GOD is so good!

"Wait on the LORD!" I heard that advice over and over in Wesley Chapel A.M.E. Zion Church in Wade, North Carolina.  A church that my family was rooted and grounded in.  My grandmother Mary Wright Walters and great grandfather Arnold McPhail helped to establish,  built from scratch.  Self sufficient "colored" people fresh out of slavery, made every brick, cut every piece of timber, devoted their entire lives to creating a place for great worship.  It was beautiful, had a portico, a steeple with a bell.

Sometimes I got the opportunity to pull the rope that rang the bell.  For some reason the church stopped ringing it when the tower got full of wasps nests and every tug on that rope angered a swarm a mad stinging pests that sent the congregation running.

I don't know why the men of Wesley let something as evil as a mad swarm of wasps prevent them from ringing GOD's bell.  I guess everyone just forgot.  Maybe we ceased to see the importance of sounding a bell to beckon the lost and broken hearted to church.

As we got modern, bricked in the church, got carpeting, an organ, a kitchen, bathrooms, we forgot  to call, to sound an alarm, to beckon.

I loved attending Wesley Chapel every Sunday, all day! My granddaddy always dressed me up in my "Sunday-go-to-meetin'" clothes. I wore a beautiful white dress from Kress', white silk ribbons in my Royal Crown grease and water hair, patent leather high top multi strapped shoes.  I wore a crinoline slip that made so much noise every time I moved I learned how to sit still.  I wore white panties with rows of lace.  My socks had rows of white lace too.  I remember granddaddy would always grease my shoes and grease my ashy legs with Vaseline. I had a pair of white gloves that closed at the wrist with a white pearl.

Yes, I was sharp every Sunday! I only had one outfit, so I can remember every detail.  Granddaddy never bothered to tell us that we were unwanted bastards. He always told us that we were the jewels in his crown.  So, how could I know this interloper that came around every now and then , a woman we called Mathy Jane, had anything against us?

She never changed our diapers or feed us.  Just dumped all three of us on her parents. We were loved, we were nurtured until one day Mathy Jane got the idea in her head that we were having it too easy, probably taking money that should have been reserved for her.  So, she came and got two of us. I was four and XXX was five. I will tell you right now, that was the beginning of the end for us.

No, my story doesn't end there.  For some reason I have always had a tight relationship with GOD. He has always talked to me, advised me.  My mother cursed my socks off every time I opened my black worthless "you ain't s***" mouth.  So I learned to quietly observe.

I learned to study people. I quietly cataloged every event I witnessed.  I read ravenously praying that an excellent education would deliver me from the miserable life this super modern day Jezebel whore  forced me to endure.  It is obvious now that Martha went too far for far too long.

She always hinted at repentance.  We loved the Sundays she preached.  She would actually try to live that good life for a few hours before old wicked Mathy Jane came back.  I think evil Mathy Jane was a monkey on good Martha's back.  No matter what, Martha could not shake her.  Or should I say would not shake her.

Know this world; when your little girl pounds a tiny puppy to death and feels no remorse, gets angry with the people that told on her. Hates and vows revenge against them.  Hates her parents for punishing her, you are going to have problems.  You are going to have a woman that can not be trusted to be alone with small children and the elderly. As a matter of fact you are going to have a serpent that you can not trust at all, she will make you curse the day you were born poor, black and illegitimate.  You will hate the man sorry and careless enough to impregnate her. You will never be sure which blowfly did it.  Your mother lacked discretion and your would be sire cared less.

When that wayward child gets old enough to get to a graveyard alone you are going to have a "root worker".  She will put far too much faith in her "goofer dust" "Power".  She will be devious and sneaky for 87 years and everyone will be afraid to tell on her, to reveal her in any way.

She is too bizarre, too strange, too repulsive, too clever and deceitful.  You will see it but you won't believe it.  Your shock will keep you silent.  You will crawl up into a fetal position, you will self medicate if you are one of the six still living, you will cry daily far into old age if this harlot ever got her manipulative hands on you.

Subconsciously you will distrust GOD. You will wonder if He is real.  How could a good, all knowing, all powerful GOD let you fall into the hands of such a creature for so long?

It will never occur to you that it was your fear, the terror in your eyes that kept you enslaved to this  primitive brute  Stupidly you will love her because you have no one.  She very successfully murdered your poor old granddaddy.  You witnessed many men get a bloody pistol whipping at he hands.  She tied you up and beat you worse than a run away slave. What is the point of telling on her now you ask?

You will not dare go to church.  You fear you will meet another Mathy Jane. You won't know your truth.  You refuse to know.  Ignorance, blindness and deafness are preferable to the truth of this hellion.

Don't READ! Never seek information. Never question.  Just thank what ever gods may be that she didn't kill you, didn't take your life.  Pretend to love and forgive her, knowing full well you hate every cell in that cunt's body.

She had the nerve to blast you with; "Don't piss on my grave when I'm ded!" You did not answer back.  You did not tell her what you really wanted to say; "F*** you b****! I wouldn't f***** piss on you if your foul stanking ass was on fire!" You wish you had said it.  Too late.  You missed your opportunity.

You are not perfect.  You are not a preacher. You can curse. It is not one of the Ten Commandments.  Plus, there is no such thing as bad language, only bad experiences and Mathy Jane was a bad experience.  It should not have lasted so long.

Why were you ever foolish enough to believe that she would ever change? Ever come to her senses, ever apologize?  Now you must warn.  Please tell others to not be as foolish and confused as your family.  Tell them to never hold on to hope, a dream, when your monster mother has proved over and over that she is not worthy.

Someone should have told you that she severely branded the very handsome face of her first son.  That she poured a pot of hot boiling coffee on her second son's chest.  Someone should have warned you this slut was a sadist.  Someone should have killed her or put her away.  Far away in some dungeon, jail or mental institution.

See what happens when you let a imp for satan run amuck because you call her kin.  Don't call her kin, don't call her Reverend, call her what she is, an Abomination!

Know that they are here! The generation of vipers predicted to come are here! "Come ye out from among them!" Save yourself.  Do try to save others but if they refuse to listen, leave them.  Pray that they will catch on and catch up.

Run! Run Children! Run to GOD! Run to His Glory! His cross.  PTL!

[Excerpt from The JR WALTERS Chronicles   August 10, 2014  All rights reserved.]