Yes it hurts…

holding handsPersonal feedback:
Several people have told me that they are waiting until their parents die to write the book. I have thought in my mind but not aloud, what if you die first?

I am writing this for me and all the other women who have lived through similar circumstances and were told not to tell. I am not ashamed of the what I have experienced because it has made me who I am today.

Not all of my stories are sad or tragic. For all of the things my mother couldn’t control there were the things that she did well. My mother is a strong black woman who exposed me to a lot of things that were not always offered to black children like a strong education, culture, literature, family, spirituality, and simply a home to lay my head at night. I know many adults who’s mother just succumbed to alcohol or drugs. My mother always kept it moving and she told me to always do the same. That was the strength in her weakness… to keep moving.

This is my story of how circumstances and choices could have destroyed my life and even killed me. It’s not about who my parents are, what cards I was dealt or even the mistakes I made. It’s about having the heart to trust and obey God when I came to the crossroads that changed my life. It’s about having the courage to correct wrongs and then turning around to help someone else who needed the experience of victory along the way.

It hurts when I do this… but I have already won. So I will keep it moving.