Mrs. Smith, "you’ve been accused of too much worship and stealing two apples at the age of two. Can you answer to that accusation"? The higher court of the majestic now needs to hear your side of the situation.
“Your honor, I don’t remember stealing two apples, but if I did, can you forgive me?
And about the worship, I am one of the biggest worshipers that ever came out of the State of Alabama, oh wait a minute, let me start at the beginning".
“Your Honor, My name is Myrtle Smith, as you know I was born in Alabama in 1950. My face is the color of good black Alabama soil. I consider myself blessed because I was born poor, you see that gave me favoritism in God’s eyes. Maybe people don’t understand what I’m talking about but I and God do. He has taken care of me all my life from day one, the second I was born on January 12, 1950 at 2:10 in the afternoon”.
“Your honor, do you know her”? “Know who, Myrtle”? “That lady in red with the scarf tied round her head, we called her mammie, is she here”? She cradled me in her arms and sang to me the hymns of old. I was accused of being her favorite. Her skin was as pale as the milk of the morn; her hair was the color of a fiery flame. When she talked, people turned around to listen; it was the voice of a fine tuned whisper. The neighbors called it love, I call it anointing. I was her first born”,------- and then Myrtle noticed it had gotten really quiet in the court room
“Yes Myrtle, Go on”
“But your honor and members of the court, God saw me weak and hungry, a three year old black girl, left in a bus station with a bag of rags, and a note tied around my neck. I remember her soft tender voice that I cherished, while she cuddled me in her arms, she said, “my baby, they are going to kill me when they find me, you sit right here and I will ask God to send an angel to find you”! Just as quietly as she had whispered she was gone.”
I sat real still, scared to death, my eyes were as big as quarters, then I heard a rustle, the door opened and in wandered a flame of red. Her red hair hung past her waist. Her eyes glistened green; her voice was like a singing whisper, a black book covered her arm with golden letters on the front.
She sat down beside me and said, “hello there honey, where’s your mommy”? I said, “Don’t know she's gone". “Gone”! “Gone where”? Then she clutched the note around my neck and started reading. “Her name is Myrtle, if you find her, please take care of her, I have to run away to save my life and she cannot go with me.” She grabbed the note folded it into four pieces and stuck it quickly inside the black book. She took my hand and put it in hers and said, “Come on Myrtle, let’s go home. Grandma probably has supper ready!
I was her firstborn, she taught me the golden rule and I was her shadow, forever wandering in one church door and out another one. She was a speaker of Gods word, she didn’t call herself a preacher, just a teacher.
She never tried to explain me away; she would just tell people I was her special daughter.
When I was 6 year old, she met and fell in love with a Southern Baptist Preacher and they got married. They had two other children, Sally and Elizabeth and they were just as special as she was. They were just my two youngest sisters and I was their guardian angel. Mom was so proud of her three girls. Daily we worshiped God together, and we were her pride and joy.
Then Myrtle heard a heavenly voice, “Stop child, look around you, your accuser has slithered on out”! Welcome home my child, enter into all the joys of the eternal city and there is someone waiting for you just inside the white fluffy clouds.”
James 2: verse 5
Hearken, my beloved brethren, Hath not God chosen the poor of this world rich in faith, and heirs of the kingdom which he hath promised to them that love him
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