Memoir | Saintly Matriarchs | Part I of VI

In my formative years, I witnessed the awe-inspiring sight of the saintly matriarchs in the projects gathering for Friday night prayer services at Sister Ella’s house. This spectacle left a profound impact on me and ultimately led to my decision to embrace Christianity at the age of 26.

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As the sun began to set on that hot summer day, I hurriedly made my way home from my temporary job as a messenger at the U.S. Supreme Court in Washington, D.C. Eager to freshen up before the prayer service commenced, I dashed up the stairs of our modest home. Glancing at the wooden plaque on the wall, adorned with the Lord’s Prayer in white letters, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt for neglecting to recite it. However, I quickly brushed off the remorse and focused on preparing myself to watch the prayer services.

I swiftly changed out of my work attire, taking a refreshing shower before donning a jean skirt and a white cotton tee shirt. I pulled my hair up in a high bun and slipped on a pair of comfortable flip-flops. Bringing along my faithful companion, Charmine the dog, I settled on the concrete porch, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the neighborhood’s saintly matriarchs, dressed in their flamboyant church attire.

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Sister Ella’s house was situated to the right of mine. From my vantage point at the top of the Courtyard, I had a clear view of everything happening around me, including the open windows of Miss Ella’s humble abode. Every Friday, her home seemed to radiate with a special glow during the prayer services.

Peering through the open windows, I could see the lights illuminating Miss Ella’s living and dining rooms, kitchen, and upper floor. Box fans attempted to alleviate the sweltering heat while the aroma of fried fish filled the air. In the background, the faint sound of the late Reverend James Cleveland’s gospel song, “Can’t Nobody Do Me Like Jesus,” played on the record player.

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As the sky darkened, the saintly matriarchs began their march toward Miss Ella’s house, and my excitement grew. At the end of the Court, where the streetlight seemed unusually brighter on Friday nights just when their prayer service was about to begin, I spotted the women adorned in their vibrant church hats, sparkling dresses, and flowing skirts. Their outfits were embellished with sparkly jewelry, and each carried a Holy Bible, some encased in leather or bejeweled covers.

An aura of power surrounded the saintly matriarchs as they made their way up the Court towards Miss Ella’s residence. As they drew closer, they greeted me with warm smiles and exclaimed, “Hello, Mia. Praise the Lord.” I returned their greetings, addressing each of them by name.

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Once inside Miss Ella’s house, they affectionately referred to her as “Sister Ella,” recognizing her role as a minister of the Gospel of Christ Jesus, a prayer warrior, and a compassionate servant. The use of religious titles to address one another was a common practice among them. “Hello Sister Ella, praise the Lord.” “How are you, Sister Shirley?” said Sister Ella. “Sister Williams, make sure you grab a slice of lemon cake before you leave; it is your favorite kind.” “Sister Jackson, I love your hat.”

Without warning, Sister Ella raised her voice and exclaimed, “We praise you, God! Praise God. Thank you, Jesus!” The saintly matriarchs joined hands in a circle, offering their praises to God and Jesus. At that moment, it felt as if a divine light illuminated the entire neighborhood. It was a truly remarkable sight.

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I was captivated by the worship services, and it filled me with inexplicable happiness.

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Two of the saintly matriarchs broke away from the circle, walking in circles themselves, shouting, “Hallelujah! Thank you, Jesus! You are worthy!” Although I couldn’t fully comprehend the significance of praising God and Jesus at that time, I was eager to learn and experience the same joy they possessed.

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The saintly matriarchs exuded a genuine happiness that I longed to embrace.

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Sister Ella commenced the service with the recitation of the Lord’s Prayer.

Following this prayer, the matriarchs erupted into joyful dancing, clapping their hands, stomping their feet, and shaking their tambourines. Inspired by their enthusiasm, I found myself tapping my feet on the porch steps, joining in the celebration of praise.

Next, Sister Ella led a Bible reading, and each person shared their insights and reflected on the scripture. Once the reading concluded, they expressed their gratitude to God for His Word through more exuberant praises. I watched in awe, yearning to join them in praising God and Jesus.

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As the worship service came to an end, the women gathered their belongings and wrapped plates of fried fish, string beans, macaroni and cheese, and slices of lemon cake in aluminum foil to take home. They embraced one another, bidding their farewells for the night. As they exited Sister Ella’s home, they all wished me a good night, and I reciprocated their kind words.

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Feeling a sense of melancholy as the prayer service concluded, I gathered my belongings from the porch and retreated into the house to prepare for bed. Climbing the stairs, I once again encountered the Lord’s Prayer plaque on the wall. This time, a thought crossed my mind — if I were to recite the Lord’s Prayer out loud, would it bring me the same happiness as the saintly matriarchs?

Today, I am a Christian who faithfully recites the Lord’s Prayer before bed and upon waking in the morning. And I praise him continuously throughout the day.

Observing the Friday night prayer services led by the saintly matriarchs and my mother, who placed The Lord’s Prayer wooden plaque on our home’s wall, fills me with deep gratitude for illuminating my path to the teachings of Christ Jesus, and I am forever grateful for them.

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(Copyright © 2025 by Mia Z. Edwards. All rights reserved.)