The story of Mary, the christian

 

 

 

It wasn't easy growing up in a devout Christian household. Mary Mathers knew this. Her and her father struggled through the toughest times relying on her belief and trust in God, after all, Christ is the way.

She was taught to place the bible under the mattress of her bed so that she would have to kneel to retrieve it. And she would kneel every night, at the foot end of her bed, and she would stare at the iron crucifix that hung just below a water-marked ceiling on the 3rd floor of the Garden Apartments in an place where car alarms and police sirens are as common as singing birds.

She had her God-given morals and as sure as the gold cross around her neck, she would follow them. Because Jesus would show her the way. He always had.

Her father believed this too. At night his crying proved it so. The candles surrounded a picture of his wife -Mary's mother- and the flames would flicker at the exhalations after every tear would fall from his welled eyes. Bible in hand, he'd pray. He'd pray for forgiveness. He'd pray for the strength, he'd pray for God's will, or so it seemed. As one hand lay on a closed bible, the other climbed into his unzipped pants. And it was not at all as bad as it could be, as Mary would always sleep silent in her bed at night.

And this would continue Peter Mather's process of prayer, from that day when Mary's mother had the accident and died, until the day when Mary became a woman.

Mr. Mather's would pray.

But Mary, she prayed everyday.

Mary felt that prayer was always the answer, and she was to be a vessel, a light, a beacon for God's love. It was her calling.

Among the ways Mary proclaimed her love for God was to preach. Only when, of course, she has "fallen prostrate at the feet of Jesus", she could make herself available for service.

It started in the school yards. She stood atop the stairs and poured her heart for the Almighty. "And who will save you? God loves all children. Show him your mercy and be saved by his glory!" She held high in the air the bible and closed her eyes and bent her neck to face the sky. "In John 3:16, 'For God loved the world so much that He gave His only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him may not die...but have eternal life!'" The children stood and stared as Mary was asked to come back inside. So much for the word of God, said the children.

As she grew up the front row of the Glory of the Lord is where Mary held her Sunday seat. Her hands spread out, palms up. Believing in the word of our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

And her sermons!

Her sermons had men and woman alike holding on to the edge of her words as the "Spirit" filled her and the teachings and the love and the Vision of His Glory fell from her lips and carried to the ears of the penitent man who would pray for forgiveness. "We receive you Lord Jesus Christ as our Savior. We turn our sins and we all must open the door to our heart and life!" much of this and more could still be heard under the right atmospheric conditions with the right satellite signal.

And Mary would pray.

But prayer wasn't all the Lord has asked her to do. By no means.

She had the gift. The Gift.

Her strength, her power through her words. She would continue to preach. Her heart and her soul bellowed out from the throne and out from the altar under the wooden cross in the Glory of the Lord Church. Christ has risen. She heard God loud and clear.

Walking the streets, the word of God her guide. Passed the soup kitchen where many would hear the words of Mary Mather's as tears crawled down her make-up void eyes and rolled to her cheeks. The words of God be her guide. "Give strength to my words."

The Suffolk County Woman's Clinic heard the most words. Every afternoon the brick walls of the center bounced Mary's words like an arrow would bounce off steel. "Baby killers!"

And then the protesters.

The circle of protesters held high and proud their giant signs. And there was Mary in her glory. Handed to her was a sign that read "God loves babies, both born and unborn!" And this phrase she cried and reveled. Prayed and spoke. And the people in the circle opened their hearts like she had for her Lord and Savior.

"God loves babies both born and unborn!" She would proclaim like a sermon as the would-be mothers made their way passed the crowd and up the stairs into the clinic that was just two blocks from the soup kitchen.

Each day women would march to the doors of the center with as much life as a dead army, walking through a thick river of torture and judgment, almost as if making their way to the gallows for execution. "God loves babies both born and unborn!" in complete unison as the defeated women held their heads low. Mary stood firm, fronting the scornful protesters as the preacher of her Lord and Savior.

And Mary would march in every day, rain or shine. Two blocks passed the soup kitchen. She carried her message. The Message of her Lord and Savior.

"God loves babies, both born and unborn!"

Then dusk would be time for her to deliver her messages to her parish. Full of tears and repent.

And then the reading of scriptures at the end of her bed. She would pray then sleep under the iron cross, just under the water-stained ceiling.

Then dawn would rise a new day in which she gave thanks to her Lord and Savior that she could deliver the message to those who needed the forgiveness. Those like the woman who would march to the abortion clinic, just two blocks from the soup kitchen.

"God loves babies both born and unborn!"

Every night, every day. Until she lost her necklace.

Mary reached to her throat and on hands and knees she searched. And she prayed every step of the way. Pushing away the circle of protesters. Searching. Looking. Kneeling.

She backtracked every step. Please God. Oh please God.

The family heirloom. Her grandmother's grandmother's cross.

And she continued to retrace her steps. And then dusk settled in.

In her head she could still here the rants and the raves of the crowd that grew and grew. All of them followed her words that she delivered. The words of her Lord and Savior.

And she would ask for God's forgiveness, frantic as she searched.

The streets now grew quiet. Her head bowed down, looking for her cross. She was now in a dark alley, just behind the soup kitchen. Mary felt that she was no longer alone. Jesus? No.

The smell of soup. The smell of piss. A man in the shadows. Coming at her. Maybe he has found her cross?

"I really loved your speeches at the soup kitchen Mary." The voice seemed to be distorted, as if it was coming out of a mouth with very few teeth.

"I loved them soooo much. And I bet,(laughing now), Jesus loves 'em too!"

A dirty hand had clasped across her thin naked lips that have spoken the word of the Lord many times. Her eyes lit up in fear. Shhh said the man. "And Jesus has something he wanted me to give you!" And it wasn't her cross.

When Mary woke up, she could barely make it to her feet. Pains in her head. Pains in her ribs. A burning between her legs. And she cried. And she prayed.

"God loves babies, both born and unborn!" Cried the crowd of protesters with their homemade wooden signs held high in the air.

Through the sea of torment, the would-be mothers made their steps. Trudging and dragging their heels, heads low, eyes devoid of any Spirit.

And still the voices: "God loves babies, both born and unborn."

And Mary prayed.

Mary prayed from her heart as she has done so all her life. Penitent, she begged. Forgiveness, she asked. Her head bowed as it had been so many times while she prayed.

And Mary continued to pray.

She made her way, staggering, praying. Help me Jesus, forgive me Jesus, under her breath, behind the beaten lips and black eyes, she prayed. Beyond the burning of her womanhood she made her way.

She looked the nurse in the eyes. The door had closed and muffled the crowd behind them.

"Miss Mather's, are you ready for the procedure".

She had only enough strength to utter: "But God loves babies, both born and unborn."

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

Author's Note

had trouble seperating paragraphs!! arg..