My mother was a beast, a common nasty beast that decided calling herself "Reverend" , acquiring a license to preach from people that she did not like, made her perfect and she could do what ever she pleased.
Martha was one of those hollering; "What's done on the ship, stay on the ship." Sure, if you leave your brain, your soul and can remember your lies. Your carnal pleasure will haunt you if you are dishonest, if you break laws that make you ashamed. No one can escape guilt, especially when they lie.
That title gave her status. Put her up front, in the good seats. She was admired, adored, perhaps worshipped. Nothing pleased my mother more than a compliment. Not a compliment for anything she did , compliments for her looks, her skin color, her hair texture. My mother lived eight-seven years stuck on one subject, herself. How beautiful she was, how brilliant she was and how fucked up you were for not being her.
The sad thing about Martha and all this great beauty she possessed was it did not stop people from criticizing her cruelty, her greed, her sadistic lascivious side. Nothing disturbed Martha more than anyone making the slightest comment about her. "Just don't say shit!" Martha was rude, hostile. She was going to lie, deny and she was going to pay you back.
Martha was just the kind of person I pray no one meets. If you meet and befriend her, let her go. If she is your mother, GOD help you.
I am not defeated. I am actually quite blessed, quite jubilant. My mother's deep irrational hatred against me for the color of my skin taught me not to be racist. Taught me not to assume. Most importantly my mother's irrational hatred of me protected me from becoming her. If Martha had loved me, nurtured and groomed me, I am sure I would have been her.
Praise the LORD!
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