Doing God’s Will

Chapter 1

Childhood

On April 6, 1972, my paternal grandfather died. I always heard stories about my grandfather. I wish I would have met him, but death waits for no one. He was buried on April 9 and on the morning of April 10, a beautiful baby girl was born. Yes, I said beautiful. If I don’t say to myself that I am beautiful, then who will.

God has had me covered ever since I was a baby. God would wake my maternal grandfather up the same time every morning. My maternal grandmother repetitively talked about how he used to rise early in the morning around 3 or 4 o’clock and tend to me. He always made certain that I was taken care of and had provision. I always felt safe around my grandfather and at peace in his presence. My grandfather must have known that God had a plan for my life.

When I was younger, I always felt like the people I loved the most were dying. I remember being mad at my dad, because he would not take me to see one of my cousins in the hospital who had leukemia. When I finally saw my cousin after his hospital stay, I felt dreadful, because I did not go and see him in the hospital. Though it was beyond my control, I felt as though I had deserted him. When he died, it really bothered me. He was so full of life and always made people laugh.

When my maternal grandfather passed, I cried profusely. I was around 8 or 10 years old at the time. I was upset with my cousin, because I thought that he could have done something to save my maternal grandfather’s life. As I grew older, I realized that was not the case. I just wanted my grandfather back. It was around this time that I recall seeing a vision of what I believed to be Jesus. When I attended my grandfather’s funeral, they sang, “What A Friend We Have in Jesus”. That song has stuck with me all these years. I vowed even then I would not forget that song.

During my early years, my grandfather would spoil me. When he took his insulin shots, he would pretend he was going to stick me with the needle. I miss my grandfather proclaiming truisms of wisdom. When we used to fall off our bikes, he would utter, “Dust yourself off and get back up again.” I recall conveying to a couple of guys what my grandfather declared. As I became older, I recognized that this cliché could be applied to life.

My grandfather and I had mutual love for one another. He never spanked me. My sister and I tussled over a chair I had been sitting in. My grandfather got his belt out. I was petrified. My grandfather gave my sister a spanking so bad that I could feel her pain. I thought that he was going to spank me next. Thank God he didn’t. I knew I was the apple of his eye and that I was special to him. Not only did my grandfather spoil me, but my maternal grandmother did as well. She would hide chitterlings for me and tell her children she did not have anymore. She would tell me to be quiet and hand me a plate of chitterlings that she hid just for me. Oh, how I miss those days.

When we were little, my siblings and I stayed with my maternal grandparents on the weekends. My grandmother continually made certain that we attended church. My grandmother made certain that all her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren attended church when they stayed at her house. We were in the sanctuary every time the doors of the church were open. We rose up early on Sunday morning to eat breakfast and walked down to the church. My grandmother taught Sunday School, so she taught us. After Sunday School, we would venture off to my great-grandmother’s house to get some snacks to eat, but we had to be back for the regular church service. We sang in the Sunshine Band, the children’s choir. We also said our speeches when it was Easter and Christmas. We traveled on church trips to Carowind’s and other youth outings. We also attended Vacation Bible School. Nightly, we would kneel by the bedside and pray.

My maternal grandmother loved us unconditionally, whether we exhibited acceptable or unacceptable behavior. She would correct us in love. She showed us grace and mercy. She was an epitome of God’s agape love. I believe that my grandmother had spiritual gifts and could see us through God’s lenses. I adored being around her. She would offer tidbits of sage and wisdom. She would say things like, “You have to listen to somebody.”

My grandmother and my great-aunt always knew the right words to say when I visited them in their nursing home rooms. I knew that they were saying what God told them to say. There were times when I would not say anything, and they would say the right words I needed to hear. When I went to visit my grandmother one night at the nursing home, I recall her telling me to always stay out in front in whatever I set my mind to do. She also told me that she knew that my mom was going to die. By the time she told me, I was mature enough to handle it. My great-aunt told me that everything was going to be alright. How did she know? I did not tell her what I was going through at the time. But God.

I was able to spend some time with my paternal grandmother. My dad would take us over there and spend countless time conversing with my grandmother about various events. I spent more time with her when I became an adult. I would go to her house and listen to her words of wisdom. I would discuss my relationships with her. I remember her telling me to stay the way I was, and she wished that I would meet someone nice.

As time went on, I remember receiving salvation and being water baptized at the age of 13 at Gethsemane Baptist Church. Inquisitively, my aunt wanted to know if I was knowledgeable about the significance of the water baptism. My dad didn’t appear to be too happy about it and wasn’t very supportive. That is when the opposition began.

I was sitting in church one Sunday as usual. My parents came and got me out of church, because my uncle accused me of stealing his money. That was one of the worse days of my life. We went home and looked through the dirty clothes hamper to find the clothes I had on the previous day. My parents inspected the pockets and found no money. I told my parents I did not pilfer the money and told them that my cousin did. My aunt showed us where the money was and told me to get the money. I refused to do so. Then, she told my cousin, her daughter, to snatch the money, and my cousin complied. I was so petrified that I could have urinated in my pants.

When my parents came to the realization that I was being truthful, my dad let his family have it with a few choice words. After that, we did not go over to my paternal grandmother’s house or my dad’s other family members’ houses for a long time. Frankly speaking, my dad held a grudge and it took some time for him to forgive his family. Until this day, I still recollect that experience like it happened yesterday. I have occasionally mentioned it. It’s ironic how occurrences from our childhood can remain entrenched in our adult minds.