Letter 9 • Lord, What a Weekend
Hello, Dear Stranger,
When I needed help, I turned to the person I trusted most in this world—my beloved teacher. I continued to trust her, even after I learned she was a hell-bound sinner.
I initially had reservations about going to her because I knew she was a God-fearing Christian woman, and that she’d scold me for bringing up this topic. But something in my soul told me I would be safe going to her. So, I mustered the courage—and you know what she did? She said she would help me.
I was surprised by her response, but mightily appreciative.
Not long after that, we went to stay at her friend’s house in a suburb of Atlanta. My teacher was from Atlanta, and I’d heard she came from money, so it didn’t shock me to know her friends had it too. Her friend was generous enough to let me stay in her home. But the way she spoke when we were introduced—that should’ve been my first clue she was a heathen.
What was supposed to be a simple weekend of tending to business and heading right back home turned into something else entirely. One moment I was unpacking my overnight bag, the next I was brushing shoulders with famous people—folks I’d only ever seen in Jet magazine.
Now, this little country girl was in awe, I won’t lie about that. But their stardom didn’t blind me from seeing who some of them really were. Still, I couldn’t let their ways distract me from why I came. I had a mission, and I meant to stay focused.
Only, focus is hard to hold when the world around you looks nothing like the one you were raised in. What I walked into gave my God-fearing self an awakening I wasn’t ready for—especially not from the people I admired most, and never imagined I’d see in that light.
I prayed, y’all. I prayed:
“Please help me to see your purpose for bringing me among these heathens. And, Lord, while you at it, please forgive me for the sins I’ve committed. And for the one I’m still planning to commit tomorrow. Amen.”
Church had been part of my life from the very beginning. It was the most constant, unchanging thing I knew. But that weekend made me see how even in the places we think are furthest from God, there can still be truth.
One of those heathens, bless her, offered me a word I carried home like a sermon:
“There’s always a voice, darlin’. If you can’t hear it, it’s probably because there’s too many other voices drowning it out.”
I reckon that’s the lesson I’ll never forget—that sometimes, even among the heathens, you find yourself listening closer to heaven.
Still shaking my head, but saying amen,
Doris Steele
This letter was inspired by the book These Heathens by Mia McKenzie
A few lines slipped directly from its pages:
I thought she was a God-fearing Christian woman
…should’ve been my first clue she was a heathen.
Please help me to see your purpose for bringing me among these heathens. And, Lord, while you at it, please forgive me for the sins I’ve committed. And for the one I’m still planning to commit tomorrow. Amen.
There’s always a voice, darlin’. If you can’t hear it, it’s probably because there’s too many other voices drowning it out.
Short Content Brew:
Not every story brews the same. This one simmers with the messy flavor of growing up — part holy water, part sweet tea — that bold mix of curiosity, faith, and temptation that leaves a lasting aftertaste. It’s funny and raw, a reminder of the moments we think we’re grown but still have so much left to learn.
The Cup We’d Share
Consider this a moment to sip tea with Doris Steele, somewhere between disbelief and revelation. The Authenticitea Barista (a character in my soon-to-be-released book, A Cup of Authenticitea) would pour something bold and a little mischievous — a blend that celebrates curiosity, courage, and the freedom that comes when you stop pretending to have it all figured out.
It’s a cup for those who once thought they knew what “grown” looked like, only to realize that real growth starts the moment you admit you don’t.
A Sip of Reckoning
Tea Blend: Hibiscus + Spiced Black Tea
Mood Pairing: For when life hands you lessons disguised as bad decisions — and you’re wise (or wild) enough to taste them anyway.
Flavor Note: Tart, daring, and just a touch smoky — a brew that wakes the senses and softens the edges of judgment.
Reflection: When was the last time curiosity pulled you somewhere unexpected — and what truth did you find waiting there?
Why This Letter?
Growing up in a small town where church shaped most of what I learned about right and wrong, I could relate to some of Doris’s teachings and her understanding of what it meant to be “good” and “God-fearing.” Her story stayed with me because, while not in the most ideal way, she was given a chance to step beyond the comfort of her familiar world— and that’s often where real growth happens.
It reminded me how humor and discomfort can walk hand in hand, guiding us toward a deeper understanding of who we are beyond the rules we were raised by.
That’s why I let Doris’s letter slip through the pages — to remind us that sometimes stepping outside what we know helps us see there’s more than one story being lived, and more than one truth unfolding at a time.
That’s the sip I’ll leave you with today. Thanks for reading — until the next letter.
