Three Nights In Mannford

by Cynthia Conner Goyang

  He looked down at his notes. “In 1963, our brother, Dr. King stated in his ‘Eulogy for the Martyred Children’ that we must be concerned not merely about who murders others, but about the system, the way of life, and the philosophy which produced the murderers.

  “Sin and only sin has shaped these murderers. The Bible says that all of us are sinners and have fallen short of the glory of God. We are each a murderer whether in thought or deed, in some form or fashion. But God sent Jesus Christ to the earth at just the right time to save us from our sins, to deliver us from our murderous ways, to cleanse us and give us clean hands and pure hearts.

  “‘Come to Me,’ the Lord welcomes. Tonight, He stretches His everlasting arms toward you. Come and be saved from this fleshly world, from this way of life, from these hollow philosophies, which produce only death, only murder.”

  Al paused and looked intently at the crowd. “I close with this, Mannford,” he said. “The Lord invites us: ‘Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest’ (Matthew 11:28, (NKJV). Mannford, come to the Lord.” He lifted his hands as though beckoning the crowd. “Pray with me.” He bowed his head, feeling empowered by the Spirit.

  “Dear Lord, I know that our healing will come only in and through You. I pray then that You work tremendous healing in the heart of each and every soul. In Jesus’s name, we pray. Amen.”

  “Amen,” the attendees said.

  The singers from many different churches in Mannford returned and stepped up on the stage to stand behind Pastor Al. They began softly singing Randall Conner’s “I Love to Bless Your Name.” Many in the audience joined in the praise.

  “The Lord is standing with His mighty, loving arms outstretched,” Al said over the singing. “‘Come,’ He’s calls to you and you and you and you. Come as you are, Mannford. Come. The Lord is real and will receive you lovingly into His arms. Won’t you come?”

  As one, people began leaving their seats and streaming down to the grassy field, heading to the front of the stage. Al watched as many came with tears streaming down their faces. From every walk of life — young, old, rich, poor, black, white — they came.

  Al looked around at the vast crowd with love and compassion. “Thank you, dear people, for responding. Give your life to the Lord tonight. He will love, guard, and guide you all the days of your life in the way that is right!”

  Everyone clasped their neighbors’ hands and prayed — some loud, some quietly, some with tears, some without — but they prayed. Black, white, Hispanic, Asian, wealthy, needy, young, and elderly — all clasped hands and bowed their heads in prayer.

  Al stood in wonder as he watched the Holy Spirit work. Again he prayed over the crowd. “Lord, God, thank You for your marvelous love that You have so lavished upon us by sending Your Son, Your only Son, to this earth as a sacrifice for our sins. We thank You that You have invited us to come and receive from Your bounty, from Your table, from Your wealth — from You! Receive all these souls who have responded to Your call to come. Save them, bless them, deliver them, heal them, restore them. In Jesus. And in Jesus’ name.” He opened eyes that now tingled with tears.

  “Mannford, you have chosen right,” Al gently said to the crowd. “Go and grow in the Lord.”

  The beautiful voices rang out in song behind him, enveloping the people of Mannford in love as they exited the stadium. And they sang, “Joy, joy, joy.”

  The Aftermath

  Chapter

  39

  One month later

  Television cameras and LED lights had been arranged above, around, and throughout the sanctuary. Once the news director counted her down, Robin Roberts sat solo in the very sanctuary — and on the very pew — where Al, Misty, and Marquise had on that momentous night. She welcomed the television audience, gave a brief summary of what had happened in Mannford, and then shared the stark results of the autopsy and toxicology tests on Mayor Henderson.

  “The reports indicate that Mayor Truman Henderson had a very high level of cocaine in his system, which subsequently led to his cardiac arrest.”

  The cameras then cut to the entry door, where several people entered and joined Robin. A mélange of Mannford citizens sat in a circle together on the platform. Poignantly they described the personal roles they had played in the highly charged drama surrounding the murder of Darrelle Moseley. Each revealed their rough road but also reveled in God’s rescue.

  Robin listened with compassion as the interviewees shared tears, anguish, laughter, and healing. Marquise and Keiana, Al and Misty, Tyler and Laura, Lieutenant Dana Rogers, Chris Haney, and Commander Holfield were all there. They were joined by David and Leslie Linden and Levante — their daughter Sadie’s boyfriend, a University of Texas Aerospace Engineering student scholar.

  Next to mount the platform was Sadie Linden, who had cautiously walked in and joined the interview on crutches — the only obvious remaining sign of her life-threatening injuries from the hit-and-run accident incurred at the hands of Mayor Henderson.

  In an emotional moment later, Renee Moseley entered the room and also joined the group. Each person welcomed her warmly. Several mentioned the task force that had been formed among those present to keep steady communication flowing between the community and law enforcement. Each then shared their personal love-filled plans for the future.

  Nine months later

  A collection of, friends, family and patrons gathered at the Soiree Art Gallery for the Laura Forsythe Art Exhibit. Black-and-white clad waitstaff served flutes of champagne from silver salvers and delicate hors d’oeuvres on glazed-crystal platters. Among the most crowd pleasing and critically praised of Laura’s pieces were Shades of Castille, Wisps of Lace, Laurel, Love for a Farthing, Grace in the Woods, and the artist’s own favorite, A Fetching Face. Beaming with delight, Laura glided among the different conversational groupings, hobnobbing with first one and then another maven. Her chic blue-and-yellow maternity dress hugged her burgeoning belly. Every so often, she’d rub it and then glance across the room to capture her husband’s eye.

  For his part, Tyler’s heart nearly burst with pride as he observed his wife. Laura was in her element. The vibrant mural she had painted on the wall of the downtown library had made her the toast of the town. Laura’s paintings were now being snapped up by art collectors who were willing to pay handsomely for them. The exhibition was a great success.

  Later that month, God’s increased their joy by adding His own creative work of art: Tyler Richard III was born.

  One year later

  Marquise woke up and languidly watched a slim sliver of sunlight flitter on the wall. Lying still, he listened contentedly to the birds competing to outperform each other with their tweeting melodies. A soft wind blew ever so gently through the slightly opened window closest to their bed. Lifting his head from the pillow, Marquise gazed across the king-sized bed at a sleeping Keiana — his wife. He watched the beautiful woman for a hot minute, shook his head, and thanked the Lord. The “proper wedding” he’d promised her had taken place on Valentine’s Day — complete with flowers, bridesmaids in pink, tuxedo-clad groomsmen chest bumping, and tears spilling as Keiana walked down the aisle. He couldn’t believe that for so long he had hung back from marrying his best friend, his girl. Marquise thanked the Lord again and then slipped softly off the bed to go shower. After peering in on sleeping Nisha, he quietly left the house.

  Al and Misty rose early as well and shared a lovely bit of breakfast in the sun-filled nook of their brand-new home. Later, standing under the hot water of her shower, Misty rubbed a hand over her belly and smiled. I’ll tell him tonight.

  Dressed and ready to go, they hopped into their car and drove off. After pulling into the church parking lot, they waited less than two minutes before Marquise drove up, followed soon by Renee Moseley. The warm Mannford breeze carried the pleasant fragrance of lilacs. Everyone exited their ve
hicles and exchanged warm greetings and gentle hugs. They clasped hands and after a word of prayer piled into Marquise’s roomy Escalade and took off on a road leading out of town.

  As they neared their destination, Renee broke down in tears. Feeling overwhelmed, she blew her breath out and briskly fanned her face.

  In an effort to console her, Misty reached over and wrapped her in a warm embrace.

  Ten minutes later, tall steel turrets came into view in the distance, manned by heavily armed guards. Marquise pulled up as close as he could get to the formidable steel entrance gate that opened only to those with official business at Valdena State Penitentiary. Atop the gate ran coils of barbed razor wire that extended along chain-link fencing to surround the facility. As they exited the SUV, none of the four could take their eyes off the imposing compound.

  Shaking off their hesitation to enter, they headed toward the small, separate security building at the visitors’ entrance where they presented their driver’s licenses to the guard within. Once satisfied, he pressed the loud buzzer — prompting the outside, chain-link security door to slowly and noisily slide across its track to permit their passage. As the first gate was closing, it appeared to the group that they were being trapped in an air-lock type area. But as soon as the first closed, another opened ahead of them and they walked toward it within another “air-lock” to repeat the entire process with a third security gate. At the end of the air-lock area, they passed through a security door to a small room in the main building where they were asked to place their IDs, keys, and any wallets into a locker, which the guard proceeded to secure. After passing through a metal detector and also being thoroughly wanded, they proceeded down a long hall to the visitors’ waiting area. Half an hour later, a guard summoned the four to pass through another security door into a large, open visiting area arranged in several groupings of tables and chairs. There Marquise, Al, Misty, and Renee watched and waited. Deshaun Woodson was soon led into the room. Instead of leveling accusations, each of the four lavished God’s love. No kinder words could be spoken, no care or concern overlooked.

  “Thank you! I ’preciate you all comin to see ole Deshaun,” the bowed and careworn man said, blinking back tears. He grasped each person’s hand and then touched his heart. “Thank you!”

  “We love you and are praying for you!” Renee called to Deshaun as the guards escorted him out.

  Later, as the four waited, the security door opened again. Jonathon Collins was escorted in by a prison guard. Half way to the meeting area, he stopped to gaze in awe at the group. He tried to hide his tears but didn’t hesitate to hug them all. “I’m so sorry,” he kept saying over and over.

  “I forgive you, Officer Collins,” Renee told him as she embraced him tightly.

  In that prison visiting room, on that day, heavy burdens were lifted. Love freely flowed as Al, Misty, Marquise, and Renee bestowed acceptance and encouragement onto the prisoners’ parched souls. Healing forgiveness was freely given and humbly received.

  All the while, a host of angels were flying over and around Mannford. In concert with the people’s prayers and infused with God’s might and majesty, they assailed the evil beings who’d been sent to wreak havoc, flinging them afar to barren and desolate places.

  At the Lord God’s divine Word, Davion and Kishner flew with lightning speed into the heavenlies. With love and adoration, they gazed at the glorious face of the Holy One. Filled with great joy, they joined the host gathered around God’s throne that never cease to cry: “Holy, Holy, Holy, is the Lord God Almighty.” Before the Sovereign Lord and the wounded feet of the Lamb, Davion and Kishner laid fragrant prayers of praise from Mannford. They celebrated, worshipped, and then paused as God opened the stores of heaven and poured down wondrous blessings upon His children in Mannford. The heavenly host around His throne watched in awe and wonder at God’s work in the lives of man.

  Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.

  — Psalm 30:5 (NKJV)

  A city that is set on a hill cannot be hidden.

  — Matthew 5:14 (NKJV)

  Author’s Note

  Both the songs below ring out — ring of America, our homeland; sing of our struggles and our victories within. The lofty lyrics reflect healing, the fulfillment of Martin Luther King Jr’s God-given dream. Those heavenly anthems reflect God’s desire for us — His people, the sheep of His pasture. They also speak of 2 Chronicles 7:14, the theme of this book: that if His people will pray as He implores, He will heal all our ills; He will heal our land.

  Lift Every Voice and Sing

  Lift every voice and sing

  Till earth and heaven ring,

  Ring with the harmonies of Liberty;

  Let our rejoicing rise

  High as the list’ning skies,

  Let it resound loud as the rolling sea.

  Sing a song

  full of the faith that the dark past has taught us,

  Sing a song

  full of the hope that the present has brought us;

  Facing the rising sun

  of our new day begun,

  Let us march on till victory is won.

  Stony the road we trod,

  Bitter the chast’ning rod,

  Felt in the day that hope

  unborn had died;

  Yet with a steady beat,

  Have not our weary feet

  Come to the place on which our fathers sighed?

  We have come

  over a way that with tears has been watered,

  We have come,

  treading our path through the blood of the slaughtered,

  Out from the gloomy past,

  Till now we stand at last

  Where the white gleam

  of our star is cast.

  God of our weary years,

  God of our silent tears,

  Thou who has brought us thus

  far on the way;

  Thou who has by Thy might

  Led us into the light,

  Keep us forever in the path, we pray

  Lest our feet

  stray from the places, our God, where we met Thee,

  Lest our hearts,

  drunk with the wine of the world, we forget Thee,

  Shadowed beneath Thy hand,

  May we forever stand,

  True to our GOD,

  True to our native land.

  Lyrics from a poem: Lift Every Voice and Sing by James Weldon Johnson, 1900.

  My Country, ’Tis of Thee

  My country, ’tis of thee,

  Sweet land of liberty,

  Of thee I sing;

  Land where my fathers died,

  Land of the pilgrims’ pride,

  From every mountain side

  Let freedom ring!

  My native country, thee,

  Land of the noble free,

  Thy name I love;

  I love thy rocks and rills,

  Thy woods and templed hills.

  My heart with rapture thrills

  Like that above.

  Let music swell the breeze

  And ring from all the trees

  Sweet freedom’s song.

  Let mortal tongues awake;

  Let all that breathe partake;

  Let rocks their silence break,

  The sound prolong.

  Our fathers’ God to thee,

  Author of liberty,

  To thee we sing;

  Long may our land be bright

  With freedom’s holy light.

  Protect us by thy might,

  Great God, our King!

  Lyrics by Samuel Francis Smith, 1831.

  About the Author

  Cynthia Conner Goyang is a woman who bears
the scars of poverty, softened and salved by the Balm of Gilead.

  As a girl in Denver, Colorado, she grew up amid an array of races. Diversity was the rule, not the exception. She is uniquely qualified to author this work, Three Nights in Mannford, because her entire life has been a mission of maneuvering between different realities: Poor and Comfortable, Black and White, Lawless and Legit.

  As an African-American mother of three adult sons, she is sensitive to the issues regarding the racial divide and the police-involved shootings in our country. She prays for God’s protection over the victims of these systemic issues, but she also prays for those in the law enforcement community, which includes her eldest son, a well-respected police detective.

  Cynthia and her husband, Tony, enjoy spending time with their family and attending college- and pro-football games. Cynthia and Tony reside in Texas. She is an avid reader and loves to use her pencil to illustrate the Lord’s principles.

  A follower after Christ, she knows the answer for all worldly ills will come through God and God alone. From this perspective, she writes.

  For more Information About

  Cynthia Conner Goyang

  &

  Three Nights In Mannford

  Please visit:

  cynthiagoyang.com

  cynthiagoyang@gmail.com

  www.facebook.com/cynthiagoyang

  Twitter: @cynthiagoyang

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