“So, Grandma Jubilee was telling me you stay a billionaire because you keep learning, Pop-Pop.”
Eleven-year-old Velma Trent had gone from her father's mother to her mother's father to get ore understanding about the need for life-long reading and learning.
“That's right, Velma. This is the thing few know: the world keeps changing, and so does money. Even when it comes to you thinking you can live on the interest, your bank can break because of foolishness that folks are doing in books and magazines that you could be reading in advance.”
Mr. Thomas Stepforth Sr. was always willing to take his grandchildren's questions, because he remembered what happened because he didn't have time for his children's questions.
“Almost lost everything that mattered,” he said to his associates. “Make time for your offspring, because if not, you will lose all that matters, and then they will lose all the money, too.”
Mrs. Melissa Stepforth Trent kind of eased up on the conversation her father and her daughter were having – and so Mr. Stepforth extended his arm and brought his daughter into the conversation.
“Now that's what I call family healing,” Mrs. Velma Stepforth said to Mrs. Gladys Jubilee Trent.
“And it's about time,” Mrs. Jubilee Trent said. “See, it takes longer if they don't know they can die from a league off.”
“Yeah, I know, Gladys,” Mrs. Stepforth said with a laugh. “I had to find a more peaceable way – ain't got your eyesight for long shooting and never did!”
“Well, everybody ain't built for the same temptations,” Mrs. Jubilee Trent said. “Not that V.T. and I ever had yours to deal with – plenty of our own, though.”
“Gladys,” Mrs. Stepforth said, “I still don't understand how you keep moving. I have four daughters and one son, and I don't know how I would deal with losing any of them. You buried three sons plus V.T., and you still always look like you're the one with the billion bucks. The poise and serenity you have is really something.”
“Thank you kindly,” Mrs. Jubilee Trent said. “God is good and the Comforter and Sustainer He says He is. The one that boggles my mind in terms of how good God is really is how you waited around for Tom to get his life together for ten years.”
“God is extra special good,” Mrs. Stepforth said, “but on the other hand, it's like you could have remarried but never bothered – I'm not trying to even start dealing with another man at my age, and I wasn't at 55-56, either.”
“Same here,” Mrs. Jubilee Trent said. “I loved V.T. but do not need to replace him. I'm a Jubilee-of-the-mountain born – we love our freedom.”
“Tom is the only man I have ever loved, and I'm not trying to put up with all that goes with having a man for someone that I would never love,” Mrs. Stepforth said. “It was just that simple. He was going to figure it out, or not – but I'm not in need of any other man.”
“We were raised right,” Mrs. Jubilee Trent said, “not to believe our being depends on any man but the Man, Christ Jesus.”
“Exactly,” Mrs. Stepforth said.
“And this is why I went on and could bury three sons and let V.T. go on because the pain was too much for him and there was no point in keeping him here," Mrs. Jubilee Trent said. "He lost three of his four sons, thus three of five children, all his brothers, a ton of uncles and cousins – it was just too much. I didn't grow up loving all those Trents; he did. They went to their place, and it was time for him to be free and go to his where he would never be troubled again. By the way, that just tells you: the Prayer of Jabez is a dangerous thing. The Lord may enlarge your territory to keep you from evil so it won't grieve you, but in this world, that may mean you or some others need to leave it!”
“You know, all those people singing that song haven't even … wow, Gladys.”
“Things you don't think about unless you live through it,” Mrs. Jubilee Trent said. “My sons knew better than how they ended … but Vincent and Victoria have stayed right and true, and frankly, they don't need the drama either, because by now – imagine having a messed-up Gracie or Milton for them to have to add to their lives, or for us to have to take in at our ages.”
“Yeah, no,” Mrs. Stepforth said, and both laughed.
“Gracie is a whole situation the way she is – Juba-born, a reigning Jubilee in our combined lines -- but see, that's not the kind of person you want to have around not knowing how to raise,” Mrs. Jubilee Trent said.
“We kinda see that in Edwina Ludlow next door,” Mrs. Stepforth said. “I pray for that child, a lot.”
“That's even a more serious situation, because while Gracie is also healer-born, Edwina is like her grandfather: definitely warrior-born,” Mrs. Jubilee Trent said. “The Lord enlarged her territory by taking the people who didn't need to be in it, out – for their own protection.”
“Gladys,” Mrs. Stepforth said, “going unrepentant to Hell isn't exactly a protective move.”
“It can be,” Mrs. Jubilee Trent said, “because you need to consider what your last regret on Earth is going to look like. See, it's one thing if you die on some foolishness in the street, or in an accident, or of natural causes. It's another thing to realize your family had to take you out, and that's where your life flashing before your eyes ends.”
“Whoa,” Mrs. Stepforth said. “I never even thought about that.”
“Things you don't think about,” Mrs. Jubilee Trent said, “unless you live through it.”
Mrs. Stepforth considered this.
“I don't suppose there's such a thing as an elegant fall from grace for anyone, but some situations are more ridiculous than others – and that has to be peak ridiculousness, to put your family in that kind of position with you.”
“Yep,” Mrs. Jubilee Trent said as her eyes tracked eight-year-old Edwina Ludlow running across the yard, with her grandfather's big basso profondo firmly but tenderly following her: “Edwina! No running with ice cream!”
“Yes, sir!” she said, and started skipping.
“Edwina!”
“But you said no running, so … .”
“Walk, Edwina. Walk.”
“Yes, sir!”
“That's all the problems children need to have at their age,” Mrs. Jubilee Trent said, “so sometimes, the Lord just has to enlarge their territory, too.”
“I can't even argue with it,” Mrs. Stepforth said, “and I'm glad our shared descendants are not having to find out by living through it.”
“Ain't it the truth, Velma, ain't it the truth.”