The Maid Will Be in Thursday

By Cynthia Pringle

For those of us who don't know how to smell the roses, The Maid Will Be In Thursday. This is a twenty-year journey of which I had no idea I would be making. That is how long it has taken to finish this book. I lived with the shame and guilt of the unthinkable and had no plans to share this story, but God didn't share my stance about secretly. I prefer to keep silent about some details of my life, but God has his plans. After being disobedient for so long, I realized about a year ago, it was time to finish this project. Along the way, I've had many lessons, and the one that stands out the most is that I could not run from what God wanted to be done. So here is my book, and I hope it will be a blessing to others. There are some events I'm proud of, and some I would rather forget. What a not so perfect person I am. Thankfully, perfection never was expected of me, and for that, I am grateful.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 22, 2022
• ISBN: 9781645446873

Book preview

cover.jpg

The Maid Will Be in Thursday

Cynthia Pringle

Copyright © 2022 Cynthia Pringle

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2022

ISBN 978-1-64544-686-6 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-64544-687-3 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

About the Author

Chapter 1

Crisis of Misunderstanding

Who has understood the mind of the Lord, or instructed Him as His counselor? (Isaiah 40:13)

Who knew that simple act of answering the phone would have such dire consequences? I didn't. Had I known, I wouldn't have touched it when it rang that Sunday morning, December 13, 1998. I would have run in the opposite direction. If only I had known.

It was a beautiful cold, crisp day. I was waiting for my friend Sandy to pick me up for church as I had recently been in an accident which totaled my car. My niece Cherelle, Mom, and I were talking when the phone rang.

To my great dismay, I answered. It was my nephew calling to ask if Mom would watch him and his brother while their parents went shopping. I asked Mom if she was okay with them coming over, and to my surprise, she said no. She wasn't feeling well.

I told my nephew exactly what she said. Nothing more, nothing less.

Sandy came, and we left. I realized Mom must have been feeling bad because no matter what it was, she always walked to the door to say goodbye. It was something she did.

Earlier in the year, Mom had started attending church with me, but because of the medication she had recently started taking, she was unable to continue.

After church, I prepared dinner, and my sister Regina and her family came over, and Joyce called while we were waiting to catch up on the latest news at home. Mom told her she wasn't feeling well and couldn't watch my brother's kids. I think she felt bad about saying no.

When I came downstairs the next morning, Mom was reading her Bible, as it was her daily routine. Usually, she would stop reading, and we would talk about the day and what was going on, but lately, she didn't talk much. She would continue reading. I asked how she was feeling, and she said she was tired. I told her not to go to work, and she said she wasn't that tired.

Mom and I often joked about how many times I went upstairs between the first time I came down and before I left for work at 5:30 a.m.

This morning, as usual, I forgot my watch. Mom said, You can't help it. As I was leaving, she came to the door and told me to be careful as I crossed the street. I turned around and saw that she was still at the door looking after me. I waved goodbye and continued on.

I didn't know it at the time, but this day was going to be the day when my life changed in more ways than one. It was to be the last time she walked me to the door and said goodbye.

Before continuing, allow me to go back a few years to March 1995. The Holy Spirit led me to fast one Wednesday, and on that night, after working, I began to pray. During my time of prayer, the Holy Spirit spoke and said, Go home. I had no intention of returning to Philadelphia (except to visit). It was a shock and bewildered to act as if I didn't understand what was said, but deep down in my heart, I knew.

During that day of fasting, God had prepared my heart to hear from him. I heard very clearly.

The next few days, I was impossible to live with. I told Joyce, and she, too, was shocked. She asked me if I was sure I heard correctly. I was sure—very sure. I asked her to pray.

I prayed God would change his mind and say I could remain in Atlanta. He didn't, and I started the process of organizing myself to return home—bad attitude and all. I made one last ditch effort to see if God would change his mind. This time the Holy Spirit said, Go home and put the past to rest. He gave me a command as before, but this time, I was given a reason. It was time to go, and I knew it. I stopped praying but not before informing God that yes, I would go, but it was against my will.

My girlfriend was getting married in May, so I made plans to leave Atlanta after her wedding.

It was with a somber, heavy heart I began packing. The only good news was that Joyce, James, and Nathan were driving to Philly with me. Her husband would drive up later to pick them up. We stopped in Virginia at my brother's house and had a good time. We stayed until Sunday morning, and then it was time to continue onto Philadelphia.

The closer to Philly we got, the quieter the ride became. I sensed changes on the horizon but not changes I wanted to deal with.

Once back in Philadelphia, it seemed that repentance became a way of life.

Mom would say something I didn't like, and of course, my answer was Look, Mom, I'm only here because God told me to come back. I'm not here because I want to be here. Horrible words for sure, but I was being honest. Before the words were out of my mouth, I knew I was wrong. I loved my mother, and she loved me. So what was the problem? Why couldn't we get along? Either we were too much alike, and this trip home was impossible, or God's expectations were beyond what I was capable of. Either way, something had to give.

What I didn't take into account was that this wasn't easy for my mother either. She has to get used to me being in her space. This was an adjustment she had to make in her life, and I didn't make it easy for her.

I didn't enjoy the bickering between us, and one day, I felt God's disapproval. I can't explain it except to say I realized God was looking down at me and what was he seeing in me—bitterness, anger, unforgiveness, behavior not becoming of someone who knew better.

I began to pray and repent this time for real. My attitude began to change. More importantly, my heart began to soften. As a child, I got in trouble more time than I can count because of my mouth. It was time to be the adult I profess to be. A change was in order.

Being quiet was the catalyst for change. It's amazing what a quiet spirit and mouth produced in my heart. It gave me the opportunity to listen and hear what my mother was saying. We talked about issues I tried to talk about years earlier that were not resolved. This time, the breakthrough I needed was given. God was healing a relationship that was important to both of us. I'm not saying it was easy. It wasn't, but it was worth it. Two strong-willed women in the kitchen were asking a lot, but it was possible. I had to learn to forgive and let go of past hurts and disappointments, and when I did, I could respond rather than react.

Monday, December 14, 1998, I got home from work, and I was tired. It was one of those days that started as soon as I walked through the door at work (and it was early). I spoke to Mom and Dad, but Mom didn't say hello. She was quiet. I talked to Dad for a while, and then I went upstairs to change my clothes. When I came down, I ate dinner and did the dishes.

I asked Mom if everything was okay, and she said, No, it wasn't. She asked me why I had been nasty to my nephew when he called yesterday.

I couldn't believe what she said, especially since she heard what I said to my nephew just the day before. What I didn't know was that my sister-in-law had called Mom that morning before she went to work telling her I had been nasty to her son.

I couldn't comprehend why my sister-in-law would lie, and the more I tried to explain to Mom that she heard what was said on my end, the angrier she became. Finally, I gave up and decided to go upstairs because I wasn't going to argue with her anymore. She wasn't hearing what I was saying, so why bother.

Dad was sitting on the sofa, Mom was yelling, and I turned to go upstairs. She stopped and said, I'm passing out.