Vol. 2 Issue 4 by Pecan Tree Publishing

PECAN TREE PUBLISHING

VOL. 2 ISSUE 4 OCT/NOV 2010

Domestic Violence Awareness Month:

TEARS OF A CLOWN Living Like You Mean It Devotional:

You have a Purpose!

Parables Magazine is published by Pecan Tree Publishing, Hollywood, Florida. It is a bi-monthly online publication devoted to short Christian fiction, inspirational essays and devotionals.

Table of Contents

Volume 2 Issue 4 October/November 2010

Letter from the Editor CAROL LYNNE WATSON

Publisher

Dawnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Light ALOMA GEORGE & JEANA CARDENHEAD

Inspirational Essay: Listen to the Cry of the Child BARBARA JOY HANSEN

E. Chantaye Watson

Devotional: You Have A Purpose! PROPHETESS ROBIN MCCRAY

Media/Marketing

A Bride for the Kalonga MARION TURNBULL

The Front Pew ARLISIA POTTER

JoAn Bonjoc Tameca Acree

Adult Tree ROBIN MONIQUE FAIL

Graphic Design

Inspirational Essay: Living Like You Mean It PASTOR TOM MILLNER

Devotional: Standing on the Word of God in the Right Garment EVANGELIST PATRICE COBB

Before You Go: Tears of a Clown E. CLAUDETTE FREEMAN

E. Claudette Freeman

Editor-in-Chief Carol Lynne Watson

Creative Director

E. Claudette Freeman

Customer Service

Katherine Anne Densing Pecan Tree Publishing is a Emily C. Freeman Holdings, LLC company. For advertising, marketing or submission information, please feel free to contact our offices at: info@ pecantreepress.com, 877-207-2442, fax: 954-272-7041.

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Letter from the

Editor

Wow! An awesome issue of Parables lies before you. Since the time we started sharing this magazine, we have attracted readers from all over the world. This magazine is touching lives as far away as Asia and Africa and if we base it simply on the content of this issue alone; it is easy to understand why. This issue is filled with the hearts of those who contributed to it, from as far away as South Africa to right here in our own back yard of Fort Lauderdale, Florida. As you enjoy every page of this issue may you come to understand God in a new and powerful manner. If you are reading Parables for the first time, we welcome you and I want to say that you sure picked a great issue to start with. If you have been on this journey with us from the start, we welcome you back. Go grab a hot cup of coffee or tea and then sit back and relax and enjoy this issue of Parables. Be blessed! Carol Lynne Watson

BY ALOMA GEORGE AND JEANA CADENHEAD

Dawn’s

Light

Rushing out of my dorm room because I’m always late, I dashed out of the building and ran right smack into him. All of my books went flying out of my hand and I fell backwards on my butt. After shaking my head because I was slightly dazed I looked up and had to shield my eyes from the brightness of the sun. I couldn’t see his face but I heard his awesomely handsome voice.

“Hey sorry about that, let me help you up.”

I reached my hand out to grab his and he pulled me up. Dusting the dirt off my jeans and helping him pick up my books I looked up and almost choked on

my words. This man was gorgeous and I’m not talking about a rugged Denzel handsome but a Shamar Moore pretty handsome. My goodness I didn’t know what to say so I just stood there. He handed me my books and apologized for running into me and just stared at me. After he realized that I wasn’t going to say anything he apologized again and walked away. And I was still standing there after he disappeared into the building. “I can not believe that I just stood there like a mute, he must think that I’m an idiot.” I made my way to class thinking about the situation and kicking myself for acting like that. You would think that I never met a handsome man before. PA R A BLES

And if I’m honest I haven’t, I’m mean I’m only 20 years old and the guys I’ve dated have been cute but none of them looked like that. Walking out of class I was so occupied with my thoughts that I didn’t see Terrence walking next to me. Clearing his throat he said, “Earth to Dawn, I’ve been having a conversation with myself for five minutes.” Looking over to my right I smiled and said “Hey I didn’t see you there.”

why so I walked away before I made a fool of myself. I found Terrence leaning on the wall, and for a moment I stopped and thought, ok you are walking away from pretty to average something is wrong with that picture. Terrence looked up and I swear his whole face lit up; walking over to me he kissed me and told me how beautiful I was. We danced and danced and had way too much alcohol and by the end of the night or should I say early the next morning, we made our way to Terrence’s off campus apartment and did something I’ve never done in my life, I had unprotected sex.

“I know I’ve been talking and you’ve been staring into la la land.” ************

“Sorry I’m just a little preoccupied”

“Yeah well it’s cool, we still on for tonight, that frat party is gonna be all the way live.” I paused and wondered if that guy I ran into would be at the party. And silently hoped he would.

“Yeah we still on I’ll meet you there.”

Leaning over and giving me a kiss, he smiled, “You’re so beautiful and I’m so lucky, see you later.” Watching him walking away I thought to myself why was I with him, the sex wasn’t all that and he is sometimes very childish, but he does give me something to do on those nights when I get too lonely for words. Sighing I walked to my next class. After getting dressed in my skintight black leggings and my cute purple top that stop right before my ample behind I slipped on my pumps and walked to the frat house and noticed that there were more people there than the last one I been to. And already people were drunk and throwing up on the lawn. I think that is so pathetic when you can’t hold your liquor. Making my way through the throng of people I walked inside and the first face I saw was of the pretty boy. He smiled at me and winked, I smiled back and walked away looking for Terrence.

Pretty boy made me nervous and I didn’t know

PARABL ES

My head was pounding and I tried to open my eyes to no avail. After literally using my fingers to pry my eyes open I was assaulted by the god awful sound of the alarm clock and the brilliant shine of the sun. For a moment I had no idea where I was and then like a movie pressed on rewind everything came rushing back to me causing me to pop up out of bed and that movement caused my stomach to shift and I barley made it to the bathroom. For the next couple minutes the toilet bowl was my best friend as it received everything that I ate last night. Sitting on the floor I leaned my head back on the wall. I couldn’t believe that I did something so stupid. It’s not like I’m some young teenager in love. I’ve seen the billboards and know all about the statistics I mean I am the coordinator for the college “For the love of my life” club which promotes safe sex and HIV awareness. Suddenly feeling the need to pray, I knelt and closed my eyes and asked God to forgive my lapse of judgment and getting caught in the moment and to please cut me some slack. I knew that Terrence was clean as far as STD’s because in addition to coordinating the FLL club I also assist in letting people know their results. So I wasn’t worried about catching anything other than a baby and that wasn’t in my plans. So formulating my escape I walked quietly out of the bathroom grabbed my clothes and left.

Getting back to the dorm I rushed into the

shower hoping to wash away last night’s indiscretion and to scrub away any memory of Terrence. I wasn’t going to let it happen again and in order to do that I had to stay away from him. It wasn’t very hard to get over Terrence, because pretty boy was making subtle but noticeable moves toward me. I saw him around campus quite a few times and each time I saw him my heart would start beating so fast I thought it would burst right through my chest. One day while I was studying in the library for my chemistry exam I heard the richest baritone in my ear.

“Is someone sitting with you?” he whispered

Startled I looked up into his sensual brown eyes and I stammered “Um no…no I’m alone.” “Good.” He sat down next to me and opened his book and began reading. I’m sitting there thinking, “oh my, oh my goodness, how am I going to study anything with him sitting so close to me.” I could only hope that he couldn’t hear my heart galloping like wild horses. We sat like that for what seemed like eternity with me pretending to read and him stealing glances at me. And for some reason he abruptly gets up and walks away and all I could do was watch his sexy bow-leg walk as he distanced himself from me. And in a character not my own I scribbled my number down on a piece of paper and ran up to him. “Hey, listen call me sometime and maybe we can study together.” He smiled. Beautiful sparkling white teeth shine down on me and I am mesmerized.

“I don’t even know your name.”

“I guess you will find out when I call you.”

He takes the sheet of paper from me looks at it and his mouth moves as he reads my number. “What’s your name?” he asks. “I guess you will find out when you call me?” I tease.

He chuckles and it sounds like raindrops falling and cooling a hot summer day. I turn and walk away making sure that I twist my waist a bit more for his enjoyment. I have never been so bold in my life, but opportunities like that only come around so often and I was not going to let it pass me by. ********** From the moment he called me, we were inseparable. We quickly became the talk around campus. And of course with any college the rumors began and were spreading like wild fire. Many of the girls thought he was gay and that was only because he was pretty and always took care of how he was dressed. Even my parents thought that something was just not right about him. Bringing him home to meet my parents was probably the worst thing I could have done and it was on Thanksgiving weekend. By this time Damian, that his name, and I were dating for about 6 months and things were great aside from the rumors; so of course I wanted him to meet my family. I figured Thanksgiving would be a perfect time because it’s when everyone would be at my parent’s house and we always had a blast. I knew Damian would fit right in but I have to admit I had reservations about my mother meeting him. My mother loved Terrance and couldn’t understand why I broke it off with him. I prayed she would be on her best behavior and at least give Damian a chance. And I wished that she wouldn’t judge him before meeting him, knowing she already had. This was the first time since leaving for school I even thought about bringing someone home. Although Terrence and I dated for a while the only time my parents or family met him was when they came to visit me at the college. They always asked me why I never bought him home with me on semester breaks. I guess in the back of my mind I knew the relationship wouldn’t last, so taking him to the place that held so many personal memories for me didn’t seem like a smart idea.

My mother took my break up with Terrence PA R A BLES

harder than I did. Actually it didn’t take much for me to forget about him. But if I didn’t know any better I would have thought that my mom was the one being dumped. Every time we spoke on the phone she would say to me “Dawn you let a good one go, he had potential and you let him go. That boy loved you and worshipped the ground you walked on. You know, I just don’t understand you at all.” It got to the point that I was tired of explaining to her that my feelings for him changed and I just couldn’t fake it anymore. He’s a great guy who deserved a woman that would love him the way he deserved and someone who’d be his equal in all things. And it turned out not to be me. Now Damian is the kind of man I needed in my life. He matched me step for step and my life has been filled with so much excitement since we started dating. He’s very romantic and he would surprise me with little things everyday; he would clean up my apartment, do the grocery shopping and would even cook me dinner. I considered myself to be a very blessed woman and I thanked God every chance I got for sending him my way. I couldn’t imagine what my life would’ve been if he wasn’t in it. I completely gave my heart and self to him and I just knew he was the man I would marry; in fact marriage was always in our conversations and I’d find myself daydreaming at times about the type of wedding and life we’d have. We were like Siamese twins joined at the hip. I couldn’t wait for everyone to meet him because I knew they would fall in love with him the way I did. I even told myself he’d win over my mother. ********** The morning Damian and I got into the taxi and headed to the airport I felt like we were headed to a romantic weekend away from the chaos of life. But I knew better. We were headed to my childhood home and I was so anxious I could barely sit still. Since we were only going for the weekend we packed light, I didn’t need my mom to think that we were trying to move in with her. During the ride we couldn’t keep our hands and lips off each other. Although we’ve been dating for six months we still haven’t taken our 8

PARABL ES

relationship to that sexual level. I wanted to be sure he wasn’t going anywhere so the goodies were under lock and key. He tried really hard to take it to that next level but I would always remind him that if he loved me he’d wait until I was ready. I guess I was afraid because of the mistake I made with Terrence which resulted in a pregnancy scare and just the memory of it was enough to douse whatever sexual desire I was feeling when around Damian. It was nearly impossible to compose myself because the man was very sexy and I wanted to know what it would be like to lay with him and have him consume every inch of my body. One night after an especially romantic evening, when he touched me ever so lightly on my neck, I came dangerously close to stepping over the edge and throw caution to the wind and give my body over to him. I had something extra special planned for after the thanksgiving weekend and I prayed it would seal our bond. I had my girls working things out for me back home and I knew what I had planned would make him very happy and maybe even push him to seal the deal by placing a ring on it. It took two and a half hours for us to reach our destination and I have to admit I was very excited to see my family. I hadn’t seen them in a couple months and it would be good to see everyone again. We waited for my dad outside the airport and when he stepped out of the car I ran and hugged him so hard, it literally took him three to pry my hands from around him. My daddy was my hero. He never fussed or even thought about whipping me. My mom was the disciplinary. Even when I came home with my first and only tattoo of a butterfly on my right shoulder, he didn’t trip out like I thought he would. He simply said “Dawnita remember it’s not every fad that you have to follow.” That’s why I love my dada as I often call him. He has never judged me and has always shown me unconditional love and because of that I’ve tried to never make mistakes in which I knew would disappoint him. After I finally let go of him, I took a deep breath and introduced Damien. “Daddy I will like for you to

meet Damian and Damian I will like you to meet my dad.” I held my breath as the two men who were so important to me shook hands and went through their formalities. Okay so far so good. My dad welcomed him and we were on our way. My mind was racing as Damian and my dad conversed on the drive home. I was wondering how my mom would react? What would she say? It felt like I was about to have an anxiety attack as we turned the corner and pulled into our driveway. My stomach dropped and I started sweating although the temperature was hovering around fifty-five degrees. Closing my eyes I said my hundredth short prayer for the day that everything would go well that weekend. As I opened my eyes I could see my mother standing in front of the big bay view window in the living room. Seeing her standing there with her arms crossed made me want to tell my dad turn around and take us back to airport. She was such an intimidating woman and her presence could be very overwhelming to any who didn’t know her. I was nervous. Not for myself but for Damian. Opening the door of the car and getting out, I walked directly towards the trunk to retrieve our bags, but really what I was trying to do was prolong my entering the house. My dear sweet dad who knew what I was trying to do, stopped me in my tracks and told me go on inside the house and he’ll get the bags. Damian bless his heart was standing in front of me and I took his hand as we proceeded to walk to the front door. That walk to the front door was the longest short walk I had ever taken. As we got to the door I didn’t have a chance to knock because my mother swung the door open and pulled me into her embrace. I hugged her back as the familiar scent of Cashmere, her favorite Donna Karen perfume drifted into my senses and I relaxed into her arms. I knew although she was hugging me, her full attention was on Damian who was standing next to me. Pulling away she looked at me. “Baby girl you need some food. Why are you so skinny? Is school getting to be too much for you? Are you worrying about something?”

She threw out those questions so fast I didn’t

even bother to answer them. Turning towards the man I loved, I said “Mom this is Damien.” Damien stuck out his hand to shake her hand but instead my mom pulled him into an embrace which threw me and Damien for a loop. I told him to be prepared for a standoffish greeting from her so the action at the moment wasn’t making sense.

“Nice to meet you son.”

Son? Who is this woman? Damien and I exchanged glances and I shrugged my shoulders, I was just as baffled as he was. She continued, “Welcome to the McNairy home and I hope you have an enjoyable stay.” I guess I was looking at my mother as if she had three heads because my dad passed by and said “Close your mouth honey. Flies will get in.” ********* To my utter amazement we had a very uneventful weekend. My mom was on her best behavior and was nice to Damian. I was a little suspicious of her extra care around him but if it kept the peace I wasn’t going to say a thing. On our way back to the airport my Dad was really quiet. So when we arrived at the airport and Damian was taking the bags out of the trunk; I pulled my dad to the side and asked him what was wrong. “Nothing Dawnita, nothing at all.” “Really, dad come on I know when something is bothering you, tell me what it is.” He hesitated and looked around as to make sure no one was in hearing range. I was getting nervous just watching him get so paranoid. “It’s your mom, I asked her why she was being so nice to Damian, and you know that’s unlike her. She could be a tyrant when the mood strikes.” Of course I knew that my mom could be a handful but I wasn’t going to tell my dad that I was worried about how she handled Damian with kid gloves. PA R A BLES

“Yeah I know.” “Well she told me that she treated him like that because that was how you treat a lady.” The meaning behind my dad words came through loud and clear it was as if someone announced it on the AP system and everyone was staring at me. I looked over to where Damian was standing patiently waiting for me; and tried to dissect the last 6 months of our relationship. Was there some kind of sign that would make me think of him as less than a man? Yeah he kept his apartment and mine spotlessly clean and there is never anything out of place on him. But that didn’t mean anything. He did help my mom out a lot in the kitchen and they went shopping together but he does the same thing with me, he was just being sweet. I mean Damian loved shopping. Whenever he and I stepped out whether it was to the football game or to dinner we were sure to be the topic of everyone’s conversation. It seemed like he made it his mission to make sure that I always looked good. Now I wasn’t a shabby dresser at all. In high school I was voted best dressed and fashion design and merchandising happened to be my major in college, but somehow he always knew how to add that extra flair. We had somewhat of a ritual where he goes into my closet and picks out my outfits. He always knew which pieces to pair up. When we first started dating I have to admit I wondered about Damian’s extra love for fashion. The men I’ve dated in the past didn’t place the amount of time into the way they dressed and I didn’t know what to make of it. I knew of the rumors that were circulating about him but I learned how to ignore them because I fell in love with him. I was proud to have a man who took great care in himself. Shaking myself out of my thoughts I turned towards my dad and realized he was watching me stare at Damian. I looked at my dad and gave him a warm smile. I hated that he had just planted doubt in my mind. Laughing, I gave him a hug and said, “You guys have got to stop worrying about me, Damian is all man, he is just a little more sensitive than the other men I’ve dated.

PARABL ES

“I know that honey, you just be careful okay.”

“Okey dokey daddy.” He always loved when I said that to him. Hugging me till I could barely breath he kissed me on my forehead, waved at Damian, got in to the car and left. I stood there and faced the man I loved and an odd look came over his face. Walking over I smoothed the wrinkles that formed on his forehead and kissed him taking his hand and we walked inside.

“What was that all that about?” he asked.

I looked at him and saw such a beautiful man that was all mine. There’s no way he could be what they think he is. He’s mine, sensitive, gorgeous, humble, and an awesome dresser. “You know fatherly words about making sure I was careful and protected myself.” When he got my drift he blushed and laughed out loud. “You and your dad are really close.” “Yeah that’s my daddy and my friend.” I decided at that moment that I would put my father’s words out of my head and simply enjoy Damien for who he is. Mine. ************ Time surely flies when you’re having fun. The next few years of our lives together have been filled with good times and laughter. I can honestly say that Damian and I have never had any major arguments and that may have been weird for some but to me it just showed how compatible he and I were. My parents still had their reservations and my mother would insinuate every chance she got about Damian’s ‘sexuality’, but because of their love for me and the love I showed that Damian and I had for each other; they decided they would try to be accepting of the decisions I’ve made. I appreciated that more than they could ever imagine and I was determined to show them that my relationship with Damian was indeed

perfect. Deciding to take the ultimate step Damian and I against my parent’s wishes moved in together. My mother had a royal fit because as she saw it, I was selling myself short and she warned me I shouldn’t put the cart before the horse. Never one for speaking straight she always came at me with riddles and parables and I seriously thought that she sometimes tries to emulate Jesus. Because of my mother’s constant bickering my entire family jumped on her wagon of misgivings. Not a day went by that I didn’t receive a phone call listing my mistakes from all of my aunts and uncles, who were trying to, as they put it, talk sense into me. I really wished that my parents could be a little more open minded like Damian parents. They simply told him that if I made him happy and if he thought the situation would benefit him then to go ahead and experience the new chapter in his life. So that’s what we did and the change was so welcoming and right I just knew that he and I would be together forever. In my world of love and contentment with Damian I never saw the change coming. I was completely baffled and knocked off my feet. I was in the kitchen when Damian came in and said that we had to talk. Turning the knob on the stove to put the pot on simmer; I walked over to him to kiss him hello and he turned his head. Now that has never happened before so I knew that something was really wrong. Sitting at the table I looked at him and waited.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he stated.

“Do what?”

“This, waving his hands around, I can’t play this game anymore, I’m leaving.” I sat there and stared at him and tried to make sense of what he was saying. “Do you mean to tell me that you are breaking up with me and that all this is a game to you. Because it’s not a game to me Damian. This is my life.” He looked at me without an ounce of emotion, without any love or sympathy.

“This has always been a game to me; I had to play because I was afraid of being exposed. I couldn’t face what I knew was always there and being with you help to put it on the back burner of my mind. But now I can’t anymore I have to be free of this façade. “What the hell are you talking about D?” I yelled at him. I was really trying not to explode on him so that I could get to the bottom of this crazy situation. “Say what you are saying and make it clear, man up and speak your mind.” “That’s just it; your mom had it right when she called me a lady.” I didn’t know that he overheard my dad say that. That’s why he was waiting there so patiently he was waiting for me to end it then. “I enjoy dressing up like a woman and I like men. I never wanted to hurt you and never expected us to ever be together this long. But I have to put an end to this.”

I believed that I’ve been shot.

My mind fogged up and my hearing had to be impaired. There’s no way that I heard what I think I heard. This has to be a nightmare and any moment I am going to wake up and everything will be fine. Closing my eyes against the onslaught of his words, because he was still babbling I tried to wake myself up. “…sorry about this, I wanted to tell you so many times. But you were always so happy I didn’t know how to tell you and not crush your enthusiasm, but I’ve got to go; you know I never meant to hurt you.” Opening my eyes I asked the only question that was seared in my mind from the moment I realized that this was no dream.

“Did you ever love me?”

“No.” without looking at me and opening the door, I barley heard him when he whispered that two letter word and walked out of my life. *************

PA R A BLES

“I’ve hurt so many nights, I’ve cried so many hours. Trying to make it right, but just didn’t’t have the power. And you ignored all my tears, it hurt me so bad. You wanted them to disappear. I tried to let it go but I guess you just don’t want to know” The tears fell in a never ending stream down my face as I listened to Marvin Winans angelic voice coming through my I-pod head phones. My plan that morning was to go for a mind clearing jog but instead here I am sitting on the grass doubled over crying my eyes out and not caring who saw me. I am broken and I just can’t go on one more day. The curve ball that was thrown at me hit me in my gut and has left me breathless. Loving him was all I knew and all I wanted to do, and now he was gone. Just like that. He left without saying goodbye. He just walked out the door. With no real explanation; leaving me with nothing. How am I going recover? What is my next move? How could he do this to me? I trusted him. I loved him in spite of what my family and friends had to say about him. I loved him and that was that; but now I am alone with an unfathomable void in my heart. I guess I should have listened to my mother. I should have prayed about that relationship before walking blindly into it and never looking back. This is what happens when you leave God out; you get stepped on and left out in the corner to be picked up like yesterday trash. As the song came to an end I took the ear phones out my ears and lay back on the grass. The warmth of the sun reminded me of his smile and his touch and so I basked in the remembrance of him. My mind was telling me to go inside the house but my body wouldn’t comply with my brain, I didn’t want to break the feelings that were overwhelming me. Darkness soon clouded over my vision and I drifted off to that peaceful place. “Where is that beeping coming from?” I asked myself as I opened my eyes. Lifting my hand to my pounding head I was shocked to see an IV line in my hand and the heart monitor machine I was hooked up too. Looking around the room I saw my brother and best friends sleeping in chairs in the hospital room. Confusion suddenly set in and as I tried to sit up, my mom came rushing to my side and telling me to calm down and not to move. 12

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“Mom what’s going on? Why am I in the hospital and hooked up to a heart monitor and IV bag? I was just laying on the grass in my front yard?” Again I tried to get up but voluntarily lay back on the pillows because my head felt too heavy and a wave of nausea came over me suddenly. “Dawn please try not to move.” My mom said sternly. “Why are you so hard headed? If you’d listen to me seven years ago you’d never be in this position now.” Shutting my eyes against the nausea that threatened to overtake me, I hoped that when I opened my eyes my mother would have disappeared. “Marcel leave that girl alone for God’s sake,” I heard my dad’s deep, rich voice demand. My daddy was always coming to my rescue. “Hey baby girl, how’s my favorite daughter?” Opening my eyes and meeting the warm brown eyes that belonged to my daddy, I laughed and informed him that I was his only daughter, as if he didn’t know. “Daddy what am I doing here?” I asked him making sure he saw the pleading and confusion in my eyes. Pushing back the bangs, of my ridiculously priced new haircut, out of my eyes the man whom I knew would give his life for me tried to speak through his tears. Calming himself and trying to calm me, I was nearly hysterical by that point; he called me by his pet name which let me know he had bad news for me. “Dawnita we thought we’d lost you. Jaycee and Kendra said they were calling you and you weren’t answering so they went by your house and found you lying unconscious on the grass. Sweetheart you’ve been in the hospital for the past five days,” I heard my dad speaking but his voice became muffled as I tried to wrap my thoughts around what he was telling me. How could that be? Five days? I was unconscious for five days? “Well what’s wrong with me?” I asked him. My parents looked at each other as if they were afraid to answer the question. “Mommy, Daddy”

I pleaded with at them. Didn’t they know they were scaring me? “What’s the matter with me?” I yelled. My mother started crying hysterically and that alarmed me even more. Turning her back to me, my dad sitting at the edge of my bed had the task of telling me that I was HIV positive and pregnant. ************* As the words my father spoke to me seeped into my thoughts and sat on my heart, I knew in that moment that I desperately needed to be alone. Turning towards everyone in the room who were staring at me as if I had three heads; I calmly asked them to leave. My mother bless her heart said she wasn’t leaving me alone and I got so upset that I thought my head was going to explode. Why? Just once couldn’t she listen to me and not fight me? An overwhelming feeling of anger, confusion, disappointment and despair started simmering on the inside of my soul, and I heard a voice screaming, “Get Out Now!” My mother who just seconds before was crying uncontrollably now stood deathly still as I realized the voice screaming was coming from me. I heard daddy say “Marcel let’s go and give the child the space she asked for.”

For the first time in her life my mother lis-

tened and proceeded to walk out the door. Before she walked out the door she made her way back to my bed; leaning down she kissed my cheek and whispered in my ear that she loved me and will be there for me when I needed her. I looked at her and for a moment saw a different woman. Closing my eyes I enveloped myself in her love and didn’t notice when she slipped out of my room. Laying there I took a deep breath and replayed everything that transpired within the past few days. My fiancé of seven years told me that he is gay and I’m finding out I have a disease that will eventually kill me and that I’m expecting a baby. How did I get myself in such a royal mess? And how was I going to get through it? Looking out the window in my hospital room, the thoughts of jumping entered my mind. A quick and easy way to go I figured. As I struggled to sit up on the bed, the words “You shall live,” hit my spirit. Feeling an instant urge to pray, I got out of bed and got on my knees, closing my eyes I started talking to God. Crying out to Him, I laid everything at his feet. Knowing He was the only one, who could help me, pushed me to pray honestly and earnestly. The hours passed as I was on my knees and as my prayer came to an end there was a feeling of peace that came over me. You shall live resonated in my spirit and I knew without a shadow of a doubt I would be okay. Strength surged through my body and placing my hands on my stomach I was reminded that it wasn’t just about me anymore. The window that just hours before seemed to be the perfect exit out of my self induced hell, now welcomed in the dawn’s light and bought renewed hope into my life.

Scriptures to glean from Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are nosheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, {18} yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior. {19} The Sovereign Lord is my strength; he makes my feet like the feet of deer; he enables me to go on the heights. (NIV) —Habakuk 3: 17-19

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Inspirational Essay

LISTEN to the

Cry of the

Child

BY BARBARA JOY HANSEN

Growing up as the daughter of a pastor, I was given deep spiritual roots by my loving parents. I can’t remember when the sexual abuse began, but it was when I was a very little child, maybe as young as two or three. The “secret” of my grandfather molesting me while treating me to ice cream was unthinkable! Favors are always given to the victim. It is a way to hold power over him or her, downplaying the abuser’s part in the abuse and hoping the innocent child won’t tell. I did not. He told me not to. I was too little to understand anyway. I felt very unprotected and very vulnerable at his home. He entered my bath time without the knowledge of anyone else in the family. He exposed himself to me numerous times asking for sexual favors. He also took me alone with him in his car where he molested me. As a little girl I was intensely shy, quiet, very trusting, withdrawn and extremely vulnerable. Every time I see a picture of me around the age of five or six I feel quite sad. I am never smiling. I see a lot of hidden pain in my face and a voice that couldn’t speak about what had happened to me. Like a deaf mute, I became silence about it for decades, desperately wanting to tell someone what was happening in my silent world of memories, but unable to do so. Like the silent falling of the snowflakes, no words about it came out; no voice was heard. I had ears and a mouth, but I could not speak the unthinkable. I screamed but no sound came out of my mouth. There were only tears late at night when no one but God was listening. PA R A BLES

Although I wouldn’t remember it in the morning - and not even now - my mother tells me that when I was about five years old, I would sometimes wake up in the middle of the night screaming hysterically. She knew I had had a nightmare and as she picked me up, she’d assure me that “Mommy is here. You’re OK.” I looked very frightened and would kick her while I sobbed hysterically and screamed, “You’re not my mommy!” She recalls that I looked so very, very scared that it frightened her terribly! She would hold me close and pat me for about half an hour until I went back to sleep. The second abuse began at age eleven. “Shhh! Don’t tell!” This is what the stocky and balding twentyseven year-old youth pastor told me as he gave in to his uncontrollable urge to molest me. He singled me out, as if picking the sweetest, ripest, freshest, undefiled oranges at the supermarket. The details of those events are as vivid in my memory as if they happened yesterday. He fondled me underneath my black tank bathing suit while he laughed and joked at the swimming hole. When everyone around us thought we were having fun, he whispered in my ear: “This is our little secret; keep it to yourself; don’t tell!” This sent up a warning sign: Don’t let him get too close! And it also raised a question: Why is he doing this to me? This time I knew it wasn’t OK. I struggled and nearly drowned. Hanging onto the dock, I kicked to free myself from his advances. I have had a fear of water ever since - and I don’t like ice cream either! Secrets are a pedophile’s biggest tool. Children need to be taught there are OK secrets (keeping a surprise birthday party a secret) and “go and tell” secrets (when someone who touches you inappropriately tells you not to tell anyone). My parents trusted everyone, thinking I was safe from predators, not realizing that these child molesters - who they knew - were hurting me and others, luring us all into their deceitful web! As I grew into pre-adolescence, I looked undernourished and anorexic. The signs are all there in my pictures - pictures I don’t like seeing. I drank milkshakes to gain weight and didn’t understand why I was so skinny. I never gained weight and I never liked the way I looked. I thought I was ugly. I didn’t go through puberty when my friends did. I was mortified at the age of sixteen when I hadn’t started my monthly cycle my mother had to take me to the doctor for hormone shots to make my body begin doing something that should normally have started by then! No one questioned what was wrong. Who would have suspected it was because of the sexual abuse, least of all me? The pai n of keeping this dirty little secret buried took a tremendous toll on my body. The reaction was not unique. Victims of sexual abuse - male and female - become stuck in both an emotional and physical time frame. The body shuts down physically and emotionally, and actually becomes unable to function as it should. As a young teenager, I felt lifeless inside but didn’t know what was wrong with me. I was filled with shame, so scared and sad that my smile became forced. I had few close friends, and my schoolwork suffered. I struggled with math and history; I just couldn’t connect with those subjects. I studied so hard for tests, but because of the posttraumatic stress disorder because of the years of abuse and the chunks of memory it forced me to blank out, I had an extremely difficult time remembering information for tests. I resorted to cheating just to pass. But I liked English, literature and writing and did well in those subjects. I never dreamed I would become an author, but it shows that God can make something out of what appeared to be nothing. Then, as I grew into young adulthood, I felt as if a wrecking ball had come down on my head and shattered my life like a mirror into a million pieces all over the road of life. I have been trying to pick up the pieces of my life ever since. On, here’s another piece over here and another over there, I would say to myself. Piece by 16

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piece, I picked them up, thinking it was all my fault! Just like all the king’s men in “Humpty Dumpty,” I had no idea how to put myself together again. This huge puzzle with its scattered pieces - my life - had been created in the image of God, but in my shattered state, it was impossible to realize that image. I had been betrayed, and because of that betrayal and the thirst the perpetrators had to “feel good,” I will never be the same! My freedom day was October 1998. That day was a huge step of courage and setting my soul free from shame. After our son’s wedding I was finally able to relax. Everyone except my parents had left our home. Dad was in a different room while my mother and I watched television. The Oprah Winfrey Show was on. I don’t remember exactly what the program was about that day, except I do remember that part of it was about confronting your past. I admired the courage and boldness it must have taken on the part of those who were speaking. My mother and I were agreeing with Oprah and her guests about the importance of coming clean from whatever harm had been done to you. I felt as if I were living a lie. I remember thinking to myself; I wish I could do that! How I wish I could openly tell my mother about being molested by her father. But the secret of that hideous humiliation had been locked inside me by tremendous shame. Years of doubts and fear had bound me for decades! How come I don’t have that kind of courage? What is it going to take for me to tell? Questions I had asked myself over and over again. My mother was now in her early 80’s, and I was an adult, thirty-three years into my marriage. Just that summer I had mustered all the courage I had and finally told both of my parents about the youth pastor who had sexually touched me when I was eleven and twelve at a church youth camp all those years ago. But, this deeper secret plaguing me was too close to home because it involved a family member. The secret had been buried for a long time, but was now creeping to the surface. What energy it took to keep it under wraps. Would my mother believe me anyway if I told her? Besides, I was living with the fear my father had impressed on me when I told him about my grandfather just three years earlier. He had said, “Don’t tell!” Funny, that’s exactly what my grandfather told me after he molested me so many times. It felt as if I were being victimized all over again by my own father. He went on to say, “You can’t tell her, it might kill her!” “Daddy,” I said at the time, “I know without a doubt that she was also a victim!” Two of my cousins had already told me that they too had been victimized by him. I knew from what I had read that child molesters don’t stop at one victim. They usually hurt many in their family. The sad part was that this dirty little secret lying just beneath the surface was killing me! An abuse victim suffers in silence. By remaining silent, and with the fear of anyone discovering my “secret,” the effects of the abuse on my adult life were something far more devastating than the actual abuse! I had been trying for years to get free from my addiction to a life of denial! When The Oprah Winfrey Show was over, I turned off the TV and my mother went upstairs. Soon my father came into the family room and began to chide me about my ministry to those “crushed in spirit” - the drug addicts, alcoholics, prostitutes, ex-cons - those people the world sees as throwaways. They were invited into our home out of prison and drug treatment programs. My husband and I had gone into a minimum-security prison and a crack house to minister to drug dealers. We had started to mentor those steeped in their addictive lifestyles. In beginning to climb out of the pit I was leading others out with a trauma support group. I think he was concerned I might be putting myself in jeopardy and it was his way of saying he cared about my well-being. No doubt he was afraid for my safety.

Suddenly on that day in the room with my father, all the suppressed venom, like a poison from a viper, PA R A BLES

came out with an over flow of tears and sobs that I didn’t even realize were coming from me. I had never seen myself as an angry person. But what I failed to see what that unless anger - whether it shows outwardly or is deeply suppressed - is dealt with, it has the ability to destroy you! When it is released, it doesn’t mean that those horrific memories are forgotten; it means that you are released from the hatred that has settled inside your soul. I had never acted this way before and was so afraid my mother would hear me. I heard myself say, “Daddy, you don’t understand! The pain the people I work with are in is the same as my pain; they aren’t any different than me!’ Why can’t I tell my mother? My grandfather is dead. I did nothing wrong to deserve my being so dead inside my soul!” By now I was weeping as my mother came back downstairs, thinking my father and I were arguing. I heard my father say, “Maybe you should tell her now.” Words I never thought I would hear. They would free my spirit forever. I immediately ran to the basement where my husband was working. I grabbed his arm and told him, “Pandora’s box has been opened! You’d better come upstairs, because I’m about to tell mother the dark, dirty secret of my past.” I sat weeping, grieving deeply for the loss of my childhood innocence. I also realized the importance of what was about to happen in relation to the healing of my family. I took my husband’s hands as well as those of my father and mother. They were intently looking at me, wondering what I was about to reveal to them. I started by telling my mother that I was a victim of abuse, not only by a youth pastor, but also by someone very close to her, my grandfather. Before she could respond, I went on to tell her I believed that she, too, had been a victim of his. My dad, not wanting to hear the truth, put his hand on her arm and questioned her, “Honey, no, it didn’t happen, did it?” She nodded that it had indeed happened. As my father looked at her with disbelief, she said to me, “Why, oh why, didn’t you tell me years ago?” Fear chokes the soul just as weeds choke the most beautiful flowers in the garden. As this fear was beginning to be released, I realized that this, the garden of my life could now bloom in the mission I was now on. When fear comes uninvited, it needs to become an offering to God and to yourself to work through that fear in order to free your soul to live!

Barbara Joy Hansen’s story is true and documented in her published book, “Listen to the Cry of the Child. . . the Deafening Silence of Sexual Abuse” (2003 WinePress Publishing). The author’s website is www.listentothecry.org.

Scriptures to glean from There is no fear in love, But perfect love drives out fear… (NIV) —1 John 4:18

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Devotional

Purpose! YOU HAVE A

By Prophetess Robin McCray

REFLECTION The Word of God tells us in Jeremiah 29:11; “I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the LORD, thoughts of peace, and not of evil to give you an expected end.” God has a plan and a purpose for your life. The earth is groaning and groaning again for the sons of God to come forth! God is looking for those that society has given up on to use them to build His Kingdom. Hear The Voice behind the words that are penned. Are you living or do you simply exist? There’s a purpose for your life that only you can fulfill. Tap into your purpose. Nothing can hinder the plan of God for your life. Whatever you’ve been through and wherever you’ve been, destiny has been with you because “destiny” always tries to work its way back to the will of God. Destiny has brought you to this point of your life for such a time as this. What you do with this moment either takes you away from your destiny or causes you to embrace your destiny and live out your divine purposes. Throughout your life your destiny wants to be discovered by you. It may take a moment or a lifetime, a day, or a decade. Until you know what you are called to, you cannot begin to walk out your destiny. In the Book of Jeremiah, Chapter 1:5 “Before I formed thee in the belly, I knew thee; and before thou camest forth out of the womb I sanctified thee and I ordained thee a prophet unto the nations.” You were planned! Your timing was pre-determined, prearranged, pre-programmed, pre-destined, and pre-ordained by God. You are not the results of your Father and Mother sins. You are an original! Some may imitate you, but you cannot be duplicated. There’s no photocopy, carbon copy, spare, replacement or reproduction of you. Only you can give birth to your destiny! You are no accident. God looked down through the corridor of time and space. He knew your mother, grandmother, and ancestors ten and twenty generations before them. In the Book of Psalm 139:16b "... and in thy book all my members were written, which in continuance were fashioned, when as yet there was none of them". Meaning He knew where they would have to move and what they would have to do to bring you into existence at exactly the right time. God watched as you grew in your mother's womb. David knew this when he proclaimed, "When I was made in secret, and curiously wrought in the lowest parts of the earth. Thine eyes did see my substance, yet being unperfect" (Psalm 139:15-16a). God knew every event that 20

PARABL ES

would take place in your life before you even had a life. You have not been abandoned to run like a mouse in a maze, trying to find its way through the paths or tunnels. You must know that you been fashioned for something very special. What God purposed for you to perform was not suddenly thought about in a moment of emotion or passion, but it was planned, fashioned skillfully with preliminary sketches and plans WITH YOU IN MIND. You are fearfully and wonderfully made by God. God doesn't want anyone else to do what He fashioned for you to do because before He designed the purpose- HE DESIGNED YOU. He fashioned you! Doesn't it make you feel special to know that God first fashioned you before He designed His purpose? After He saw His masterpiece, YOU, He designed a purpose for you so that you would always be fulfilled doing exactly what you were formed to do. Finding and developing your creative strengths is an essential part of becoming who you really are. As you walk with God on this journey, you will find when He communicates with you, you are discovering more about yourself than you realize. Most people do not know what they're good at simply because they have seldom been praised for their attempts. Nothing is more motivating than being told how well you did something. Remember every great artist was first an amateur. Don't forget that you have something "beyond the ordinary" deep inside of you and to discover that does not take much in terms of intuition. It’s important to know who you are before you can discover what you can do. Never stop searching for more of you. There is more to you than meets your eye! When you discover a gift or talent that you have, which was hidden or undiscovered, you have increased your ability to conquer and to accomplish things in life. That’s because the Kingdom of God is inside of you! The more you discover the more you can show. What you comprehend you can apprehend. When God speaks to you it's usually about you. MEDITATION As you meditate on the passages of your scripture herein, know that it is time for your “true identity” to be discovered – Your destiny! God is forming a highway in your wilderness. It will not be made of shifting sand. The foundation of your future is being laid. God is the one that causes things to let go so you can move into your destiny. It’s time to come out of your comfort zones and take the limits off. It’s time to awake from your slumber and sleep. There’s hidden wells inside of you that God is getting ready to unleash and unveil. You are the diamond in the rough! PRAYER/ACTION/KNOWLEDGE There’s greatness in you and hidden treasures that God is about to bring to the surface. Jesus’ plan for you is awesome and you did not miss your calling because His timing is always perfect. God is raising you up in your destiny. Before you can walk into your destiny you must learn who you really are in Him and that He loves you unconditionally. Don’t let where you are limit you or define you. Don’t let your mind-set limit you or hold you back from what God is preparing for you. You cannot let the limitations and fears keep you from seeing the Lord strengthen and help you to discover your destiny. Amen. Robin McCray is called by God as an intercessor, a spiritual midwife that carries an anointing to help birth hidden treasures within individuals and elevate them to the next level of their destiny. She moves powerfully in the area of prophetic and spiritual warfare. God has called her forth as a apostolic voice to help produce and give birth to what the Spirit of the Lord is doing in the earth. Robin carries a strong prophetic mantle of God. She is apart of “Sisters on the Wall” ministry. She is the author of five books that’s in the process of being published; Restoring the Art of Intercession The Watchmen Call, The Art of Waiting on God, The Power of True Worship, Unleashing the Power of the Mind and Medicine for the Body - The Word of God. Robin writes monthly newsletters through her blog: http://robinmccrayministries.blogspot.com/

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Bride for the

KALONGA By Marion Turnbull

THE CHIEF The African Chief stood on top of the mountain and looked out across mountain ranges covered in tropical rainforest. He was Chief over all, as far as anyone could see, and much farther than that. His bright eyes missed nothing, and his people loved him. Today he focused on a dark shadow hanging over the forests toward the east. He smiled and nodded to himself, “Yes! The time has come.” Small stones rattled down the mountain, and he turned. “Father! I knew I would find you here!” A young man was bounding up the rocky summit, and the Chief’s face lit up as he watched his only child climb easily to the top. Governing a great people was no worry to the Chief. It came naturally to him. But it could be a lonely at times. The Chief’s son was also his greatest friend. How he loved him! 22

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They stood together now, the son tall as his father, and very much like him, gazing out over the forests, teeming with wild life in this land where the sun is always hot and the rain falls in abundance. But their eyes were not seeing the mountains spread out at their feet. Something else occupied their minds. At last the Chief turned to his son. He smiled. “It’s time you were married.” The young man turned eagerly to face him, “Yes, sir, and ...” Both pairs of eyes returned to that dark patch on the horizon. “.....see there,” he pointed, “some people hide from us in the deep forests across the Great River. They ignore their rightful Chief, but they are our people. I will take a wife from those people.” The Chief raised his eyebrows. It always delighted him how this young man understood his innermost thoughts. “Good! We will send for your bride.”

“Let me go myself, sir! Why should we bring others into danger?” “In time. Everything must be done in its right order. There will come a time, but today we choose our messengers.” They went down the mountain together, picking their way between the rocks, until they reached the welcome shade of the forest trees. A long embroidered shirt hung loosely on the Chief’s broad shoulders, reaching almost to the ground: his son’s shirt was shorter, above cotton trousers. A troupe of noisy monkeys jumped out the way, scolding and swinging through the treetops. Screeches and calls from hundreds of birds and insects filled the air. Through the din came the sound of a child crying. On the path ahead a woman was carrying a basket full of heavy watermelons on her head, and her little boy wanted to be carried. “You have too much fruit today, Madam!” “Yes, sir. And Jojo is tired. Please take one, sir.” She put down her load, selected a large melon and presented it on one knee to her Chief. “Thank you,” said the Chief. He threw it, like a rugby pass, to his son, lifted the child onto one shoulder, and continued along the path deep in conversation with the woman. His son looked helplessly at the melon, tucked it under his arm, and followed with a big smile on his face, down the narrow path leading to the Chief’s village. That day the Chief called several men to his house. It was built with baked mud bricks like the other houses, and thatched with palm leaves, but the Chief’s house had an extended roof, making a wide veranda where people could find a refuge from the hot sun. It was here that the men sat listening to their Chief as he asked them to travel to the dark forests beyond the Great River to bring back a bride for his son. Drums were singing throughout the forests, passing on the message from village to village, and the news was heard within minutes. The Kalonga (for that is the name given to the Chief’s son in those regions) sat listening as his father spoke quietly to the chosen men. “This will be a dangerous mission. We have no recent news of the people who live over the Great River, but we do know that they are rebellious and unpredictable. You must decide for yourself whether you will go, or not.”

“I will go, sir.” “Me, too.” “You, Mbi?” said the Chief, “You are young. There will be other times.” “I go, sir!” said Mbi. And so said they all. The Kalonga paced up and down. His father drew him close, “Be patient, your time will come.” “But I want to save them from such danger.” “How can they grow into strong people without facing some hard challenges? These men will return stronger and wiser.” Many gifts were prepared for the girl and her relations. “Look at all the gold and silver necklaces and bracelets.” “And the clothes! Our Chief does everything well. He is so generous.” Excitement rose as the people planned for the coming marriage. The hunters sharpened their spears. “We’ll need plenty of food,” they said. The wild creatures of the forest provided all the meat needed for the cooking pots. The hunters kill quickly and mercifully, and pass on skills to their sons Dressmakers were busy from morning till night. Almost everyone wanted new clothes for the wedding. Children practiced their songs to welcome the bride. Each village would bring music, and the singing would go on and on - such beautiful singing! What a great time it would be when the Kalonga’s bride came. Now the men were ready to leave. The Chief gave them his blessing, each man shouldered his share of the bundles of gifts and food for the journey, and they set off in single file down the narrow path through the forest that led, eventually, to the Great River. The Chief and the Kalonga continued their work among the people. How happy are people with a leader who rules with kindness and justice! People sometimes talked about the age of their Chief. As long as anyone could remember he had always been there, but no one could say he was old or decrepit. He was strong as a young man, yet wise and reliable. Two months passed and everyone watched the paths. “She will be here soon,” said the people. “She will be so glad to be the bride of our Kalonga!” “But she is taking a long time to prepare herself,” said others. “Perhaps it’s their custom.” Another month went by. The children tired of their songs, the new clothes gathered dust, the hunters’ PA R A BLES

spears leant against the walls. One day the drums announced that men were coming, and late that evening eight men staggering into the open space in the centre of the village. Their clothes hung in rags, and two of them were almost carried by their friends. Wounded and dejected men, they were the messengers. But where was the Bride? The Chief embraced his friends and led them into his house. “Come, rest and eat,” he said. “Tomorrow we shall all hear your story.” Next day many people gathered in the village. The men came out from the house with their Chief. They looked happier now, bathed and dressed in clean clothes. They smiled at friends and walked upright. “Tell us your story,” began one of the village elders. “That country is a terrible place!” “The people live in fear of a great snake.” “A snake!” cried the people, “Afraid of a snake?” “I tell you, this snake is enormous!” The man stood and raised his hand as far as it would go. “It rises right up, two times higher than the tallest man, then knocks him down, coils around him and crushes him to death. Yes, we have smaller ones here, pythons, but this one must be their great-grandfather! It’s people he wants, anyone in his path - men, women or children.” “Then why don’t they kill this creature?” “Because there is something even worse!” “Worse?” The people crowded in to hear, but some held back. “Yes, worse than death even. The people have become mean and wicked inside themselves. To save their own skins they will push some weak or foolish person into the path of the snake. So people are afraid of each other.” The people sitting on the village floor shivered as if a dark cloud had passed over. The men continued. “We reached the people and they heard our message, but - they didn’t believe us!” “But, surely, they would believe the word of the Chief!” “Some did listen. They saw the gifts. In fact, it was the gifts that caused a problem. They began to argue, then to fight, and the Snake came as they fought and took away a woman.” “So they blamed us. They beat us.” They showed the scars on their backs. “Some wanted to kill us, so they shut us up in a house. 24

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“Without food or water.” “But then, they all began to drink palm wine and got drunk, so Mbi here had the idea of breaking a hole in the roof. He stood on our shoulders, and got out, and then each helped the others until there was only Ojong left. We pulled him up, and ran through the forest.” “What about that Snake?” “He is afraid to attack people who stay together. But it was a long way home.” The people sat silently thinking. “Then there is no Bride for our Kalonga?” said the elder. “There is a Bride, and I will go myself to bring her!” It was the Kalonga himself who spoke. Everyone turned to look at him. “But it is not our custom, ... ” another elder began to say, but the Chief stood up, and everyone looked at him. “My son must go to bring back his Bride. There is no other way.” THE PYTHON The Kalonga chose twelve young men to go with him. This time there were no gifts, but it was noticed that he carefully sharpened and polished his machete, that long, heavy knife so necessary in the forest. When he was satisfied, he put it in its leather cover and fastened it to his belt. The young men did the same. Two of them carried a small spear each. Now they were ready. The Chief walked to his son, and put both hands on his shoulders. For a moment it seemed as though he would never release him, then he smiled, and said proudly, “My dear son, bring her home!” They were off. Many followed and ran alongside until the path became too narrow for a crowd. When evening came, they would stop at some village. People were always so happy to have their Kalonga. They would beg him to stay for a few days while they danced and sang, and the young men would look at him hopefully, but he was eager to be on his journey and set his face towards the Great River. They could hear the river a mile away. It roared. When they saw it, the young men were astonished and afraid. Some of them wanted to turn back. The deep waters rushed by, foaming, defying anyone to enter them. About half a mile across on the far side,

dark, dense forest trees leaned out over the waters. The Kalonga took his machete and swung it into the sides of a young tree until it fell to the ground. They chopped off its branches and carried the trunk to the River. Now they launched themselves and the log into the water, holding on to it with their hands. So they moved out into the river, strong legs propelling them towards the far side. Of course, they were swept downstream as the water carried them away, but little by little the far side became nearer, and at last they were able to grab overhanging branches and haul themselves up and out of the grasping waters. They climbed along the branches and dropped down into the damp undergrowth. “Follow me and keep close. If that creature is aware of our presence - and I’m sure he is - he may try to attack us one at a time. But have courage, my friends, and keep following.” The Kalonga took his machete and began to hack a path through the trees and bushes. It was indeed dark in there. Their feet went down into rotting branches and slippery leaves. Parrots made mocking cries. Snakes, disturbed, slithered away, or watched warily from overhead branches. The young men jumped at every sound or movement. Perspiration ran down their bare backs. The Kalonga kept on, and they had to follow - they needed his company. Before darkness fell completely, they found a dry place to make a fire and cook some yams they had carried with them. A duiker (tiny deer) provided meat. The small spears had been useful. The Kalonga showed where a spring came from the ground, and they drank thirstily. They slept little that night. Next day they reached a clearing. The air was hot, heavy and oppressive. A bird screeched. They jumped and held each other. The Kalonga walked on. Thinking about it afterwards, the men realised that he had deliberately separated himself at that moment, going to meet his challenger alone. Suddenly this giant of a python rose up in the air, knocked him down and whipped its huge body around him. The young men fled. It was indeed a python but bigger than any they had ever feared to see. The strong coils tightened around the Kalonga’s body, but he kept his right arm free and brought the blade of his sharp machete down on the constricting muscles. The creature lashed out in pain

and fury, but released its hold for a second, allowing the young man to free his left arm also. The serpent tensed again, and lifted its huge head towards the prey, saliva drooling from the great, open mouth. The Kalonga, both hands this time, swung his machete in a wide circle and - cut off the python’s head! The Kalonga’s arms were strong. He was thrown clear as the huge body convulsed and writhed about the forest for a long time. At last it lay twitching ineffectively. The Kalonga, flung against a hardwood tree, dropped to the ground and lay like a rag doll. The young men stopped running at last. The headlong flight had led them deeper into the swamps. But they were all alive, and when they had struggled onto dry ground they made a fire. The unhappy little band lay down exhausted. In the morning they considered the situation. Better that they escape from this forest over the Great River - if possible! They used all their natural forest skills, and after some hours they heard the sound of the roaring waters. Finding a long branch they threw it, and themselves, into the river, as the Kalonga had taught them, and reached the far side. Of course, it was many miles further down river than the place they had started out on that day when he was with them, but they were glad to be back in their own country. “How can we face our Chief without his son?” “He’ll never forgive us. “Where else can we go?” Sitting in a wet little heap, each considered his options. At last the most senior spoke. “There is nowhere else to go. We must go back and put ourselves on the Chief’s mercy.” “Yes,” said another, “we have done enough running.” So they began the long trek home. The Chief was sitting on his veranda as they walked across the village centre, heads bowed in shame. Then, suddenly, they were in his arms! He had left his chair, and come to receive them. “Sir, “ they began, “we bring bad news. Our Kalonga ..... “ “So, all is lost? The python was too clever?” asked the Chief, with a hint of a smile. If they had dared to look up, they would have seen a twinkle in his eye. “We don’t know, Sir. We didn’t see what exactly happened. We ....” PA R A BLES

“Then don’t worry!” said the Chief, ushering them into his house. “I have another assignment for you. When he returns with his Bride, you will go to meet him.” The men didn’t know what to think! THE VILLAGE IN THE DARK FOREST The Kalonga opened his eyes and sat up, groaning. “No bones broken? No, but am I sore!” He staggered to his feet and moving his body carefully, he rummaged around until he found his machete. The sound of water led him to a spring, where he washed off the blood and slime. Then, striding over metres of fat, slimy snake, he found the huge head. Picking it up by some loose skin, he set off to find the nearest village. In the forest, the first sign of a village is the sound of a cock crowing: the second sign is overgrown gardens among the trees. A path led from the gardens and he found himself in a clearing surrounded by palmthatched, broken-down houses. The village seemed empty. He called out a greeting. A small child peeped fearfully from a doorway and screamed. People appeared, and when they saw the python’s head they were amazed and gathered around. The Kalonga looked at them. The children were mostly naked with sad, hungry eyes. All the people were dirty and in rags. Some cried out in fear, but others began to dance and sing, “The Snake is dead! The Snake is dead!” The village elders had been drinking again, but they tried to wake up and look important. Each brought his own chair, carried, of course, by someone unimportant. The Kalonga threw down the head, whereupon everyone wanted to look at it, and there was more dancing and singing and wailing and comment. When order was restored, someone asked the Kalonga to tell his story. So, he told his story - all of it. They looked at him. Well! He was not a pretty sight. His body had been bruised and twisted in the fight: his clothes, what was left of them, were in rags. He was sore, hungry and utterly weary. “Son of the great Chief?” said someone. “Anyone can come and tell us a good story. What proof have you?” asked another. “Ha! He wants a woman and has no money. So, he tells these lies and thinks we will believe him.” 26

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“He will not have my daughter!” said one of the elders, looking worried. “Nor mine!” said another. The people argued. At the edge of the crowd stood a group of teenage girls, giggling and nudging each other. The Kalonga stood up, with some difficulty, and walked across to them. Looking steadily into the face of one young woman, he announced, “This young woman is my wife!” “She is not!” shouted a large woman with broad shoulders. “That is my daughter and she will not marry a good-for-nothing stranger like you!” “Look at him!” she called to her daughter. “What could he do for you? He’ll come and go like the rest, and leave you to raise the family and do all the work. I know these men!” Everyone laughed, the arguments went on and people became quite heated. At last, the elder with the loudest voice was heard. “The case of the young man is undecided,” he said, “but it is true that today the Snake is dead. We must have a celebration!” “Yes! Yes!” cried everyone. “A celebration! Let’s have a celebration. Bring beer, prepare food. It is a long time since we had a celebration!” Immediately the whole village was hard at work preparing to enjoy themselves, as people do. One of the men sidled up to the Kalonga, who was standing, looking towards the girl. “Come on, now, young man,” he said kindly, “we’ll have a great time. Good time to get a woman.” He winked knowingly. The Kalonga still looked at the girl. Her friends were pulling her to help prepare for the celebrations. She glanced shyly across at the Kalonga, met his steady gaze, and felt herself drawn towards him. Why? Maybe he speaks the truth, she thought. He looks poor, but his eyes are honest. He is a good man - and who else will show us any good? “Come!” he called, then turned and walked out of the village into the forest. Someone put a water pot into her arms, but she laid it down, and, not really knowing why, Mabvuto ran after the stranger. THE JOURNEY HOME He was hidden now in the dark forest, but she heard twigs cracking as he sped along so she pushed along the path he had made. Thorns scratched her face and legs, and she had to scramble over giant tree roots. Where the path was unclear, she saw he had marked

the trees with his machete. She heard him singing! Now the ground became steep and she heard snatches of his song from higher up. “That way’s too steep for me!” she thought. “Here’s an easier way.” So she followed her own path, and found herself in clinging swamp, not able to move. “Help me! Stranger, if you are there, help me!” Immediately he was there. They climbed out of the swamp together, and he found her a place to sleep inside the roots of a tree. He slept nearby. She’d never known a man like this. When he looked at her he seemed so pleased. The word for ‘love’ had been lost among her people, and she didn’t know it. “Mabvuto!” “How do you know my name? It means Troubles.” “I know, but I shall call you Dalitsa.” “You can’t call me that! It means Blessings.” “Dalitsa, you are my blessing and will be to my people.” He laughed at her astonishment and ran along the path ahead. She just followed, shaking her head. This man amazed her. But the dark forest still terrified. Why was he not afraid? “Because my father is Chief over all.” When they came to the Great River she was terrified, but he laughed, picked her up in his strong arms, and they entered the waters together. In no time at all, they were clambering up the far side, laughing and shaking water from curly, black hair. She felt the air sweeter here. Was that because the forest was different, or because everywhere he went things changed? Sometimes they walked. Sometimes she would rest while he gathered fruits. She watched him as he showed her the delights of his world. But he himself is the most wonderful, she thought, and hoped that life could go on forever without anyone else interrupting the two of them. They swam in small streams, caught fish for supper, and looked happily at each other across the campfire. Flowers bloomed everywhere. But the path was narrow. Only feet, and mostly bare ones at that, passed this way. One day they kissed. “My dearest,” he whispered, “we shall be married soon - in the presence of my father”. Then he took her hand and led her resolutely on. They met a man. The man shouted for joy, and ran tell others. They rushed to greet the Kalonga. Now, so many people came that they made slow progress.

A group of twelve young men came. They seemed to be his special friends and he put his arms around them as they wept for joy. Now they were never alone. She saw her beloved lifted up and carried along, and then she was lifted and carried behind him. People put out their hands to touch him. He grasped them and spoke kind words. They put out their hands to touch her. She jumped back, but then plucked up courage and touched them, following his example. So, he really is the son of the great Chief. . Suddenly she felt so small and mean and insecure. . “Eeeh! These people are so different to my people. I don’t belong here. I want to be with him, but I’m not the kind of person to be his wife. He will be ashamed of me!” So they came to the Chief’s village. Many hands lifted her down and she was led by singing, dancing women. Girls were waiting with towels, and took her to the sparkling stream, where they bathed and splashed each other. They dressed her in a dry, clean robe. Her own clothes, she saw now, were just dirty rags. She had thought they were quite smart - before. In the dancing firelight that evening she sat down to a delicious meal with her new friends. Tomorrow, they said, you will marry our Kalonga. She lay down to sleep with mixed thoughts and emotions. She woke very early. “What shall I do? I cannot be the wife of this great person. He is too high and noble for me. But then, I don’t want to go back. I want to be where he is. I’ll ask if I can just stay here. I’m quite willing to do anything. Just to see him sometimes, from a distance.” The girls called her to bathe again, and to anoint herself with some lovely perfume, a present, they said, from the great Chief. Well, at least she would smell nice! Her dress fitted perfectly. She didn’t know it, but she was beautiful. She had been changed as she walked with her beloved. The women began to dance and sing again, and she was led into the bright sunlight. No going back now! They passed through rows of people, all in their finest clothes. This was the Day, and they were ready to enjoy it. At last, as they came to the centre of the crowds, the dancing and singing stopped. The Bride was led forward. The great Chief sat on his chair, and his smile was encouraging, but her eyes were searching around. PA R A BLES

“Where is he? My beloved! I need you now!” A young man stood up from the Chief’s seat, splendid in his wedding clothes - the same young man who had carried her over the Great River and run alongside, laughing, through the forest. As he leapt across now to take her hand and lead her to his father, all her fears disappeared. She stepped forward with her eyes on his face. Now she knew. She could trust him for everything. He had enough strength and grace and goodness to carry them both. She was safe in his love. He led her to the great Chief. “Welcome, daughter!” he said simply. It was as though she had always belonged here. She had come home, and her beloved was at her side. What about the people across the Great River? Well, they had their “celebration” and ended up with the usual headaches, misery and emptiness. Some, cleverer than the others, picked up the head of the python, set it on a pole and danced around it. “See,” they said “he still has power. Give to him, or his curse will be on you.” So they made a living from a dead thing that was unable to curse or bless in any way. And when the head rotted, as a dead thing does, they made a beautiful carved copy and kept it polished. Amazing how some people prefer a god who cannot see or hear, one they can handle and keep in his place. The real God is too disturbing. The Bride longed for her people to share in her riches, and her husband sent many times to ask them to come, but they were not really interested. Some of the younger folk learned to sing songs about the Chief around the fire in the evening. Some even agreed to go and see their relation, but when they came to the Great River they refused to go any further. So they existed to a ripe miserable old age, and died without ever seeing or knowing their Chief. “Anyway,” they said, “why doesn’t he send someone to visit us?”

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applies)

The Front By Arlisia Potter

PEW

Who would have thought that I’d be sitting here? I, Jordan Shaw, sitting in the front pew during church. Front and center, waiting for the sermon of Reverend Robert Johnson of Loving Christ Baptist Church (LCBC) to begin. Anyone looking at me would believe this to be something that I had been doing all my life. By “something”, I mean being a believer. The path here was not a short or easy one, but by God’s grace I made it. When did things change for me and where did it all begin? Hmmm, it must have been somewhere between the leaving high school and going to college transition in life. Have a seat; here’s a spot right next to me. We’ll chat for a few before Reverend begins. I had always felt so alone. I was always the one who did the right things, but always seemed to have the wrong things done to me. I began to isolate myself and turn inward with my feelings. It was easier that way. I formed a tough outer shell that became my shield. My home life was drama within itself. Where could you find a house full of people where no one talked, a mama who had to work three jobs, and no one ever eating dinner together? It would be the Shaw household for sure. The household felt like the only thing we had in common was sleeping under the same roof. On top of that, there was high school life with extracurricular activities, trying to keep up with my grades and wishing and hoping to go to college one day. Let me not forget the boyfriends. There was the one who taught me every lesson in the book, the one who was too nice, and the one I’ll never for30

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get. I guess overall, college was my way out. Needless to say, when I left for college, I felt that it was a Godsend. I was exposed to a whole new way of life. This lifestyle was something I entered into with doubt. If I thought that I was alone before, college taught me more. In college, you had to find yourself and find a way to fit in somewhere. If you didn’t find either, the college experience became scary, giving me even more reason to withdraw from people. It was at this time that I began to pray, pray every night for every little thing. I guess that I believed that there was a God. I had to be praying to someone or something, right?? To me, praying was enough. Little did I know it wasn’t enough, but I’ll get more into that with you later. More on my college life! Once I got to know myself and people a little better, I began to form some friendships. Before I knew it, I was in a clique. There was no party where you couldn’t find us, not one we could stay away from. No club without our names on it. Nothing that I could fathom would let me believe that anything was wrong with having a little fun, especially since I was away from home. Now mind you, I had a good head on my shoulders; I was no dummy. I wasn’t the type who would fall for anything. I had to learn to stay away from certain people. You know what I mean, the moochers, the guys who wanted to sleep with you, and the people who had the hidden agendas that you and I probably never heard of. I guess that’s when I began to realize that something wasn’t right. Back to my praying, it continued on every night for my entire first year and then into my second year. The praying kept me sane and gave me strength. Little did I know that God was preparing me for something; he brought a new friend, Tameka, into my life. Tameka was a driving force, one of those headstrong people. Girlfriend was the Bible-toting sister of all time (at least that was my opinion of her at the time). Always saying, “Jesus this and Lord that” whenever the opportunity arose. The one thing she kept doing was constantly inviting me to church. Now why did she want to mess up my Sunday and then some? My praying was enough for me and God understood it all. No matter what I said, Tameka stayed strong in pushing me. Sister Girl made me feel like a true sinner—mainly because I probably was one. I was truly working on my relationship with God in a half-hearted manner. I had been to a few churches in my day, so my opinion was that every church was the same--they wanted your money. There would be a fiasco of a show and the usual singing and hollering. It made you wonder if you were still in church! Before long the Reverend would come out and be halfway through his sermon, which would consist of some shouting and praising God, then BAM!! Right in the middle of everything came the talk of tithing. Then came the collection plate; at some churches, it was a collection bucket! My opinion was set and my mind was made up, there was no way I would go. Now you’d expect someone to jump at the chance to make this relationship with God stronger, especially a person who’s been telling you how alone she was, right? Not me, I was doing just enough and doing just fine by myself. But God must have been sending me a message through Tameka, because here she came with the invitation again. Needless to say, my Bible-believing friend wasn’t one to give up. The one promise she made is if I didn’t like it, I wouldn’t have to come again. So I went to church with her. I must have liked it since I’m telling you this tale from the front pew! What did that day in church show me? God is good, but then He is better than good. Remember all that alone time I had? I learned that there’s no such thing in life as being alone with God on your side. God had always been there. I guess that explained passing all those tests and making it through the parties! There’s no way I could have survived that on my own. As far as the collection plate, at this particular church, it was not what I expected. The offering and tithing only occurred once! Can you believe it?! Well, neither did I. One time, I tell you, God must have heard my prayers or sent someone down to replace the collection buckets that I was used to. Now, I cannot tell you that I knew the PA R A BLES

songs the choir was singing, but I can tell you that they were singing their praises to the most high. The choir was on point. Thanking God for this and that and every little thing on Earth. This showed met hat a new way to connect to God is through music. It did help to make things more comprehensible; that was a plus for me. I have to tell you about my first impression of Reverend Johnson. I have to admit that I was skeptical. I can usually tell if someone is “putting on a front” as we call it. You know what I mean, when people show you what you want to see and then smile in your face. The next thing you know, you’d swear that they had split personalities or something. In reality, they are now showing you their true colors. And let me tell you, true colors can be so bright at times they can make you blind. But anyway, Reverend Johnson was somewhat of a burly man and very joyful. He was pleasant and nice, but not “too” nice. Truthful and to the point, Reverend Johnson told you like it was and would tell you like it is. This is the type of reverend I needed in my life, someone who could put me in my place and slap me with the truth. I would be absent-minded if I did not tell you about some of my church family. Take a look over there, to my right, four pews back. You’ll see Sister Rosa. She’s the one you’d call the Church Mother. Sister Rosa is the one who’s been here the longest, some say she came with the church. I would agree, mainly because everyone knew her and she’s every child’s “grandma.” Sister Rosa will tell you the stories about LCBC from yesteryear. These stories make you see how far the church has come and how much it has grown. Other tales include stories of how past church members would get themselves in various situations ranging from attempting to baptize a whole neighborhood to printing their own Bibles with a 2-man crew. Glance over to my left, there you’ll find Brother Smith. Brother Smith is the one you can hear all throughout the service. He shouts the loudest and sings with the most heart. He’s not much of a singer, but the good spirit present in his soul makes up for it. I can’t let you know about Brother Smith without telling you about his suits. Brother Smith has every color under the rainbow. I didn’t know that suits were made in lime green until I met him. As I said before, you can definitely hear him during the service, but if you miss him then, you’ll see him coming for sure! Lastly, there’s the church couple that has been married the longest—Mr. and Mrs. James Isaacs. They are so cute together. They remind you of the possibility that marriage can last forever, because as we know, nowadays, that’s a rare accomplishment. Mr. and Mrs. Isaacs are people whom you can go to for some sound advice about what it takes to make a relationship last. They have been through it all, you name it, they’ve experienced it: raising six children and putting them through school, having their own successful business that they were able to retire from, and having family members be some of the founders of LCBC, to name a few. Last but not least, I have to mention Sister Joy to you. With a name like Joy, you’d think she was all peaches and cream. Don’t get me wrong, Sister Joy has her good days, but the bad ones do lurk around the corner from time to time. Joy is the one you have to look out for because she will get on your nerves. She will remind you of every scripture in the Bible, especially the ones she thinks you’d forget. Scriptures ranging from “love your neighbor” to “thou shalt not lie” can be heard throughout the church. Joy’s the one who will quickly remind you, but will surely forget her own advice when it comes to her. I remind myself that Joy’s heart is in the right place. Regardless of our differences, all of my church family has a special place in my heart. As you can see, I love where I am. The church is good, the reverend is getting the word out, the choir is on point, and the people are great. The only reason for me to reflect on the past is to give my testimony. I’m glad that you decided to join me here in the front pew; most people try to sit in the back. I’ll save you a seat next Sunday. It looks like Reverend Johnson is about to start. I heard that the sermon is supposed to be about changing our ways and seeing the path. Fitting, isn’t it?

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Adult Tree Monique Always Succeed By Robin Monique Fail

Chapter 1 Miss Fortune-I thought he was gonna stay this time, but as usual he kissed me on the cheek and rolled outta bed. That was the signal I was used to it by now, but it still hurt. He was going back to her he had used me again. It was all about control; little did he know I was under his spell from day one. What I mean is it didn’t take as they say “all that” to get me in line because I would do anything for him. As it turns out even sell my soul. You live your life and I choose to live my life with a part time, sometimes man rather than none at all. 34

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As it turns out, I did get to spend time with him every day. Well, to tell the truth it was every night. But, so what we did talk, okay, so he only really talked to me about how to please him. You know when we got our funk on; it was during this time when he made me feel real good. He made me all sorts of promises, he told me how he really felt about “her” and he said any day now he would be all mine. I had to keep hope alive it was all I had.

Chapter 2 I braced myself for goodbye after greeting him at the door, but it didn’t come. He brushed past me so I closed the door, but remained in place with my back pressed against its cool surface. I needed to stay there; I was too weak to walk, was this really goodbye? I couldn’t trust myself to look at him so I closed my eyes. I could still feel his presence. He seemed to drive a hole in my soul, melting it. He began to pace and speak in a hushed tone. I had to strain to hear him. His conversation: “I waited all day just to see your face, to smell your scent, girl, you are driving me outta my mind!” What was I supposed to say? “Cu’meer” he beckoned me with his index finger. I drifted like an electric current flows through its conduit and stood before him. God help me I was trembling like a leaf. How could he just walk away? How would I make it on my own? Suddenly, he grabbed my left hand and placed a rock on my finger that had definite weight; tears fell from my eyes, “I don’t understand,” I cried. Kissing my tears from my eyes he whispered in my ear, “Will you...? OMG that was some dream! But it can be true, today is my day I can feel it. When I heard his key turn the lock I was right there waiting to give him all he needed. Everything was going as planned. We sat at the table after dinner gazing into each other’s eyes. Then he did it. He placed his wine glass on the table and took a hold of my hand. He got down on one knee and took out this little red box. He then placed the most exquisite two karat Marquise diamond on my ring finger and said, “Will you,” I began to tremble uncontrollably even though the fireplace was blazing, “wait for me?” Had I heard him correctly because I didn’t hear ‘marry me.’ Was this an episode from one of those television reality prank shows like “Punked?” This had to be a joke. Somewhere I witnessed his lips moving but I couldn’t decipher what he was saying.

Suddenly, my senses were alert he was talking, then he sprang it on me how he found out that “she” didn’t have long too live and we had to do the right thing. It had to be a dream because instead of me planning my “big” day he was making me melancholy talking about death. God knows I didn’t want this woman to die, but her life was standing in my way what was I supposed to say. His conversation: “Girl, don’t look like that, you know I love you and if she didn’t have terminal cancer I woulda been gone! Just give me a minute and I promise Imma make you mine, think about my kids I can’t leave right now...” I was torn because time after time something always came up to stand in the way of our true happiness. Should I wait, it’s been two years now? Is it worth it the lies, the sneaking around, the deceit, what about me? When he left I was too numb to cry, to weak to sigh, and all I could do was puff on a “J” until I got high, let euphoria have its way! Chapter 3 I’m still in shock after what took place on last night. Was it a dream I got so wasted last night until reality seemed dim? He asked me to wait. That is what happened. Did he realize the mere ramifications of what he was suggesting? I’m no fool- I- alreadyknow I’m headed for hell in a hand basket just being with him. I would be lying though if I said that I didn’t ponder upon his request. I mean I know what this implies “she” has to die in order for this to take place; for us to be as one. It was cruel to even contemplate, but on the flip side I can’t live without him. I am just being real. I woke up in the middle of the night in this place of desire again. It was empty. I tipped toed through the house hoping to surprise him with a “late-night” rendezvous. What I found instead was him - slipping! Although he thought I was asleep - I was not. I heard him on Skype talkin’ to his homeboys. His conversation: “Man, I know I shouldna told her Javette was dying, but she won’t let it rest I had to PA R A BLES

come up w/somethin’! Hell naw, I aint leavin’ my wife for nobody, dat’s real! Yeah, I know, I’mma tell’er the thang with my wife... den I’m out...Yeah, later fellas I gotta go hit this so I can get home before sunrise. Aw, forget y’all, don’t hate the playa hate da game, lata!” I heard him laughing hysterically as I ran back to the room I couldn’t listen anymore. How could he betray me? Better yet how could I betray myself? I believed every stinking word he said, and just to think I had begun to mourn for “her” and to acquire black clothing so I could be his supportive woman and mourn with him. To say I have been a fool is a lie even a fool knows when to say enough is enough. I couldn’t because I could never get enough of him. I was gonna get some answers because me being number two is not going to continue to be my claim to fame; I want my man’s last name. Yeah, we’ll see who’s fooling who! After all, he comes to me every night, surely that is worth a wedding ring, right? Chapter 4 Our conversation: “I heard you!” I whispered after clearing my throat. Him: “I know, bae,” he replied huskily in that voice that was always my undoing. “I said I gotta get back and I’ll hit you up later.” (Be strong, girl, you can do it confront his lying behind) “No, I mean I heard you a couple of days ago before you gave me-the ring,” I continued to speak silently while I twisted the ring on my finger it gave me such hope. Him: “Come again, you heard what, luscious?” (Stop it with the terms of endearment playing with my sentimentalities; he is winning, Lord help me). He ran his finger up and down my uncovered spine. “You thought I was sleep and I heard you tellin’ your boys that your wife wasn’t really dying and that you were leaving me!” I got loud then, I don’t know where it came from but I was a beast; a ferocious lioness. “Oh, that! I knew you were there I was just trying to amp it up for the fellows, bae, you know I would never lie to you!” He leaned forward and whispered 36

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in my ear and began nibbling ever so gently. (Then, what are you doing now, devil. God give me strength! Stop him please I-can’t- take- it he is making me too weak!) You expect me to believe that you were not planning to leave me - I thought, after everything I have done for you, I even left the faith. Chapter 5 After an extended hiatus, Momma came by today it wasn’t pretty, you know she read me the riot act. Her conversation: “Girl, have you done loss your rabbit mind? I didn’t raise you to carry on like dis! Hell’s fire is real you hear me?” She shook her finger at me and I was speechless because I was raised in the church so I had heard it all. “You is playing with more than fire. We talkin’ bout your soul!” She screamed and pointed her manicured fingers in my direction, “I got one question for you: Is he worth it?” How could I tell her he was worth it to me, and that as long as I had heaven on Earth I was willing to take my chances. Hell to me was being without him, you know the song, “If loving him was wrong I don’t wanna be right!” But, this was my momma and I had alienated her long enough I knew that she would never steer me wrong and that she was all was there for me. She had my back when no one else had before he came along she had always given me everything I wanted and had need of she was a good mother. I had to make her understand because I needed her to validate me. “Momma, you got it all wrong,” I stammered trying to hold back the tears that threatened to break from the dam’s built around my soul. “Oh, I do, hungh, I guess you forgot marriage means he got a wife, and how bout the kids where is “right” in dis?” She pointed at me like I was dirty (I was). “Oh, I got it, it’s like the song, JUST THE TWO OF US; BUILDING CASTLES IN THE SAND, hungh?” she berated. “Well, I tell you what, it’s more like a glass house!” She continued, “I been weeping night and day to tear these walls down. They comin’ down!” She fumed and began to speak in the spirit demon-

stratively. I grabbed her by the hands and slid down to the floor and held on to my mother’s legs for dear life cause I was truly scared. “Ma-maaa,” I cried, “You don’t understand it just hap…” “Girl, have you suddenly become deaf, dumb, and plumb crazy?” She said shaking her head like I was really certifiable. “That’s one of the biggest lies satan ever told. Don’t nothin’ … do you hear me?” She grabbed a hold of my face for emphasis, “And, I mean nothin’ on dis Earth happen without a thought you chose to follow. A thought was planted by somebody word, it took root, and in dis case you both “chose” to act on it! God said all a man got to do is ‘think’ about lusting and he done committed adultery. You both chose to disobey God and the sanctity of, of marriage, most of all you chose to sin!” It was then that the damn broke, her words released the floodgate erected upon my soul and a wail followed emanating from deep within my spirit penetrating the atmosphere with my sorrow-HELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLP MEEEEEEEEEEEEE JESUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUS—I cried. Chapter 6 I left a message on his phone telling him it was over. I have chosen to live for Christ and that means there is no room for you. So, stay away from me and be with your wife,” I yelled, “No moooooooooore!” and hung up the phone. I heard his keys jingling at my door and I met him in the walk way before he could enter the foyer determined to stand my ground. He grabbed me by my waist and gave me a kiss that turned my insides into mush and just as quickly as it began it ended. He immediately released his hold upon me and turned to leave, or so I thought. Since I was following directly behind him in order to secure my door and to lock him out of my life for good he made his move. Before I could even catch my bearings he abruptly grabbed my upper arms and shoved me up against the door before I could snatch it open. His conversation: “You not so tough now are you, Miss Christian?” He sneered against my neck and

began to grind his body rapidly against mine while biting me on my neck determined to leave me bruised. Before I could even think straight I was shamelessly aroused and catch up in his whirlwind. We tangled, we danced, until we created a friction that was sure to burn our souls as we melded together; we were on fire. “Ooh, baby, don’t stop,” I heard myself say as he successfully ripped my shirt from my body exposing my bra and my heaving bosom. Our tongues began to duel and mingle as I lost control, of my mind, my equilibrium and I felt like I was falling into an abyss. He then unexpectedly stepped back and I lost my balance and fell to the floor and he sucked his teeth with disgust. “Now, what was it you was saying a minute ago?” he spat maliciously while I lay at his feet helplessly waiting for him to touch me again. “Yeah, dat’s what I thought!” He knelt down to grab my hair and make me face him to make his point clear. “You belong to me, and don’t you forget dat! I tell you when to think, act, and speak!” He hollered, pulling my hair harder as he spoke and I am ashamed to say I was turned on by his rage. “You got dat, I pay the mortgage on dis condo, I buy your clothes, pay your bills, and feed you!” He laughed. “You fool, ain’t you never heard the saying, don’t bite the hand that feeds you?” He continued to attempt to denigrate me like I was trash. “I guess not cause you keep yo head in dat damn Bible all day, but, what you need to recognize is dat you is just as guilty as I am and ain’t no forgiveness for what we do?” He continued, “Oh, and since you wanna be slick Imma let you know something, and hear me good, trick - I AIN’T NEVA LEAVIN THE WIFEY FA NOTHIN’, NOT YOU AND NOBODY ELSE! Now, Imma pretend dis little incident didn’t just happen, and today is your “lucky” day cause,” he laughed maniacally, “You have been forgiven, my child,” he blasphemed “Now, go clean yo’self up and put on dat damn outfit I payed five g’s fo, got me spending my money… girl, I outta break my foot…” PA R A BLES

His phone rang and he answered as if he weren’t in mid-sentence. He hung up quickly. “Ay, did you hear me? Don’t make me wait, my wife is cookin’ my favorite meal tonight.” He commanded while yanking me to my feet and swatting me on my behind. “You had me goin’ der for a minute, hahahahahahahahah, Girl, you crazy.... NO MORE!” He mimicked my

earlier plea continuing to laugh like I had made a joke. “You know damn well you can’t give all dis up! I wish you would come at me like dis again!” His face and his body suddenly grew deadly serious, “You might not live to tell it...”

Robin Monique Fail is a 44 year old single mother of 2 grown children and attends the University of Florida. She is studying for her Master’s in Reading education, and currently holds a Bachelor’s in Linguistics. This story comes from a book based loosely on her testimony of adultery, fornication and low self-esteem.

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Inspirational Essay

By Pastor Tom Millner, Sr. Pastor Church of the Holy Spirit Song

Living Like You Mean It Someone said; "The trouble with some of us is that we have been so inoculated with small doses of Christianity that it keeps us from catching the real thing." C. S. Lewis wrote: "Christianity, if false, is of no importance, and if true, of infinite importance. The only thing it cannot be is moderately important." In our scripture lessons, there are three over arching facts that impact our understanding. From Zechariah we learn that our actions have lasting impact on others. Every action we take, every decision we make, results in a consequential reaction or impact on ourselves and others. God desires that we act in ways that honor Him (build up His body) which means our actions do not cause harm to ourselves and others. So, fact number one is that our actions have lasting consequences! From Luke we read how Jesus admonishes us to set the example for others. Living with integrity means that what we say we believe, we actually live out as the example. If we're going to remove a speck from our neighbor's eye, we need to first get the log out of our own. I would guess there are a lot of loggers reading this, but I find it hard to see around the telephone pole I'm carrying in my eye! You see, every day, I discover another log that I need to remove. Living with integrity demands that I don't pretend that I have no logs. So, fact number two is that I need to be more concerned about my own eye exam than I am about yours. From Colossians, we read from the Apostle Paul's writing from prison in Rome to the relatively new Christians PA R A BLES

in Colossae, encouraging them to live a life consistent with who they are in Christ. You see, like many of us, they came from various cultures and backgrounds. The Jews sought the experience of the ritual, the Greeks the wisdom from the teachers, from others, the ceremony that would render them acceptable. Paul says about all this; "Set your minds on what is above, not on what is on the earth. For you have died, and your life is hidden with the Messiah in God." So, fact number three is that as Christians, we no longer live as our old selves, but as the new creatures we are in Christ. Let's summarize these three, going from last to first. Because we are in Christ, we live a life consistent with the character of Christ. Because I am called to live a life consistent with the character of Christ, I cannot live my life in pious judgment over how you're living your life. If I am living that life in the Character of Christ, I need not worry about there being a negative impact to my actions. In other words, a changed world comes about one life at a time! "Igniting the world for Christ…one life at a time" should be our mission and in fact is the mission of my church. Imagine what a light in this dark world this place would be if each of us bore the flame of the ignited Christ in our lives!!! Let's look deeper into what Paul is saying here. (3:5) "Put to death, therefore, whatever belongs to your earthly nature: sexual immorality, impurity, lust, evil desires and greed, which is idolatry. (3:6) Because of these, the wrath of God is coming. (3:7) You used to walk in these ways, in the life you once lived." I hear some squirming going on… don't worry, you're in good company. Nobody came here because they're perfect. But God calls us to that perfect place in Him. He has washed that old stuff away with His blood on the cross… so He's saying live as the cleansed person you really are! Give up that need to have it your way… after all, your way is the door way to hell. Let's read further: (3:8) "But now you must rid yourselves of all such things as these: anger, rage, malice, slander, and filthy language from your lips. (3:9) Do not lie to each other, since you have taken off your old self with its practices (3:10) and have put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge in the image of its Creator. (3:11) Here there is no Greek or Jew, circumcised or uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave or free, but Christ is all, and is in all." Galatians 3:28 states it this way: "There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus." We might add here – gay, straight, or any other descriptor that might be inserted as a log in anyone's eye! He's telling us we're all in the same boat by the grace of God! Let go the anger, rage, grudges, put downs and hurtful words that pass over your tongue. After all, the tongue is the only organ that can move faster than the brain! Because we let go of these things, we can be honest with ourselves and each other. After all, we are being renewed each moment in the likeness of Christ… the very character of Christ. What does that look like? (3:12) "Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.(3:13) Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. (3:14) And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity." Wow – how many of us put on this attire this morning? Which ones of us reflected enough on who we are in Him to clothe ourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience to the degree that we bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances we may have against one another? After all, the Lord forgave each of us the greatest grievance of all!! If we are whole and free in Him, why not live like it? (3:15) "Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. 40

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And be thankful. (3:16) Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom, and as you sing psalms, hymns and spiritual songs with gratitude in your hearts to God. (3:17) And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him." "And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him." Whatever you do, exemplify the character of Christ and give thanks to God through that character. Who do you need to forgive today? Toward whom do you need to show compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience? Do it today – tomorrow may be too late! Your actions have eternal impact!

Scriptures to glean from A Call to Return to the LORD In the eighth month of the second year of Darius, the word of the LORD came to the prophet Zechariah son of Berekiah, the son of Iddo: 2 “The LORD was very angry with your forefathers. 3 Therefore tell the people: This is what the LORD Almighty says: ‘Return to me,’ declares the LORD Almighty, ‘and I will return to you,’ says the LORD Almighty. 4 Do not be like your forefathers, to whom the earlier prophets proclaimed: This is what the LORD Almighty says: ‘Turn from your evil ways and your evil practices.’ But they would not listen or pay attention to me, declares the LORD. 5 Where are your forefathers now? And the prophets, do they live forever? 6 But did not my words and my decrees, which I commanded my servants the prophets, overtake your forefathers? “Then they repented and said, ‘The LORD Almighty has done to us what our ways and practices deserve, just as he determined to do.’” —Zechariah 1:1-6 1

He also told them this parable: “Can a blind man lead a blind man? Will they not both fall into a pit? A student is not above his teacher, but everyone who is fully trained will be like his teacher. 41 Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? 42 How can you say to your brother, ‘Brother, let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when you yourself fail to see the plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye. —Luke 6:39-42 39 40

Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God. 2 Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things. 3 For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God. 4 When Christ, who is your[a] life, appears, then you also will appear with him in glory. —Colossians 3:1-4 1

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Devotional

By Evangelist Patrice Cobb

STANDING on the WORD of God

In The Right

Garment

Reflection Ephesians 6:11-17 KJV From generation to generation most of us have been instructed to stand on the word of God. No matter what the situation or circumstances may be, standing on his word is the key to getting through this life. In todayâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s society no one likes to wear the same outfit that someone else has. If truth be told some people get upset when they see a person with the same outfit that they have on, but I know of an outfit that we should all have and if you donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t have it you should get it as soon as possible. Ephesians 6:11-17 KJV, clearly tells us that the outfit that everyone should have is the whole armour of God. You see, all of the expensive clothes, shoes, purses, hats, cuff links and everything else we think we need is not going to help us when the adversary comes calling.

When we put together any outfit, (and that goes for women and men, no matter what the occasion), we compile several items to complete that all important look. The whole armour of God also has several items to complete it. To be exact there are six items, which are: 1. TRUTH like a belt around your waist (Ephesians 6:14a HCSB) 2. RIGHTOUSNESS like armour on your chest (Ephesians 6:14b HCSB) 3. Your feet sandaled with the readiness for the GOSPEL OF PEACE (Ephesians 6:15 HCSB) 4. The shield of FAITH for every situation (Ephesians 6:16 HCSB) 42

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No matter what the situation or circumstances may be, standing on his word is the key to getting through this life

5. Take the helmet of SALVATION (Ephesians 6:17a HCSB) 6. And the sword of the SPIRIT, which is the word of God. (Ephesians 6:17b HCSB) Just like putting together any ensemble, this has all the elements needed to complete the ultimate outfit. This outfit will give you the ability to completely, undoubtedly, and effectively stand during life’s tests, trials and tribulations. With obeying the great commission of Jesus in Matt. 28:19 & 20, we will always need to wear the all important whole armour of God. Our adversary knows the word also, remember that he was in heaven at one point and he does not want God’s greatest creation to be successful obeying nor standing on the word of God. If he could get control of our mind and keep our focus on our problems, it will please him to know that our mind is not staying on Jesus, as we are instructed to do in Isaiah 26:3 KJV. Once we start letting our problems know how big our God is, we will eliminate unnecessary stress in our lives. To do everything God has called us to do, no matter how large or small, the whole armour is needed to achieve his purpose for our lives. With knowing that the battle is not ours, but the Lord’s who sits high and looks low. He sees all, hears all and knows all. Our souls should rejoice in the Lord, not for what he has done or what he will do for us, but because of who he is. He tells us in Exodus 3:14 KJV simply, “I AM that I AM”. So when you are standing on the word of the great “I AM” and you have on the right garment, just know that no matter what it looks like or what it sounds like he is still in control. Speaking of standing, the word stand is listed three times in our text, in verse 11, verse 13 and verse 14. It’s also listed several times in other books of the bible. That shows how important it is for us to stand on his word. He illustrates to us time after time how awesome he is. Regardless if he is blessing us or chastening us, he is an awesome God. When you know without a shadow of doubt that God is who he says he is and his word is a lamp unto our feet, then there should be no problem standing in the right garment on the promises of God. Remember there is nothing too hard for him. Reading and standing on the word gives us clarity and guides us in the right path. Everything we need to navigate through this life is in God’s word. Trusting God even when you can not trace him, says volumes about the individual who is truly unmovable and anchored in the Lord.

When you know without a shadow of doubt that God is who he says he is and his word is a lamp unto our feet, then there should be no problem standing in the right garment on the promises of God

Meditation Scriptures Exodus 14:13, Isaiah 40:8, 1st Corin. 16:13, Phil. 1:27 and Phil. 4:1 Prayer Our heavenly Father, I first want to thank you for being who you are. You are a loving and just God, who knows what is best for all of mankind. Thank you for reassuring your people time and time again that if we stand on your word in the right garment, everything will be alright and there is nothing that you can’t bring us through.

PA R A BLES

T:7 in

T:10 in

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FS 7x10 Father Son v5

Before You Go â&#x20AC;Ś. By E. Claudette Freeman

TEARS

OF A

L C OWN October is the month that the United States honors those who are victims of domestic violence. I am blessed, because I have never had the horror of having someone that love mentally, emotionally, verbally or physically abuse me. Yet, I am the friend of those who have. There is nothing more chilling than to see a beautiful face swollen, and purple and black bruises adorning muscular arms. About a year ago, I received an email that chilled me. A woman said she had read an article I wrote about mortgage programs for single parents. She requested additional information and said that she was in an abusive situation and she needed to escape. I responded and asked for her number and offered to be there for her. She explained that she was using a computer at the library and could not risk her husband finding out what she was doing. I shared her information with two people that I know have dealt with situations like these. Still, her words would not leave me alone. For months I would email her and get no response. Finally, I had to release it and hope that God was covering her and her daughter. This month, there is no column, but a story I wrote quite some time ago, after watching a friend fight through an abusive relationship. If you are being abused, know that God never intends for love to be painful, mean or angry. Know that His love is waiting to heal every bruise, every ache and every foul word. Simply reach out, visit: www.thehotline.org or call 800-799-SAFE.

A circus of emotions lay about the big top. Anger mulled in the torn curtains that now lay scattered at the foot of the window. Torment clothed the oak dining table that once was decorated by the shredded table cloth. A table cloth dismembered and distrib-

uted in various areas of the big top. And the chord of mayhem played in our heads, as we noticed in disbelief that the elephant had placed his size 13 shoes through the VCR. The only thing more shocking than that was to see that he had used his massive trunk PA R A BLES

to topple the couch, the ottoman, the shattered glass coffee table. He had used his massive trunk to break through the TV screen, and even worse to shatter the crystal punch bowl that Aunt Jane got from Mama Mae who got it from Grandie who got it from Auntie Reen who some say got it from a white lady when bought her freedom. But history was only as important as the history developing right now. The big top now the circus of her life lay scattered before us. Like children, marveled by the clowns, the animals and the magic acts, we stood speechless – almost catatonic. It was not the first time we had seen his wrath and it would not be the last. But I held my tongue remembering the words that I had told her weeks before. “I think he’s going to kill you. I think you should leave him and I think you should realize that if he kills you, killing your kids would mean nothing.” She begged me to understand that he just sometimes became a different person; for the most part he is the gentle soul that I first met – she would tell me that over and over again. He is the gentleman that has joined us for dinner. He is the sweet writer, with profound statements that amaze. His latest statement, as it were, sent a fierce stabbing sheet of ice through every nerve in my body. And it terrified me; the sheet of cold washing through me. The look of disgust and vengeance on her face. Knowing that all of this came about because we had chosen to go the mall instead of a movie. We stood for what seemed like forever just staring at the destruction; staring at his schizophrenic reaction to non-reality. And I said nothing, because I kept thinking about what I said to her days before. “I think he’s going to kill you … but whatever you decide he’s your husband and I will be here for you. Even if it’s to help you get away.” I had said too much. “I’m not going to clean this mess up. Help me grab some clothes for me and the kids. I’ll stay at Angela’s house the rest of the week; she’s still in New York. I can’t believe he did that to my VCR and my TV. I just bought them Moni. I just bought them.”

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“Don’t worry about those. We can replace them, maybe not brand new, but we can replace them.” She slowly slid down the wall, grabbing things from the floor, cleaning up what she couldn’t clean up, trying to stop the river of pain that rushed from her eyes. I pulled her up re-assuringly. “Don’t worry about this room. Let’s just get some clothes and get out of here before he comes back.” The circus continued in the bedrooms. Like little midgets piled into the makeshift Volkswagen … the children’s clothes were piled neatly in a bundle on the bed and they had been ripped into pieces. Nothing hung in the closets. Maniacally, the string and tongues had been cut from their shoes. To me it seemed like he was laughing at what this rape would do to her. Then something happened. I looked in Val’s eyes, and the tears turned into billowing flames; billowing flames shooting from a burning heart, an engulfed soul. “Val come on now, as stupid as this sounds, you’ve got to calm down.” “That is the problem Moni, I am calm. So calm that I am going to get in my car, I’m going to pick up my kids and put them on a plane to their father. Then I’m going to my storage unit, reach into that top drawer and I’m going to take out my legally registered hand gun and blow that ... no, no, I’m trying to stop cussing. I’m going to politely blow the gentleman away. Wherever I find his … no, no, I’m trying to stop cussing. Wherever I find him, is where I’m going to drop him.” Before I could respond she was on a dash for the door; a smoke trail of confusion, fear and anger drifting behind her. “Val you are not thinking. Lord knows at this point I can see him dead too. But baby you can’t do this. Girl are you listening to me?” “Moni. You are such a rational woman. And yes, I do hear you. But this day, I’m killing his selfish … no, no, I’m trying to stop cussing.”

“Val you’ve got three kids. As much as I love them if you go to jail or end up dead, I can’t do three kids.” She continued to storm through the house, rearranging the disarray into disarray. No really paying me any mind. “Val,” I grabbed her arm, “listen to me. You cannot just storm out of here and go kill somebody. Not even him. They will put you into jail. They will fry you. They do that in Florida you know?” “He’s already killed me Moni. Have you looked at this house? Have you looked at this scar lately?” Screaming and crying again, she tore apart her shirt. I had not seen the scar lately. But why would I? Val never wore sexually attractive clothing anymore; it was the reason for the scar. Chauncey methodically poured scalding water about her waistline one night as she lie in bed. The torture coming after his inner turmoil led him to seduce his wife, place a single red rose beside her sweat drenched hair and then trickle the boiled water down on her. She had worn a short t-shirt over her sports bra to the gym, her slim and tight waist exposed for all to see. No one would want to see the scar from a third degree burn. No I had not seen that scar lately, but I had seen far too many of his others - including the one before us now. “I know you’re hurting Val. And I’m not going to even tell you that I know what you’re feeling, cause I don’t. But I know that you can’t let him pull you down to his level, don’t let him take your life and take you away from those kids. You’re the only thing they know. You are their center. You are! Stop throwing stuff around and listen to me…this is not what God wants for you. This abuse …this….” “Shut up Moni. Shut up. Shut up! Don’t tell me about God. I found him in church! Don’t tell me about my kids. What do you think they feel about their mommy? I’m telling them straight up it’s all right for somebody to beat you like a wild dog, if they say – sorry, love you – I can’t do this anymore. I’d rather go to jail Moni, then to live like this one more day. I’ve moved three times in the last two months…” “It does you no good to move Val, if you let him in. If you give him a key. If you ignore the re-

straining order. You can’t believe that you can have sex with a mad man to calm him down or keep him calm. This is not calm. This is demonic. And don’t think he’s not waiting for you to come for him. Think baby please. You have got to maintain your sanity for me right now. I’m scared Val. Don’t jump out of the frying pan into the fire.” “It won’t matter Moni, I’ve already been burned.” Val and Chauncey had always smiled at one another in church but it was not until they ran into each other at the community college, that they actually spoke. They ended up in an English course together. Val switched to a night class because of her work schedule. We both thought it was kind of cute; the way Chauncey had left cards and single roses with all of the night teachers looking for Val. He didn’t know her name, but he left a very detailed description with each card. Finally, after about three weeks of cards and roses and no response, Chauncey showed up and waited in a corridor hoping to find Val. He did. From that point on, it was a seemingly normal relationship, exceedingly romantic almost to the point of sickening. But then I was the one without a man at the time, so anything would have been romantically sickening to me. Val was impressed by him and why not? He was charming, good looking with a teddy bear appearance and smile and a warm embrace. He was intelligent and always willing to engage you in the most interesting conversations. He could dissect and discuss the Bible like the most prolific teachers. He had a way with children. He had a way with Val. “Everything that glitters ain’t gold.” That was Val’s Aunt Jane’s opinion of Chauncey from the beginning. She had a wisdom of abusive men that we were not aware of. One that Val ignored, but one that I found frightening and intriguing. I couldn’t let it go. Val never paid it any attention. She always said it was just an old lady’s fears. “Monica,” in the seven years I’ve known Aunt Jane she’s always called me by my actual name. No matter how I begged her not to or explained that I didn’t like the name. I am Monica to her. “Valiece PA R A BLES

don’t see that boy for what he is. But I can feel it. He is just as evil as he is sweet. The very Bible says you can’t serve two masters and he does and he don’t ever know which one is real.” “Auntie, Val says he’s the best thing she’s ever had. He seems to be good for her. What is it that has you so scared of him?” “You get a chill in front of him. Before you even see him, you feel him. That’s evil. It sits quiet stirring up on the inside and then it tears you up. I know what I’m talking about. I tell you he’s going to take her away from you, from me, from them kids and then it’s going to be too late.” “Why don’t you tell Val?” “You can’t tell a woman ‘bout her man. ‘Specially when she figure her man stuff don’t stank. When men have head problems, they fix things up real good. They tell you all the right things, cry at all the right times, cook, clean, love you to death. Cause when their evil show up, they know what makes you weak and that’s what they to beat the life out of you the next time.”

He dropped her. Val slid down the wall, hitting out at him. Trying to find her breathing again, she gasped for me to run; but I couldn’t leave her there. He was going to kill her.

I don’t think I’d ever heard it put quite that way before. She was right. We don’t listen to each other when it comes to our man. We know him better. We feel him better. We got it workin’ better. We never even see that fist slamming into our face. Val has been blind for so long. And the sight that she has finally been given, has taken her to a dangerous place.

“Chauncey you need to leave. Get out of here, or I’ll call the police.” I yelled waving the knife before him. He never even acknowledged me. He fell to the couch and broke out into tears. That was not enough for me. “I said get out Chauncey. Nobody wants to hear your sad story, your twisted version. I want you OUT! NOW!

Tumbling about the floor we looked like two rug rats on spring break. But I couldn’t let her leave in such a rage, in such pain. This was a dangerous place for her to be emotionally and mentally. So we wrestled on the ground and she fought me for control of those keys. Somewhere in the back of my mind I kept asking why didn’t you fight him like this? Why? Suddenly I left a gripping about my neck and I was flung across the room. We never saw Chauncey come in. He pulled Val up from the floor by the neck, pinning her to a wall. He held her screaming, “MY FATHER WHICH ART IN HEAVEN, WHAT DO I DO, WHAT DO I DO. LORD, I TAKE IT!” I grabbed a butchers knife from the kitchen, touching him on the back with it, so that he knew – so that I knew, I would cut him.

Val grappled to get up from the floor, slipping back to her knees not once but twice before she finally rose still trying to get her breath.

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“What the hell is wrong with you man? Look at my home. My kids have to come to this.” He never looked up. “Don’t you even care? Don’t you realize what you’ve done?” With his face buried in his hands, he mumbled. Nothing at first, then slowly. “Valiece, I love you, but your friends come between us. I get crazy. I’m sorry. Val, I’m sorry.”

Val stared at him. In a split second, something

in her demeanor let me know that this was not the last time this circus would be in town. Still, the mess of the present time upon her, she chose to protect herself. “You’re right Chauncey. You are SORRY! You are a SORRY EXCUSE for a man; I don’t know why I love you so.” There was victory for Chauncey in the confession of love and Val didn’t even know it. She motioned for me and as we headed for the front door, he lunged at Val grabbing her arm. With one quick motion I landed the knife across his upper arm. He yanked away.

“You see Val. This is what I’m talking about. I just wanted to hold you.” Val ran out the front door, leaning against the car she began to throw up everything that filled her. Evil is a sickening thing. Two weeks and one more incident later Val and Chauncey were back together. And he had achieved what Aunt Jane feared. Val no longer dealt with her. The kids were safe with their father in the Carolinas. Val and I rarely spoke. One of the last times we did, she politely chastised me for cutting Chauncey. I said nothing. In the midst of a sermon one day, I heard the pastor say that there are some battles that you are just not to be involved in. Some turmoil cannot be solved on earth. I think Chauncey’s turmoil is of a supernatural nature. I think Val has become part of a dangerous sorority. In the midst of Chauncey’s world she ceased being the strong, super-intelligent, independent fighter that I have known for years. When she crossed over, his battle was won, for when he needed to beat up on somebody that he knew would not fight back, she was there. I would call her. She would not talk. I would tell her I pray for her, she would laughingly say, “Girl I need it.” Her bill collectors would call me looking for her. He was apparently spending all the money on only God-knows-what. Despite his spending habits, she had had several beatings about bill collectors or as he would call them “boyfriends”, calling the house. Then I finally had enough of our relationship. One of us had to let go of Chauncey and since I was not his wife, it had to be me. Letting go of him meant letting go of Val as well. That hurt. There were times when the rain would beat slowly against my window, that I would see her battered face or hear her screaming. Then I would call and she would not talk. I let go of Val – finally. You know you can extend your hand to someone but for a period of time. Then your arm grows weary and tired and eventually falls back into its rightful place. And the thing that you reached for will eventually slip away.

It had been a year and I had not see Val or PA R A BLES

Chauncey. Aunt Jane saw her only in spells; mainly when she was not bruised and when she was so broke and didn’t know where else to turn. When her pride had taken it last breath, she stayed hid and I stopped trying to find her. What else could I do? Loving her meant hating him meant losing her. But I never said anything. So, for everything I never said Val, Valiece, standing and holding on to this cold, metal hospital rail, know that I will be right here for you. I felt a comforting hand on my shoulder and the nurse urged me to get a cup of coffee or lay down in the nurse’s lounge. But I was afraid to leave her again. No, she didn’t know I

was there. No, she didn’t know she was there. But I was afraid to leave her again. As the IV dripped slowly into her nearly lifeless body; I saw her at her wedding singing Anita Baker’s, “You Bring Me Joy” to a man that would destroy her. Nothing could help me comprehend how you bring me joy led to a man stabbing his wife more than 13 times as he made love to her. When the police burst into the house he sat next to her bleeding body drinking a glass of water. For everything I never said Val, let me say this, may you know in God’s care, joy need never mean pain. I love you.

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