Fiery Afflictions

By Paul Morrel

Eunice Brown, a well-respected and admired professional figure in her community, faces multiple trials in her family life at home. Timothy, her eldest son, challenges her as she struggles to carry out her role as a single parent of four in Jamaica. Her son is leaning toward the wrong crowd, but as a caring mother, she will stop at nothing to steer her family away from wasting their lives by getting involved with people who will endanger their well-being and throw their lives off course. Two separate generational perspectives in the family cause strife as they contend for the outcome they see fit. By faith, Eunice Brown is determined to speak life to her children to bring forth the good she sees in them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Sep 19, 2023
• ISBN: 9798385006014

Paul Morrel

Paul Morrel comes from a social work background, and he writes from a holistic perspective. He loves history, and he utilizes historical events in his writings. In 1974, he immigrated to Canada. He attended York University and obtained a bachelor’s degree in psychology. He continued his studies at York University and obtained a bachelor of social work (honors) degree. He also has a certificate in dispute resolution from York University. In 2003, he obtained his master of social work from Wilfred Laurier University. In 2007, Paul Morrel’s first publication was a chapter titled “Power and Status Contradictions,” which he contributed to the social work publication Revisiting the Use of Self: Questioning Professional Identities. In 2014, Paul published his first independent novel, From This Wreck I Will Return Home, which was followed by the 2017 release of The Few Who Find It. His past professional working experiences include probation and parole services and child welfare as a child protection worker. He currently works in the health-care field as a hospital social worker. He resides in Canada with his family, and outside of his work, he volunteers as an usher at the church he attends. At times, he offers support to parents in the community who find themselves struggling with child-rearing challenges.

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Copyright © 2023 Paul Morrel.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Unless otherwise indicated, all scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

Scriptures marked NLT are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004, 2015 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.

ISBN: 979-8-3850-0600-7 (sc)

ISBN: 979-8-3850-0601-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023916062

WestBow Press rev. date: 08/26/2023

CONTENTS

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

About the Author

In loving memory of my late sister,

Gloria Dixon (Nee Morrell)

In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer.

—Matthew 16:33

Acknowledgments

I wish to personally thank Sharon Moses for reading this manuscript and providing valuable feedback. Your critical thinking has been a blessing to the creative writing process.

I would like to give a special thanks to my family. My wife, Erica Morrel, and children Adrian, Shawn, and Kecia for their enormous help and support given to me during the writing this story. A special mention to my son, Shawn, for his artistic interpretation of this story and for creating the cover design.

My friends and colleagues with whom I have accessed their wealth of knowledge and experiences to support the writing of this story.

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1

B ack in the 1930s, when sugar was still king in the Caribbean, the island of Jamaica was among the many islands that saw the cultivation of sugarcane for the production of sugar and rum that went to ports to be shipped to England. The town of Duncans in the parish of Trelawny was abuzz with traffic going to and from, with produce going to ports to be shipped and goods coming in to be sold to residents. The two harbors, Falmouth and Rio Bueno, were active ports of call for sugar and rum, and with them came an influx of people trying to find work. The town benefitted from the goods and services that passed through it.

During that time, Pastor Ricardo Jones and his wife, Priscillia, embarked on a long journey that crisscrossed over narrow country roads with twists and turns like the letter S, from the parish of Manchester to the parish of Trelawny, to the town of Duncans to relocate. It was a quaint little town in which to start their Bible ministry. The pastor likened the town to a field ripe and ready for picking, and there he was prepared to launch his ministry to harvest souls for the kingdom of God. The town of Duncans separated upper Trelawny from the lower section of the parish, which backed onto the north coast.

In the middle of the quaint little town stood the local church, surrounded by the police station, a post office, a library, two merchandising stores that sold almost identical items, and the market. Both local and neighboring farmers from other parishes sold their produce and bought other nonperishable goods before returning to their homes. When the market closed on Saturdays, all the sellers dispersed to their homes, only to return the next week to start the process all over again. In the middle of all this stood the clock tower, which appeared to direct the flow of traffic, as it stood in a roundabout, directing traffic to the northwest coast, the northeast, and farther inland to upper Trelawny. It told the time visually and audibly, as it struck out each hour in case there were people who could not read the time from a distance or who relied on their auditory senses.

The local church had been built sometime in the eighteenth century. It likely had been prompted by emancipators and built by the hands of those who did not have any choice in the building. Through forced labor and the conviction of the emancipators, who’d thought they had compassion for the eternal souls, the church had been erected. It still stood, with its stained-glass windows; wide double-arched doors at the main entrance, leading down to the center of the church; and two side doors, which formed a triangle with the apex at the main entrance. The building had been built in a time when there was no air-conditioning, and the opening of the doors provided airflow to keep the building cool. A pipe organ mounted on an elevated platform piped out music to soothe the hungry soul. On the outside of the building, a belfry was erected, with bells that rang out the time and a call to worship on Sunday mornings. At other times, it tolled to announce the death of a member of the church. The church building, a long time ago, once had served as a schoolhouse, where generations before had gone to be taught to read and write. The building had box seats, where the upper crust of society took their seats every first Sunday of the month, while the rest of the congregation sat on hard-backed benches. Those same people controlled the commerce of the town and determined the kind of education that was provided to the less fortunate of society. During the times when those who ran the town were not in attendance at church, the local residents attended church and supported the pastor and his wife. Meanwhile, the upper crust’s seats remained vacant.

Pastor Ricardo Jones and Priscilla moved to this town for ministry. They had been married for more than ten years, and they had no children. Both were educated. Pastor Jones had obtained his doctor of divinity degree, and Priscilla had graduated from Teachers’ College. Priscillia, a woman of faith and an educator, sought the favor of the Lord to grant her with children, but over the ten years of marriage, it seemed as if the Lord had turned a deaf ear to her request. As the years went by and no children appeared in the home of the pastor, his wife made a sincere pledge that if the Lord would answer her prayer, she would surely give the child back to Him for His service to use as He saw fit.

Almost everyone in the church knew the desire of the pastor’s wife. She had a heart for service for the Lord and others, but deep inside, she wanted to have a family of her own.

She devoted her entire life to the ministry of her husband. She ran the weekly Sunday school, the women’s willing workers group, the young people’s group, and the choir. On any given Sunday morning, the small town of Duncans almost came to a standstill, and all that could be heard was the music coming from the pipe organ in the church. Sis Priscillia sat on her stool, playing the keys, with her hands and feet moving majestically, bringing forth melodious music that soothed and warmed the hearts of the members.

One would hardly have known that Priscillia had a life of her own outside the church. She ran the affairs of the church almost single-handedly; she almost gave up teaching to put her husband’s calling to be a preacher ahead of her career, and she became the crown on the pastor’s head. She became the rock of the church. When things went wrong in the lives of the congregants, they would seek out the assistance of Sis Priscillia. A wide cross section of the members felt comfortable with her as their go-to person, and in their dealings, they would refer to her as Sis P. She would seek out solutions to problems that were brought to her instead of her husband. She became the household name, especially for the women in the church. However, in spite of the attention that Sis Priscilla garnered from the members, Pastor Jones did not feel he was overlooked. He took the free time given to him while his wife counseled congregants as time to prepare for the ministry of harvesting souls.

It was not unusual to see the women in the church gather on some days to pray and fast in the hope the Lord would bless the pastor’s wife with children. The women felt that they were part of Priscillia’s life and that they had the responsibility to pray for her and with her that she would bear children. Many of the mothers in the church, who had children of different ages running about, could not imagine life without children or what it meant for a pastor’s wife to be childless. On special Sundays, such as Mother’s Day, elderly women who saw themselves as mothers in the church would gather around Sis Priscillia to pray that the Lord would bless her with children.

As the years went by and no children were born in the household of the preacher, there was much gossip among the younger members as to whose fault it was that Sis Priscillia could not have children. Some of the members of the church said, Pastor is a young man still; what’s wrong with him? Men even older than him are still fathering children. They wondered whether the church duties were too much for him; perhaps he needed more time to attend to his personal life. In the meantime, it seemed as if Sis Priscillia’s biological clock was ticking away like the clock tower in the middle of town, which stood as a constant reminder, striking out hour by hour, day by day. With each passing minute, time was running out on her, and perhaps there would be no cry of a newborn baby in the pastor’s house. But Sis Priscillia never gave up hope; she held on to her faith and believed that her God would deliver and would come through for her in His time.

As she sat and planned the Sunday school classes and organized daily vacation Bible school in the summer months and church outings for the seniors, she dreamed that one day she too would have children who would be active in the church. It must have been heartbreaking for her as she sat at the pipe organ and played When Mothers of Salem Brought Their Children to Jesus each third Sunday of the month, which was reserved for the dedication of babies, knowing that she did not have any of her own. She never lost hope that she would be restored. How this would happen she did not know, and she did not seem to care. In her mind, she was hoping, and that was enough for her because she