It was Lynn, the large lady with the easy smile whose lined face hinted at a hard past. 

“It’s ok,” she said, hoping the older lady would pick up on her hesitation.

“Daughters of Sarah,” the lady said as if passing along a secret.

“Hhm?” Dawn asked.

“It’s a book.”

“Oh.”

She’d look up the book later if she remembered. She sighed. More church-speak. What she wanted to do was get a break, or scream, or both, but the church was their life. They were there at least three days a week. More importantly, it was Dan’s life. Like the sun, everything revolved around him.

Just then, the First Lady of the church, Lydia Krane, walked by. She glided to a spot in the foyer and greeted members heading into the service. Tall and lean, she was wearing white, a natural color for her. Dawn could hear her voice float throughout the foyer as she greeted people. She wanted to run up to her. Lydia was always composed. She had six children, now all grown. Dawn wondered how she’d done it in the early years and stayed happily married. Lydia looked up and smiled in Dawn’s direction. Dawn smoothed her hair and looked away.

At home, Dawn wanted to bring up the conversation she’d had with “the ladies,” as she called them. Her faith was important to her, so she had to deal with them.

Dan leaned back in the recliner, one arm hung over his head. Dawn was preparing dinner–pot roast– and was swiveling from counter to range and cabinet as she gathered ingredients. She wasn’t the most organized cook. The TV blared and kids circled her legs. She walked in large, slow arcs to avoid knocking them down. She held the full roasting tray above where little hands could grab it and placed it on the table. 

“Ok,” she announced. “I think dinner’s ready.” They sat and ate, Dan without a sound except his chewing.

“Guess what happened today at prayer circle?” Dawn said, emphasizing the words “prayer circle” in what she hoped was an ironic way. 

“What?” Dan asked, scooping some peas with mashed potatoes and gravy.

“You know that big benefit is coming up. I can’t believe Shirley volunteered me!” 

Dan was seated at the dining room table, back to the TV, but he fixed that by turning halfway towards it. His Marlons were playing. “Oh yeah? To do what?”

“Design the programs and some sort of plaque. Can you believe that?” All the pressure she’d felt earlier was rising to the surface, and she heard her tone become strident. “How did she know I did graphic design anyway?”

Dan raised his eyebrows but didn’t look up from his plate. He wouldn’t tell her, she knew. 

“Well, I need you to get the drawing board out from the garage.”

“Can’t you just hand draw it?”

“You know how I work,” though he had no reason to know that much about her. “She wants it in a week!” And then, “I don’t even want to go to this thing,” Dawn said as she stabbed a baby carrot. 

On the TV, a man clad in pin striped tights slid into a base. Dan pumped his fist beside him, exclaimed under his breath, and took a long sip of his tea–then burped.

Dan said that wouldn’t happen. Of course she would go. How would it look with him being so close to the pastor? “Speaking of which,” he said, “I meant to tell you. Pastor asked me to join him going to Memphis.”

“Why? When?”

“I leave the day after tomorrow.” 

“Oh. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“He just asked, and I forgot. I’ll be back.”

Dawn tried to sound casual, “What will y’all be doing?”

“Not sure. Visiting some churches he oversees, I think.” Dawn felt off kilter. She could keep asking questions and get nowhere or just accept it. He’d be gone and she’d be here, keeping everything together. She looked over at Maisy in the high chair, gravy in her hair of all places! And four year old Dalia, eating a completely different meal of nuggets and fried egg. 

Everyone was in bed for a long time before Dawn settled down. She enjoyed when everyone was asleep, not just knowing they were safe, but knowing no one needed anything. It was a good time to journal or watch mindless TV or read a book, but she couldn’t even pretend to have the energy. She washed her hands and face in the dark, avoiding her reflection. 

She’d just covered herself when Dan rolled toward her, surprising her. He rubbed her stomach. “Ready for another one?” 

In a small voice, she said, “Not tonight.” 

“You not feeling well?”

Instead of offering an explanation, Dawn sighed and rolled onto her side. “Forgive me, God,” she prayed and drifted off to sleep.

Dan left the next day, and the week went horribly. The days were condensed into a series of mandatory chores that repeated incessantly. They were a blur of meals, combing hair, baths, and managing tantrums. Teeth went unbrushed. Meals devolved to popcorn and fruit. And the exhaustion weighed on Dawn more heavily than usual. The thought of the upcoming benefit dinner was a constant stress, and Dawn hadn’t made any progress on the designs. By Wednesday, she knew she had to call Shirley. As the thought occurred to her again, her phone rang. 

“Hello honey,” Dawn said, assuming it was Dan. She heard a throat clear on the other end, and she checked the display. “Oh sorry. I didn’t even look to see who was calling. Hi Shirley.”

“How’s everything? We’re getting things together and just checking on your progress.”

“Well, the funny thing is I was just going to call you.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You see,”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think…”

Shirley’s voice dropped as she called out to someone behind her and then returned. “You know we’ll need the images sent to the vendor by Friday. That’s in two days.” 

“The truth is, I haven’t been able to work on it at all this week. You might need to find someone else.”

“Oh we can’t do that. It’s too late.”

“I just have the girls, and Dan’s not here, and I don’t know how I’ll get my drawing table in the office…”

“The church–the First Lady, is worth it, isn’t she? I know you can do it, Dawn.”

The phone hung up with a short blip and she stared at its face. 

Saturday, Dawn woke encouraged that Dan would be returning but dismayed that she might hear from Shirley. When both girls went down for a nap, Dawn went into the garage. It was hot. She ran a finger along the draping that covered her old drawing board and came away with dust. The board was a monstrous shape, hidden like this among so many discarded items. Disappointed that he hadn’t moved it for her, Dawn would improvise. She entered Dan’s office–looked at his sprawling notebooks, scrap paper notes, and books piled in front of the monitor. She cleared a space and found a micro pen at the bottom of a drawer and practiced some calligraphy. She started with the capital letter D, making its lower edge dip gratuitously and traced until she colored that part completely. Then, she tried a P. She lined them up. She drew more letters, playing around with Lydia’s name, the word Proverbs, the number 31, slanting the forms this way and then that, making them large and then small. She held the paper up. Light shone through the scrap paper, the letters elegant and readable. 

The night of the benefit dinner, the church was transformed. Tea lights led a path to the sanctuary. Bright strings of white lights were strewn on the walls. The place was full, too, of women, many of whom had dates. The usual podium was replaced with transparent glass. Flower arrangements accented each corner in purples and ivory. Behind the podium, a large screen projected a slideshow of Lydia’s life, of her and her smiling children. They smiled in the kitchen, in the backyard, in graduation pictures and first dances. There was always a smile, even when Lydia was unaware of the camera. Dawn took a program. It was hard getting it done, but worth it. 

The pastor walked to the podium, arms pumping his short frame forward. “A virtuous woman, who can find?” The audience responded with a chorus of “amens.” Dawn looked around. Women were jacketed in modest church suits with hats; some wore gowns. His introduction was a mini sermon that built to a crescendo. He didn’t say anything new, but knowing Lydia was the object made his words more interesting. Lydia was the Proverbs 31 woman: when she was sewing, rising up early, teaching, speaking kindly. He had a lifetime worth of stories. All the while, Lydia sat tall, head up, yet not proud. It was only natural she received this honor. “Her husband has no need to be ashamed when meeting at the gate. Now, I’ll turn it over to the ladies.” There was a rumble of laughter; he’d already taken up significant time. Others followed, speaking of how Lydia had mentored them, inspired them, was an example of an excellent wife and mother, including Shirley, who looked in Dawn’s direction and offered a nod of approval.

They were about to present Lydia with the plaque, which she’d also designed. She squeezed Dan’s hand. Dawn felt good, surrounded by people of faith and a peaceful feeling of accomplishment. She wanted to be like this lady, to be able to look back and relive hard won victories. She consoled herself that she was just in the uphill stage of everything. It would get better. She smiled and looked to her left. Dan was there beside her.

After it was over, Dawn went to the bathroom, set with chairs as a kind of anteroom. She lingered in the mirror, proud. She was interrupted by a voice behind her. She hadn’t heard the door.

“Mind if I sit?”It was Lydia.

 “This must be very rewarding for you.”

Shadows played upon the lines on Lydia’s face, outlining a mask of grief. She laughed. “I’m tired,” she said, looking up with an obligatory smile. “Just tired.”

There was so much bubbling up inside her, and now was her chance. She started, “What..I mean, how…”

Lydia interrupted her. “Just do it,”

“But–”

“It doesn’t matter what it is, and it doesn’t matter what they say,” she cocked her head towards the sanctuary. 

Dawn didn’t understand what she was trying to say. “What about…God?”

“There are a few things God cares about,” Lydia said. The rest is up to you.” She put her feet up on a small, upholstered footstool and leaned back, eyes closed. “Do you really think God cares about how much television your husband watches? Do you think religion is about all the things you don’t do? Things you stop wanting?”

A fear gripped Dawn, and a surprising anger too. “Then why do this?” she said, waving her hands in front of her.

. 

“That’s the right question.”

Dawn was breathless. There was something wrong about the way Lydia leaned back in the chair, her words, the whole conversation. “What about you?”

Lydia spoke into the air with a wagging finger. “The trick is them making us believe they’ve discovered something that was settled a long, long time ago.” No one spoke after that. “I don’t know what came over me,” Lydia said in an apologetic tone. “I’d better get back to it. At least it was nice to sit for a while.” 

After a moment, Lydia returned. “Oh, I almost forgot,” she said, and picked up a bag with something hanging out of it, wrapped in paper. Dawn noticed its square edges and hint of gold plating. It was the plaque. Dawn couldn’t help thinking she’d meant to throw it away.