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| Not Without |
After years of carrying her family alone, Eboni James faces the looming darkness of disconnection—both literal and spiritually. But just when she thinks God has forgotten her, her light breaks through in the most unexpected way. Let the story speak to your heart—scroll down to begin.
In Little Rock, Arkansas, rain tapped gently against the bedroom window as Eboni James sat cross-legged on the edge of her bed, a stack of unpaid bills spread out before her. The electric bill was overdue. Again.
She pressed a palm to her forehead, whispering a prayer she was too tired to finish.
From the living room, her children’s laughter echoed like sunshine through a storm. Seven-year-old Micah was probably turning their worn-out sofa into a superhero launch pad while his younger sisters, Kenzie and Lila, played dress-up with old scarves and plastic tiaras. They didn’t know the power might go out tomorrow.
Eboni smiled faintly. Thank You, Lord, that they still have joy.
Her phone buzzed.
Toni. The name made her pause—Toni always knew when something was off. Still, she answered, forcing cheer into her voice.
“Hey girl.”
“E! You are not going to believe this,” Toni bubbled. “Deacon Ray asked me out.”
Eboni blinked. “Wait… Deacon Ray? With the always-starched collar and the bass solo during ‘Great Is Thy Faithfulness’?”
“That’s the one. He wants to take me to that new jazz spot off Main Street. I nearly dropped my keys in the baptismal.”
Eboni chuckled. “Well, look at you—First Lady in training.”
Toni laughed. “Stop it. But are you good? You sound… tired.”
Eboni swallowed. “Just a long day.”
Toni didn’t press. “Alright, I’ll call you after the date. Pray I don’t make a fool out of myself.”
“You’ll be fine,” Eboni said softly. “You always are.”
When the call ended, Eboni stared at the ceiling. Toni had been her best friend since they were twelve—saved the same summer, baptized the same Sunday. Toni was louder, flashier, and always honest.
Eboni hadn’t told her what was going on. She couldn’t. Toni had her own problems. And there was pride—yes—but also something deeper. Eboni was the dependable one. The one who held everything together. The one who once believed God wouldn’t give her more than she could bear.
She looked up toward heaven, her voice barely a whisper. Lord… I’m not asking for more. Just enough. Then she glanced back at the bills, the weight of each one pressing against her chest.
Ten years ago, she stood beside Thomas James in Mount Olive Baptist—the church she’d grown up in. He was her high school sweetheart. After graduation, they got married. Thomas headed to medical school, and Eboni became a wife, mother, and breadwinner.
She worked as a nurse’s aide in local nursing homes and picked up double shifts when needed. She didn’t mind. It was for their future—the one they had prayed for.
And then, everything changed.
Thomas graduated. For a little while, they were on top of the world. But within a year, it all unraveled. One afternoon, he came home and told her he was leaving.
“I didn’t mean for it to end this way,” he said, tossing clothes into a suitcase. “I appreciate everything you did for me.”
“You appreciate me?” she snapped. “I worked my fingers to the bone to get you through school—and this is how you repay me?”
He lowered his eyes. “I know. I feel bad.”
“You feel bad?” she repeated. “What about me? What about the kids?”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “But I want more.”
And he got more—another life, another woman, another child.
Eboni loved her children, but this wasn’t the life she had envisioned. But she still had the church. It was the only anchor she had—the only place she felt loved and safe.
The next day came with gray skies and a chill in the air. Eboni stood at the stove, stirring a pot of beans, when the doorbell rang. She opened it to find Toni standing there with a bag of groceries and a wide, unapologetic grin.
“From that smile on your face,” Eboni said, “the date with Deacon Ray went well.”
Toni beamed. “It was perfect.” She walked inside like she lived there.
Eboni closed the door behind her. “Tell me everything—and don’t leave out a single detail.”
Toni launched into the play-by-play, giddy as a schoolgirl. Eboni listened, smiling when she could, but the looming disconnect date sat heavy on her heart. She had two days to come up with the money.
A quiet pause settled between them.
Then Toni’s voice broke the silence. “Okay, what’s going on?”
“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” Eboni said.
“That’s not what I asked.”
The silence stretched. Finally, Eboni exhaled. “The power’s about to be shut off Monday. I was going to pay it after payday, but… there’s no extra money to stretch.”
Toni’s expression softened. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to be someone’s prayer request,” Eboni whispered. “I didn’t want to need help. I just… wanted to be okay.”
Toni reached for her hand. “You are okay. You’re faithful. You’re still standing. But even Moses needed someone to hold up his arms.”
Eboni laughed through the lump in her throat. “Don’t make me laugh. I’m already embarrassed. Since Thomas left, I’ve been living paycheck to paycheck. I’m tired, Toni. I don’t see a way out.”
Toni leaned back, arms crossed. “That’s not the Eboni I know.”
“It’s me today.”
“What about you?” Toni asked gently. “Have you asked for help? You always try to carry everything by yourself. You didn’t even tell me.”
Eboni looked away. Toni was right. Pride—and fear of what people might say—had kept her silent.
That night, after the kids were asleep, Eboni found a quiet moment in the hallway outside their room. She leaned against the wall, listening to their soft, even breathing. For a few seconds, she let the tears fall—silent, grateful, and exhausted.
It happened on Wednesday, just as scheduled. She came home from work, juggled her purse and keys, and flipped the light switch.
Nothing.
Her breath caught. She tried another room. Still nothing.
The power was off.
Why would God let it happen? She had prayed, tithed, stayed faithful—even when it hurt. She had believed a door would open. But no miracle came.
Later that evening, Toni arrived with a bag of takeout. “Thought I’d spoil the kids tonight,” she said, cheerfully unaware.
Eboni almost turned her away—ashamed of the dim rooms and flickering candlelight—but Toni was already stepping through the door.
She froze in place. “E… Today was the day, huh?”
Eboni fumbled for words. “No, I… I just didn’t want to turn on the lights. Trying to keep the bill down.”
Toni raised an eyebrow. “You’re the best liar I know. And that’s saying something.”
Eboni gave a weak laugh, her shoulders sagging.
Toni set the food on the counter and pulled her into a hug. “You’re not alone. Keep the faith. Now come on—let’s eat dinner and get to church. The kids are going to want their coloring sheets.”
Eboni had completely forgotten it was Wednesday night Bible study. She wiped her eyes and nodded. “Right. Bible study.”
An hour later, Eboni arrived at Mount Olive Baptist just in time to prep for her class. She greeted a handful of children, passed out coloring sheets, and began a lesson on Jesus calming the storm—ironic, she thought, considering the one still brewing in her life.
She was too focused on her students to notice the whispers in the hallway… or the pastor slipping a folded note into Toni’s hand.
It wasn’t until later that night, after the kids were tucked in and the house was still, that Eboni opened her email and gasped.
Five hundred dollars had been deposited into her bank account via Zelle.
There was a memo attached:
The Lord put you on my heart. Let Him carry you this time. —With Love, Your Church Family
It was enough to pay the electric bill, refill the pantry, and put gas in her car.
Eboni sat at the kitchen table, overwhelmed. The tears that came this time weren’t laced with shame—but with relief. She didn’t feel embarrassed. She felt seen. Held.
Later that day, Toni dropped by and found Eboni humming in the kitchen.
“You look lighter,” she said, sliding into a chair.
“I am,” Eboni said, turning from the stove. “You know what that money meant to me. Don’t try to deny it—I know you were behind it.”
Toni grinned. “I won’t. I knew you weren’t going to ask for help, so I talked to Pastor. He took up a collection after Bible study.”
Eboni nodded, her eyes softening. “Then I’ll be sure to thank the congregation on Sunday.”
That night, after the kids were tucked in, Eboni lingered at the dining table with her Bible. The same one she had opened again and again, even when answers felt far away.
It fell open to Psalm 37—her lifeline.
“Yet I have never seen the righteous forsaken…”
She whispered the words like a vow—not just for herself, but for every woman walking her own dark hallway, wondering if God still sees.
