Chapter 6a
Black Mother Prays. Continuing with Chapter 6a in the "Backsliding" story.
While black mothers pray, black fathers go away. Black sons were the ones who were made to pay, and black daughters became single, praying types of black mothers, probably. But then again, pardon me, probably not.
Here's a group of folks who would have left their various places. Most (if not all of them) leave because the situations and circumstances in their original place of business were, at best, not to their liking and tastes, my Sis. They migrate, "for a better life," they say; I'm going to look for better for myself and my family today. This is a common theme in these communities, yay. Then all of us got there to New Jerusalem on the bus, as I'd guessed. To the new worlds, and the comfortable address.
It's the land of promise and opportunity where those things come first. Quickly, very quickly we forget. We swapped out the family we once knew, the ones we once had, and would have left back home for you. The very ones whom we'd said were the reasons why we were migrating; to go look for bread and better, for ourselves and our family, yes mi bredda. But we swap them out, replacing them with a new family, a church family plan of course. Some kinds of scouts who are now packed cram, and (quite conveniently,) very close at hand.
Those who are just like us and would have been here in the new lands for the same reasons as we are. "To find a job and to make some money for themselves, and Bob Weabar. Their families too, and cars. So, now we're here, we've found the job that we came here for, my dear. But before we'd gotten to that part; the part about getting the job, unscrewing the corks. We would have gotten to meet some rather familiar kinds of folks.
Folks who are just like us in many ways, (no jokes,) for the same reason and purposes as we are. They were the very ones who would have invited us out to a place; a good and acceptable place. Like, to a church for instant coffee taste; that's as acceptable as they come to disgrace, right? Okay, no case. But we were welcomed there with open arms and a seat on the chair that night. Got invited to join the "family," and the fight. We did and got, not "a job to close out the gig," but got us prayed for. Great anyway, my star.
Now, though, unbeknownst to us or to anyone else singing the chorus. Except for the smart Alexis among us wearing felts, of course, (or not, he might prefer to wear a baseball cap.) But we're now indebted to the church, to the tune of the rest of our lives, of course. Or to a heavy dose of guilt-tripping, should in case we ever get wised up and skip-a-do on out of there before it's too late to be surprised in the kitchen, with them.
There'll be much more guilt-tripping to come later on, too, if we linger. Or if we should happen to go back there for any reason after leaving and try to bring her. In the meantime, though, what this single action would have done (in effect) is, double a sister's "family" at the very least, or the brother's, still there on his knees. But she hasn't even gotten her first paycheck yet, and then they got around to baptizing her, and him. Then took to getting her to make vows and pledges, to them.
The types that she was not aware of from the ages, before then. Or was not fully aware of the consequences should she fail at honoring them, and quickly. She was not made aware of those consequences beforehand, my friend and boss who bit me, (on the wrong hand.) Some dictate that she must pay "god" (or the lord.) She must pay the lord her portion of her paycheck first, before anything or anyone else, from the purse. Then comes the other auxiliary groups, those who must also get their share too, oops!
But her paycheck hasn't risen up from the gravy train in the basement yet. She had not sent a penny back home to those family members yet either. Those very same family members to whom she had made those other vows while still there on the meager. Pledges too, and promises, and that was even before she got to know anything about this new family of his. Nor had she gotten to meet them. She hasn't yet taken care of any of the new responsibilities that life in the new space here is demanding of her, on the weekend.
As for the new church family? They seem to be making it a point of their duty to stay as far away from the subject of families to handle me, as possible. Real families, especially you, those families who're left back home and are on their knees calling me, on the phone. "Ooh!" They're staying as far away from that subject as they possibly can, oh please, can, can?
As time slips away, she becomes more and more ashamed of herself for the way how things have been turning out each day, between her and the family she'd left back home to stay, no doubt. So, she stopped calling home, then she stopped taking their calls too. Those calls that were coming from back home to guess who? And then, all communication was cut between her and her family. Her far-away family, yes, the real family. Far away though they might have been from her, and you, and me.
But not to worry, she's got a new family right here, here come those packages bringing in the curry, and those beloved bottled beers. Yep, you know them. But then again, she'll soon begin to discover some new things about her newfound family and friends. They don't never do nuttn, mi fren, ever. Sorry, I meant to say, "anything," just to be clever. They never do anything, other than nothing, and wait on the lord and pray, and sing. Yay! You'll see, soon.
"Do something with your life, for crying out loud." One was heard shouting at them from the top of the crowd. Anything. "Take risks," he said, well-calculated risks preferably, but risks anyhow. Go ahead, take them now. Of course, some of you are going to get hurt, or even die, from doing risky things. "Oh my." Don't let that hinder or deter you from taking those whiskey drinks, in disguise. It'll still be worth your while as a people in the long run, (away from sin, with the wives, probably.) The ones who didn't die in the pursuit of excellence, or the wrong rum, which is what you're after while taking those risks, well, well done.
At least, so I think. Come on, man, come. Those "someone," the risk-takers, and the rum-stink? "Yeah!" Perhaps they'll turn out to be far better, more valuable people to themselves and society at large. People that the world will want to have to hang around, not to be thought of as excess weight or baggage in the garage, a waste of space, and disposables. So, don't be so afraid of anything and everything that you continue to do nothing other than nothing.
You won't take risks, you say, because you're afraid of dying. Well, surprise-surprise, I ain't lying, (down,) you're going to die anyway, whether or not you take those risks of the day, (come.) But if you die doing something that you love, and find that you're good, and getting better at it, even if you didn't get far enough to make an impact in your chosen field before you die, while doing it, or while trying to do it.
The effort alone in your actions, your willingness to try something different, even to a fraction of the shoelace. That alone might be enough to inspire ten young people from the next generation, people like you and me, to risk it. Yeah! To risk something too, and hence, become something, boo, become someone. Then, heaven only knows what cumulative effect it might have on the community at large, in the long run. To be continued.
That's it for today, see you again tomorrow, or sometime thereafter. Don't forget to like, share, and comment. We sure would appreciate it if you would subscribe and follow us somewhere, too. Thank you.
@WritingElk
Black Mother Prays. Continuing with Chapter 6a in the "Backsliding" story.
While black mothers pray, black fathers go away. Black sons were the ones who were made to pay, and black daughters became single, praying types of black mothers, probably. But then again, pardon me, probably not.
Here's a group of folks who would have left their various places. Most (if not all of them) leave because the situations and circumstances in their original place of business were, at best, not to their liking and tastes, my Sis. They migrate, "for a better life," they say; I'm going to look for better for myself and my family today. This is a common theme in these communities, yay. Then all of us got there to New Jerusalem on the bus, as I'd guessed. To the new worlds, and the comfortable address.
It's the land of promise and opportunity where those things come first. Quickly, very quickly we forget. We swapped out the family we once knew, the ones we once had, and would have left back home for you. The very ones whom we'd said were the reasons why we were migrating; to go look for bread and better, for ourselves and our family, yes mi bredda. But we swap them out, replacing them with a new family, a church family plan of course. Some kinds of scouts who are now packed cram, and (quite conveniently,) very close at hand.
Those who are just like us and would have been here in the new lands for the same reasons as we are. "To find a job and to make some money for themselves, and Bob Weabar. Their families too, and cars. So, now we're here, we've found the job that we came here for, my dear. But before we'd gotten to that part; the part about getting the job, unscrewing the corks. We would have gotten to meet some rather familiar kinds of folks.
Folks who are just like us in many ways, (no jokes,) for the same reason and purposes as we are. They were the very ones who would have invited us out to a place; a good and acceptable place. Like, to a church for instant coffee taste; that's as acceptable as they come to disgrace, right? Okay, no case. But we were welcomed there with open arms and a seat on the chair that night. Got invited to join the "family," and the fight. We did and got, not "a job to close out the gig," but got us prayed for. Great anyway, my star.
Now, though, unbeknownst to us or to anyone else singing the chorus. Except for the smart Alexis among us wearing felts, of course, (or not, he might prefer to wear a baseball cap.) But we're now indebted to the church, to the tune of the rest of our lives, of course. Or to a heavy dose of guilt-tripping, should in case we ever get wised up and skip-a-do on out of there before it's too late to be surprised in the kitchen, with them.
There'll be much more guilt-tripping to come later on, too, if we linger. Or if we should happen to go back there for any reason after leaving and try to bring her. In the meantime, though, what this single action would have done (in effect) is, double a sister's "family" at the very least, or the brother's, still there on his knees. But she hasn't even gotten her first paycheck yet, and then they got around to baptizing her, and him. Then took to getting her to make vows and pledges, to them.
The types that she was not aware of from the ages, before then. Or was not fully aware of the consequences should she fail at honoring them, and quickly. She was not made aware of those consequences beforehand, my friend and boss who bit me, (on the wrong hand.) Some dictate that she must pay "god" (or the lord.) She must pay the lord her portion of her paycheck first, before anything or anyone else, from the purse. Then comes the other auxiliary groups, those who must also get their share too, oops!
But her paycheck hasn't risen up from the gravy train in the basement yet. She had not sent a penny back home to those family members yet either. Those very same family members to whom she had made those other vows while still there on the meager. Pledges too, and promises, and that was even before she got to know anything about this new family of his. Nor had she gotten to meet them. She hasn't yet taken care of any of the new responsibilities that life in the new space here is demanding of her, on the weekend.
As for the new church family? They seem to be making it a point of their duty to stay as far away from the subject of families to handle me, as possible. Real families, especially you, those families who're left back home and are on their knees calling me, on the phone. "Ooh!" They're staying as far away from that subject as they possibly can, oh please, can, can?
As time slips away, she becomes more and more ashamed of herself for the way how things have been turning out each day, between her and the family she'd left back home to stay, no doubt. So, she stopped calling home, then she stopped taking their calls too. Those calls that were coming from back home to guess who? And then, all communication was cut between her and her family. Her far-away family, yes, the real family. Far away though they might have been from her, and you, and me.
But not to worry, she's got a new family right here, here come those packages bringing in the curry, and those beloved bottled beers. Yep, you know them. But then again, she'll soon begin to discover some new things about her newfound family and friends. They don't never do nuttn, mi fren, ever. Sorry, I meant to say, "anything," just to be clever. They never do anything, other than nothing, and wait on the lord and pray, and sing. Yay! You'll see, soon.
"Do something with your life, for crying out loud." One was heard shouting at them from the top of the crowd. Anything. "Take risks," he said, well-calculated risks preferably, but risks anyhow. Go ahead, take them now. Of course, some of you are going to get hurt, or even die, from doing risky things. "Oh my." Don't let that hinder or deter you from taking those whiskey drinks, in disguise. It'll still be worth your while as a people in the long run, (away from sin, with the wives, probably.) The ones who didn't die in the pursuit of excellence, or the wrong rum, which is what you're after while taking those risks, well, well done.
At least, so I think. Come on, man, come. Those "someone," the risk-takers, and the rum-stink? "Yeah!" Perhaps they'll turn out to be far better, more valuable people to themselves and society at large. People that the world will want to have to hang around, not to be thought of as excess weight or baggage in the garage, a waste of space, and disposables. So, don't be so afraid of anything and everything that you continue to do nothing other than nothing.
You won't take risks, you say, because you're afraid of dying. Well, surprise-surprise, I ain't lying, (down,) you're going to die anyway, whether or not you take those risks of the day, (come.) But if you die doing something that you love, and find that you're good, and getting better at it, even if you didn't get far enough to make an impact in your chosen field before you die, while doing it, or while trying to do it.
The effort alone in your actions, your willingness to try something different, even to a fraction of the shoelace. That alone might be enough to inspire ten young people from the next generation, people like you and me, to risk it. Yeah! To risk something too, and hence, become something, boo, become someone. Then, heaven only knows what cumulative effect it might have on the community at large, in the long run. To be continued.
That's it for today, see you again tomorrow, or sometime thereafter. Don't forget to like, share, and comment. We sure would appreciate it if you would subscribe and follow us somewhere, too. Thank you.
@WritingElk
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