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13 Temmuz 2022, 21:57
Real CMEKen bore down on the pedal of the metallic peanut butter brown 2015 Lincoln navigator. In the passenger seat sat his wife of 26 years, Donna. Their youngest son, Austin, a senior accounting major at Paine College had in his earbuds and was deaf to the world bopping his water head. The broad-shouldered driver shifted in his seat and tugged at his seatbelt. Ken had a deep brown complexion and a cool, magenta undertone. Coming in at five-feet-eleven-inches tall and two hundred fifty-five pounds, he had a robust girth. He got comfortable and set the cruise control at 76 miles per hour. Ken was on his way from his home in suburban Atlanta to the small north Florida town where he was raised. His mother?s church was honoring her with a lifetime achievement service. Sis. Fannie Jean Donaldson had been a dutiful member of the congregation for ages. Fannie had been on the usher board for as long as anyone could remember. She was not comfortable with compliments so Ken made it a point to get back to embarrass his mama.Kenneth Arthur Donaldson had grown up in the church. His father, now deceased, was an itinerant minister in the Methodist tradition. His family had not been rich, but made ends meet through his father?s small farming operation and part-time handyman work. His mother toiled as a maid and eventually took a job at the local hospital as a nurse assistant. He was the third of five c***dren - the only son. But he was not a churchgoing brother to be honest. He was what many of the ministers the Christian Methodist Episcopal Church called ?true C.M.E.s?. They only came to church on Christmas, Mother?s Day,