A journey... to take back what was stolen.

17 years ago a middle age woman escorts an elderly woman on a journey. A journey of necessity. A journey of great importants. A journey of life or death. A journey of unconditional love. The elderly woman has one mission at hand to take back what was stolen from her. The two ladies hit the streets to find it. The elderly woman goes places that in all her years, she couldn't even image being, but she does care. Her distinguished style clashes with skid row, but she is fearless in her pursuit. To save her son!

Her prayers are met, and it's a long journey, but he is saved from his drug infested life, with the hopeless and the sorrow. He goes on to get his Masters, he already had his Bachelors before his life of destruction. He finds his calling in the word of God and eventually becomes a minister, then he leaves his church, to start his own, and becomes a Pastor. Life is good, working on getting his Doctrine. His children and grandchildren are active in his ministry. If only the elderly woman, could see where he has come. Who would think that a triple bypass surgery, would lead him to the path he is on now.

They say that an addict is never cured, but constantly in recovery. No one would image that the heavy pain medication, would trigger an addiction beat years ago. No one would think that the pain medication at some point, wouldn't be enough. No one would think that the pastor who specialize in bringing former drug addicts to the lord, would join those drug addicts again. No one would image that the youngest would look like the oldest. That he would resemble Skeltor. That once robust, would turn to literally skin and bones. One that prides themselves like the rest of his family in appearance, would look like walking death. His members and congregation no more. No one wants a fiend for a pastor. That drugs would take over his life again.

When people ask about him, you throw that award winning smile. Fake of course, but not phony. Not to wide, but gentle. You throw warmth through the eyes. It's all about the eyes. Even though there might be pain, there might be sadness, there might be sorrow, you warm them up, which leads the smile to believability, or at least the appearance of such. You reply, "Oh, he's good." Good not great. Good is believable. Good is solid. Good is satisfies them. Good leads to no more further question.Good is what hey want to here. Good is what they get, even if that's not what they want to hear. They won't get anything from me but Good. You've been taught well, from as even a child, you know what goes on at home stays at home. If good isn't enough, you can throw in a little personal touch to take this puppy home...something like "Just enjoying those grand kids of his." all the while his grand kids don't want to be around Papa anymore, because he gets real mad now, when he doesn't get what he needs, when he is fiending for it. Papa makes them sad at times. Papa can even be angry, that he threatens to kill if he doesn't get what he wants. Papa has changed. Papa needs help. Papa doesn't realize that prayers are sent left and right about him.

The middle age woman is a little older now. She is accompanied by another woman of same agenda. Bound by blood. Although, over the years things have changed, once again the mission is the same. They throw their suitcases into the trunk. Polyester has been replaced with silk linen. Cloth has been replaced by heated leather seat. Cassette has been replaced by CD. Once was black is...well still black around the edges, do to dark and lovely. This time they aren't headed to search the drug infested streets, this time they are headed to the suburbs. To a five bedroom home, where when he isn't in the streets searching for his next hit, he is barricaded in his master bedroom. Once again they are need for this mission...for this journey. A journey of necessity. A journey of great importants. A journey of life and death. A journey of unconditional love. A journey to take back what was stolen from them.