I have always wanted to return to school. I was a straight-A honor student in high school, but I had such low self-esteem. Looking for what I thought was love, I became pregnant at age 16, and although I stayed in school, having a child meant my life would take a different turn. I got married and started my work life. Because I had been raised by very strict parents, I had little to no knowledge of the "world", and I proceeded to make many life mistakes. I had no idea of how to pay bills or maintain a household. My husband had sickle cell anemia and was unable to work, so at 17, I was the sole support for my child. Needless to say, my marriage failed and I was a single mom. I remarried a few years later and had two more children. When that marriage failed, I became the single mother of three children, but I never stopped working; never stopped trying to live right before my children (I raised them in church and i was very active, as well.); and I tried to give them the best life possible. I often ate peanut butter sandwiches so they could have the good food. They were never without basic needs and I was even able to provide some form of entertainment for them often. Through all this, I never gave up on returning to school one day. Once my kids became adults, I even had custody of four grandchildren for nine years. During that time, I acknowledged my call to the ministry, serving my church and community while maintaining a full-time job and caring for the grandkids. In 2019, I realized it was "my time", and decided to return to school. Shortly thereafter, I was diagnosed with a GIST, a rare cancerous tumor, but I still kept up my studies and finished the semester with two A's and two B's (even though I had to have surgery). Presently, I am on chemotherapy and will be indefinitely, but I have maintained my studies and it is my goal to obtain a doctorate one day in Biblical/Theological Studies. I hope to teach on a college level, at the same time teaching and preaching Jesus in church settings and wherever I am called. I feel that because God gave me another chance at life, I owe it to Him and to myself to live my life to the fullest, and to be of service to others for the rest of my life.

I was married twice, and both my husbands were abusive. I never sought help because I was ashamed, which I know is the case for many abused women. The first husband was a sickly man with sickle cell anemia who suffered pain crises often. When he was in pain, he struck out at me. I was a very young wife with a baby who had never had to work. I found myself in the situation of having to support my son and my husband, who was also a philanderer. Having a job gave me some independence, and I had good friends who encouraged me to leave the abusive situation, as much for my son as for myself. I did just that and never looked back. Sadly, some years later, I married a man who seemed so kind and gentle, but I was later to discover he had a dependence on alcohol and marijuana. I had always thought marijuana was not addictive, but I came to doubt that because when he had weed, he was so sweet and loving, but when he didn't have it, and couldn't find the residual of it (called "roaches") in the ashtrays, he became angry and violent. Although he worked, it was just to support his habit. I was the sole support for my children (by then I had three) and the household. I never knew when he would hit me, but I became afraid for my children. Also, I didn't want my son to think it was okay to abuse women, and I didn't want my girls to think it was okay to let a man abuse them. The last confrontation we had I was plotting to hurt him (he was so angry he had no idea), but I realized that at that time spousal abuse was very much a news item, and I had read of judges and other officials who had abused their wives. I thought to myself that if I hurt him, I might be brought before such a judge who would take me from my children. I chose to walk out of the house; call 911; and have the police to remove him from my house. He was not one to want trouble with the law, so we decided to separate and eventually divorce. I vaguely remember thinking at one point that maybe I had caused him to want to hit me, and that frightened me, because it wasn't true, and I realized I was falling into some sort of "trap" with that kind of thinking. Thank God I came to myself. I don't want any woman to think they deserve to be beaten or abused in any way. I hope to be able to counsel African American women, teaching them how precious they are in the sight of God and that they are worthy of love--self-love first, and that no one has a right to abuse them. I plan to become involved with some service in my community that addresses these issues and others that African American women face.

My mother NEVER stopped telling me how much she loved me and how much she believed in me. I had issues with self-esteem although I was a straight-A honor student because I was a little fat girl. She always said it was more for her to love and encouraged me to ignore the naysayers. As a young girl, my mom was molested by her stepfather and carried much of that hurt with her until she was saved. She was always very protective of us (four girls) and I knew she'd fight a tiger or worse if she needed to on my behalf. Mom raised me in the church, giving me a firm foundation in Jesus Christ. When I told her I had been called to ministry, she was one of my biggest supporters, knowing this (a woman being called to ministry) was not really accepted in my community. Although we were of different denominations, she never let it stop her from supporting my ministry. She was my biggest encourager!