Choirgirl

Choirgirl

Choirgirl walked through the entrance of the upmarket cafe.  A male security guard ushered her in. Her blue dress hugged her, revealing curves that are always hidden under the choir uniform. Like a woodpecker, her high heels rhythmically ate away at the café’s tiles. She swayed her hips from left and right as she made her way in the jungle of tables and occupied chairs. She scanned across looking for him, but also as if her nostrils were chasing every aroma in the air. She shifted her heavy handbag to her left hand. She had stuffed two bottles of perfume she bought as she waited to go in; she didn’t want to seem too eager to meet him.

Dogood sat at a corner facing the door. He kept glancing at his watch and the door. The café was his favourite hangout. He would sit to read, write and people watch. Today he was expecting Choirgirl. After his sermon on Sunday, they chatted and agreed to meet for coffee to talk more on creativity and writing. He smiled when he saw her.

“Allow me.” Dogood said as he pulled a seat for her, “Welcome.”

“Thank you. Sorry I am late.” Wow! He was early, he stood to pull a seat and he had preached on Sunday. What a perfect gentleman. She took a quick glance round the café, taking in the ambience and admiring the paintings on the wall. She had never been here before. Despite rave reviews, she had not because she considered the café a Noah’s Ark: a place for the animals to walk in and out in pairs. When Dogood suggested they meet there, it was an answered prayer.

“How are you and how was your week?” Dogood interrupted her thoughts. Her friends had warned her against taking Dogood too seriously.

“I am good. That was a unique sermon on Sunday.”

“I like to keep things fresh. You too were inspired on Sunday…the way you led praise and worship…”

“Thank you, I love music and worship.”

The waitress came to take their order. She asked for an apple cinnamon cake and a latte. Dogood ordered samosa with tea. But that was his second option; his first was sour porridge with arrowroots and sweet potatoes.

They got down to business. She wanted to pick his brain on her desire to start a blog and pursue a career in the creative industry by writing and composing music.

“Follow all your dreams and passions. This is the era of creatives. What you need is an idea journal to capture all the thoughts and insights. You can have another for your songs. With time, you will see which ones are worth pursuing and how to implement them. You will do much of the work quietly, privately, behind the scenes.”

“Wow! You do have a fresh way of looking at things.”

“Thank you. You too are great. When you lead praise and worship, there is a unique way you combine a scripture, a hymn, and Hillsong songs.”

“I am about to drown in compliments.”

“Will you sing a song? I would have but I wouldn’t want to hurt your ears with my bad singing… why are you looking at me like that?”

She mumbled something and almost spilled her latte as she masked her true feelings and thoughts. He was honest! He was not like the idiots who join the choir or fake an interest in music just to impress her and hope to go out on a date with her, or the others who insist on singing yet their gifts lie elsewhere.

“May be next time.”

Did I just ask Dogood for another coffee date? I need to stay focused. She thought about work, choir rehearsal and Bible study. She couldn’t wait to get home to start work on her ideas. The idea journal like many things about this meeting was blowing her away.

“I always carry a notebook with me.” As if on cue, Dogood obliged her by placing his notebook on the table.

“Is that your famous notebook?”

“No, this is a new one. I recorded guiding scriptures for us.”

Ephesians 4:2 (NIV), “Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love.”

John 15:12 (NIV), “My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you.”

Ecclesiastes 4:9-12 (NIV), “Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labour: If either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up. Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm…”

Dogood looked up and beckoned the waiter. He asked for a glass of warm water with a slice of lemon. “Dear, what else will you take? Choirgirl glowered at him. He was not about to lose his focus. “Where were we…where were we?” His eyes moved to the next page of his notebook, although he had used his left index finger as a marker. “Here we go. Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm. But how can one keep warm alone?”

Dogood was so engrossed that he did not see Choirgirl stand. She stood so forcefully like she had been ejected from her seat. She grabbed her handbag and swivelled to leave. She caused a mini-storm that blew the menu from the table. She walked two steps then walked back. Dogood looked up. “Don’t leave, I am yet to get to the best part in 1 Corinthians 13 about the portrait of love.”

She held her handbag tightly ready to pounce. She looked at him, looked at her handbag then stomped away. If that fool had not quoted the Bible, I would have swat sense into his small brain.

Next week: Dogood at an international conference on literacy and imagination