Early in the morning, the doorbell rang at Kenny’s modest home in a quiet Alabama suburb. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a soft golden light through the windows. Kenny shuffled to the door, still in his pajamas, rubbing sleep from his eyes. When he opened it, two well-dressed Black women stood on the porch, smiling warmly. They were in their Sunday best already-plum-colored dresses, elegant hats, and confident postures.

Kenny blinked, trying to place their faces. He wasn’t sure he knew them. Lately, he wasn’t sure of much of anything. His thoughts felt foggy, his memories slippery.

“Good morning, Kenny,” the taller one said, her voice rich and melodic. “It’s your big day. You’re going to attend Amechris Baptist Church for the first time. You’re going to feel the Holy Spirit.”

The shorter one nodded, her eyes sparkling. “We’ve come to help you get ready. I’m Tena, and this is Shameeka.”

Something in their calm, assured manner made Kenny step aside and let them in. He felt compelled, as if this was exactly what was supposed to happen. The women carried garment bags and a small suitcase. They moved with purpose through his living room and into the bedroom.

Tena and Shameeka had brought everything. They helped him out of his pajamas and into a sophisticated baby-blue pencil dress with a square neckline and long sleeves that hugged his frame just so. They added stockings, a wide-brimmed hat in a matching shade, white gloves, and a small pearl necklace. Kenny stared at his reflection in the mirror, feeling like he was in a dreamlike daze, but Tena and Shameeka kept him focused, gently guiding him with encouraging words and steady hands.

“You look beautiful already,” Shameeka said softly. “Just wait till the Spirit moves.”