The System Was Good to Me.

Most foster care stories are sad. They are abused, scared, moved from one home to another, mistreated, ect. I didn’t have that experience. After being removed from my home, I was immediately admitted into Park City Hospital in Bridgeport, CT. I lived in that hospital for several months until I could be placed into a temporary foster home.

The home that I was placed into was located at 161 Sixth Street, I’ll never forget that address. We were placed with the Mackey Family. This was where I was introduced for the first time to God. The Mackey’s was a Pastor and First Lady. When were first placed with them they were using their basement as a church home, but not too long after that they acquired a building. At this new church is where I learned to usher, and sing in the choir. It’s the place that I learned how to serve. All of the Mackey kids were involved in the church, no exceptions.

One Sunday I was sitting in church. I happened to turn around and was blinded by a bright light. The light was coming from two pews behind me. I felt like there was an angel sitting right behind me. I couldn’t stop turning around to look into the face of this angel. Immediately after church I wanted to speak to this angel. She was older than me by probably 8 or 9 years. I found out that her name was Sylvia. I was in love. Something just drew me to her. I’d like to think it was the divine plan of God. Sylvia was visiting the church with her siblings. I never knew why she came, but to this day I believe she was sent by God just for me. For two weeks I begged my foster mother, Mrs. Mackey, “can we take her home?, please can we take her home?”. One Sunday we finally did, we took her home to live with us. Sylvia played a pivotal role in my life. She spoiled me. She took me on her dates, she listened to me speak my fears, she held me when I cried, she calmed my very soul. She literally protected me, she was my rock, Sylvia was my angel.

One afternoon, my foster siblings and I were playing in the back yard. I suddenly heard someone call out “Sana, I’m over here Sana, come to the gate” when I ran to the gate before me stood my mother. I birth mother. It had been at least a year since I watched her being dragged away by the police, and now here she was right in front of my very eyes. As I ran to open the gate to hug her, I was cut off my foster mother. She screaming for me to get in the house. “You can’t be here” she told my mom, “how did you find them?, you can’t see them”. I was pushed into the house and for what seemed like hours, I stood at the door sobbing as my mother stood on the other side begging to see her babies. I think I cried myself to sleep sitting at that door and finally the banging on the door stopped and the sound of my mother calling my name was gone. She was gone.

Life with the Mackey’s was good. I can’t remember bad times there. I was comfortable. I was home.

On October 1, 1990 my life went through another shift. I went off to school with my siblings as I normally did, I said by to Sylvia and walked to Newfield elementary school. At Lunch time I was called to the lunch room. The lunch room was decorated for a party. balloons, gifts, the whole nine. I was quite surprised and confused. My 8th birthday was a few days away so surely this was not a birthday party so what was going on?. Suddenly my social worker Ms. Gay walked in the room. She said to me, surprise, this is your going away adoption party. Huh?, Adoption party? “Yes” she stated. Today your going to live with your new family, the Mayfield’s.

I never got to go back to 161 Sixth Street. I never said goodbye to Sylvia. I never said goodbye to the Mackey’s. I was placed in the car where all of my clothes were already packed and in the trunk, and away we went. Next stop, New Britain, CT.

Talk About a Divine Connection

Last night in bible study my co pastor was speaking on Peter, a Jew and Cornelius, a gentile. She was teaching from Acts chapter 10. She was explaining how God used Peter to bring salvation even though by religion, Jews and Gentiles did not have any relationship with each other. But because of God and his divine connection he brought these two gentleman together for the sake of salvation.

I began to ponder this thing called divine connections and began to reminisce on my life, which to me is one big story of divine connection, but one part of my life in particular. Now, I’m going to fast forward my story a bit, but because I am literally writing this blog according to God’s direction, this is where he directed me to, August 2006.

One summer, almost fall day, I found myself in a crazy situation. My son’s father was coming to pick him up for the weekend. Now I knew there was going to be some mess because there always was. This day he decided that he was going to bring his new girlfriend along for the ride. When they finally arrived at my cousins house, where I was staying until my apartment was ready, it seemed like this was going to be an easy send off. But as I strapped my son into the back seat of his car, he made a comment, I’m not even sure what the comment was, but whatever it was, it was enough to set me off. Now when I say set me off, I mean set me OFF. I literally blacked out. He began calling me every demeaning name he could think of, right in front of our son. When he sat down in the front seat and closed his  door, I immediately jumped into the back seat, directly behind him, grabbed the gold link chain he was wearing around his neck, and pulled it until his head was strapped to the headrest. I’m not sure how long I held him like that, or where I got the strength from, but I didn’t snap out of it until my cousin’s husband was able to carry me out of the car. Oh, but it didn’t stop there. When I was able to get free, I took a hammer that I found in the driveway and proceeded to try and bust the windows out the car while I grabbed my son out the back seat. My cousins husband yet again grabbed me up and this time put me in the house.

“Sana, snap out of it!!, what is wrong with you??” My cousin screamed. “Look at your hands, their bleeding all over the place”, “You have got to stop allowing him to have this power over you!”After I cleaned myself up, and looked myself in the mirror, I realized I didn’t know the girl staring back at me. Somewhere along the way, when I thought I was in Love with a man, I stopped loving myself. I sat down and I cried out to God, “God, I’m tired of THIS. I’m tired of being tired, I need you God. I just want to be loved. When are you going to send me someone who loves me for ME??”.

That night I cried and prayed myself to sleep. The next morning I awake to my cousin shaking me, “Get up, you need to go to church” she said. “Girl I’m not going to nobody’s church, do you see how I look? Look at my hands, their bandaged up”, “If you go with us to church this one time, I won’t ask you again” “Okay fine, I’ll go.”

I’ll never forget that day. It was raining and as we walked up to the church I noticed this guy on crutches, talking on his cell phone. As we walked by I turned to my cousins husband and said, “I’m going to marry him.” He looked at me and laughed, “Sana are you serious? You don’t even know him and you almost went to jail for murder yesterday”. We went into church and I couldn’t even pay attention to the message, I just stared at the guy from outside who was now playing the drums. At the end of service, they did the announcements and the lady called up Bro. Josh Cotten, he had an additional announcement to make. Well Josh Cotten turned out to be the pastors baby son. My cousins husband turned to me and said, “you still want to marry him?” “I sure do, and when this is over, I need you to give him my number”, “what? I’m not giving that man your number, girl you in church”. Long story short, I ended up approaching Josh myself and I asked for his number, his response was “I don’t normally give females my number in church, so I’ll give it to your cousin and then he can give it to you” No problem, that works for me.

Josh and I ended up talking later that night, and went on our first date that Friday. Our date conversation went like this:

Me: Listen, I don’t have time for games, so if you playing games then we can end this now. I’m trying to be married.

Josh: Well just know that even if you have a baby by me,  I won’t marry you until I’m ready.

Just like that we were an item. I moved into my apartment 2 days later and he moved in with me. He proposed on July 4, 2007 and we married on August 14, 2007.

Now that wasn’t even what makes this a divine connection. This is what makes me a divine connection. Prior to Josh proposing, he took me to meet  his grandmother, Nana. When I walked in, Nana says to me “I know you already”.  “You do?”, yeah hold on, I’ll be right back. She goes in her room and comes back a few minutes later and hands me a photo. The photo is a photo of me and my twin brother when we lived in Bridgeport with our foster family.

My God. It was already his plan. Joshua Cotten is my Peter, God sent him to me to bring salvation.

But if You Don’t Forgive Others, Your Father Will Not Forgive Your Failures.

ability to forgiveAs I was scrolling through Instagram today I came across a picture that said, “There should be no limit to our ability to forgive”. Instantly my mind went back to a moment when forgiveness was the hardest choice I ever had to make.

When I lived at home I remember my mother would always wake up late at night and she would walk the house. She would check that all the windows were closed and locked, the doors were locked, and we were all in our beds. She did this every night like clockwork for years. Needless to say, I have adapted that same routine.

One evening in 2003, I was living in my first apartment in Marina Village projects in Bridgeport, CT. It was late about 1:30am. My then boyfriend and I were sleep in the bed and my son’s godfather was in the next room sleep with his then female friend. It wasn’t uncommon to find him sleep in Jamir’s room since he often crashed at my house especially after I had Jamir. I woke up and began doing my normal check of the house. I went downstairs made sure the tv and lights were off, the doors were locked, looked outside made sure the car was safe and intact and began walking back upstairs. As I got to the middle of the steps I heard a noise. I thought I was hearing things, but then I heard it again. Something didn’t feel right. I immediately ran up the stairs and hopped in my bed. It seemed like seconds later there was someone leaning over me, yelling “get out the bed, get up now”. When I opened my eyes, there were about 4 men in my house with black ski masks on. They pulled out guns and hit my boyfriend over the head with it. I could hear the same thing happening in Jamir’s room. They dragged me and my boyfriend in Jamir’s room and proceeded to tape our mouths and tie us up. I remember laying there thinking, “wow, this is really happening right now”. One of the voices asked me, “where’s the boy, where’s your son?”, he’s not here, I stated when he removed the tape from my mouth long enough to speak. One of the guys began to touch my butt, and then I heard the same voice that asked me about Jamir say “don’t touch her, leave her alone”. The guys then stated to us “don’t move, don’t try to get away, if you do, we will kill you”. They then closed the door and proceeded down the stairs. I could hear things breaking downstairs and being thrown on the floor. We sat there for what felt like hours. As I sat, I began loosening the rope that had my hands bound behind my back. I knew we had to get out of there. Eventually it was silent in the whole house. I waited a few more minutes and I removed the rope and then the tape from my mouth. I made my way over to Jamir’s bed where I could here my son’s godfather moaning. I was able to untie him and his friend and my boyfriend. I told them that we needed to get out of there and get to the hospital. I slowly opened the door and in the dark, grabbed the car keys off the dresser in my room. I crept down the stairs and scanned the house, no one was there. We grabbed my sons godfather and all ran to the car and sped off to the hospital.

It wasn’t until we got to the hospital that I looked at my sons godfather, his face was bloody, because they pistol whipped him. He was in pain, but I remember him looking at me saying, “you good Sana Mama?”. That was him, always making sure I was okay. He wouldn’t let me call his mother (sorry mama Marie) or his sister (love you Krys) who’s graduation from college was the very next day and he was supposed to be there. At that moment, all we had was each other. No one else was as injured as he was, so they kept him over night for observation.

When daylight came, I went back to the apartment and dealt with the police and the neighbors. My apartment was trashed. As the police dusted for finger prints and took pictures of what had became a crime scene, I just watched in awe. This just was not really my life, it couldn’t be. I made up in my mind that moment that I wouldn’t sleep another night in that apartment. So when CL was released from the hospital, we checked into a hotel. We stayed there until I was able to find another apartment.

One day, shortly after the home invasion, it was the day of the Freddy parade, I was sitting on my stoop. I had come over to do some packing and was now taking a break. This guy walked up and said hello. “Hello” I responded. I had seen him around before b
ut never spoke to him. “You need some help?”, “no I’m good”, “do you happen to have any water?” he asked, “yeah hold on”. I went in the house and came back with the bottle of water. We sat there and talked for a few minutes about how hot it was and how it was so quiet because everyone must be at the parade. Eventually I got up and said I better finish packing before it got dark since I had already turned of the electricity. As he got up and stepped off the stoop, he looked at me and said “I’m sorry”. I looked back at him for a split second and said “yeah, I know. I forgive you”. It was the same voice that asked me if my son  was home during the home invasion.

forgiveness

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A Jailhouse Message from a Jailhouse Messenger.

In 2006 I was summoned to appear in court for an old warrant. I had bounced a check and hadn’t paid it, so the store chose to press charges, drastic right?? Needless to say, I was driving home one day in Hartford from work, and got pulled over. The officer made me aware of a warrant for my arrest. The warrant was for Fairfield, CT, so when after they booked me at the Hartford police station they then transferred me to Fairfield. I was let go on a promise to appear. About 2 days later, I was pulled over again for the same warrant. Apparently the system was never updated, so again I was arrested, this time in Orange, CT and then transferred to Fairfield, CT. After processing me, I was let go on the same promise to appear. The very next day I was pulled over yet again in Hartford. This time they didn’t book me or even handcuff me. They just drove me straight to Fairfield. At this point I’m saying this is a joke. Fortunately my court date was the next day.

The next day, I wake up, get Jamir ready and he, my cousin and myself all drive to Bridgeport for my court date. Now, if you are from Bridgeport you know that the court house is ALWAYS packed. You can literally sit in there ALL day waiting for your name to be called. I walked into the court house about 10 minutes after the start of court and my name was called immediately. I walk to the front and the judge says, “Ms. Mayfield, since this is the 2nd time that your name has been called, you are now being reprimanded to the State of Connecticut department of Corrections”. I was literally in shock, it happened so fast I thought I was being punked. It wasn’t until the marshals began placing cuffs on my wrist did I realize this was real. As they are taking me away I tell my cousin to call my then boyfriend, who was all the way in New York so he could bail me out. When I get to the back of the court house I convinced one of the marshals to bring my phone to my cousin so she could make the call.

So now I am sitting in the cell of the court house. I’m surrounded by all types of females. For some reason I wasn’t scared. I wasn’t nervous, I was just aware. About 2 hours go by and I’m still sitting there. The marshal that I convinced to bring my phone to my cousin comes down and checks on me. I knew he liked me so of course I figure I’d use it to my advantage to get updates on the status of me getting out. He lowers his voice and says, “don’t worry, if your cousin doesn’t come up with your bail money, I’ll give it to her so she can bail you out before they ship you to Niantic, the women’s prison”. Niantic? wait a minute, now this is really real, I’m about to go to Niantic. Who’s going to keep my son?, what about my job? Those were only some of the questions racing through my mind now. As I sat back down on the bench I must of looked scared because one of the women came over to me and started assuring me that I would be okay.

The women proceeded to ask me my name. I told her my name was Sana. “Sana, hmmm, that name sounds familiar. You actually look familiar”. Then she says, ‘what’s your mothers name?” I told her my birth mothers name because there was no way she would have known my adopted mother. “My mother’s name is Alexis, well everyone calls her …..” “Tu-Tu” she says at the same time I said it. She then turns to the other ladies and says “Hey ya’ll, guess who’s daughter this is? This is Tu-Tu’s daughter”. Suddenly I am surrounded by about 6 women. They began telling me how my mother used to always talk about my brother and I. She hoped that we were in a good place and lived a good life. I sat there in tears as these jailhouse women began to pour into me. They weren’t speaking bible verses, they just told me all the hopes my mother had for my life. That she didn’t want me to turn out like her. How she PRAYED for me every night before it was lights out. They couldn’t believe how much I looked like her.

Before I knew it, the marshal was calling my name. My cousin had gotten in touch with my boyfriend and he wired her the bail money from New York. As I was leaving the ladies made me promise to succeed. “Be everything your mother wanted you to be”. Those words really hit me. As I rode home that day from Bridgeport my mind began to think about everything I was currently doing in my life. The clubs I went to, the guys I chose to be with, the clothes I had no business wearing. It was time for me to right these sins. This life was not the life God intended for me to live. I then began to reflect on the week I had. God had to put me in some bad situations so he could sit me still. He had a plan, a purpose for every minute of my life.

The judge thought she was punishing me for a crime, but the word of God says, “Don’t be afraid. Am I in the place of God? You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good.” Genesis 50:19b-20a(NIV).

God can reverse, restore, revive, and renew. Be on the lookout for His plans that are already in motion right now, even in the midst of your difficult time. Trust Him. He can take any circumstance and use it for your good and His glory.

Dear Lost Me.

Dear Lost me,
There was a time when your past held you hostage, Bitterness, anger, and hurt were your best friends. By being a product of the foster care and adoption system, many counted you out. You were never meant to be more than a statistic.
But then God decided to give you a glimpse of yourself through his eyes. You had to see, that others needed you to not only live through it, but to conquer it. Your victory will be the one thing that causes someone else to survive.
You are now thankful for your past, and amazed at your own story. God has given you an opportunity to serve him. He knows you will do your best job when you are not broken. So he allows you to pour yourself out unto others and proclaim your thankfulness unto him. He chooses to send you peek a boo blessings to strength your faith.
What he has done so far is no watch to what he is about to do.
Sincerely,
‪#‎AproductofHIStory

In Due Time, All Will Be Revealed.

As I am sitting here under the dryer no less, my mind begins to wonder. I begin to think of all that I am and all I have overcome simply by the grace of God. God revealed to me who I am, only when he knew he could trust me with who I was.

About three years ago I decided that I had questions that I needed answered. I had begun having flash backs of my life but I couldn’t understand what was real and what was just my imagination. I knew that the first step to getting the answers I desired was to open my adoption records.

I contacted the Dept of Children and Families in Hartford, CT and they explained that all I needed to do was to send a request in writing requesting my records and they would send them. They went on to state that depending how old my records were it could take some time as most of the old records previous to the 2000’s had been archived.

That week I sent off my request and went on about life as usual. I prayed that I would get something back that would fill every empty piece of me and cure every heartache I had ever felt.

About 6 months later I received a call from the researcher, that was assigned to my case. His name was Dan. I was quite surprised as I had honestly forgotten all about the request since I hadn’t heard anything. Dan stated that after much searching in the archives he had finally been able to locate my records. He went on to say that normally they would call and confirm the address and mail them to the clients, but after reading my records he felt compelled to deliver them in person and wanted to know if there was a date and location that we could meet. I told him that we could meet the next day at my church as I was running a summer camp and would be there all day.

The next day, myself and my husband met with Dan in one of the classrooms of the church. “Before I hand you your records, I just want to make sure that you are prepared for what you will read. Once you open them you can’t go back, you will forever be changed.” He stated. I told him I was ready and began to silently read the pages of a story. About half way through I stopped and asked him was he sure that he had grabbed the right records because the person that I am reading about surely could not be me? I continued to read the pages of a story. My story.

It was there in a classroom of my church that I found out that my mother had left me for weeks to get high. That day in the classroom of a church I found out that I had been sexually abused by a neighbor in the crack house that I was found in. Severely beaten and malnutrition. I had to live in Park City hospital for almost 6 months labeled simply as “Twin A”. It was there in that classroom when I realized why I have a fear of hospitals. Why I don’t allow myself to get close to people or furthermore, trust people. It was there in the classroom of my church that I felt God say, “You are not who you were.” It was in that classroom that I decided to embrace my past, and appreciate the wonders of God’s work.

When God hand picks you to be a fleshly example of what he can do, walk in it. Your story may not always be pretty. You may want to skip a few pages but you can not truly appreciate a good story if you skip to the end.

For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them. – Ephesians 2:10 ESV

Show Me How to Love You.

Show me loveAs I scroll through my social media sites every post is a picture of what #bae brought for them on Valentines Day. Occasionally I see a post from one of my Anti V-Day friends declaring that they Love themselves so they don’t need a valentine. I began to ponder my past valentines days through the years.

When my husband and I first met I told him that I really didn’t need a man. I was independent. I made my own money, and paid my own bills. I’m not handicap so I didn’t need him to open doors for me, or pull out my chair. I don’t eat chocolate, flowers are a waste of money, and I’m grown so I don’t do teddy bears. Year after year Valentines day would come and I would down play the day for many reasons. Some years we didn’t have the money for an expensive dinner or a surprise trip so I would say things like, “I just want to stay home and relax” or “Valentines Day is every day so this isn’t a special day to me”. Then out of no where I began to be honest with myself. I realized that I was 32 years old and I wanted romance in my marriage. I began to get mad at all those Valentines Days and anniversary’s where we did nothing, sometimes we didn’t even acknowledge it. So I started taking my frustration out on my husband. “Your not romantic” I would say. “You need to try harder” I would tell him. One day he said to me, “Tell me what to do to be more romantic”. I looked at him like he had eight heads. “TELL you what to do??, well if I need to TELL you what to do I can just do it myself!”. It was his turn to look at me like I had eight heads. “Are you mad at me because I asked you to tell me how to make you happy??”, he asked. It took me a few days to really absorb what he said. I was so mad that I couldn’t even think. A few days later I was talking to a girl at my church and we were talking about relationships and love. I was trying to encourage her and teach her something about what to expect when she finally got married, but I found myself teaching myself.

I spent 7 years of marriage telling my husband what not to do because in every previous relationship those were the things they didn’t do. I realized that I was trying not to get my hopes up to high so that way I wouldn’t have far to fall. When I finally grew up and matured in my marriage I had the nerve to get mad because I wanted more. I wanted my chair pulled out, my door opened, flowers once in a while and maybe even a teddy bear here and there. The same way I taught him how not to show love, was the same way I was going to have to teach him how to show his love. Guess what?, There is nothing wrong with being loved on. I deserve to be loved on, all the time.

So I say to all of us independent, queens, Be honest with yourself. Let him know form the start how much your love is worth because your worth it. There is nothing wrong with smelling the roses until they die, and then having new ones to smell.

“Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends.” – 1 Corinthians 13:4-8

Sometimes You Have to Love Them Enough to Let Them Go.

So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed. – John 8:36 (ESV)

The day that my twin brother and I were removed from my birth mothers care I remembered looking at him and thinking to myself, I will always take care of and protect him. That was when we were 3 years old.

From that day on I morphed into a mama bear. I spoke for him, made sure he ate, calmed his fears, and wiped his tears.

As we got older I watched him struggle in school, and become very reclusive. He became angry at life and chose to hold it all in. I watched my adopted mother struggle at how to show him her love. When he was around 15 it became really bad and he began to resort to criminal activity. I went to Bridgeport that summer in search of finding my biological family. When I came back my brother was gone. In one summer he had been arrested, placed in prison and sentenced to 7 years.

I remember sitting in my room thinking how I had failed him. I wasn’t there when he needed me most. It immediately became my priority to get a job (baby sitting) so that I could support him when he was in prison. I wrote him letters, sent pictures, took his calls, and kept his commissary full.

When he was finally released from prison he moved in with me where again, I fed him, provided a roof, purchased his clothes, ect, ect. This cycle has gone on for years and to this day continues to go on.

In 2002 God blessed me with a son. I named him Jamir, the Ja in his name means “Of God”. Jamir was the spitting image of his uncle, my twin. Over the years I looked at Jamir and I asked God not to allow him to follow down the footsteps of my brother.

Over the last few months Jamir has began acting out. He is going through a point in his life here he just wants a relationship with his dad (no Josh is not his biological father). He doesn’t understand why his dad doesn’t take care of him, call him, see him, just no relationship at all. Of course Josh and I look like the bad guys because we want him to have structure, get good grades, be respectful, all the things any good parent wishes for their child. Last week it got so bad that I decided that I was going to give him what he has asked for. I put him in the car and in the pouring rain I drove him to Bridgeport, with nothing but the clothes he had on and dropped him off at his dads house.

I cried the entire way back home. It was the hardest thing I have ever had to do.

Now some would say I abandoned my child. Some would same I’m a bad mom, but I did what most parents won’t do. I gave my son a dose of the real world, NOW, before he went searching for his own version of the real world later.

For the next three days I cried all day and night. When I wasn’t crying I was praying. On the third day I finally received the call that I was praying for. My baby wanted to come home.

Letting go doesn’t always mean giving up. Jamir needed to have an experience of his own where he had to call on Jesus for himself. I trust God and I trust that from this experience Jamir has learned to trust God. He has learned that our discipline comes from a place of both Love and fear. Fear that he is only two years away from the age my brother was when he entered prison for the first time and lost his adolescent years.

I have declared unto God that I may die trying, but I will break this generational curse of prison for the young men in my family. My son will do better because he will see better.

“My mother made the hardest decision of all and through that decision she showed her greatest love and selflessness..”

The last memory I have of my birth mother alive was me literally screaming at her. She had been in jail for about five years and I had not seen nor spoken to her since she left my brother and I in a crack house alone. When I found out I was pregnant with my son I decided to take a chance and contact Niantic to get her information and write her. When I called the jail they informed me that my mom was very sick, she was able to be discharged from the jail but she had no one that they could release her to. I informed them that I was her daughter and they could release her to me, which they did. I was so excited that I was going to be able to share in such a special time of my life with my birth mother.

A week later my mother was released from prison. Days went by and I didn’t hear from her. A week went by and nothing. I called her phone, no answer. I called her friends, no answer. I left messages, no return call. Finally one evening I was at my grandfathers house waiting for her to come home and the phone rang. It was my mother. I completely lost it. I was so angry. I remember telling her that she didn’t deserve another opportunity to know me. I told her how selfish she was and how I couldn’t stand her. Then I hung up on her.

Later that week I went to my doctors appointment. As I left my appointment I remember feeling aware of where I was leaving. The hospital. It was the weirdest feeling. I brushed it off and got on the bus to head home. When I got home I checked the caller ID and realized that I had about 40 missed calls from my cousin. Just as I was about to call her back, the phone rang and it was her telling me to come outside. “For what?” I asked her. “Who died?”, I said jokingly. “Your mom” she replied. I honestly remember not having any thought at all. She told me we needed to go to the hospital but I refused so we drove to my grandfathers house. Planning the funeral is a blur to me. Thank God for my mothers siblings because they handled it all. “How do you plan a funeral for someone you don’t even know?”,  I kept saying.

I passed out at the funeral. I just could not believe that the first and last time I would lay eyes on the women that gave birth to me since she came home from jail would be while she laid in a casket.

As the years went on, I really didn’t think about my mother, and when my thoughts wandered to that forbidden place in my mind, I would get so angry. How could she do this to me? How do you just give up your kids? How do you choose drugs over your family? How come she didn’t care enough to see me before she died? My life is a mess and it’s her fault. My son will never know his grandmother. Ugh, I used to give myself a headache with all my Why’s and How’s. I cried myself to sleep so many countless nights.

I was so busy blaming my mother for how my life turned out, that I never stopped to Thank my mother for how my life turned out.

In 2012 God began to work on me, from the inside out. I heard so many people talk about their purpose. I prayed that God would show me mine. What I didn’t anticipate was that my purpose was so deeply rooted in a decision that my mother made before I was even born. In order for my purpose to be realized my mother had to realize her purpose and her purpose was to give birth to a child that she would ultimately have to sacrifice for HIS purpose.

I spent so much time and energy making sure that I was not like her. I didn’t want to look like her, I didn’t want to talk like her, I didn’t want to make the choices she made, love the people she loved. I just did not want to be her. All that time I wasted trying not to be like her, that I couldn’t see how God had took all the best parts of her to create me.

Today I walk in my truth. I am a child that was given up for adoption. I have overcome all the odds stacked against me. I have the victory. My mother made the hardest decision of all and through that decision she showed her greatest love and selflessness because of that I am forever in debt to her.

When I Did My Work, HE Did His!

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!” 2 Corinthians 5:17 (NIV)

I never imagined that I would be posting this particular blog post. I had made up my mind, things were NEVER going to change!

If you have followed my blog and read any of my previous post, then you know the history of my son’s father and I. If you haven’t, I’ll sum our history up in one word, TOXIC. We had that Chris Brown and Rhianna love before Chris Brown and Rhianna ever discovered it. The only good that came from it was our son.

Through the years I made up my mind that I was not going to have anything at all to do with him. I was frustrated, stressed out, annoyed and truth be told I was still hurt from the pain he cause my heart. As strong and independent as I am I had allowed someone to become apart of me that almost caused me to lose my mind. When Josh and I got together he stopped me from fighting for child support and partaking in anymore fights and arguments. He showed me that it wasn’t worth it and the real person that was hurting was Jamir, not me. So, a few years ago, when Jamir was old enough to get his own phone, I cut off all communication between his dad and I. I blocked him from my phone, I blocked him from social media, and ensured that he only had access to Jamir.

Around August of 2015 a friend of mine said, have you ever considered praying for him? I looked at her like she was crazy, praying for him? Yeah right! I’m a Christian, but God excused me from praying for him, LOL! I joked with her and then forgot about it. A few days later God began to bring the conversation back to my mind and then pierce my heart. He spoke to me and said “You laugh and joke but the truth is, You call yourself a Christian, how could you not pray for him? Don’t I love you through all your sin? You break my heart every day and I still forgive and Love you. He is my child just as you are” Whoa! Talk about feeling foolish. I felt like a fool. If you had looked up the word conviction on that day, there my picture would be.

So, I began to pray for him. When I prayed for my husband, my kids, my parents, my leaders, my boss, my friends, I prayed for him. Since I complained about the six dollars in child support that I received via his earnings being withheld, I began to pray that God would provide him a better job, increase his income. I prayed for his health, so sickness wouldn’t attack his body, I prayed for God to cover him so death wouldn’t come his way, I prayed for him to treat his significant other good so she would always treat my child good,  I prayed that he would realize the importance his presence represented to Jamir. It took some time, I didn’t see the results of my prayers immediately, but we know how perfect God’s timing is.

In September, he showed up to Jamir’s football game. The first time he has ever seen Jamir play. In December he sent him a Christmas gift, the second time he has ever done that. In January I noticed that my child support payments began to increase a little, and I never went to court to have it enforced or increased. Two weeks ago Josh had to preach in Bridgeport and the boys dance group that Jamir is apart of at our church was accompanying him to minister. About 15 minutes from the church God spoke to me and told me to text him and invite him to see Jamir dance, so I did. When we arrived at the church, he was there. I was SHOCKED to say the least. He told me that he wasn’t going to be able to stay, but he at least wanted to come by and see Jamir really quick. The service had already started so I went in and took my seat. A few minutes later, Jamir came in and sat with his group in the row in front of me. I looked behind me and there sat Jamir’s dad and his aunt. As the service went on I kept looking behind me, and every time I looked, he was still sitting there a few rows behind me.  When Jamir’s group got up to minister, he was still there, recording Jamir dancing. When Josh got up to preach he made his acknowledgements, and because he is the stand up guy that he truly is, he acknowledged Jamir’s father. My heart wept. Josh preached his socks off that day. His sermon was entitled “In the Fire”, and it was so on time. When the benediction was done, I looked behind me, and there still sat Jamir’s father. He ended up telling his job he would be late, and stayed for the entire service. My God.

It has been a long 15 years. When I look back over history, I would have never thought we would be sitting in church together, as friends, as my HUSBAND preached Gods word. There is NOTHING that God can not do. There is NOTHING to small or minuscule to him when it concerns us, his children. His only requirement is our faith and obedience.