The Sneeze

They walked in tandem, each of the ninety-two students filing into the already crowded auditorium. With their rich maroon gowns flowing and the traditional caps, they looked almost as grown up as they felt.

Dads swallowed hard behind broad smiles, and Moms freely brushed away tears.

This class would NOT pray during the commencements – not by choice, but because of a recent court ruling prohibiting it.

The principal and several students were careful to stay within the guidelines allowed by the ruling. They gave inspirational and challenging speeches, but no one mentioned divine guidance and no one asked for blessings on the graduates or their families.

The speeches were nice, but they were routine … until the final speech received a standing ovation.

A solitary student walked proudly to the microphone. He stood still and silent for just a moment, and then, it happened.

All 92 students, every single one of them, suddenly SNEEZED!!!!

The student on stage simply looked at the audience and said, “GOD BLESS YOU, each and every one of you!” And he walked off stage …

The audience exploded into applause. This graduating class had found a unique way to invoke God’s blessing on their future with or without the court’s approval.

This is a true story; it happened at the University of Maryland.

Jesus Christ Resume

Author Unknown

Address: Ephesians 1:20

Phone: Romans 10:13

Website: The Bible

Keywords: Jesus Christ, Lord & Savior

My name is Jesus – The Christ.  Many call me Lord!  I’ve sent you my resume because I’m seeking the top management position in your heart.  Please consider my accomplishments as set forth in my resume.

Qualifications:

• I founded the earth and established the heavens (see Proverbs 3:19).

• I formed man from the dust of the ground (see Genesis 2:7).

• I breathed into man the breath of life (see Genesis 2:7).

• I redeemed man from the curse of the law (see Galatians 3:13).

• The blessings of the Abrahamic Covenant comes upon your life through me (see Galatians 3:14).

Occupational Background:

• I’ve only had one employer (see Luke 2:49).

• I’ve never been tardy, absent, disobedient, slothful or disrespectful.

• My employer has nothing but rave reviews for me (see Matthew 3:15-17).

Skills & Work Experiences:

• Some of my skills and work experiences include: empowering the poor to be poor no more, healing the brokenhearted, setting the captives free, healing the sick, restoring sight to the blind and setting at liberty them that are bruised (see Luke 4:18).

• I am a Wonderful Counselor (see Isaiah 9:6). People who Listen to me shall dwell safely and shall not fear evil (see Proverbs 1:33).

• Most importantly, I have the authority, ability & power to cleanse you of your sins (see I John 1:7-9)

Educational Background:

• I encompass the entire breadth & length of knowledge, wisdom and understanding (see Proverbs 2:6).

• In me are hid all of the treasures of wisdom and knowledge (see Colossians 2:3).

• My Word is so powerful; it has been described as being a lamp unto your feet and a lamp unto your path (see Psalms 119:105).

• I can even tell you all of the secrets of your heart (see Psalms 44:21).

Major Accomplishments:

• I was an active participant in the greatest Summit Meeting of all times (see Genesis 1:26).

• I laid down my life so that you may live (see II Corinthians 5:15).

• I defeated the archenemy of God and mankind & made a show of them openly (see Colossians 2:15).

• I’ve miraculously fed the poor, healed the sick and raised the dead!

• There are many more major accomplishments, too many to mention here. You can read them on my website, which is located at: www dot – the BIBLE. You don’t need an Internet connection or computer to access my website.

References:

• Believers and followers worldwide will testify to my divine healings, salvation, deliverance, miracles, restoration and supernatural guidance.

In Summation:

Now that you’ve read my resume, I’m confident that I’m the only candidate uniquely qualified to fill this vital position in your heart. In summation, I will properly direct your paths (see Proverbs 3:5-6), and lead you into everlasting life (see John 6:47). When can I start? Time is of the essence (see Hebrews 3:15).

Teach Me To Forgive

 Author unknown

One day a while back, a man, his heart heavy with grief, was walking in the woods. As he thought about his life this day, he knew many things were not right. He thought about those who had lied about him back when he had a job.

His thoughts turned to those who had stolen his things and cheated him. He remembered family that had passed on. His mind turned to the illness he had that no one could cure. His very soul was filled with anger, resentment and frustration.

Standing there this day, searching for answers he could not find, knowing all else had failed him, he knelt at the base of an old oak tree to seek the one he knew would always be there, and with  tears in his eyes, he prayed
“Lord – You have done wonderful things for me in this life. You have told me to do many things for you, and I happily obeyed.
Today, you have told me to forgive. I am sad, Lord, because I cannot. I don’t know how. It is not fair Lord. I didn’t deserve these wrongs that were done against me and I shouldn’t have to forgive. As perfect as your way is Lord, this one thing I cannot do, for I don’t know how to forgive. My anger is so deep Lord, I fear I may not hear you, but I pray that you teach me to do this one thing I cannot do – Teach me To Forgive.”

As he knelt there in the quiet shade of that old oak tree, he felt something fall onto his shoulder. He opened his eyes. Out of the corner of one eye, he saw something red on his shirt. He could not turn to see what it was because where the oak tree had been was a large square piece of wood in the ground. He raised his head and saw two feet held to the wood with a large spike through them. He raised his head more, and tears came to his eyes as he saw Jesus hanging on a cross. He saw spikes in His hands, a gash in His side, a torn and battered body, deep thorns sunk into His head.

Finally he saw the suffering and pain on His precious face. As their eyes met, the man’s tears turned to sobbing, and Jesus began to speak.
“Have you ever told a lie, He asked?” The man answered, “Yes, Lord.”
“Have you ever been given too much change and kept it?” The man answered, “Yes, Lord.” And the man sobbed more and more.
“Have you ever taken something from work that wasn’t yours,” Jesus asked? And the man answered, “Yes, Lord.”
“Have you ever sworn, using my Father’s name in vain?” The man, crying now, answered, “Yes, Lord.”
As Jesus asked many more times, “Have you ever”? The man’s crying became uncontrollable, for he could only answer, “Yes, Lord.”

Then Jesus turned His head from one side to the other, and the man felt something fall on his other shoulder. He looked and saw that it was the blood of Jesus. When he looked back up, his eyes met those of Jesus, and there was a look of love the man had never seen or known before. Jesus said, “I didn’t deserve this either, but I forgive you.”

It may be hard to see how you’re going to get through something. But, when  you look back in life, you realize how true this statement is…   “If God brings you to it… He will bring you through it.”

Passed Around By Man But Not Passed Over By God-Chapter 10

I know I said Sherita was an ugly girl and that remains true. I am not saying I was all that and a bag of chips because I was not. I was just a short, thin-framed girl but I did have something that Sherita would never have — long, thick, naturally-beautiful, dark brown hair, flawless caramel-brown skin and a gorgeous smile. Yeah, yeah, she had thighs, legs and a big butt, but that is all she had going for her and I believe she already knew that. Sherita’s and my birthday came around, both were in April. Hers on April 21st and mine on the 24th but she was a year older than I.

Esther decided to take me to the doctor to get my ears pierced for my eighth birthday. I was excited that I was going to be able to wear earrings. Big Momma had purchased a cute white dress for me to wear on my special day but before I could go get my ears pierced and wear my birthday outfit, I had to get my hair washed and pressed. The only thing I did not care for was getting my hair hot combed and because my hair was long and thick it seemed like it took forever. My hair had to be done this way on a weekly basis because I had “grade N” hair, that is, nappy.

After my hair was done and gorgeous, we went to the clinic to get my ears pierced. The nurse put silver studs into both of my ears and I must say the earrings enhanced my appearance. You could not tell me anything at this point. After being blessed with my new earrings, Esther took Sherita, Pauline and me out to dinner and a movie for our birthday.

Things were not always bad around the house, but you can bet your last dollar if trouble happened, Sherita’s name was all over it. One of those bad days sure came into that house unexpectedly, a day I can never forget and I know Sherita can never forget it either.

We were on our way home from school on a warm day, when Sherita and I came across a stranger. Our school was only a block away from the house and there was a vacant lot that many of us would use as a shortcut as we went home. We were walking down the hill of this empty lot, with Sherita ahead of me, when a young man approached Sherita. She stopped and they began talking to one another.

I was looking at this young man, who I definitely knew was not near our age, but something was familiar about him. He started walking and Sherita began walking behind him as if she was following him. I started speed walking to catch up with her and asked if she knew him. She said as clear as day, “Yes, just come on” and I assumed everything was okay. But everything was far from okay.

The next thing I knew, Sherita and I were in a dark garage with this young man. He put a knife up to Sherita’s throat and told me to sit down and cover my eyes. I put my hands over my face but peeked through my fingers as he sexually assaulted Sherita. He made her take off her pants and underwear and unbutton her blouse then made her lay on that dirty ground where he assaulted her. I remember him kissing her and rubbing his hands all over her body. I could see Sherita was scared because he still had that knife at her throat. He would look over at me to see if my eyes were still covered.

I could not believe what was happening and hoped that I was not next to be touched, or worse he would kill us both. The worst report a neighborhood could hear on the nightly news was that two young girls were sexually assaulted and found dead in a garage directly across the street from their house.

After the stranger finished, he told Sherita to get dressed and for us to wait in the garage for twenty minutes after he left and that we’d better not tell anyone what he had just done. We did as we were told and came out of the garage with both of us looking to make sure he was gone as we ran across the street to the house. Sherita was crying as she told her family the horrible thing that just happened to her on our way home from school. They asked us who it was, where it happened, what happened, and so forth.

The police were called to the scene and everybody was still in shock about the news they just heard as the police questioned us about the man’s description. I can still recall how he looked as if it was yesterday.

Remember when I said I did not know him, but he looked familiar? He was about 5’7”, medium built, light-skinned complexion with red freckles and a reddish-color afro. He was just red! I know there are little sayings like all black people look alike or everybody has a twin. Whatever the case may be, he looked just like the uninvited young man who was in our apartment when my family moved into Stateway Gardens.

Hey, let’s look at this — Big Momma’s house was on 58th and LaSalle and Stateway Gardens was on 39th and State. It is not far because State Street is only two streets away from LaSalle Street. Therefore, there is a possibility that this could be the same person.

Just when I thought things could not get any worse than they already were, guess what — they did. Guess who was in the kitchen being interrogated by the family about what happened to Sherita? Can you believe they were now blaming this rape on an eight year old? They asked me, “Where were you? Why didn’t you get any help? How did you let this happen?” Excuse me? I was in tears because I could not understand why they were blaming all of this on me. Hello, I might not have been sexually assaulted but I was a victim too! And it could have been worse – we were both still alive! I can understand their anger and frustration but blaming it on the foster child was not the answer.

What hurt me most was when Sherita told her family that she did tell me to go and get help. They asked me if what she said was true, and I said the true answer was no, she did not. I kept telling them exactly what happened but they did not seem to be listening to a word I was saying. I looked at them and wondered why they were not asking Sherita who this person was that she was openly talking to, as if she knew him. What did he tell her that would cause her to follow him in the first place? I mean, he didn’t have anything in his hand that was a threat to her, so why? She was the one that was older and should have known better. Oh, believe me I was cursing them out real well in my mind. It was not my fault y’all did not teach her not to talk to strangers. Ms. Brown taught her baby girl! You can bet that man would not have gotten two words out of me, much less a damn look. But all I could do was sit there crying; wishing all of this would go away.

A couple days later, we went down to the police station to try to identify the young man. They gave Sherita and me some books that were filled with mug shots of different male individuals but unfortunately he was not in any of the books.

Eventually things died down and we moved to a courtyard apartment unit on 69th and Cornell. I cannot recall what apartment floor we resided on but I know I was now attending another school for my third grade year. This school was Parkside Elementary at 6938 South East End Avenue. I don’t remember the teacher’s name or what he or she looked like because I didn’t stay long enough to keep memory of it but for some strange reason I remember the school’s name and where we lived.

Passed Around By Man But Not Passed Over By God  Chontate Brown Copyright ©2013 All rights reserved.

Passed Around By God But Not Passed Over By God-Chapter 9

After a few months of living in our new foster home, people began to show their true colors. Sherita and Marcus were the troublemakers of the household and Sherita was the leader. Sherita and her brother would do bad things then blame them on Raffeal and me, but mostly me. Sherita was a compulsive liar. Everything that came out of her mouth was lie and she actually believed she was telling the truth.

The first of her devious acts happened one day when we were all sitting in the living room. It was Raffeal, Marcus, Pauline, me and, of course, Sherita. Big Momma or any other adults, to my knowledge, were not there. Melanie was left in charge but she was off in her own little world. Sherita and Marcus decided they wanted to play with fire using a lighter they had found around the house. The strange thing was that I do not know whose it could have been because nobody in the house was a smoker.

They first lit paper and then it was whatever they could set on fire. I can remember this day so well because I was standing in the dining room, which was Big Momma’s room too, when they asked Raffeal if they could light the strings hanging from the legs of his cut-off blue jean shorts I don’t think he understood what they were asking him and I couldn’t believe they were serious. Before I knew it, they had set fire to one of those strings and in an instant that one thin string combusted into a big flame. My baby brother was screaming and hopping around trying to put the fire out and they were laughing at him, so I ran over to rescue him.

Luckily, he did not suffer from any burns. From that day on I hated every one of them. Sherita made us vow not to say anything about this day, but she forgot that her four-year-old sister Pauline was present when it happened.

A couple weeks later, Sherita, Pauline and I were sitting in their mother Esther’s room Pauline was chattering like any other four year old and told her mother what happened that day, not  knowing she was about to get her siblings into trouble. When Pauline finished telling the story, Esther got angry, looked at Sherita and said, “Y’all did what?” Sherita had the nerve to lie with a straight face and say I was the one who did the terrible thing to my own brother.

Before I could state my case, Esther had slapped the taste out of my mouth. I could only sit there holding my face in disbelief that this girl had just told a boldfaced lie on me and her mother believed her over me.

Another time Sherita was again playing with matches. I guess this crazy child just loved playing with fire. She was burning every dead hair she could find in an ashtray. Now if you have ever burned dead hair, you know it leaves behind a strange smell.

Again, no adult supervision in the house and Sherita was having her way as if she was at Burger King. Right after she went on her burning hair spree, guess who just happened to walk into the house but the adults.

Ethel was the first to come through the door and quickly realized that somebody had burned hair in the house. She asked Sherita and me who was burning hair and again this ugly girl lied and said I did it. My stupid self just stood there like a stick in the mud and didn’t even open my mouth to say anything. Ethel spanked my hand with a hard hairbrush and chastised me about playing with matches while Sherita just stood there smiling because she knew she had just gotten away with murder.

Passed Around By Man But Not Passed Over By God  Chontate Brown Copyright ©2013 All rights reserved.

Passed Around By God But Not Passed Over By God-Chapter 8

At the tender age of seven years old, I had formed my own opinions of adults, “Do not trust them.” I was at the point in my life where I was heartbroken, my mother was locked away like a criminal and my siblings and I remained separated from each other. My mother had to hear in court about all the horrific trials that Raffeal and I had endured while in the custody of Rose. This devastating news set my mother’s recovery back, causing her to fall into depression fueled by guilt as if it was her fault we were mistreated. The caseworker managed to place my brother and me into another foster home, hoping we would regain a healthy balance of emotional stability. Yep, that did the trick!

Our new home was with an older woman who went by the name “Big Momma”. Big Momma lived in a bluish color one-level house on 58th and LaSalle. You could tell the place was somewhat old but it was decent I supposed. Our new foster mother was not big in size at all; she was somewhat tall, but not big. She had beautiful skin for her older age and beautiful, wavy, long black hair that she always wore in a ponytail. One of her eyelids was lower than the other which I learned later was due to a stroke she had once upon a time. She appeared to be a nice, caring and thoughtful person.

Finally, somebody was happy to see us and welcomed us into their home. Big Momma’s children and grandchildren were also there to greet us. They were kindly introducing themselves to my brother and me but deep down inside, I was not buying it. Two of her adult daughters, named Ethel and Esther, lived in this house. Ethel did not have any kids, but Esther had four. Their names were Melanie, Marcus, Sherita and Pauline. Now Ethel should have been called Big Momma because she was fat. Esther was not fat but if she ate a couple more pork chops, she’d have been well on her way. They gave us a tour of the place, which I must say was not something I would declare nice but it was bearable. I thought it was somewhat strange that Big Momma’s bedroom set was in the dining room.

Everybody was all smiles but me because I had too many things racing through my mind about this new foster parent, another new school and something that probably had never crossed my mind, new foster siblings. I already knew in my mind that this living arrangement was about to be very challenging.

Melanie was the oldest and seemed a bit strange to me. She did not talk much and was always off to herself. She did not cross my path and I tried not to cross hers. Marcus was the only boy among the siblings. He was short in height, brown complexioned, and hmmm… Moving forward, Sherita was what you would call a bona fide “tilt drill” meaning she had a cute shape with a big booty but an ugly face that only a mother could love. She was a light-skinned eight-year-old girl who looked like she was twelve. Sherita was not just ugly in the face but also in her ways. She was a sneaky, conniving bully. Lastly, the baby girl Pauline was a little cutie. Her head was big, but she was still cute and the same age as my baby brother, Raffeal. I shared a room with Melanie and Sherita, and Raffeal was in the room with Marcus.

Ms. Irving made sure that Big Momma had a clear understanding that the wound on my leg needed daily dressing changes. I must admit, my new foster mother was on point when it came to taking care of my wound. She did the daily dressing changes as ordered and made sure I kept my doctor’s follow-up appointments as scheduled. I hated those dressing changes because it was still painful to touch, especially when she had to pack the wet gauze into the wound. It took a strong stomach to tolerate the massive hole the dog had left in me, but she did it like a champ. For me it could be too much to handle. There were times when I thought my wound would never heal, but with the help of Big Momma that once golf-ball-sized hole eventually healed, although it left a permanent scar.

Though reluctant to feel comfortable, things seemed to be getting better for me and my brother. I was finishing the second grade at Jesse Sherwood Elementary at 245 West 57th Street, the foster mom was not torturing me and my mother was allowed more visitation rights. But not everything was what it seemed.

Passed Around By Man But Not Passed Over By God  Chontate Brown Copyright ©2013 All rights reserved.

The Invisible Letter

Sally jumped up as soon as she saw the surgeon come out of the operating room.  She said: “How is my little boy?  Is he going to be all right? When can I see him?”  The surgeon said, “I’m sorry.  We did all we could, but your boy didn’t make it.”  Sally said, “Why do little children get cancer?  Doesn’t God care anymore?  Where were you, God, when my son needed you?”
The surgeon asked, “Would you like some time alone with your son?  One of the nurses will be out in a few minutes,
before he’s transported to the university.”  Sally asked the nurse to stay with her while she said goodbye to her son.

She ran her fingers lovingly through his thick red curly hair.  “Would you like a lock of his hair?” the nurse asked.  Sally nodded yes.  The nurse cut a lock of the boy’s hair, put it in a plastic bag and handed it to Sally.  The mother said, “It was Jimmy’s idea to donate his body to the University for Study.  He said it might help somebody else.  “I said no at first, but Jimmy said, “Mom, I won’t be using it after I die. Maybe it will help some other little boy spend one more day with his Mom.”  She went on, “My Jimmy had a heart of gold.  Always thinking of someone else.  Always wanting to help others if he could.”

Sally walked out of Children’s mercy Hospital for the last time, after
spending most of the last six months there.  She put the bag with Jimmy’s belongings on the seat beside her in the car.  The drive home was difficult.  It was even harder to enter the empty house.  She carried Jimmy’s belongings, and the plastic bag with the lock of his hair to her son’s room.  She started placing the model cars and other personal things, back in his room exactly where he had always kept them. She laid down across his bed and, hugging his pillow, cried herself to sleep.

It was around midnight when Sally awoke.  Lying beside her on the bed was a folded letter.  The letter said:

Dear Mom, I know you’re going to miss me; but don’t think that I will ever forget you, or stop loving you, just ’cause I’m not around to say I LOVE YOU.  I will always love you, Mom, even more
with each day.  Someday we will see each other again.  Until then, if you want to adopt a little boy so you won’t be so lonely, that’s okay with me.  He can have my room, and old stuff to play with.  But, if you decide to get a girl instead, she probably wouldn’t like the same things us boys do.  You’ll have to buy her dolls and stuff girls like, you know.

“Don’t be sad thinking about me.  This really is a neat place.  Grandma and Grandpa met me as soon as I got here and showed me around some, but it will take a long time to see everything.  The angels are so cool.  I love to watch them fly.  And, you know what?  Jesus doesn’t look like any of his pictures.  Yet, when I saw Him, I knew it was Him.  Jesus himself took me to see GOD!  And guess what, Mom? I got to sit on God’s knee and talk to Him, like I was somebody important.  That’s when I told Him that I wanted to write you a letter, to tell you goodbye and everything.  But I already knew that wasn’t allowed.

“Well, you know what Mom?  God handed me some paper and His own personal pen to write you this letter.  I think Gabriel is the name of the angel who is going to drop this letter off to you.  God said for me to give you the answer to one of the questions you asked Him – ‘Where was He when I needed him?’  God said He was in the same place with me, as when His son Jesus was on the cross.  He was right there, as He always is with all His children.

“Oh, by the way, Mom, no one else can see what I’ve written except you. To everyone else this is just a blank piece of paper.  Isn’t that cool? I have to give God His pen back now.  He needs it to write some more names in the Book of Life.  Tonight I get to sit at the table with Jesus for supper. I’m sure the food will be great.  Oh, I almost forgot to tell you.  I don’t hurt anymore.  The cancer is all gone.  I’m glad because I couldn’t stand that pain anymore … and God couldn’t stand to see me hurt so much, either.  That’s when He sent The Angel of Mercy to come get me.  The Angel said I was Special Delivery! How about that?

Signed with Love,

God, Jesus & Me

Passed Around By God But Not Passed Over By God-Chapter 5

This abuse was taking such a toll on my baby brother that he began to wake up in the middle of the night to raid the refrigerator. It was heartbreaking when I would wake up and notice my brother not in his bed and I would go downstairs to find him in the refrigerator eating just ketchup from the bottle. Sometimes I would sit there and let him have his way, but there were times I had to stop him just to keep him from being caught in action by Rose.

One day she did catch him eating from the fridge and I can recall running down the stairs hearing my brother screaming and crying because she is beating him but all I could do was watch him suffer. I could not protect my baby brother from this hateful person. He went from being potty trained to becoming a bed wetter. I remember she would beat him for wetting the bed and even started putting those blue, old people diapers on my baby brother. She was a true bitch indeed.

The great escape from this woman was school; a place of peace for me. I was able to eat breakfast and lunch all by myself without those dogs, I received recognition for all my hard work from my teacher and nobody at the school was tearing my spirit apart.

Yes, I was safe and secure at this place, but my facial expressions must have said something different because my teacher would ask me at times if everything was okay with me. When I would reply that everything was good, she’d get this look of discernment as if she knew that I was lying to her. I did not have any visible show-and-tell signs for her to go any further because I never gave her any problems, my hair was always combed, I wore nice clothing and shoes and I maintained excellent grades.

Ms. Johnson really looked out for me at times, like the day my class went on a field trip and Rose would not make a bag lunch for me. She made a sandwich with apricot preserves and told me to eat that. I left the house, threw that mess in the garbage and decided I just would not eat lunch that day. Ms. Johnson noticed that I did not have any lunch and asked if I brought a bag lunch for the trip. Filled with shame and trying to keep tears falling from my eyes, I said no. She had that look on her face again and kindly asked the class if they minded sharing their lunches with me. I was so embarrassed but my classmates shared their food and didn’t even tease me for not having any food.

I dreaded when school let out and the weekend came because I would have to be at that place with that woman. The craziest part of this whole ordeal was that I would actually see my cousins on my way home from school. I didn’t know at first that we were attending the same school. These were my same cousins who used to live next door to my family when we lived in the basement on the west side. They noticed me first and would stop to talk with me. I was happy to see them but would hurry to brush them off because Rose did not live far from the school so I had a limited time to get home. Sometimes knowing my cousins went to the same school that I attended and that my uncle lived not too far from the prison that I was in leaves a bitter taste in my mouth to this day.

I can imagine them running home and telling their father, who is my uncle, that they saw me. If he would have just waited for me after school and checked up on his niece, I could have told him everything. I could have told him, but instead I was left to continue receiving these senseless violent acts from this person.

Passed Around By Man But Not Passed Over By God  Chontate Brown Copyright ©2013 All rights reserved.

Carrots Eggs or Coffee

I just had to share this great inspirational short story with you all. This story is truly for someone today!

Grandmother says… Carrots, Eggs, or Coffee; “Which are you?”
A young woman went to her grandmother and told her about her life and how things were so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up. She was tired of fighting and struggling. It seemed as one problem was solved a new one arose.
Her grandmother took her to the kitchen. She filled three pots with water. In the first, she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs and the last she placed ground coffee beans. She let them sit and boil without saying a word.
In about twenty minutes she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl. Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl. Turning to her granddaughter, she asked, “Tell me what do you see?”
“Carrots, eggs, and coffee,” she replied.
She brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they got soft.She then asked her to take an egg and break it.
After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard-boiled egg.
Finally, she asked her to sip the coffee. The granddaughter smiled, as she tasted its rich aroma. The granddaughter then asked. “What’s the point, grandmother?”
Her grandmother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity–boiling water–but each reacted differently.
The carrot went in strong, hard and unrelenting. However after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak. The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior. But, after sitting through the boiling water, its inside became hardened.
The ground coffee beans were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water they had changed the water.
“Which are you?” she asked her granddaughter.
“When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg, or a coffee bean?”
Think of this: Which am I?
Am I the carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity, do I wilt and become soft and lose my strength?
Am I the egg that starts with a malleable heart, but changes with the heat? Did I have a fluid spirit, but after a death, a breakup, a financial hardship or some other trial, have I become hardened and stiff?
Does my shell look the same, but on the inside am I bitter and tough with a stiff spirit and a hardened heart?
Or am I like the coffee bean? The bean actually changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavor. If you are like the bean, when things are at their worst, you get better and change the situation around you.
When the hours are the darkest and trials are their greatest do you elevate to another level?
~Author Unknown

Passed Around By Man But Not Passed Over By God- Chapter 4

At school I was to be rewarded for good conduct and good penmanship and Ms. Johnson had just placed more gadgets on the prize board. On that board was a gorgeous gold charm bracelet that I wanted so badly, but on this particular week I was not the only one to be rewarded. It was another female student and I who the teacher called to the front of the class to choose our prize. As I was reaching for that charm bracelet, this trick had the nerve to snatch it from the board.

Before I knew it, I was shouting in that girl’s face about my bracelet and how she’d better give it up or else. I was so outraged that I began crying. Ms. Johnson tried to reassure me and I can still see her giving that girl the look of disappointment, but I was still pissed. The teacher asked me to be a good sport and choose another gift. She pointed out a “pearl” necklace that I definitely did not want. I took those pearls and as I was walking back to my seat, I gave that girl the “I will see you at 3:15” look.

When school was over, I went into the basement at home and in a rage broke those pearls from the string and dropped them all on the laundry side of the basement floor. While I was in the sitting area of the other side of the basement, Rose came down to do some laundry and had not yet flicked on the light switch.

The next thing I heard was a loud bang and a whole lot of cuss words coming from Rose’s mouth. I got up to see what all the commotion was about and there laying on the floor was no other than Rose. She had slipped on those pearls! Before I knew it, I was laughing at her fat behind trying to get off that floor. She looked up at me, declaring she was going to get me for what I have done and she did. That beating, as I expected, was painful but it was well worth it that day.

Otherwise, like clockwork, I went from my bedroom to school to chores to the basement and then bed. That was my daily life in her house. Rose had me completely afraid of her. When my mother was able to call us on the phone, Rose would be on another phone listening in on our conversations to make sure I would not tell my mother about all the horrible things she was doing to Raffeal and me.

Ms. Irving would stop by for her monthly check-ups and would ask us how everything was going with the living arrangements. I would make sure Raffeal didn’t get a chance to say anything because he would have told the truth about everything and I did not want to make matters worse while living under Rose’s roof. So I lied with a smile on my face. The beatings that we sustained were not nearly half of the abuse we tolerated. This woman was more wicked than the wicked witch from Oz.

The woman who took joy from beating me was the same woman who went to church on Sundays. Yes, she went to church, but like my pastor says, “the devil goes to church too and his name was Rose.”

We never kept attending one church; it was always a different church. She was what you call a “church hopper” who just bounced from one church to another one. I am telling you, that woman would get up there at the altar and get the Holy Ghost, shouting, jumping and praising God. I think it was God, though there was no telling with her. How can you be a hell raiser through the week and a Christian on Sunday? I would just fall asleep and hope when I woke up that church and all her shenanigans would be over.

Then one day the senseless female went brand new on us. My brother and I were used to being able to eat at the wooden kitchen table but things changed when she splurged on a brand new glass dinette set. I must admit this table was stunning like a clear shining diamond and Rose made sure we were not eating at this new table.

When Rose called us to dinner, it was the worst thing ever — a plate of damn beans. I am sorry to sound all bourgeois, but I did not know about this so-called entrée until I started living in foster homes because Ms. Brown did not eat or like beans. Anyway, we tried to sit at that new table of hers and got a reality check very fast. She told us with a serious look on her face that we could not eat at her table. My brother and I looked at each other like what the hell is she talking about? So we asked, “Where we going to eat then?” She said, “Over there on the floor.”

Now let me give you a description of this area where she now wanted us to eat. There was a small step down from the kitchen that led either to the right and the back door or to the left and the bathroom. Right in the middle part of this area was the place where her big old dogs would eat their food. It looked like Rose had downgraded us from being humans to being her new pet puppies.

If you think this was bad, matters were made worse when she would deliberately have those dogs eat their meals at the same time we were eating our food. Many nights we did not get the chance to eat our food because the dogs would eat it and there were desperate times when we ate our food while the dogs were eating from our plates. Rose would just watch this madness happening as she sat at her beautiful table.
Passed Around By Man But Not Passed Over By God  Chontate Brown Copyright ©2013 All rights reserved.