���Lord, I���m On ���E������Can I Get a Refill…Fulfilled?��� Blog Series Part 5
*This entry is a part of a continuous series, reading the previous entries will help you follow without missing a beat*
One week not long after the inauguration, I had this dream for seven nights straight always picking up where it left off the night before. I was being chased by someone, I didn���t know who because I couldn���t see his face but he had a knife and he chased me around my house, throughout my neighborhood, through every room of my church and on the seventh night I fell to the ground, he fell on top of me with his knife raised���and���and��� I woke up. Never to dream that dream again. I later dreamed another dream consistently that I was falling off this very tall building and I would lose my breath as I was falling, however I never saw myself hit the ground. At the time, I was totally clueless as to what these dreams meant.
I was about 9 on the brink of 10 when my brother and I went to his father���s house one day and he and his friends were 
drinking and smoking pot. My brother and I were curious so we snuck one of his cigarettes and got caught smoking it. His father decided to teach us a lesson and allowed us to drink as many pony beers as we wanted and smoke from his marijuana bong. Needless to say we were sick as dogs and we never told our mother about that weekend. We also vowed that we would never do that again.
My mom was a single mother and she was struggling to raise my two brothers and me. I remember times when even with her best efforts, the lights were out or times when we had no food whatsoever but she would always pull a rabbit out of her hat to provide for her children. I remember one particular time when our electricity was turned off and we had to put all of our bologna, bread, mayonnaise, juice, etc. in the window to stay cold so we could have something to eat. Despite all of that, my mom would always bounce back and give to others. She would make meals out of some flour and a few can goods. I remember thinking my mom was some great inventor, magician or something because she always seemed to make a way out of no way. I didn���t realize until later how much of herself she sacrificed for us.
By the time I was 10 years old, I was crossing the street one day and I was hit (grazed) by a metro bus which subsequently caused me to have black-out spells for years (totally embarrassing in the middle of class). I was on Dilantin for most of my childhood. My grandmother and other family members began coming down on my mom a lot because of my seizures. My mom would have to drop everything on many occasions and come up to the school or meet the ambulance at the hospital. It began to take a toll on her and one day in the heat of anger she told me she didn’t like me. I never really knew my dad, just heard stories about him so when my mom told me this, I didn’t know what to think or how to react. I remember hearing one story about my dad being in a car accident that rendered him sterile so I was the only child he could have.
One day out of what seemed like the clear blue sky my mom told me my dad was coming over and I came home from school for the first time to come face to face with my father. He didn���t really pay much attention to me; he wanted to talk to my mother. When he left, I cried for hours, partly because he didn���t seem to want me at all and because after he left, my only picture of me and Mayor Marion Barry from the Inauguration Luncheon seemed to be missing. All I had left was a copy that my mom had managed to get from one of my classmates mom. This angered me and I really felt so unwanted and unloved.
At 12 years old, I entered the 7th grade and my Home Economics teacher, the late Mrs. Margaret Collins also saw something in me as she watched a group of us raging hormone teenagers sit at the table talking. I remember thinking, ���why am I in this class? I don���t want to learn how to sew or cook, just let me read a book and I will be happy���. Well, let���s just say God heard my thoughts because Mrs. Collins told me about Future Homemakers of America (FHA), an organization comprised of students that encouraged their peers to focus on education, careers and family. I didn���t know much about this organization but when she asked me to join, I said yes. ��After a few months in her class and under Mrs. Collins guidance I ran for Regional President of FHA and won.
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