From Poverty to Riches in Christ Jesus

The property at 651 Strand Lane, a place I called home for nearly eighteen years, will be forever etched in my mind. It is with innocence, unawareness, and much ignorance that I look back, reminiscing about my humble beginnings. Humble had a profoundly different meaning for me as a young girl growing up in a government-subsidized neighborhood. My mom was divorced and sick, and her sickness was a constant reality for her. She was trapped in all ways imaginable. I was a product of her reality. The state of being confused and being alone in every sense of the word became my own personal reality.

I have one fleeting memory of a man who was carrying me up the stairs while scolding me because I was crying, wanting to go to school with my sisters. I came to recognize this man as my father. I would not see him again until many years later when I attended his funeral. I would meet up with his family, whom I knew no better than I’d known the man who was part of my existence.

Everyone has a story, his or her own way of seeing things, each involving different circumstances and, at times, different interpretations.

Later in life, I would find myself praying to my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, asking, “How do I defend myself? How do I make things right? How do I know and discern the truth based on the facts from my perspective and without believing a lie? How do I take responsibility for my faults, and how do I refrain from owning that which has been so wrong?” Well, I can’t. I am a human being with the same vital needs that are crucial to any person growing from a child into an adult—the basic needs that equip us for this world. How does one find oneself playing catchup years later, only to come to the conclusion that it may not be possible to catch up in a cold, unkind, and at times cruel world?