BRINGING UP MOTHER
by Beverley Johnson
GENRE: Religious Memoir
BLURB:
Beverley learns about God in Kindergarten and invites Him to come to Jamaica and give her her own Bible story. She goes home each day and waits at her gate for Him to show up. Will He show up, and will she be ready for her story if and when He does?
PURCHASE Bringing Up Mother on AMAZON.COM , AMAZON.CA, AMAZON KINDLE, INDIGO CHAPTERS, BARNES & NOBLE, BOOK DEPOSITORY, and APPLE IBOOKS
EXCERPT:
After hastily completing my household chores one morning, I ran out the door to get to Hya’s house. I got as far as the gate when something caused me to look up. I saw a fiery ball about the size of a football, trailing light and travelling at high speed in my direction. It appeared as if it had fallen away from the sun. It was hurtling directly toward me. I turned and ran for the safety of my house as fast as I could, crying, “Yes, God! Yes, God! I know it’s you. I know it’s you.” I instinctively threw both hands up over my head for protection, afraid the fiery ball was going to land on my head and consume me with fire. Judging its speed, I dove for the steps, fell on my hands and knees, and crawled inside the house to my bedside.
I knelt by my bedside and prayed, tears streaming down my face, “Yes, God. Yes, God, I know it’s you. I know you’ve been calling me, but… but I’m so young. I’m too young. I don’t have enough experience to be used by you… I haven’t had any fun yet.” I took God through my childhood, crying that life had been very unkind to me and that I needed some time to myself to discover who I was. I told Him I was tired of being a little mother to my siblings, taking care of everybody, with no time for myself. I pleaded for Him to return when I turned thirty years old, and I promised that I would be ready to serve Him then. Thirty seemed like a ripe age to retire from the nightclub scene, hang up my dancing shoes, and serve the Lord. By then I would have gotten all the wanderlust and desire to dance out of my system. And yet at that point, quickly reconsidering, I prayed, “Please, God, please come back when I am forty. I will be more mature and ready to follow you.” I cried my heart out until I felt I had persuaded God to see my point of view, then I got up and continued on my way to Hya’s house, glancing nervously up at the sun.
As I walked, I thought, Why are you calling me? Why do you have to call me? Why don’t you call Sister Merna? Call Dolsie. Call my cousin Yvonne. Why are you calling me? Is it because I’m such a goody-two-shoes? I regret being such a goody-two-shoes. I wish I was more like Yvonne, then you wouldn’t be calling me.”
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Beverley was born and raised in the rural parish of Clarendon, Jamaica, where she attended the Content United Brethren Church and its Basic (Kindergarten) school, better known as Sister Betty's school. Growing up, she attended York Town Primary and Denbigh Junior Secondary school, now Denbigh High School. She migrated to Toronto, Canada, as a young adult. A graduate of the University of Toronto and OISE, she is an Elementary teacher by profession, and also a Sunday school teacher. She enjoys reading, writing, travelling and working with children.
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3 comments:
Thanks for hosting!
Sounds like a good book.
Sounds like a very good book.
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