Saved By His Grace

By Denise E. Waters

Saved By His Grace is a gripping story of several lives intertwined. The plot thickens as you turn the pages to reveal more about each character. Witness how each of their lives is affected by choices they have made and discover how they are truly, "Saved by His Grace" Witness how each of their lives is affected by choices they have made and discover how they are truly, “Saved by His Grace.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Feb 18, 2014
• ISBN: 9781312009042

Book preview

Saved By His Grace

Saved By His Grace

Denise E. Waters

Copyright

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

SAVED BY HIS GRACE. © 2013 by Denise E. Waters

ISBN 978-0-557-70482-8-90000

All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means without written permission of author except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles or reviews.

Scripture marked NKJV are taken from the New King James Version®. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Scripture marked NIV are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright ©1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide.

Scripture marked GWT are taken from GOD’S WORD. GOD'S WORD is a copyrighted work of God's Word to the Nations. Quotations are used by permission. Copyright 1995 by God's Word to the Nations. All rights reserved.

Scripture quotations marked NLT are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright 1996, 2004. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Wheaton, Illinois 60189. All rights reserved.

Scripture quotations marked (CEV) are from the Contemporary English Version Copyright © 1991, 1992, 1995 by American Bible Society, Used by Permission.

Scripture quotations marked NCV™ are taken from the New Century Version®. Copyright © 2005 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Scripture quotations marked (NASB) are taken from the New American Standard Bible®, Copyright © 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995 by The Lockman Foundation. Used by permission.

Scripture marked BBE are taken from the Basic Bible in English Version.

Scripture marked WEB are taken from the World English Bible.

Scripture quotations marked (KJV) are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

Scripture quotations marked (CEB) are taken from the Common English Bible.

Published By: Healed By Faith, Inc., P.O. Box 981, Chestertown, MD 21620. www.healedbyfaith.net

Printed in the United States of America.

Special Thanks

I would like to extend a special thank you to my Lord and Savior, Jehovah Jireh. For he knows the plans he has for me.

A special thanks to my father, James R. Woodall - Daddy I finally did it. R.I.P. 3/12/48 - 2/16/09.

A special thank you to my hubby, Chris Waters, Sr., I appreciate all of your love, and supportive ideas.

To my family and extended family thank you. Especially my mother Dorothy J. Nelson.

A special thank you to my spiritual father, Bishop Dane A. Coleman and all my church family at Greater New Hope Church and Ministries.

Special thanks to Michelle Dyott for the financial seeds you have sown.

Special thanks to my friends at The Orthopedic Center who listened to my crazy ideas and who has waited so patiently.

Special thanks to my co-workers at Comfort Keepers.

To Shayla Greene who in good spirits took my photo at the last minute. Thank you so much. I know I can be a handful.

And last but not least, a very, very special thank you to my editor, publisher and friend, Terwana Brown. You have consistently pushed, prayed, demonstrated patience in this journey. You are so awesome to work with.

To all my readers, thank you! Your support is appreciated.

-Denise E. Waters

3/12/2013 – Happy B-day Daddy!

Chapter 1

Let every thing that has breath, praise the Lord. -Psalm 150:6 (NKJV)

Mo’nae

Today would be a day that I would always remember. While lying in bed, I realized that in a few short hours I would have the opportunity to bless my parents and church family with my first solo.  Singing has always been my first love but fear had such a stronghold over me. However, today I will conquer my fears and unleash the gift I know God has given me.

I pictured myself as confident and as graceful as Whitney Houston. Particularly when she sang I Love the Lord in the movie The Preacher’s Wife. Suddenly, I was awakened from my trance to the smell of hickory smoked bacon, freshly brewed coffee and sweet blueberry waffles. Oh, and not the kind of waffles that you pull from the fridge and pop into the toaster. No. Not my mother who prides herself on cooking whatever she could from scratch. A slight smile peaked across my face. The smell grew more potent; I threw back the comforter, ran into the bathroom to wash my face and then raced downstairs towards the kitchen.

My father was already at the table sipping his piping hot coffee and reading the Sunday newspaper. Sounds of Yolanda Adams filled the room while the site of my mother skillfully demonstrating her domestic duties filled my heart. Oh yes, this surely would be a day that I would always remember. Like the time when I was a little girl, I would nestle upon my mother’s lap while she softly sang beautifully to me. Her sweet familiar scent and the touch of her soft cashmere robe had always provided contentment. Then there were the times when my dad would drive nearly an hour out of his way, every first Sunday to get ice cream. Undeniably the best ice cream I have ever had.  He would always find clever ways to convince my mother why the trip was needed. Secretly neither of us needed convincing but it was always interesting to hear the various reasons.

My mother walked over to me and kissed me on my forehead. Good morning sweetie. She greeted me. Good morning mom.

My father shifted his paper to the left and our eyes meet. He smiled.

How are you this morning honey? He asked.

I’m good Daddy. 

He took another sip of his coffee and went back to reading his paper.

So Mo, are you nervous about singing today? My mother asked.

No not really. We rehearsed so much yesterday that I could probably sing the song backwards. I said with sarcasm.

Alright now baby girl don’t get cocky My father chimed in. You’re liable to get up there and forget the words and be mad at everyone.

Daddy I’m not; but Brother Adams had us at practice nearly an hour longer than usual. I explained.

Okay James, my mother interrupted. It’s time to put the paper up so we can eat now. She stood over him and removed it from his hands. As soon as she turned to place the paper on the counter he grabbed at her rear, but not without sneaking a quick glance at me to see if I had been watching.

James quit playing! My mother shouted with a smile in her voice. She quickly slapped his hands in defense.

"Aw Vivian baby don’t put up a fuss. You know I’d much rather have those hotcakes for breakfast this morning." My father said jokingly. On that note we all laughed.

My mother is a gorgeous woman. She’s as tall as she is wide; standing nearly six foot tall in stature. Her smooth flawless dark complexion is rarely concealed by make-up. Only on Sundays and special occasions, would she apply a little eye shadow to her wide almond shaped eyes, which to me was one of her best features. She had incredible light brown eyes and full lips. Her full, thick shoulder length hair was always tamed as long as I could remember. At five-foot-eleven my mother maintained her two hundred –twenty pound hour glass physique very well. At times she would joke that she would gladly exchange a small portion from her rear to enhance her size B cup. Yet it was apparent that my father loved her full round hips and matching bootie. Now my father, he was just as tall. At six-four he tried his hardest to maintain his long lost college football physique.  He was roughly two hundred-forty pounds and proudly worked out everyday, as he would boast.

Although he conveniently left out that his daily workouts only lasted about ten minutes. My father resembled a taller version of actor/rapper, Ice Cube.

I often wondered why I was so short at five-two and just one hundred-fifteen pounds; I surely didn’t resemble my parents.

After breakfast we quickly separated to prepare ourselves for church.  I made sure to grab a hand full of mints. It was Communion Sunday and service would definitely last longer than usual. It should be written down in our church bylaws that on first Sunday those Holy Ghost steppers were only allowed five minutes to work it. Otherwise those poor ushers will never get the chance to pass around those stale cracker disc and tart juice cups. Only what we do for the Lord will last. I thought.

Vivian and Mo’nae, Come on we need to get going ladies! My father yelled from the living room.

Okay Daddy I’m coming! I yelled back.

James, do you really need to make so much noise down there? I know the neighbors can hear you. My mother complained.

Mom and I met at the top of the stairs and carefully tipped down in our stilettos to meet my father as he stood at the foot of the stairs admiring us. Daddy shook his head and slowly reached for my mother’s hand and gave her a devilish smile.

Well, I guess it was worth the wait baby. You look scrumptious. He looked over at me and smiled, you look amazing too sweetie. He kissed both of us on the cheek and then grabbed his keys and bible off the table.

Living on the Eastern Shore of Maryland had its

advantages like access to several local farm fresh fruits and vegetables, serene surroundings and small knit communities. Both my parents love it, after all they were born and raised in large cities and had seen their fair share of heinous crimes. Don’t get me wrong crime is here as well but for the most part it’s your typical, breaking & entering, misdemeanor charges and your unspoken sexual offenses.

Most people would look at the Eastern Shore as depressed and oppressed; limited in shopping facilities, recreations and decent employment opportunities. I see it as a place of hope and promise; a place of perpetual growth and restoration, a place that has overcome diversity and pain. I see the Eastern Shore as a place where I can make a difference. A lot of youth, especially in our community and church have graduated high school, gone off to college, succeeded in obtaining respectable jobs and sown that very seed into their own kids. Naturally, some have fallen but most have taken that very failure and turned it into a success story by simply trying again.

Most Sunday mornings my mother would already be at church teaching Sunday school by 9 am. She and a few other ladies at church rotated months, this was her month off.

My dad also shared responsibilities at church with the transportation ministry. Our church owned three twenty-five passenger seat buses. He also rotated with members from church who transported several members from their home to church. 

While on the way to church, the topic of conversation was my solo. Personally, I really didn’t want to talk about it because all it seemed to do was make me nervous. Trying to change the subject did not come without a challenge. I tuned them out as best as I could with the exception of answering a few questions.

When my father finally pulled into the church parking lot in his immaculate black Envoy, I spotted my girl Jada through the nearly illegal tinted windows. I jumped out as soon as he put the car in park. Jada has been my best friend since before elementary school.

We are fourteen-year-old divas who rule our junior high school. Because Jada and I have late birthdays we are a year behind a few of our friends who have already entered high school as ninth graders. At times I don’t think I could have made it without her. Jada has been my rock when other kids teased me for being smart and I am her rock when she struggle year by year to get promoted to the next grade. Jada is your typical beautiful spoiled teenager who focuses on boys and not schoolwork.  She is easily mistaken as a sixteen-year-old because she is already five foot- seven inches. At one hundred-twenty five pounds, she was still able to shop in the junior section of any store. Her frame may have been slim but her size C cup made up the difference.

Although she didn’t inherit a head full of beautiful thick hair from her mother, she without a doubt worked her medium length, bone straight, bobbed hairstyle. She enhanced her stylish do with honey-blond highlights which complemented her caramel complexion. Her mother promised to replace Jada’s square framed DKNY glasses with contacts. Knowing Jada green would be the color of choice.

Hey Mo. Ready for the solo today girl? Jada asked.

"Yeah I guess so. My mom and dad went on and on

about it this morning"

"Girl, stop trippin. You ain’t gotta be modest with me. I know you’re hyped. And if God had blessed me with a big beautiful voice like he did you, shoot I would already be singing with Beyonce, Rihanna or even Mary J Blige somewhere. Girl I’m telling you, you’re the next Jennifer Hudson storyline." Jada rambled on.

She always had a way of making me feel very confident.

Jada, girl ain’t no way I’d wanna sing for a living. I’d like to think that God blessed me with these brains for a purpose. Besides as much as I’m afflicted with colds all year round, I would be fired quicker than hired from a gig.

We busted out