Episode 10 — The Table Between Us
The space lasted for four days. Four polite good mornings. Four neutral good nights.
No deep conversations.
No “I miss you.”
No late-night prayers together.
It felt unnatural. Like holding your breath without realizing it.
By the fifth day, Valerie could feel the strain in her chest. She was at the studio in Surulere, adjusting the hemline of a structured blazer for a client fitting, when her phone buzzed.
Purity: Have you prayed?
She stared at the message longer than necessary.
Valerie: Yes.
Purity: Can we talk tonight? I don’t want us to drift.
Her throat tightened. She didn’t want them to drift either.
Valerie: Okay.
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That night, when the call connected, his face looked tired. Like veryyyy tired.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
There was no anger in the air now. Just weariness. They were both so tired.
“I don’t like this version of us,” he said gently.
“Me neither.” she pouted. She missed her Man so much.
“Can we try something different?”
She nodded. “What?”
“Let’s bring someone in.”
She blinked. “Like who?”
“Pastor.” Her heart skipped. “Already?”
“Yes.”
She frowned. “Won’t that make it official-official?”
“It already feels official.” She didn’t say anything.
He leaned forward slightly. “I don’t want to lose you because we’re both reacting from fear.”
She swallowed. “And you think counsel will fix it?”
“I think wisdom helps.”
She considered that. Her father had refused counsel. Her mother had suffered alone or so she thought. The thought of choosing differently felt… unfamiliar.
“I don’t want to be pressured,” she said quietly.
“You won’t be.”
“I don’t want him convincing me to accept pastoral life.”
“He won’t. He knows your story.”
She hesitated. “He knows?”
“Yes.”
Her heart jumped. “You told him?”
“I didn’t share details. Just that your father’s ministry hurt your family.”
She was quiet for a moment.
“Okay,” she said finally. “Let’s talk to him.”
Two days later, they were both on Zoom with Pastor Ade. Pastor Ade was in his early forties, calm eyes, steady voice. The kind of man who listened more than he spoke.
“Good evening,” he said warmly.
“Good evening, sir,” they replied almost in unison.
He smiled slightly. “I hear there is tension.”
Valerie almost laughed. “That’s one word for it,” she muttered softly.
Pastor Ade looked at her kindly. “Valerie, I would like you to speak first.”
Her heart pounded. She wasn’t used to being asked first. She inhaled slowly.
“I’m afraid,” she said simply.
“Of what?”
“Of repeating history.”
He nodded gently. “Tell me.”
She swallowed and spoke. About her father’s absence.
About church members calling at midnight.
About watching her mother shrink quietly over years.
About promising herself she would never marry a pastor.
She didn’t cry. Her voice was steady. But her hands trembled slightly. Pastor Ade listened without interrupting. When she finished, he nodded slowly.
“Thank you for your honesty.”
Then he turned to Purity. “And you?”
Purity inhaled. “I don’t want to be a pastor because of title,” he said. “I didn’t even want it.”
Pastor Ade smiled knowingly. “Most genuine calls begin that way.”
Purity continued. “I love Valerie. I want to build with her. But I can’t ignore what I sense God saying.”
“Are you willing to let the call mature slowly?” Pastor asked.
“Yes.”
“Are you willing to delay leadership training if it causes fracture?”
Purity hesitated. Valerie’s heart jumped.
He answered carefully. “I’m willing to move at God’s pace. Not mine.”
Pastor Ade studied him. “That’s not exactly what I asked.”
Purity inhaled deeply. “I’m willing to delay if it means preserving something God also gave me.”
Valerie’s chest tightened.
Pastor Ade nodded slowly.
“Good.” He leaned back in his chair. “Valerie.”
“Yes sir.”
“Your fear is valid.” Her throat tightened unexpectedly. “But fear is not always prophecy.” She blinked.
“Your father’s failure is not a blueprint for your future.” She swallowed.
“And you are not marrying a title. You are discerning a man.”
She looked at Purity instinctively.
Pastor Ade continued. “A pastoral call does not automatically mean emotional neglect.”
Valerie’s voice was soft. “But it can.”
“Yes,” he agreed calmly. “If boundaries are not set.”
He turned to Purity. “Do you understand what boundaries look like in ministry?”
“Yes sir.”
“Say it.”
Purity didn’t hesitate. “My wife comes first. My home comes first. Emergencies do not override covenant daily. I do not counsel women alone. I do not sacrifice family time for applause.”
Valerie felt her chest shift slightly. Pastor Ade nodded approvingly.
“And if the church demands more?”
“I resist it.”
“Even if they criticize?”
“Yes.”
Pastor Ade smiled faintly. “That’s easy to say before pressure.”
Purity met his gaze. “Then I build accountability.”
Pastor Ade turned back to Valerie. “What would make you feel safe?”
The question startled her. She had expected correction and not accommodation.
“I… I don’t know.”
“Try.”
She inhaled. “Transparency.”
“About?”
“Schedule, emotional state--when he’s overwhelmed.”
Pastor nodded. “What else?”
“Not being forced into roles I don’t want.”
Purity nodded immediately. “Done.”
She looked at him. “Really?”
“Yes.”
Pastor Ade leaned forward. “You two are not fighting about calling,” he said gently. “You are fighting about security.”
“Valerie fears invisibility,” he continued. “Purity fears disobedience.”
They both went still. “And both fears are valid,” Pastor concluded.
Silence filled the digital room. “Here is my counsel,” he said calmly. “Do not decide marriage under fear and do not end love under assumption.”
Valerie’s chest tightened.
“Take three months,” Pastor continued. “Let Purity begin informal mentoring. Not public leadership. Observe. Ask questions. Build systems now, not later.”
He looked at Valerie. “Do not punish him for obedience.”
Then at Purity. “And you, do not rush her healing.”
The weight of that hung in the air. “Can you both agree to fight for clarity instead of for control?” Valerie looked at Purity. He looked at her. Slowly, she nodded.
“Yes.”
“Yes,” Purity echoed.
Pastor Ade smiled gently. “Good. Then let us pray.”
When the call ended, Valerie and Purity remained on the line together. Neither of them spoke immediately.
Finally, she exhaled. “I didn’t expect that.”
“What?”
“For him to validate me.”
Purity smiled softly. “Na so.”
She gave a small laugh. “Don’t start.”
Silence settled, but this time it wasn’t heavy.
“Mama?”
“Mhmmm?”
“I don’t want to pastor without you.” Her heart shifted.
“And I don’t want to run from you,” she admitted.
He nodded slowly. “We’re not breaking up right??” he said gently.
She looked at him. “No, baby. We’re not.”
A quiet relief washed between them.
“Three months,” she said softly.
“Three months.” he echoed
“And we watch.” she said
“And we pray.” he replied
She inhaled deeply. “Okay.”
For the first time in weeks, the tension eased.
“Can I tell you something?” he asked.
“Hmm?”
“When you said maybe we’re not aligned… I felt like my chest was tearing.”
Her throat tightened. “I’m sorry, babe”
“But.. I needed to hear it.”
She tilted her head slightly. “Why?”
“Because it showed me how serious this is. “I don’t take you lightly,” he added.
She nodded. “I know.”
The distance still existed. The calling still stood between them like a question mark. But now, there was a table-- A place to sit, to speak, to not run.
“Babee?” she called
“Yes mama….?”
“I’m still scared.”
“That’s okay.” he said like the most natural thing in the world.
“You’re not?” she was surprised
He chuckled “I am.”
She smiled faintly. “Good.”
He laughed softly. “Hard girl.”
“Shut up.”
For the first time in days, she felt something familiar return. It was not certainty, it was hope. And that, was enough for now.
Three weeks into the “three months,” everything still felt calm. Too calm. Valerie didn’t trust calm. Calm had a way of pretending to be peace before chaos knocked. But for now, things were… steady.
Purity had started meeting with Pastor Ade once a week. He was undergoing serious mentoring, leadership conversations, character formation, Intense bible studies and how to be accountable.
And Valerie? Valerie was thriving. Media department was no longer just something she attended. It was hers.
The sanctuary lights dimmed slightly as the worship team transitioned into the final song. Valerie stood behind the media console, headset on, fingers dancing across the control board with calm precision.
“Camera 2 tighter. Yes, that’s it. Hold that frame.” Her voice was steady and confident.
Tammy leaned beside her.
“Madam Creative Director,” Tammy whispered dramatically. “Look at you.”
Valerie smirked without looking at her.
“Face front.”
“You’re glowing.” She said nudging her with her shoulder.
“I’m working.”
Tammy laughed softly. But she wasn’t wrong. Valerie had stepped into something that felt like purpose.
After service, Pastor Ade called her aside.
“You handled transitions well today.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Sooo… I’ve been thinking.”
That sentence always meant responsibility. She braced slightly.
“I’d like you to lead a media workshop next month.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Me?”
“Yes.”
“For who, sir?” she chuckled nervously.
“For other branches.”
Her stomach flipped. Other branches meant visibility and that, will come with a lot of pressure.
“I don’t know if I’m ready, sir.”
Pastor smiled gently.
“You are.”
She hesitated. “I’ll pray about it.”
He nodded approvingly. “Good, Valerie. Pray about it and let me know what you decide.”
As she walked back toward Tammy, her heart beat faster. What did she know that he was nominating her for a workshop.
That evening, she called Purity. He answered on the first ring.
“Creative Director 1 of the whole Lagos.”
She rolled her eyes instantly. “You people can do amebo oo. How you take know?? Now now now...”
“I heard.”
“You heard?”
“Tammy posted. ‘When your friend becomes national media plug.’”
Valerie gasped. “Ohhh no.. she didn’t.”
“Ohhhh yes She did.”. They both burst into laughter.
“How was service?” he asked.
She leaned back against her bed headboard. “It was…. Full.”
“Full how?”
“Like… I felt present. I was not just attending, I was contributing.”
His voice softened. “I love that.”
She smiled faintly. “How was mentoring?” He exhaled. “Intense.”
“Hmm.”
“Pastor Ade asked me if I would still obey if obedience costs admiration.”
She paused. “What did you say?”
“I said yes.”
“And?”
“And he asked me why I enjoy being affirmed.”
Valerie chuckled softly. “That man doesn’t play.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
There was a short pause.
Then she asked gently, “Are you enjoying it?”
He thought for a moment. “Yes. But it’s stretching me.”
“Good stretch or scary stretch?”
“Both.” Silence lingered. Then he added quietly, “I haven’t told you something.”
Her heart shifted slightly. “What?”
“There’s a small fellowship here in Kigali.”
She sat upright. “Kigali?”
“Yeah.”
“You didn’t tell me you were attending something.”
“I wasn’t at first. I just visited.”
“And now?”
“They asked me to share during Bible study next week.”
Her chest tightened. “Oh.”
“It’s just small,” he added quickly. “Like twelve people.”
“But still.”
“Yeah.”
She stared at the wall. She didn’t want to react. Didn’t want to sound triggered. But her chest felt that familiar heat.
“Are you okay?” he asked gently.
“I’m fine.”
“Mama.. boo.”
“I said I’m fine.” she sounded irritated. Like she wanted to be anywhere but on that call.
Then he said softly, “That doesn’t sound fine.”
She closed her eyes. “I just… I don’t want this to escalate quickly.”
“It’s not.”
“It starts small.”
“I know.” There was no defensiveness in his tone.
She exhaled slowly. “I’m trying,” she admitted.
“I see that.”
“And I don’t want to be the girl who flinches every time you hold a mic.”
He smiled faintly. “You’re not flinching. You’re processing things.”
She didn’t respond immediately.
“Do you want me to say no?” he asked gently.
The question hung heavy. “No,” she said finally.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Her voice was softer now. “I don’t want you shrinking to make me comfortable.”
He inhaled quietly. “Thank you.”
“But…”
He waited.
“If it becomes something bigger, I need to know early. Not after you’ve already said yes.”
“Deal.”
Silence settled again but this time, it wasn’t tense. “Mama?”
“Hmm?”
“I’m not choosing platform over you.”
Her throat tightened. “I know, babe.”
But knowing and feeling were different things.
The week moved fast. Valerie poured herself into planning the workshop. Slides. Structure. Branding. She was in her element.
Meanwhile, in Rwanda, Purity prepared notes for his small fellowship talk. He sent her a screenshot of his outline.
Topic: Faithfulness in Hidden Seasons.
She stared at the title longer than necessary. Faithfulness. Hidden seasons.
The irony wasn’t lost on her. That night, they did Bible study together over video call.
Tammy was sprawled dramatically across Valerie’s bed as usual.
“Open your Bible,” Valerie said to her.
“I am.” Tammy replied grumpily, trying to fight sleep.
“You’re lying.”
“I’m opening the app joor.” She hissed and sat upright
Purity laughed from the screen. “Tammy, you’re so unserious.”
“I’m tired oo. Let love come and carry me bikonu ooo.”
Valerie rolled her eyes fondly and ignored her.
“Today we’re reading Colossians 1:23,” Purity said.
They read together.
‘If indeed you continue in the faith, stable and steadfast, not shifting from the hope of the gospel…’
Valerie felt that word hit differently. Stable , Steadfast , Not shifting.
“Steadfast is hard,” Tammy mumbled.
“Why?” Purity asked.
“Because feelings shift.”
Valerie looked at her. “That’s deep for someone as horizontal as you”
Tammy ignored her.
Purity leaned closer to the screen. “Steadfast isn’t about feelings,” he said quietly. “It’s about decision.”
Valerie swallowed. Decision.
After Bible study, Tammy left them alone. Silence lingered for a few seconds.
“Do you think we’re steadfast?” she asked softly.
He didn’t answer immediately. “I think we’re choosing to be.”
She nodded slowly.“I don’t want to fail at this.”
“You won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know this,” he corrected gently. “We’re not pretending and that matters.”
She looked at him. “I’m proud of you,” she said quietly.
“For what?”
“For not rushing.”
He smiled faintly. “I’m proud of you too.”
“For what?”
“For staying.”
Her chest tightened. She hadn’t realized that was what she was doing. Staying.
Two days later, Purity shared at the Kigali fellowship. He sent her a short voice note afterward.
“I was nervous,” he admitted, laughing softly. “But it went well.”
She listened to the audio twice. She imagined him standing there. Holding a Bible and speaking. And for the first time… She didn’t feel panic. She felt curiosity.
What kind of leader would he become? What kind of woman would she need to be beside him?
That night, as she lay in bed, her thoughts felt heavy. Growth wasn’t dramatic. It was subtle. Like muscles strengthening slowly. Like roots pushing deeper underground.
The weight of becoming wasn’t glamorous. It was quiet and deliberate and intentional.
And for the first time since this whole conversation about calling began… She wasn’t just afraid.
She was watching, observing, learning him again. Not as a boyfriend. Not as a potential pastor. But as a man choosing obedience carefully. And somewhere in that observation, something inside her softened.
Because maybe… Just maybe… She wasn’t repeating history. Maybe she was rewriting it.
To be continued on Wednesday 🤭
My Varity loversss!!! Happy new week, my loves.
Sooo I gave y'all a longgg chapter. Hope you enjoyed it??
Do you think Valerie and Purity have overcome the challenges or there's still more to come?
Do you think Valerie should still seek therapy or she's good now? Do you think Purity should leave Rwanda and maybe come home so they really talk?
Let me hear your thoughts. 🤭
I love Pastor Ade!!! Wisdom pass Solomon!!!!
God bless you!!! Well purity and Valerie are getting there. And honestly, Valerie is a leader in her own space, she never seen yet 🤣💔