Bittersweet News Back Home In L.A.

Hi, Everyone!

 

I’ve got some bittersweet news to report.

 

Last night, my mom called to tell me that Mrs. Harriette Fields, one of my church members back home in Cali, received the call from The Lord to come home. She was 89 years old.

 

Mrs. Fields was known as the “hardest working woman in the history of St. Matthew Baptist Church.” She was on the Mothers Board, she sang in the choir, she was a Sunday School teacher, she was on the hospitality committee… and I want to state for the record that Ruby is wrong as two left shoes! She just said, “Damn, Tasha—ya girl literally worked her way into Heaven.”

 

I know that Ruby’s just trying to cheer me up—and it worked! Lord knows that I was not intending to laugh at that joke, but then again, I kinda thought the same thing. Nevertheless, Mrs. Fields worked willingly and gladly, and she was one of the few who didn’t care about recognition, because she gave it all to God. Whenever someone at church would thank her for her help, Mrs. Fields would just smile and say: “That’s sweet of you, Dear, but don’t thank me—thank God.”

 

My last memory of Mrs. Fields was Sunday, December 30, 2012. Service had just ended and everyone was saying their farewells to me, but Mrs. Fields waited rather patiently, with a big smile on her face. When I finally got to speak to Mrs. Fields, she gave me a big hug and kiss, then she handed me a lavender envelope and said, “Now, Tasha, I wants ya to do me a favor: Keep up the good work and stick it out to the very, very end. I love you, Dearie.”

 

I told her that I loved her back, and then I took a picture with her.

I know that Mrs. Fields would not want me to cry over her—and I’m sorry for disappointing her—but unfortunately all I have are tears and sorrow. I know she’s in a much better place, but I never expected her to go to Heaven so soon. I am really gonna miss her beautiful smile every Sunday morning when I step foot into the church. I’ll always remember how she spoke with a British accent—just for me—and say, “Natasha, my dahlin!”  

I had better get going. Take care, y’all—and be good.


Hugs & Kisses,

Natasha