Hey!  So sorry, it’s been awhile…you could never imagine what has happened!!!! But before I delve into the unbelievable, I want to say thank you for all the happy e-mails about the Jivin’ chocolate cake or whatever it’s called.  Unfortunately, I did get a lot of hate mail from Missourians…and donkeys.

Sorry.  I don’t make the news, I just report it.

It’s been awhile since I’ve written, sorry, I was cooking dinner.  Does anyone else struggle with the nightly routine like I do?  When dinner gets on the table for the wolves, I feel like I should be awarded the Noble Peace Prize, like I’ve really accomplished something really great. 

 My grandma always told me to start dinner in the morning and then it’s no big deal.  So I did that two days ago.  I made Rigatoni layered with spaghetti sauce and cheese and baked it at 9:00 in the morning….so excited my most dreaded chore was behind me.  Crock came in and explained how he needed the pasta right then cuz he had a baseball game and needed the carbs.  Dux strolled in and asked what the good smell was and got himself a plate.  Then Pony showed up at the door and mumbled something about good timing.  My dinner was devoured,  and it wasn’t even lunch time yet….

But the most important thing of all!  I found out what “RIP behind Africa” means (Chapter 5) ….. This is unbelievable!   Yesterday I forced myself to go over to Mama’s to begin the dreaded chore of going through her things.  I was in the basement, and I looked up and saw the “plaque“;  the African plaque that a missionary had given Mama years ago.  I froze.  All of a sudden I got it.  RIP behind Africa” meant after Mama died, go behind Africa, the Africa plaque!

My hands trembled as I reached up and grabbed the wooden wall decoration shaped like the African continent. Sure enough, behind it lay an old weathered journal.  I pulled it down from its darkened hiding place where it was laying on a copper pipe.  The old diary was weathered and crumbling, and my eyes were fixated on the inscription on the first page, 

“Kitty, if you’re reading this it means you have found the journal.  Please forgive me from keeping you from all these secrets.  It was for your own good.  I couldn’t chance it that they would come after you like they did me.  I pray that this will all be blown over by the time you read this, but if not, remember: truth will always win.  I’ll see you again in heaven.  My love, Mama.”

It was  overwhelming and took me awhile to figure it all out, but Mama had another journal! It continued on from where this one left off, but this one had been hidden.  The secrets in this journal were dark enough that according to the entries, someone actually was trying to kill Mama over it!  She knew too much!  And that is why she never wanted to tell me, she was afraid if I knew what she knew, I could also be a target.   The black book, the book that was worth murder to somebody, is now in my hands!!!

I discovered  she was being watched for years!  “They” threatened that if Mama let any of the things out that she knew were going on at The Shepherd’s Gate she would be sorry.  She wrote about  a dead black crow hanging in our yard on the clothesline once.

What kind of sicko would do that, first of all to the bird and then secondly to Mama?  The threats were always there to keep Mama in check.  And they may have kept her from talking, but they didn’t keep her from writing.  I plan to expose this story and you lucky chickies get to hear firsthand what exactly transpired.  It’s so weird to me that all this drama happened at a church.

I plan to find out who was trying to keep Mama quiet, who silenced her from being able to speak the truth.  I will find out.  And for their sake, I hope they’re already dead. I’m committed to telling the whole truth about this story.  It’s straight from the deadly diary, and I’m copying what it says.  This is Mama’s writings:

“I tried to act as normal and nonchalant as possible working at my desk only feet from Sal’s office, though inside my heart pounded and my stomach twisted.  He either didn’t know or didn’t care that I could hear his phone conversations through his wood and glass office door. 

Sal was a rage-aholic and raised his voice in almost every conversation.  I suppose he gave up trying to be the nice guy — everyone knew he was nuts, so he kept his position through controlling people with fear, including me.  He truly was a weak man, so completely insecure and jealous about Dave. 

It didn’t matter that it was Dave that was holding this whole church together and expanding the high school group.  It was actually a startling thing to watch, it seemed as though the more successful Dave was, the more insecure Sal would become. 

Sal still had his moments where he seemed to fall into a large dark pit that would cover him in depression.  Those were the weeks where he would be a no-show at the office, and I would get the panic-stricken call in the middle of the night from one of the zombie elders to get Dave over to Sal’s house ASAP to soothe him with his song.  It was obvious that Sal couldn’t fire Dave, he was the only one that could pull him out of his deep, deep cavern of depression, yet it seemed that Dave’s success was one of the driving forces that led Sal to the pit to begin with.

Something was changing though.  Sal either didn’t know or care that I had overheard the argument with Mika, his daughter, about dating “someone.”   I knew it was Dave. I knew that Mika was in love with him, as were most of the girls at church.  But soon after that terrible fight, I noticed that Sal’s whole attitude about Dave and Mika changed.  It was bothersome, because Sal turned 180 degrees.  He began initiating their relationship and helping it along.  I knew he was up to something, I just didn’t know what.  

To my surprise on a bright and early spring morning, Dave popped his head into my office.  He grinned and told me I better be ready for lunch at noon, he was taking me out.  In a flash he was gone.  I could tell by the hushed voices and cheer in the air, something was up.  I knew in my heart what it was.  Sal had somehow coached Dave into marrying Mika.  That wasn’t the troublesome part,  the troublesome part was why? Why did Sal change his stance and now encourage this relationship?  I couldn’t figure it out, but the hours seemed to drag until noon. 

Dave took me to a wonderful restaurant  owned by a couple from Europe.  The glass display cases held decadent treats, cakes and pies!  After hot Minestrone soup  and french bread, I splurged on a piece of white chocolate mousse cake with strawberries and a cup of hot coffee.  The best I’ve ever had! What a generous treat!  But just as I suspected, as we pulled back from the table to rest after our feast, Dave began with, “I wanted you to be the first to know.” 

Though I knew in an instant what was coming, I was still shocked.  Not wanting to ruin his moment, I smiled as he announced he was getting married to Mika, though they had only dated for less than a month.  He excitedly told me how he hadn’t really noticed her until Sal approached him and asked him to consider his daughter as a bride. 

Dave explained how at first he was shocked, but agreed to court her and soon found out she was a perfect match.  He blushed as he spoke of her beauty and brains and love for God.  I could tell then he was smitten.  I wanted to shout out to him to slow down, get to know her, but he announced their wedding date, May 17th.  That was less than two months away.  My gut told me that Sal was behind this, and that he had an ulterior motive, somehow he was maneuvering this to benefit himself.

Mika was young and beautiful.  She had her mother’s beauty and style.  She undoubtedly would be a high-maintenance gal with her upbringing, but she appeared to have a sunny disposition.  Dave and her became inseparable, and Mika’s brother, John, often was found accompanying them.  It all seemed too perfect.  The youth pastor’s best friend is the senior pastor’s son and his bride-to-be is the daughter? 

The dark side was the jealousy that seemed to be lying low during this time.  But Sal had showed his real self often enough that I was sure the green monster’s head would surely rise again.  What I couldn’t figure out is why he was bringing Dave into his family forever…unless it wasn’t forever.

Wedding preparations were in a whirlwind to make the May date, and the church office seemed to be the headquarters.  Samples of cakes, invitations and flowers lined the tables, and it seemed everyone had an opinion.  

Mika at the tender age of 19 was overwhelmed and deferred many of the decisions to her mother, who was a savvy shopper.  Though Sal smiled appropriately, I could tell something was brewing underneath.  Sal seemed to watch all the commotion from a distant dark place.  In my innermost heart, I was scared for Dave.

The two months sped by.  Nothing was spared for Sal’s daughter’s wedding.  Her dressed shipped directly from Paris and was absolutely stunning.  Flowers were ordered, and caterers interviewed as  bridesmaids’ dresses were debated and tuxedos fitted.

The day of matrimony arrived.  The sanctuary was dressed in fresh flowers and white tulle with the fragrance of exhilaration saturating the guests.  The quiet whispers of anticipation skipped and danced through each pew packed with parishioners ranging from infants to saints in their 90s.

The guests were on their feet as the music began with the procession inching down the long aisle toward Dave. Mika’s slender shape showed off her gorgeous dress which was made of imported silk and hand-beaded with crystals which sparkled when the flash from the cameras caught it.  Dave was decked out in a black and white tuxedo anxiously awaiting his bride. 

But Sal, though he was dressed to the nines and suntan, couldn’t suppress the tightness in his jaw through his practiced smile.  My stomach tightened as my mind went in a hundred places.  The ceremony was relatively short and the groom kissed the bride.  Soon they were announced as Mr. and Mrs. 

The congregation erupted in applause as the couple made their way down the aisle in a shower of rose petals.     Ahh, young love……”