My parents were my first teachers. There was nothing they could not advise me on. I was four years old listening to my father deliver a sermon in our home and remember being bothered by the fact that he was mocking Jesus. Not that I didn't believe my Dad, but my curiosity was sparked in the mocking of Jesus. It was my father who taught me to never laugh at someone's shortcomings, to respect and love all men. It was a very hard pill to swallow when I came to the realization that my father was wrong about Islam being the way of life.
God loves to see his children seeking his truth. It was amazing how answers would be revealed to me once I started pondering life's secrets.
I learned early that God spoke through everyday people. "Crazy Carol" from across the hall had plenty of Godly information for me. I simply had to slow down and give her some time and listen. Being a busy twenty something-year-old slowing down to listen was exasperating.
During one of her many visits to my apartment one day she used the word "remembrance" and I thought to myself, "she is crazy as catfish just making up words." Not long after I'm watching T.D. Jakes on television and there it is right there in the scripture, the word remembrance. Crazy Carole not so crazy.
God works outside the box. I began to converse with her every chance I could realizing she was a blessing to me, and not the other way around.
During those years and many after Carole would show up in my life at just the "right" time and bless me with whatever I was in need of. Sometimes it would be money, food, a word of wisdom, or just her laughter and bright smile to let me know she was alright.
My mother, with three of her sisters... yes the Sunday hats were everything
Me & hubby-years and babies later
My parents
I remember thinking I had to be an old woman to understand the Bible. The church seemed to be filled with old ladies. Not being disrespectful, I was a child. I thought age was a prerequisite. I wanted to know what these ladies knew. I wanted to know what made them sing from the heart, and I wanted to know what was in the Bible.
I just did not know how to begin to read it. Making sense of the “thus’s and thous” was too complicated, so I placed Bible reading on the back burner. I told myself in time, I would read the Bible when I was ready because I did not want to "play" with His Word.
I was in my mid-twenties when I found myself asking God to send someone that could and would help me understand the Bible and the meaning of life. Often while sitting in the backseat of the car (my sister and girlfriends chatting around me) I would gaze out the window and pray to God for someone to enter my life that I could trust with my inner questions. This, someone, had to be smart and nonjudgmental because I thought I was a little crazy. I was blessed shortly with a friendship that later turned into marriage. Over the next few years together we read and studied the Bible. The more I learned, the more I wanted to learn. Questions were answered. Confusion subsided, insecurities died, and I began to rest in the Lord.
I was born into the Nation of Islam. By the age of six, my family was living in South Carolina and were not actively participating, although as a family we lived our lives with some of the Muslim values. I knew there was a God (Allah) that was with you at all times. I knew Jesus to be a regular man, not the Son of God. As a child, I knew there had to be more than Islam.
The religion just didn't seem quite right to me. It was one-sided, unfair, and prejudice. Knowing where I come from, how it was set up from the very beginning for me not to receive the word of God, I do not take God's word for granted. I know I've been blessed to come to know God and His Son.
I was seven years old when I heard my mother tell my father, "my kids are celebrating Christmas this year." Well, that was the best Christmas ever! More special than the bicycle was the red Bible with my name inscribed on the front that my Mother placed in a shoebox filled with oranges, pecans, and peppermints.
My mother soon returned back to her roots of Christianity and began to play the piano for the church up the street. She did not require us to attend church, but I remember this being a happy time in her life. Daddy would go every now and then to hear her play.
