God's Own

PROLOGUE

NORTH BRUNSWICK, NEW JERSEY, 1988

It was a bright Sunday morning.

Two girls were seated in the back of a church. The Sanctuary was not yet in session; however, people were going in and taking their seats.

The place was as busy and as noisy as a bee hive.

The girls were Caucasins; one was called Charmaine Cunningham; she was chubby, but pretty; her friend was Cynthia Morris; she was on the skinny side; she too was pretty. Both girls were eighteen.

Charmaine leaned in and whispered to her friend, I was raped.

Her friend drew back and looked at her, shocked, When was this? she whispered back.

Last night after I left you at the party.

But that was early, and you were with Gary.

It was Gary; he forced himself onto me.

Have you told your mom?

No, you know how my mom is. If something bad happens to you, she thinks it’s because you haven’t been doing what you were supposed to be doing.

So what if you get pregnant?

I’ll keep the baby.

Then they’ll know.

I’m big; they won’t know. They’ll just think I’m getting bigger.

I don’t know what you’re going to do. But if you get pregnant, you could have it at my home.

Thanks.

Nine months later Charmaine had a bouncing baby girl; she had it at Cynthia’s home; the latter’s mom was a midwife. Due to the fact that Charmaine was chubby, her mom and dad were ignorant of the fact that she was pregnant.

She named the baby Mary after the virgin Mary.

Charmaine kept the baby at Cynthia’s home, but went back constantly to attend to her.

When the baby was a month old, one night when Charmaine was there alone, she took her onto the balcony and held her up into the air. She looked into the sky and said, Lord, I give her back to you. Protect her, oh, Lord, with your divine power. And also give her power to protect those whom she loves. Dear Lord, shield her in your cloak of goodness, and let no evil see or harm her; I ask this of you in Jesus’ name, amen.

After that Charmaine packed her into a basket and wrote a note. She took her to a house a good distance away, and left her in front of the door.

Catherine Livingston was Cacasian; she was about five-two, and was a sweet looking woman. She was twenty-five years of age and was a Christian; she loved God very much. She also loved kids, but was unable to conceive. She was always praying to God to give her one. Her husband had left her for another woman because she was unable to give birth.

She was home alone that night.

When she heard the cying of a baby, she was puzzled, because it sounded as if it were coming from outside of her house.

She went out to look and was surprised when she saw the baby in front of her door. She looked around her to see if anyone were looking. When she was certain no one was, she quickly picked up the basket and took it inside.

She placed the basket on the table and looked at the sweet child who was looking up at her and smiling. She saw the note and read it. It said, Please take care of my baby. Her name is Mary, please call her Mary; she was named after the virgin Mary. Thanks.

She put away the paper and looked at the baby; she reached in and took her out. Oh, baby, she cooed, I promise I’ll take care of you like you were my own.

She started gently rocking the baby.

PATERSON, NEW JERSEY, TEN YEARS LATER.

Mary was now ten years old.

She was petite and looked even small for her age; but she was an attractive little girl.

Her mother had bought a house; she had gotten it at a bargain price. She was told that the house was haunted, but with her belief in God, she figured she could conquor anything.

They had lived in the house for three years, but hadn’t felt or seen anything that resembled a ghost. The problem was that Catherine was not cognizant of the power that her daughter possessed.

Catherine worked at nights, but mostly she would leave someone with her daughter when she was going. This night she had to go, but she had no one to leave her with.

She was dressed in her scrub and was ready to go when she knelt in front of her daughter. She held her small hands in hers and looked into her eyes.

Sweetheart, your mom has to go to work tonight, but she tried and she couldn’t find anyone to take care of you.

I’ll be fine, mom, Mary said, her voice was so soft and gentle.

Her mom hugged her.

She had tears in her eyes when she looked at her again. God will take care of you, Sweetheart, you know that God takes care of His own, and you’re God’s own, you know that, don’t you?

She shook her head resolutely, We’re all God’s own, mom; He’ll take care of you too.

I know, Sweetheart.

They walked to the door together. Now, you shouldn’t open the door for anyone whatsoever, you hear me?

Yes, mom.

Her mom knelt in front of her and kissed her, I love you, Sweetheart. She embraced her.

I love you too, mom.

Her mom stood and opened the door; she went through, Good night. Remember what I told you, do not open the door for anyone.

I won’t, mom, Good night.

She closed the door and locked it.

Mary went to her room.

She laid on her back on her bed and closed her eyes. Suddenly the ceiling of the room was being filled with spirits that were becoming visible. There were males, females and kids, and all were looking down at her with eyes that were filled with hatred.

They were floating, but none could come close to her.

Mary was looking at them, and it was if she were toying with them.

She wasn’t afraid; they were angry with her.

Ever since coming into the house, her powers had kept them at bay so that they couldn’t appear to anyone; it was because of this why her mother had thought that the house wasn’t haunted.

Mary had felt them from the moment she came into the house, and she knew their intentions, but she loved her mother and would do anything to protect her.

Mary looked at one particular one in a corner, then she closed her eyes. When she opened them, the demon diappeared with a piercing, and nerve wrenching scream.

Again they looked down on her, wanting to attack, but they couldn’t move. Mary gave a radiant smile, exposing a missing tooth.

Once again she looked at another one and did the same. When she opened her eyes, the demon disappeared with the same nerve wrenching scream, the one before it had disappeared with.

Mary suddenly sat up; she pointed at them, You leave my mama’s house and never come back, in the name of Jesus, I command you to, she said firmly.

The remaining demons disappeared one by one.

Mary laid back, folded her little ams in front of her, and crossed her legs. She had a triumphant smile on her little face.

CHAPTER 1

NORTH LAUDERDALE, FLORIDA, EIGHT YEARS LATER

When my mom died, I was devastated.

She was only forty two years of age, and I was merely eighteen. I had just left high school and was planning on going to college, but I needed money, so I was working. My mom’s name was Cynthia Rattray. To all her friends in church, she was called Sister Rattray. My name was Steve Duncan, and I worked in the Sawgrass Wal-Mart. My mom and my dad were not married; hence, that was her maiden name.

She was now a single parent. My dad had died when I was scarcely two years old. Since then my mom had dated other men, but none of them had ever worked out.

You see, my mom was an ardent Christian, if ever there were one. She was always praying, always attending church. She was a LPN, but was always doing two jobs. She would get home from work in the mornings, look after breakfast, then dinner, and then would be off to church on Sundays. Then she would get back in around three, had herself something to eat, go to bed, sleep for a few hours, then back to work again.

Mom hardly had time for a social life. It was work and God. So when she died, I was bitter against God. I wanted to know why He had allowed her to die.

I had come home from work that night. I wasn’t expecting to see mom because she was normally gone during the nights. However, when I drove into the driveway, I saw her car; I thought that that was strange; she had told me that she was going to work that night.

Anyway, I parked my car and got out. I went up to the door and unlocked it.

I went in.

Normally when mom was home, she would either be talking to her friend or watching television. Neither was happening; the house was unusually quiet.

The passageway was normally just lit by a night-light, so the light in the living room wasn’t really bright.

I checked her bedroom. The ceiling fan was going, the light was on, but she was nowhere to be seen. I checked her bathroom; she wasn’t there either. I called her name, but I didn’t get any response.

I went back into the living room and turned on the light, and that’s when I saw her on the floor; she was foaming from the mouth.

For a moment, I didn’t know what to do; I guess I must have gone into a state of shock or something. Then it was as if I realized what were happening and I went forward and knelt beside her.

I felt for a pulse, there was one, but it was very weak. I shook her, but she just laid there not moving.

I called 911.

It didn’t take them long to arrive. The paramedic came out with their gurney. They realised that she had a pulse, but it wasn’t strong. So they instantly rushed her off to the hospital.

My mom was dying and no one knew what she was dying from. Her sisters and brothers from the church she attended were there for her, and they prayed constantly, but to no avail.

My mom died a few days later.

I was mad.

The doctors were unable to say what caused her death. The autopsy did not reveal anything. Everyone was at a loss as to what could have caused her to die.

My mom had a sister, but they were not close; we hardly saw each other. So now it was like I was left alone.

I was angry with God.

I wanted to know if this were the way He treated someone who was so devoted to Him.

Sister Elizabeth was mom’s best friend. She called me when I was home one day to reassure me that my mom was in a better place.

I wasn’t convinced.

My mom wasn’t ready to die, I responded stubbornly. Why did He take her? And why in that way?

No one knows the ways of God; we just have to accept the things He does. We’re not supposed to question Him.

I wasn’t a happy camper.

All she was saying to me was going through one ear and coming out the other.

If He had wanted my mom, couldn’t He have found a better way to take her? I asked.

That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Steve; the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh. We don’t know in what way He is going to give, and we don’t know in what way He is going to take.

I don’t know, I responded stubbornly, I need answers.

Well, you’ve got your Bible, and I’m sure your mom has taught you things about God; she was really spiritual.

Yeah, that’s why I need answers.

I was okay.

My mom had a house, and now that she was dead, the insurance she had for the house paid it off, so I didn’t have a mortgage; that was good, but I loved my mom and I wished that she were here.

We were very close.

I was working at Wal-Mart in the Sawgrass mall, and sometimes I had to work on Sundays, so I didn’t get to go to church much lately. But when I was a kid, I didn’t miss church; I would be there on Sundays for meetings and on Tuesdays when they had Bible studies.

My mom taught me a lot about God, but there were some things that I didn’t agree with. One of them was that it was God Himself who came down and died for us.

I found out there was something wrong with that, so I was at odds with my mom when it came to certain things in the Bible, but I couldn’t voice it when I was a kid. Now that I was a man, I could do so, but I tried to be as respectful as I possibly could be; after all, she was my mom, and I appreciated and loved her very much.

My mother was a Jamaican. I was born in Florida; hence I was an American. The church my mom attended consisted mainly of Jamaicans who had kids who were born in America. As a result the adults were Jamaicans, but the kids were Americans.

Quite a few people attended my mom’s funeral. The church was pretty small, and it was packed to capacity, with other people waiting on the outside.

The pastor who officiated at the funeral was a young man, barely older than I was. He said my mom was gone to heaven.

But I was not sold on that idea.

All I knew was that my mom’s body was lying in front of the pulpit. I was seated at the front looking at the casket.

My eyes were filled with tears.

My aunt whom I hadn’t spoken to in a while was beside me. The way she had her arms around me, consoling me, you’d have thought that we had always been close. But at this moment, I would have welcomed the consoling arms of my worst enemy.

After the service was over, and the casket was taken out, quite a few people approached me, telling me that my mom was somewhere better, looking down on me.

Were they telling me that death was the beginning?

The belief that when one dies as a Christian, one goes to heaven, was one thing my mom and I couldn’t agree on, because I had read in the Bible where Christ said that when one believes in Him and dies, one remains in the grave until the day of resurrection. So at this stage I was convinced that they didn’t know what they were talking about. Even the pastor himself seemed to be ignorant as far as I was concerned.

The following day when I went back to work, I wasn’t feeling too well, and so I was allowed to take an early break.

When I went to the picnic area where I normally take my respite, I saw one of my friends, his name was Donald. He was around my age, my height, but a little stockier than I was. I was six feet tall, and weighed around one eighty; he was around two hundred pounds.

We were good friends; we used to attend school together. He was seated on top one of the tables with his feet on the bench.

I joined him.

What are you doing out here so early? I asked him.

I wasn’t feeling too well, so I asked for the early break.

I’m not feeling too well myself.

He looked at me, Well, if I were you, I wouldn’t have come to work today. He patted me on the shoulder, Steve, I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you yesterday, man, but you know I had to work.

I know.

How was it?

It went well. I looked at him; My problem was with the pastor.

He looked at me, a bit baffled, What did the pastor do?

He lied.

He lied? he asked incredulously, and looking at me strangely.

I shook my head, Yeah.

Why did he lie? Donald was still baffled.

He told me that my mom was in heaven.

Well, we’ve always been told that when Christians die, they go to heaven, haven’t we?

Yeah, but the Bible doesn’t say so.

What do you mean the Bible doesn’t say so?

When Christ was on earth, He told His followers that if someone dies who believes in Him, on the day of judgement, or on the last day, He would raise him or her.

So how come all these pastors tell these people these things? Don’t they know better?

I don’t know, Donald; these are things that I’m going to have to find out for myself. And it wasn’t only the pastor who was telling me that; it was quite a few other people there.

What did you say to them?

I didn’t say anything.

Doesn’t that make you a hypocrite?

I didn’t say I agree with them.

But you didn’t say anything either; you should have.

What did you want me to say to them?

Tell them that it’s a lie.

That would have been rude, Donald.

Well, maybe you could have said it to them in a manner in which it wouldn’t be rude.

They were just trying to be nice to me.

Believe me; they do believe what they’re telling you. Some of these people only go to church because they deem this to be true.

Well, as far as I’m concerned, some of them are in for a rude awakening.

Donald chuckled forcefully as he took a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. He inhaled deeply and removed the cigarette from his lips and exhaled, Don’t tell any of them that; they sure as hell aren’t going to like you.

CHAPTER 2

This was Mary at eighteen.

It was obvious that she was mixed, half-white and half-black. Her surname was Livingston, Mary Livingston, and she was a petite and good-looking girl. She too, worked at Wal-Mart in Sawgrass Mall.

This was Sunday morning, but Mary was in no mood to go to church. She hadn’t been in a while and her adopted mom was getting concerned.

Mary had gotten in late from work that morning, so she was really tired and she was supposed to go back to work later that day.

However, she had a problem with sleeping past eight o’clock in the mornings, so she was able to hear when her mother entered the house that morning. She knew she was going to have to disappoint her that day.

Her mother was always waking her up to go to church, even though she herself should be trying to get some sleep; she had worked all night, and her shifts were mostly twelve and sixteen hours.

This morning her door was locked and when she heard the bang on the door, she pulled the sheet up to her neck and said, Mom, I’m not going to church this morning.

Why, Sweetheart?

I’m tired, Mom.

Sweetheart, look at me; I’m just coming in from work, and I’m ready to go to church. Remember, you must always put God first.

Mom, if I don’t put Him first this morning, I’m sure He’ll understand. I didn’t get in ‘till about two o’clock this morning. After I spoke to you about my car, I had to wait until I saw a customer who had a cable and he helped me to get it going.

You haven’t put Him first in a while, Mary. And what happened last night is the reason why you need to go to church, to show Him how much you appreciate Him.

Mom, I’m really sorry, I can’t.

Okay, it’s your soul. I’ll make us something to eat and then I’ll go.

Mary’s mouth moved as she mimicked her mom silently. On the day of judgement I can’t give an account for your soul; you will have to, her mom said.

Mary sighed resignedly, I know that, mom. Aren’t you going back to work this evening?

Yes, that’s all I do, work, work and nothing more.

Mom, it’s time for you to get yourself a nice guy and settle down.

They’re no longer out there, Honey. She heard as her mother walked away from the door. I’m going to have a shower and get us something to eat, but then I’m going to have to go to church, she concluded.

I know.

Later while they were having breakfast, Mary told her about the boy whose mother had died the week before. I heard she was pretty young, she concluded.

These things do happen, Honey, her mom responded.

She was a Christian.

Well, Christians are humans too; things that happen to normal human beings happen to us. If she were a truthful Christian, then she is in a better place.

Her daughter looked at her, Mom, I think I have a problem with that, you know.

Why?

No one wants to die, not even a Christian. If when someone dies as a Christian, they go to a better place, why is it that people fear death so much?

Her mom shrugged evasively, I don’t know. I don’t really fear death.

You don’t?

Her mom’s response wasn’t as convincing as it was before, Well, not really.

Is there anywhere in the Bible where it says that people go to heaven when they die as Christians?

Of course, she responded emphatically.

Can you show it to me?

Well, I won’t be able to show it to you now; I’ll have to ask Pastor Rohan for the passage.

He seems to know a lot.

He does, dear; he’s really good.

Is he married, Mom?

Her mom looked suspiciously at her, Why do you ask?

Nothing really.

Her mother chuckled forcefully, My dear, there is so many single women in that church who are after that man, it isn’t funny.

So are you saying he is not married?

That’s what I heard.

You’re an attractive woman, mom; maybe you can win him over.

Sweetheart, I’m not going to church to look someone; if God thinks that I should get a man, He’ll give me one. And then I’ll be certain that that person won’t leave me.

Do you think that that’s the way God works?

What do you mean?

Doesn’t the Bible say that God helps those who help themselves?

I’ve heard the saying, but I can’t say that I’ve ever seen it in the Bible.

I heard the guy at work is mad with God, Mary said, suddenly changing the subject, and with a faraway look in her eyes.

Why?

Because he said that his mom was too young to die.

No one can determine the age at which a person should die; only God can.

"Well, I guess that’s why he is mad with God, because he said God should never