Jesus: The Essence of My Story

By Bobbie Thornton

The ESSENCE of my story is a riveting autobiographical account of a womans life, from birth through her early youth and her adulthood years. No one can tell the story of the Masters incredible display of love for her like the author herself. This dramatic, non-fiction literary writing is very touching to the human spirit. Be reminded that this book is most challenging, motivational, and soul-searching. A measure of self-examination may occur. The authors simplistic style facilitates the reading of this story, from the youngest person to the most learned individual. It was carefully written with you, the reader, and listener in mind. Prepare yourself for a Blessing; and keep the Faith.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jun 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9781524649944

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© 2018 Bobbie Thornton. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse    05/18//2018

ISBN: 978-1-5246-4995-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5246-4994-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016919002

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

KJV

Scripture quotations marked KJV are from the Holy Bible, King James Version (Authorized Version). First published in 1611. Quoted from the KJV Classic Reference Bible, Copyright © 1983 by The Zondervan Corporation.

Dedication:

As a loving tribute to my great parents both deceased

Mr. Walter Johnson Sr.

and

Mrs Ruby Lee Lowe Johnson

From your daughter

            Bobbie Johnson Thornton

            The Author

Jesus:

(All That and Some)

The Essence of My Story!!!

by

Bobbie Thornton

Jesus:

(All That and Some!)

The ESSENCE of my story is a riveting autobiographical account of a woman’s life, from birth through her early youth and her adulthood years. No one can tell the story of the Master’s incredible display of love for her like the author herself. This dramatic, non-fiction literary writing is very touching to the human spirit. Be reminded that this book is most challenging, motivational, and soul-searching. A measure of self-examination may occur. The author’s simplistic style facilitates the reading of this story, from the youngest person to the most learned individual. It was carefully written with you, the reader, and listener in mind. Prepare yourself for a Blessing; and keep the Faith.

The Author

This is the story of a young woman; from her early childhood and youthful years, who thought she was All that and some; (man, was she wrong) until; she met Jesus…

All that and some!

I used to drink, get drunk fall down, do drugs, no problem. I was all that and some. I was sharp, sexy and slim. I was a bag of potato chips a snicker, a 3 musketeer and a butter finger. I liked C.C.C. champagne, Cadilacs and cash. I also liked baseball, hotdogs, apple pie and Chevrolets. I wore hot pants, cool pants, and daisy dukes. I also wore a big air fro wig, I wore a shag (wig) and a bob; I even remember wearing a flat top and a low hair cut.

I was always on the dance floor; mostly by myself. I loved to dance, you couldn’t beat me dancing; The robot, the funky chicken and shot gun, was my specialty; not to mention the swim, the twist, and the jerk, now I know I was only being a jerk! I was a woman. Spelled with a capital: W-O-M-A-N when I stepped out, All eyes were on me. I could hear the folks whispering Who’s that lady? That sexy thing. Yes; I thought I was all that and some! I wasn’t about a hill of beans; I wasn’t about nothing. I had all that and some going for me, but I didn’t have no God; spelled with a capital G-O-D on my side.

I was sinking deep in sin. I didn’t realize it until all that and some caught up with me. I was diagnosed having high blood pressure; not taking my prescribed medicines, I had a brain aneurism. As soon as the doctors somewhat, released me, I went right back to being all that and some.

Do you desire to know, and interpret the seasons of life through the eyes of the Heavenly Father? It is doubtless to say that most of us want clear discernment for our daily encounters. This story is told in a warm, and direct approach. However, it captivates the God of compassion, healing, chastisement, and grace-ALL IN ONE!

There are many issues of the heart, and memorable moments addressed in this book. I trust you will be strenghten in the areas of discernment, caution, and leadership

- Bobbie Jean Thornton

Book 1

My name is Bobbie Thornton and this is my story.

I was born in a lil old town called Morgan in the State of Georgia, the county of Calhoun. This was land of pure country, long roads with miles and miles of trees. All sorts of trees. Pecans trees grew there also. They were money makers, one tree actually bore the name Money Maker. There was one pecan tree called Slide; another one Paper Shell, lots of peanut fields, cotton and wheat.

Some cities in Georgia also grew, big juicy ripe peaches, called Georgia peaches, very delicious. Georgia is country, and a great place to raise cattle and families, however at a very early age my extended family moved away, to me it was a bad move!

Prior to the move, all my families lived (on my father’s and my mother’s side) there. Even after we (my family) moved away. I had a strong desire to return to my original birth place and eventually I did; Thanks be to God.

Hi I am Bobbie Jean Johnson and this is my story, the truth, the best of my Re-collections. I was born on November 23, 1957. My mother’s name was Ruby Lee Lowe until she met Mr. Johnson and married him, and a few years later; she met and married another man with the last name Johnson. Back then, from my understanding, there was no law against Bigamy. Anyway mother gave birth to 16 children; I don’t know what number, I was but I’m here. There were 6 boys and 10 girls.

There were 6 boys and 10 girls. I was raised on a farm where there were chores, lots of chores. We had cows that needed milking, hogs needed feeding; eggs needed fetching, wild berries needs to be picked. I even picked cotton; plucked corn picked black eyed peas, beans and shook peanuts.

I attended H.T. Singleton High School starting at first grade and going thru 3rd grade, I stayed back a year or two in first grade or third grade, maybe both. I never made it to fourth grade while attending H.T. Singleton, because when we moved to Florida, I had to register into 3rd grade, at this time I was approx. 7 to 10 year old. H.T. Singleton was an All Black School in 1967. I couldn’t write too good in school but I could spell very well, at least I thought I could. I remember one time in 3rd grade we had a Spelling Bee contest, the boys against the girls. I could spell every word the teachers; second and third grades; gave me except the word high. (Which turned out to be my favorite word when I got older). I couldn’t spell the word high no matter how I tried, instead I would spell the word house, I just couldn’t get the word right. I don’t remember who won the contest whether it was the boys or the girls. I loved H.T. Singleton School. It was a great school, and I loved going to school. Meals were free, teachers were nice and we even got free clothes from times to times.

I attended church also. Church was a must we had to go, rain or shine. The name of the church was Bethlehem Baptist. I got baptized through the doctrine of this church. I got baptized in a little muddy creek just a little ways from the church. We had to walk to church most of the time, because it weren’t too far from where we lived. The days were almost, always sunny. Beside mama and daddy didn’t hardly go, but we children had to, at least I don’t remember if they went or not.

Let me tell you about my very first miracle. Every Sunday morning when we would walk to church which was about 4 miles, daddy would give us money for Sunday school, and just before we got to church we would stop by this little store in the fork of the road called Turners. Turner sold 2 for a penny cookies, daddy always gave me a nickel, therefore I could get 10 cookies for 5¢. When I got to church, I had no money for Sunday school. But this particular Sunday daddy gave me a buffalo head nickel (I remembered because it excited me as to be the first time I’d ever seen a buffalo head on a nickel). My father dared us to stop at that store, he said do-not stop by that store, you hear me grandma? He forbid me to buy cookies with that buffalo head nickel as if it had been marked he said what he said and meant it when he said it, and I knew it. Therefore when I got to church, I had that nickel for Sunday school, and when the offering was called, I had that nickel I put a buffalo head nickel in the bowl. It was a little wooden brown bowl, kinda plaided like; anyways I put that nickel in the bowl and it multiplied, not one time but approximately 5 times. I just kept putting nickels in the bowl, I’m very excited. I didn’t know it was a miracle until years later.

At the age of 5 or 6 I also had myself a boyfriend or two. I remember one boy’s name was Charlie, he was a next door neighbor. I don’t know what happen to him, but my main squeeze boyfriend was named Richard, we called him little Richard, we were perhaps the same age, don’t know what ever happen to him either, I moved away. Later on I heard that little Richard, all grown up and married with a couple of children of his own, and was preaching; teaching; spreading the gospel of Jesus Christ; and that’s a beautiful thing.

Prior to moving away; at a very early age I experienced losing a brother. He and I were very close, as a matter of fact; I and all my family were very close, but he was special; he was my brother and my baby. He was accidently run over by a member of the family. I was in school at the time of this accident. He was a toddler at the time maybe 18 months old. I learned after school that he crawled under the wheels of a worker’s truck that was visiting my father during the lunch hour. Mama was in the back doing laundry and the rest of the children were in school. (all of whom was yet at home and of school age.)

At this time; we didn’t have coroner nor a funeral home, it was like something out of a movie, Back in slavery time. My brother was pronounced dead by the sheriff of the county and the family doctor who I don’t remember.

This brother and I was close, when I would come home from school, his little eyes would light up, he was my joy and I looked forward to greeting him after school. He was a toddler and he got into some of everything. When when you didn’t see him," you knew his where abouts, believe me he was into something. I remember a couple times when he drank some poison. First he got a hold to some lye, back then lye was called pot-ash, it burnt his little body up inside and out, but he survived. Second, he drank some kerosene and survived that also. Perhaps 6-7 months later we had the tragedy of losing him. Seem like mother might have been careless; but I don’t think so, perhaps tired, stressed depressed and maybe a bit ill herself, after all it was somewhat still slavery time. Any ways; my mom and her aunt bathe and dressed my dead brother; and allowed him to sleep with me; for that was what he and I was accustomed to. And the next morning he was placed in his tiny little coffin. This was the last I would see of him (not understanding of course). His neck was broken, and blood ran out of his ears, but even being dead, he still was a beautiful baby. My love and my joy.

We the family carried the body to the church where we would have his funeral. It was a short service, only a few words were spoken with family, maybe two or three friends. We laid him to rest outside the church, on the church ground - which is the way most northerners does funerals even to this day! We all loved this brother and we all missed him, but I don’t believe no-one loved him or missed him more than me; because we were close, very close him and me.

While attending church I learned; that when one comes into the world we are to cry, and when one leaves this world we are to rejoice. My family was doing the opposite of rejoicing they were crying, but I was having a jolly good time. As of today, I have never cried; I can’t and I haven’t this far. Everyone was crying except me. One sister in particular. She was boo-hoo-ing and had on an ugly look. I was laughing at her, not because of her hurt but because of the look on her face, and certainly not laughing at the death of my brother. I didn’t understand it then, but now I do. When one enters into this world, he enters into a world of sin, sinfulness, a troubled world. And when one leaves this world; his troubles are over. Also I learned that a man is borne of a woman only for a few days and it’s full of troubles; well, my troubles just began.

Around age 7 my mom moved to Florida. She brought all the boys along with her, but she left me and the next sister under me back in Georgia with my father. He would see to us going to school. He would help us dress proper. We would dress as best as we could or as we knew how, but daddy would carry us to his mom’s house and she would do our hair, pig tails, pony tails, plats and braids. Sometimes she would straighten our hair with a hot comb called the straightening comb to get the knots and kinks out; and she would call us knotty heads or nappy heads, just jokingly. Daddy would carry us to her house on the weekends. This continued for about a month or two.

Mama returned back to Georgia and reunited with my father, my sister, and myself. We planned to join the rest of the family down in Florida!

Prior to mama’s return, me and this sister had a fight for the very first time ever. I don’t remember what for, but I do remember, something got a hold on the two of us, and gripped us with hands-n-hands hugging tightly around a pine tree (sometimes called a ka-ka bud tree). and we couldn’t be separated. We tried to break free but it couldn’t be done, not until we both started crying and apologizing. After being freed; we hugged and we kissed. It was scary but it felt good to be free from hugging a pine tree (Ka Ka-bud). We never fought again.

I now know that it was God telling and showing us (me) that we were not to be fighting. The Bible tells us to seek peace and pursue it, try to get alone with everybody and work hard at it.

Anyways we moved to Florida, a little town called Zellwood, where most of my mom’s family lived. There I had lots of cousins two uncles, two aunts, and one great uncle one great aunt. When we arrived in Zellwood, we came to what was called the Greyhound bus station. Actually it was a train depot which set on the right side off 441; and the bus station was a grocery store located over across 441 on the left. The bus driver stopped the bus and announced the words over the microphone: Zellwood, Zellwood, you’re in Zellwood now! The driver let us off the bus at the train depot and we had to walk maybe two and a half miles with some of our belongings to what was called the Quarters, the black section where the colored folks lived. Now we walk down a red clay road, the only time I’d ever seen clay was in Georgia.

Zellwood was one of the ugliest, nastiest little cities I’d ever been in. This place was worse than back home in Georgia. Lots of little wooden shacks and many, many stone (concrete) block houses. One grocery store and three juke joints (clubs). Lots of peoples drinking in the wide open. No respect at all for nobody. Loud talking, singing and cursing, might have been some fighting. Zellwood was loud and I hated it. I disliked that place the moment I got off the Greyhound bus. I really wanted to go back to Georgia. It didn’t matter what I wanted because during my mother’s very first visit she founded a place where we would be living.

My mama had attained two of those stone (concrete) buildings called houses, which had only two small rooms, and an outside toilet (outhouse). This is where we the Johnson family would live for the next four to five years. The outhouse and outside water was something I was use to, but not the house; one house block divided by two. We had two of them. When my older sisters moved to Florida we managed to get two more. Mom and dad occupied one block house, in that house daddy hooked up a stove for cooking and had a freezer in their two room stone (concrete) block house for the meats, frozen or freezer products. That’s where all the cooking took place. Me and my younger siblings had block two. Blocks three and four belonged to my two older sisters and their families.

Shortly after getting settled in our new town we started school. Me and my sister under me attended (the one whom I shared the pine Ka-Ka-bud tree with); Freddrick Douglas Elementary in Zellwood Florida. It was so much different from H.T. Singleton back in Georgia. The children made fun of how we dressed, our hair styles, our shoes etc… They even made fun of the food we ate for lunch, which consist of pork neck bones and cornbread sandwiches, which we carried in brown paper bags, torned up into pieces to wrap our country lunches in. I mean big grocery bags! Sometimes the bags were greasy, but it didn’t matter it was a meal and it was good. We didn’t go hungry never that’s for sure.

For some reason, they placed me in the six grade and I had another good teacher. She was black and beautiful. I thought she was mean and too pretty. I learned that she was just who she was, my teacher and she wanted the best for me. She taught me about segregation and integration. She taught me the preamble. She taught me that we are the people of the United States of America. She taught me about sin and slavery. Maybe six months to a year afterward, we changed schools; now it was whites and blacks together.

Now I attended to Zellwood Elementary School, just entering 6th grade. I made friends quickly with most of the whites there. All my teachers were white, and they treated me just like they did the white girls. Stuff like that never crossed my mind. God works in mysterious ways. God’s ways are not our ways neither are his thoughts, God ways, read Isaiah 55:8-9.

Again we moved (all through life we were moving). This time to Apopka, about five miles south of Zellwood, therefore I changed schools again, this time the school’s name was Phillis Wheatley. At this time I’m about to complete the 6th grade. I could walk to school, because the school was right around the corner from our little apartment, located on Lake Street. We stayed at this apartment maybe a year, anyways; I completed 6th grade.

While in the six grade I began to like school very much. Phillis Wheatly was a school similar to H.T. Singleton back home in Georgia. It had a big lunch room, a big gymnasium with a stage and lots of benches, curtains and a great big play ground. To me the smartest I was is when I was in 6th grade. I remember the honor roll. I made the honor roll six times straight, and that made me feel important.

I didn’t have too many friends at Phillis Wheatly cause the children weren’t too friendly, but I did have a special friend her, aka name was B. We did stuff together like shared; study and trade nights at one another’s house (sleep overs). We had our jealous moments also. I remember one time B and I got mad at one another. B. brought some gum to school and didn’t share with me, and wouldn’t tell me why. I was worried cause she was supposed to be my best friend. We stayed unfriendly all that day, and when school was out, she said to me: Why? You and that girl was talking and laughing at me. I didn’t know what she was talking about; and she didn’t bother to make me know. I figured she was just being stingy. She just didn’t want to share her gum. On the following school day, I bought some peppermint balls and did her the same way. I wasn’t mad at her; I just didn’t share my candy with her. As a matter of fact I gave the girl whom she said I was talking and laughing at her with; some of the candy. Then B. wanted to fight me. She said I’ll get you on the playground. B. was telling everybody that she was gonna beat me up at 3:00 when school was out. When 3:00 came we went out on the playground; all the fourth, fifth