Prologue

 

And the Lord said to Hosea, Go take unto thee a wife of whoredoms and children of whoredoms: for the land hath committed great whoredom, departing from the Lord.

Hosea 1:2

 

Cynda was nine when she decided to hate her mother. Standing over the coffin that held the body of the woman who gave birth to her and watching her grandmother sob and fall apart, Cynda whispered, “I hate you for leaving – for loving that man more than me.”

“Hush, child. It’s not right to speak so of the dead,” her grandmother scolded.

“It’s true, Grammy. She was a whore. The kids at school said so. Her pimp killed her because she gave it to somebody for free.”

The smack brought tears to Cynda’s eyes and sent her scampering to sit down and stay in a child’s place as Grammy instructed. Sitting in the back of the funeral home, Cynda listened as men and women openly discussed her mother.

“That Flora was some woman,” an old grey haired man said.

“Prettiest thing this side of Georgia,” a man with teeth so big he looked like he should be chomping down on a carrot said.

“That was before Romie turned her out,” a portly woman dressed in a long black dress added.

“I don’t care what Romie did to her. I still wanted to be with that beautiful woman. Something special about Flora – that’s for sure,” the carrot chomper said.

“Well all the special don’ been beat out of her now,” a pretty woman with greenish blue eyes said.

A baldhead man shook his head as he added, “I hope they give that good for nothing the chair.”

A mean-spirited laugh escaped the portly woman’s mouth. “For killing a whore? Get real,” she chuckled.

As Cynda got up, she wished that her grandmother could hear all her mother’s so-called friends. Maybe she’d back hand each one of them.

“Hey,” the portly woman nudged the baldhead man. “That’s her kid.”

“Look at the flawless amber skin tone and that long flowing hair. She’s going to be more beautiful than Flora ever would have been,” said the bald man.

“I hope she likes older men,” the carrot chomper said as his eyes danced over Cynda and his mouth watered in sweet anticipation.

The group laughed as though they were at a comedy club. Cynda ran out of the funeral home when she noticed the man with the big teeth leering at her. She knew what that look meant – knew she had to get away before he wanted to touch her. She ran down the street, around the corner, and she kept on running until she couldn’t remember where that awful place had been.

She smiled at her escape, until common sense halted her glee and caused her heart to pound. If she couldn’t remember where the funeral home was, then she wouldn’t be able to get back to her grandmother.

She sat down on the stoop of an abandoned house and began to cry. With tears cascading down her face, Cynda admitted the one thing she had refused to accept since they told her that her mother was dead. She was afraid. Afraid to grow up without her mommy. Afraid to be lost.

A chill went through her when a shadow appeared in front of her. Cynda prayed that the big teeth man from the funeral hadn’t followed her. She tried to stop the tears. It wouldn’t do to look like a big scared kid in front of a stranger. So she tried to wipe her eyes and look grown up. But the tears wouldn’t stop rolling down her face, so without looking up she asked, “Why are you bothering me? What do you want?”

“I came for you,” the stranger said.

Cynda looked up. At first all she saw was a glow – no, more like a big burst of light. She blinked, and as the light dimmed, this huge man stood before her. Cynda liked the blinding light better. She blinked again. This man was too big, too scary. As she scooted back a little on the stoop, all she could say was, “Huh?”

“You are lost. Are you not, little one?” the big scary man said.

“Why do you want to know? Why are you bothering me?”

“The Good Shepherd sent me.”

Scrunching her nose, Cynda asked, “The Good who?”

The strange man sat down next to her. “The Good Shepherd. He sent me here to bring you safely home. You are lost, right?”

Cynda nodded. She saw no harm in admitting what a blind man could see. After all, she had been sitting on this stoop crying like she’d just gotten beat with three of Grammy’s thickest switches.

He reached out his hand to her. “Well, come on, Cynda, your grandmother is frantic with worry.”

For some reason Cynda didn’t fear this man as she did those bad men who leered at her during the funeral. “How do you know my name?” she asked while putting her small hand in his humongous one.

“The Good shepherd knows all.”

They walked around the corner and up a few blocks. They then walked around another corner and then the strange man lifted his long arm and pointed. Cynda looked down the road and saw her grandmother. She was pacing; looking more mad than worried. Cynda asked, “Why’d this Good Shepherd guy care so much about me?”

“The Good Shepherd loves all that belong to Him. And if one should get lost, He would leave all the others to go find that one and restore her to her rightful place,” the man assured her.

Okay, she didn’t understand all that but, whatever. This nice man had brought her back to her grandmother and she was no longer lost. She opened her mouth to ask his name, but before she could get the words out her grandmother frantically screamed for her.

Flailing her arms in the air, Cynda yelled, “I’m right here, Grammy.”

Grammy ran toward her. “Oh, thank You, Lord. Thank You,” she said as she picked Cynda off the ground and swung her around. “I was so worried about you, Chile. Are you all right? How did you find your way back?”

“I’m okay, Grammy. I was lost but this nice man helped me find my way back.”

Her grandmother put her down and looked around. “What man, baby?”

Cynda looked around also. “I don’t know, Grammy. He was right here. I promise.”

She hugged her granddaughter again and as tears streamed down her face she told Cynda, “Maybe that was one of God’s angels protecting you.” She looked to heaven and prayed. “Lord, we let Flora get away, but if my precious Cynda should ever lose her way, please send another angel to lead her back to where she belongs.”