Child Of God (1)
Bridgett Nesbit

 

   Child of God

By Bridgett Nesbit
  
  
 
Foreword

Pastor had forgotten how long they’d known one another; Tamara had been with him when he failed to graduate because of a steroids scandal and she fell right along with the rest of the church society when he gave a charismatic plea for redemption.
His infidelity had always been looked at as just vicious rumors to push under the rug but this time it would be different, this time Tamara could not look away.
Pastor would not hear the knob turning.
The gospel music used to mask a time of worship had instead encouraged their wicked throws of passion; Pastor would have no time to cover this one up.
For Tamara Stevens, a beautiful 38 year old pastors wife in Atlanta Ga.
life would spiral into betrayal, deception, deliverance and redemption.
Running from her problems Tamara finds that even home has its own set of demons to battle.
When she meets Michelle Winters, 36, a stern county prosecutor in North Carolina, Tamara learns that the problems in her hometown are more important than her own.
The two find that success for them might not mean finding the right man to love but they both would find a greater purpose from their pain.
Though Michelle is more bitter it does not mean she is more broken and both own a common desire for personal peace.
They would understand that in their lives a power that could not be excused as simply half haps was working with them to save their small town.
Unfolding in a series of circumstances they uncover a four year old murder which has been swept under the rug by a crooked sheriff. With a posse of criminals he would master mind a billion dollar drug operation and turn a entire area of town into a experiment of crime and poverty. That would be until God used them to usher in a change.

  
  
  
  
  
The Good Shepherd
“Do unto to others as…”
Chapter one
Tamara made her way down the hall, she knew he’d do it again, her high heels echoing a gate of sorrow.
Memories of her husbands infidelity seemed to evade her thoughts.
The first lady of Mt. Zion’s Peace Baptist Church sought solace in each movement, a uncommon peace in a pace of surrender.
How would she explain to her husband that she couldn’t love him or forgive him any more and why did she care.
How would she tell the ladies in the church that she no longer desired to be first lady.
Michael, or Pastor Stevens, had lied on so many levels; from the pulpit to the bedroom of almost every woman in the church/communities back door and he was delivering more than a good word.
This time it was more than she could stand, the good reverend had done something despicable, he slept with a new woman in the fold that Tamara had taken under her wing.
God had laid Trina on her heart, showed her that the stem of her pain came from confusion and repeated hurts.
She’d been left by two former husbands and was now needy and broken.
It was Tamara‘s joy to lead her to the Rock of her Salvation, Jesus, not the lusty doctrine of a now wayward shepherd.
She hadn’t even thought of shielding Trina from her husband.
They’d shared spiritual conversations about her, spoke in faith toward her recovery and prayed for the 40 year old single mother on numerous occasions.
So Tamara just assumed the heart of God to deliver souls from personal torment was still in her husband and he could see beyond Trina’s thighs.
The sadness of this spiritual battle crept into Tamara’s soul, she had forgiven him a million times while kneeling beside their bed.
She had cupped his head at the altar as he swore he would not allow the Devil to destroy his marriage with the disease of infidelity.
That would be of course each time one of the ladies he was messing with took a stand against him and wanted Pastor to leave her for them.
Tamara could think of no other time he was brought to tears in public over her.
As tears slid down her oval cheeks she reflected on the one on one counseling sessions she shared with Trina, through those moments she had also began to heal.
But that would be overshadowed now by the image of Trina jumping up from her husbands lap with no clothes on in his office.
“Dumb bastard,” Tamara managed to mutter while wiping her face with a tear soaked sleeve.
The pastor had forgotten how long they’d known one another, she knew him all through high school and college. She’d been with him when he failed to graduate because of a steroids scandal and she fell right along with the rest of the church society when he gave a charismatic plea for redemption.
Well she fell then but not this time, this time when ‘Pastor’ ordered his secretary to change his locks Tamara took on the task and kept a spare of her own.
They didn’t hear the key connecting and giving ease to the knob, the gospel music used to mask a time of worship instead encouraged their wicked throws of passion; Pastor would have no time to cover this one up.
Instead of screaming and hollering in the house of God, Tamara just got one eyes full of the drama, took a picture on her cell phone and walked in a untouched stride to her car.
He wouldn’t chase after her, he hadn’t before, because he needed time to come up with some way to turn Trina into the new day Jezebel.
For Tamara it was the drive home that would be bothersome, not the glances in the church hall.
What hurt was pretending that it didn’t hurt, Tamara felt fooled and lost, crippled and discouraged but in sheer diva fashion kept her mind stayed on the enormous task of making it home.
“Being fake like this sucks God,” Tamara said under her breathe. “Please save me, help me, deliver me today Lord!”
She forced herself to remember how things got to this point, with a child who adored her father and people in the community who still allowed him to operate when he should have been sat down she had felt trapped.
Tamara now held no more in life than the stain of her last name, a vow to stand when she had fallen, a dread to stay and a burning desire to leave.
She hadn’t been the only one who had a habit of forgiving Pastor.
Before you could say good day the congregation had said he had a way with the people like David and no one bothered to check, per his self proclaiming passion for reciting the Word, to see if he was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Back then it just seemed fitting that Tamara would play the role of first lady; she was the daughter of a prominent pastor herself, she remembered standing at the altar and being more than pleased to say I do.
Now her heart ached for the foresight to avoid this tragedy.
She was just like the other little girls who played with Barbie and Ken, heard how to be a good wife (in the kitchen and the bedroom) but no one had taught her how to fake it.
Though musing through her thoughts felt therapeutic the chime of her cell phone ended the session.
This time her caller id included her raggedy husband, other people from the church (noisy not concerned) and surprisingly Trina.
“What in hell does this woman want to talk about?,” Tamara belted out in a she betta be glad I‘m saved mode.
“They must think I’m stupid, they can’t want to know what I saw in the house of God,” Tamara said.
.She collected herself in the bathroom, changing back to perfect and went into the kitchen.
There would be no need to call her parents because they could only understand forgiving Michael, citing the vision of the church beyond the trust of their union.
This would be more than just a time to throw things into the sea of forgetfulness, this time Tamara decided to give her husband a chance to free her.
And this time it was a way that would allow her to grow in God without his restrictions.
When her husband called she was ready to answer, “Yes, Michael” Tamara said talking ever so politely, “I think it is time for us to talk about some things.”
“I…want… to explain, I …don’t want to argue,“ he answered back this time sounding like the adulteress husband he was instead of the confident preacher about to deliver a stirring message.
She agreed for him to come to the house so they could talk but had no intent of allowing him to stay.
Tamara knew exactly what she wanted from the reverend, it would be a chance to know God this time for herself and live pass the labels of religion.
She did not doubt for one second that God was good but knew this relationship was no longer any good for her faith, her soul or her heart.

  
  
  
Walking away
“Don’t take my meekness for weakness”
Chapter two
It would take more than flowers, more than words this time but Michael was unaware of that.
As the door opened at their lake front home on Thomas Drive, he was clueless to how things had shifted in the atmosphere.
Michael made his way to the living room looking for sharp items out of place.
Tamara chuckled to her self knowing his superstitions did not seem displayed.
“I’m passed arguing too Michael,” Tamara said to calm his fears, “I don’t think our relationship was meant to withstand all of the things I have had to forgive you for and I know the God I serve will not put anymore on me than I can bare.”
“I’ve heard people say that if you want to find out if your saved ask your family,” Tamara spoke purposely with intent of pricking him.
“You don’t want to ask me that question right now”….“The only thing that you can do to save our marriage is walk away.”
Tamara pulled an envelope and assured Michael that copies had been mailed to her cousin in North Carolina along with pictures that a detective had taken of women he had been with over passed years.
The package also included recorded video and audio tapes that incriminated him in several bogus non-profits.
“I’m serious this time Michael and this time you will have to lose something to see that God loves more than just the preacher, he loves his sheep too!”
It took Tamara ten minutes to convince Michael that a divorce would be the best thing, a mutual agreement of release would be announced to the church and their daughter, Briana, would go back to her home town in North Carolina with her.
Michael agreed to liquidate all assets in a 80/20 portion. This time it was not his so called stellar character that persuaded the good reverend but the fact that his wife had him by the balls.
Every thing but the church would be sold; the blessed and beautiful temple would go to a budding fellowship church who had been believing the Lord for a home.
Now Tamara’s biggest concern was getting back home, though she constantly asked God for a sign for good, she had received none and hoped to find it there.
Had she the right in Biblical passage to force release from her marriage?
The South Side had been a concern of Tamara’s for many years, she had sent money to a few local churches but had not been back in almost two decades. When Tamara looked up her hometown she found out that the drug infestation and crime that had taken over the area (mainly impoverished African Americans), she felt led to return and now it would be a new beginning.
For the eager dreamer the only obstacle she would have to face was saying goodbye to the people that kept the current church lively; those that didn’t just come to church for a social escape and an extension of high school drama.
After talking with that elect her next personal battle would be the hardest, talking to the fake saints.
While debating the confrontation Tamara felt like their was a tug of war between her faith and her reality, “I’m I making the right decision though,” she whispered to herself.
One fact was sat for the pastor‘s wife, she knew the majority of women would judge her for insisting the good reverend resign from the church and re-directing her membership.
They would definitely question her faithfulness to not only her husband but her Creator.
She made calls to all the busy bees in the congregation announcing she would be holding a tea party for the original members on Thursday.
This would be a time to explain that God was pulling her to a different place in her ministry.
Regardless of the outcome Tamara had no plans of looking back, for years she held back accusations against women she worked side by side with.
Now she planned to tell them if it got ugly that they could now have the skirt chasing pastor, they were so fond of, all to themselves.
In the meeting sister Deborah (the nosiest person in their town) stood up before Tamara could say a word, “Some say your leaving cause you caught Pastor again and some say you rekindled an old love back home!”
“Some say honey that you teaching forgiveness in your little classes but can’t give none to your man and that’s why he kept stepping out.”
This heifer, had the nerve to put her hand on her hip wearing a size five but needing a size ten, made new and even more ridiculous accusations against Tamara.
“I think the biggest problem in the church sister is what some say and not enough of what Jesus says,” Tamara retorted.
“Some say you and at least half of the women in the church have slept with my husband and I guess because I didn’t catch any of you with him that you didn’t sin.”
“I don’t care if you all bust hell wide open, you know the word and seem to think you have more time than the people you tell about Jesus in the streets.” “And then after you spread the gospel, you spread your lips to gossip and legs to baptize my husband…“As if you are perfect, as if you still don’t need to be delivered,” Tamara criticized.
“For me ladies when I die I want to hear, ‘Well done,” and not I never knew you so I’m going to a place where I can try to make a difference instead of being the first lady to a jackass.”
No one in the conference room dared make a sound as Tamara gathered her things and exited the room.
For Tamara it was a time of release, a “Go to Hell by yourselves,” moment and one she had been waiting to deliver for a long time.

  
A long way till home
“Don’t look back girl, don’t look back”
Chapter three
At six Briana didn’t understand why they had to move from their beautiful home in Georgia to North Carolina. The anxious child asked questions the whole way up the rode and Tamara had all the right answers. “You’ll be able to play with your cousins and get to see some of the places were Mommy grew up at baby girl,” she told her daughter
She and Briana played rode games almost all the way up the road. The scenery had changed in her home town, things that seemed like landmarks had through time been torn down for bigger buildings.
While trying to point places out her intelligent child remarked, “Mommy you must be old, nothing is where you say it was anymore.”
As they came into the city Tamara was anxious to see her grandmother’s house but had no real idea what she was getting herself into or that God was in the process of answering a prayer.
He’d produced the strong pull in her heart to come back home put the drama of the events that would unfold were masked in the underlining seams of everyday.
When she began riding through the old neighborhood nothing looked the same there either.
Abandoned and boarded up houses scattered the streets. Fields of liter decorated the fronts of most homes and street corners.
In broad day light pods of people did drugs with no police presence.
Young boys hung out at many of the corners, young girls with scarcely any clothes on propositioned cars going by and Tamara saw a small child playing dangerously close to a busy street.
Now she didn’t want her daughter to see what it had become; the journalist who laid down her pen felt a quaking in her soul to investigate.
She’d written for her hometown newspaper but stopped to help her husband further his ministry.
Now she understood why God sent her back; the source of her joy in all levels had been destroyed by her husband but now Tamara’s mind was on something else, she felt purposed to reach back.
Should would dedicate her pen now to making a difference and showing the shame that officials must have held secret, the drug infestation with no balanced programs for community that match the money and drugs seized in the county for over 20 years. It looked like a cover up to her.
Tamara browsed through the limited FBI and SBI seizure reports she could access on her Blackberry and found crime reports that stunned her, “Young children dying senselessly in these streets,” Tamara thought aloud. “I was worried about a man who I thought needed me to fix a man and the whole time I was worried about the wrong thing.”
As she gazed at the sadness of poverty running rampant through its streets Tamara thought of when she played freely throughout the community.
Then Tamara turned onto an oh too familiar corner, she saw her grandmother’s house with weeds grown up over the entire property.
The for sale sign seemed to barely peek through its madness.
When she spoke with her grandmothers friend and old neighbor, Mrs. Speaks, she learned that her cousin, Pete had some how gotten the house from her aunt and then got on crack.
He lost the house years go and it had been rented out but they kept it from her.
Tamara leaned on her car in tears, she never knew and because her husband wanted her to stay in Georgia as a first mother on holidays and weekends she spent most of her time either attending or planning church functions.
Tamara picked up her cell phone and called the realtors number on the sign, “Thank you for calling Allied Realty, this is Karen,” a voice answered promptly.
“Yes, My name is Tamara Stevens and I’m interested in purchasing the home on 629 Monroe Street.”
Karen said the house was selling for $23,000, that depreciation came because of the crime, but that didn’t dissuade Tamara.
She wanted to know what was the price of the adjacent lot on the corned for expansion purposes.
The real estate agent assured Tamara she would get back with her before the close of the day with the a asking price.
She’d left the key with Mrs. Speaks so Tamara would have a chance to look through the home.
The stroll up the walkway took her back, “The long lazy porch used to have a swinging chair with lots of plants,” Tamara said to her daughter as if she were giving a tour of a castle.
The house had character but needed work and the determined child within her made her grandmother’s house come alive again in her mind.
So humbled by just the beauty of the memories, words said in laughter or wisdom through pain that reached into her heart like it was yesterday, a tear fell down Tamara‘s face.
After a silent prayer, the courageous bidder checked her bank account, Michael had shifted some assets and their was now a generous balance.
It was her hope the total for the house and land did not exceed her current budget.
Tamara would then be able to live and expand the only two bedroom making it eventually not only upstairs and downstairs but over five bedrooms in all.
To totally revitalize it was her goal.
“God if this is coming home, if you want to use me to focus on this place please give me a sign for good in Jesus name,” Tamara said aloud in her grandmothers kitchen.
Her great grandparents had paid for the house in the 80’s and even ran a small café across the street for years but now it was a run down house that had been shot up by drive bys .

 

 

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Copyright © 2009 Bridgett Nesbit
Published on the World Wide Web by "www.storymania.com"