The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.

Death at 40

Memoir of a Struggling Christian

All Rights Reserved.

Copyright © 2013 C.A. Shaffer

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DEDICATION

To God the Father my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ How dare I doubt your love, power, and glory?

To my mother, family members, and friends, Your love has made me the woman and person that I am today.

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

God is the Glory and I give all praise and honor to Him. He chose me, and what an honor and privilege to serve. Therefore, I come humbly before the Lord and thank the Father for not taking His hands of protection from around my life. Jesus has guided me through this journey, and has constantly lifted and carried me.

I can never thank my mother, father, and step-dad enough for their love, understanding, and support throughout the years. I just praise and thank God that I still have them in my life.

To one of many editors who helped me through this trial, Justin Brimmer, who challenged me to deliver the best product to the people of God. Without Justin, I would have been lost in so many areas. Justin continuously stayed in prayer for me and a person can never ask for more than that. Thanks Jaygle!

To my two sisters, who brutally helped me revise parts of this memoir, I thank you sincerely.

To everyone who prayed and interceded for me on behalf of this memoir, thank you, because your obedience and dedication are most appreciated.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

PART I

DREAMS

FRIENDS AND FAMILY

THE EARLY LIFE

PART II

SERVING IN THE ARMY

ROMANS, COUNTRYMEN, AND ARMY FRIENDS

THE 2ND EX-HUSBAND

PART III

FAREWELL, ARMY

IT ALL COMES TOGETHER

APPENDICES

APPENDIX A, Social Media Information

APPENDIX B, Mini Dream Dictionary

APPENDIX C, Dream Worksheet

NOTES

INTRODUCTION

Death at 40, Memoir of a Struggling Christian, is the story of my journey in discovering my spirituality through the revelation of who God is and the meaning of His powerful prophetic words.

My pilgrimage perhaps is a constant journey of developing my relationship with God and learning true knowledge through His words, with the end resulting in fulfilling one’s calling: a calling that incorporates or employs the gifts of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

Yes, I have experienced heightened victories in Christ throughout this journey, as well as agonizing and shameful struggles and defeats in rising above trials and walking through tribulations, along with giving in to assorted temptations.

The key for me is to press forward, stay faithful, to keep my focus on the one true God each day.

Why am I writing my memoir today? Well, my memoir is an idea from God, a collection of personal thoughts, and compilations of shocking and memorable moments from my life. Why me? Why now? I am not special. In fact, I am a very ordinary individual who lives a very ordinary life, such as trying to make a living with my talents, trying to fit in when I can, trying to live a decent life, and trying to obtain my dreams.

So again, why me? Well, the Lord works in mysterious ways that are, at times, impossible to explain or define. So mysterious are the Lord’s ways that without warning or even a small notice or introduction, God came upon me in a dream the summer of 2004 just before ending my military obligation. God revealed to me in a dream that I would write a book. In the dream, He gave me the title of the book, the names of the chapters, and financial instructions. That’s it!

I wrote down the information without giving it much thought, and I did not revisit the idea until January of 2005, due to a strong nudging from the Lord. Coincidentally, over the last twelve years, I have kept journals of my dreams and life experiences, so I assumed the dream was merely prompting me to organize the journal entries by chapters. In my attempts to organize the journals, I became highly frustrated by not knowing where or how to start, so I abandoned the idea. Once again, as a result, I failed to act and move on the word of God, which could have cost me my life for being blatantly disobedient. My thoughts were, “Forget this! Who has time for such ridiculous things?!” So I blew it off completely, which means I blew God off.

FAST FORWARD

In a down economy, I started to brainstorm ways to make money off the current financial situation of our government, Wall Street, and major industries, and I came up with a great idea to execute. On June 26, 2008, as I lay down to end my day, I felt so proud and smug with myself for deciding to finally write my business plan for CAS and Sons Business Consulting Firm. My consulting firm was going to revolutionize the small-to-medium-sized business sectors with innovative ways to increase sales in a recessionary market. I was going to sell how to reinvent your business in a down economy. I had even purchased cheap business plan software from Office Depot, and I was on a mission impossible, baby! I felt on fire with this idea of mine, because I knew I would be on to a great business endeavor.

As I slipped into a very comfortable deep sleep, I felt a presence grab and firmly shake me. I felt warmth around me, and I was not sure if I was caught up to another spiritual dimension or not. As my head was spinning like a top from the surreal excitement, I heard a commanding voice: “You will not write your business plan! You will finish your memoir, and it will be done by the end of this summer!”

Immediately, I sat up, opened my eyes, and began to catch my breath. I did not know if I was suffering from bad indigestion, dreaming, or just talking to myself. Was the experience real? Was the spirit of God really speaking to me?

It was real. It was God. I guess this is where the journey begins…again.

Urged to give my testimony, I hope that I am connected to my calling as an apostolic evangelist. The bottom line is that we all have a story to tell, and a testimony to give. Now here is mine.

DREAMS

“For God does speak—now one way, now another,

though man may not perceive it;

In a dream, in a vision of the night,

when deep sleep falls on men,

as they slumber in their beds;

He may speak in their ears, terrify them with warnings,

to turn man from wrongdoing and keep him from pride,

to preserve his soul from the pit,

his life from perishing by the sword.”

Job 33:14-18

Strawberries, whipped cream, and sponge cake. It was well after dinnertime and my taste buds were screaming for something sweet. My dedication to my workout routine surely meant that I’d earned it, so I wanted to make it worth it. Even though it would mean a trip to the store, there was nothing in my house that would satisfy this craving, so strawberry shortcake it was.

I glanced at my watch and was surprised that it was already 10 p.m. I sat for a moment and began to evaluate the situation. Yes, it was a little late to walk the streets, but the grocery store was just a short walk from my house, not to mention it was a nice cool night, perfect for a brisk walk. I decided it was worth the risk, threw on my shoes, grabbed my jacket, and headed for the door.

As I left my place, I canvassed the block to see who and what was stirring about, but all was quiet. I had managed to make a full block when suddenly I felt a dark presence walking behind me. I walked a little faster, but the steps behind me increased; in a matter of seconds, the steps became coordinated with my own.

There was nothing behind but darkness around me, but I knew they were there, and that I was not afraid. After a few deep breaths and a silent pep talk, I finally got enough gumption to turn around, with as much attitude as I could muster. The breaths were trapped in my chest as I turned to see who was behind me, and to my surprise, my eyes could discern the silhouettes of not only one man, but also three men. Surely, they were simply three friends out for a walk, or perhaps making their way to the store as well. I let out the breath I was holding, and told myself there was no need to panic. The store was just a block away, and if I could just make it there, I would be safe.

Without warning, one of the three men grabbed me from behind and forced me to come to a screeching halt. He violently whipped me around and stared straight through me with eyes of total darkness, like that of an abyss. Suddenly, an unsettling raspy voice whispered, “We are going to rob and kill you tonight.” The air around us became deathly cold, and I could feel the other two men’s breath on my neck. My “fight or flight” instincts instantly kicked in as the fine hairs on my neck began to rise to attention.

I pulled away as hard as I could and ran with an adrenaline pump I have never experienced before. I ran so fast that I thought I’d lost them, and felt the fear inside me begin to give way to relief. Out of nowhere, I came to a fence and mentally prepared my body for an upper body hoist. As I paralleled my waist with the fence, I lunged my right leg over the top of the fence for leverage. The moment I got a grip on the fence, I felt a forceful rock hit me in the back.

As though in slow motion, I felt myself falling backwards, although everything was happening lightning-fast. The cold concrete sent sharp pains throughout my body as I came down upon it with great speed. I buckled in shock just as one of the men who was chasing me appeared. He stood over me pointing a black automatic handgun squarely in my face, and he stared down at me as he unloaded fiery round after round into my chest and stomach. My body swallowed each round as the bullets ricocheted and bounced from one organ to the next.

My white blouse turned into a pool of velvet red as I began coughing up blood, and I was feeling myself begin to fade quickly. I kept blinking, trying to maintain consciousness, but I knew it was hopeless. There was no one in sight for me to call for help, and it took only seconds for the men standing over me to become a blur. As I drifted into a quasi dream world, all I could hear was the sound of them heckling, laughing, and watching as I lay in a bed of despair.

My thoughts were racing like crazy. I could not believe I was going to die this way. I still had things I wanted to accomplish, goals I wanted to reach, dreams I wanted to see come to fruition. I still wanted to fall deeply in love, get happily married, have children, and advance in my career. I wanted to learn how to cook gourmet meals, and scuba-dive off the coast of Jamaica. With each second, it became harder to breathe; it was taking everything I had to simply inhale and exhale. I knew that I was slowly fading to death when suddenly my eyes opened and the familiar items of my bedroom surround me. It was a just a dream. Yes, a dream.

As far back as I can remember, I have always had very vivid and very ghastly dreams. The dreams started when I was around eighteen without any harrowing experience prompting them. I was too young to realize that the dreams were God’s way of getting my attention. He would disturb my sleep and fill my nights with warnings, prophetic dreams, and visions. I learned to pay attention to the lessons, and open my mind to what God was saying. He always had a message to share with me, and I quickly learned that Satan did as well.

SUDDEN DEATH

Over the years and growing into womanhood, my dreams would have a series of themes. One of the first and most frequently recurring themes was dreaming of my death almost every night. On numerous occasions, I have found myself waking up in a mortified sweaty state because I thought I had just taken my last breath or just slipped into unconsciousness from loss of blood.

I have seen myself, over and over again drown, shot, knifed, eaten alive by different animals, killed in all types of vehicular accidents and airplane accidents, raped, gang raped, set on fire, killed on several operating tables, fallen from high cliffs to jagged rocks, and strangled.

When the time for sleep came, I found myself sitting by my bed with a bottle of Jack Daniels, listening to unknown Techno bands, debating whether to lie down or not. After some time of drinking, I became extremely relaxed and drunk. Usually, I would fall asleep, hoping that my mind would be so intoxicated that my dreams would escape me. That just was not my luck.

Despite my efforts, one particular night in a dream, I was gang raped repeatedly. After they raped me, they placed me in a plastic bag and doused gasoline all over me. I was set on fire, and I could feel the plastic melting on my skin, and later my skin peeling away from my bones. I could feel my hair retreating to my scalp, and my scalp retreating to my skull. My lungs were filling up with flames, heat, and smoke. I woke up with my bed soaked in sweat, to realize that I had slept only 45 minutes that night. The more terrifying the dreams, the more I would drink to escape the terror.

I never told anyone about my dreams because I thought they would think that I was a weirdo. I would often wonder what was wrong with me. There were times when I would go to parties or visit friends’ homes and would overhear people talking about nightmares, but I never chimed into their conversations due to my own uneasiness. I just figured it was my own living hell of torment night after night.

It was not until many years later that I confided in an evangelist friend of mine these recurring dreams. She felt that the recurring theme of death indicated a major and sudden change in my life, which I never experienced until years later. Were these dreams foreshadowing what was to come? In explaining the symbolism of my dreams, she never alluded to Satan being the originator of my dreams, but felt they were from God.

I really had no clue that God can speak to you through dreams. In the Book of Job, chapter 33, verse 15 declares that God sends us dreams that are terrifying dreams to get our attention, which also prevents us from perishing if we adhere to the warning.

Dreams that are frightening are sometimes warning us that this could be the outcome if we do not change our course of action. These dreams are to deter us from our current course of action, for our benefit and salvation. In addition, repeated dreams recur because the dreamer did not hear and act on the message of the dream the first time.

Still, at this time, I had no clue. I knew that the dreams happened only at night and when I slept alone, so when time permitted, I partied to all hours to avoid them, and kept much company.

MAN IN BLACK, THE NIGHTMARES

The death theme carried on and evolved into ruthless nightmares. Dreams of a man dressed in a black beanie covering the top of his eyes, a black windbreaker zipped all the way up, a pair of black pants, and black shoes would appear in my dream life. His face was a silhouette of a black vacuum. He seemed to take pleasure in breaking into my apartment to enter my bedroom, where I lay waiting for my death. I never heard him break in or tamper with a window, but to my surprise, he would just suddenly appear face to face on my bed with me every night. I could feel his exhalations on my face as he placed a cold silver knife to the pulse of my throat. I felt the weight of his body pressing hard against me. His goal was to end my life, while at the same time teasing me with the kill.

The man in black had a fetish for binding me with rope so that he could repeatedly stab me. When he got tired of knifing me, he would switch to strangling me.

Relentless in nature, the man in black just would not go away. At one point, I expected him to visit every night in my dreams. It was almost like an unconfirmed date. I thought on some nights, I could fool him and sleep on the couch, but no luck. He appeared in my dreams even when I fell asleep on the couch. My only sanctuary was taking naps during the day. It seemed as if that was the only way to get sound sleep.

THE ’40S

Leaving for a sabbatical, the man in black left me for a spell and my dreams progressed into dreaming of my death at the age of forty. No matter what, when I died in these dreams, I was always forty years old. Somehow, in the dreams, I always knew my age, and the number 4-0 stood out. This set of dreams really stuck to my psyche and caused me to celebrate the fact that I was still alive on all of my birthdays, except the actual fortieth birthday. I always felt I was that much closer to fulfilling what I thought was my destiny of literally, physically dying at forty years old.

When I had these death dreams, the feelings I had when I woke up were terrorizing. Due to my reactions to these dreams, I always thought Satan was attacking me, but I was wrong. These dreams were from God, who was warning me of my ways and foreshadowing what was to come in my life. At any rate, I suffered massive sleep deprivation, which is a terrible experience.

As the wheels continued to turn, I continued to lose much time trying to escape sleeping at night; time that could not be replaced. Ten to fifteen years of lost sleep cannot be a gift from God; it can be only the result of sin. However, by the end of my twenties, my dreams stopped for a while.

GOOD OLE HOUSE

Nevertheless, my dreams picked up while in my early thirties. As luck would have it, the death dreams stopped, and I started dreaming about living in my old house as a kid, which was comforting for me. These dreams were so vivid and alive to me; I would often feel forced to wake up and record them.

The setting of these dreams centered on my old house or about me repairing it with my father, or cooking food for family members. In the dreams, I would cook food for family and friends, and I was always worried that I would run out of food, but at the end of serving, there was always an abundance of food left over.

Sometimes the dreams would concentrate on rooms of the house, such as the kitchen, where I would cook and serve, or the bedroom, where I would watch television, or sometimes the bathroom, where the toilet did not work. Often, the dreams centered on activities in the backyard where my father would have me clean the backyard or the garage, or my father would instruct me to plant vegetables or fruit in the backyard.

For some strange reason, my mother would always be in the house cleaning or instructing me, while my father was always outside in the backyard or on top of the roof. Sometimes, I would be in a house that I have never seen in real life, but I knew it was my home.

My dreams of my old house made me feel spirited and safe. Yet out of nowhere, they evolved into total nightmares. In the dreams, my old house would be in a backdrop of a dark cloudy storm with pulverizing wind and rain. My house would come under attack that caused me to wake up, and the time was always around 3 a.m. I always found these dreams to be more disturbing because snakes and lions would approach the house or walk up the driveway. These ferocious and harmful animals never entered the house; it was as if they were waiting for me to exit the house in order to devour me.

I remember in one particular dream, I was in my old house on Halldale Street, and my mother instructed me to take the trash out to the dumpster. So, I took the trashcan out to the curb for collection, and I noticed a snake head peeking through the garbage. I stepped back and started to walk backward, while the snake started to slither out of the trashcan toward me. The snake became monstrous and started slithering up my driveway toward the porch of my house. Suddenly, two other snakes appeared and joined the one snake, but I was able to escape. The snake in the trashcan had every opportunity to bite me when I was initially carrying the trashcan out, but did not.

Attacks on the old house unfortunately faded back to the man in black, who decided to try his best to break in, and I tried my best to keep him from entering. He always tried to force his entry via the front, side, or back doors of my old house. He preferred the doors to the windows, as if he was beneath crawling of any sort. I would always frantically run to the doors to make sure they were locked, as if I forgot to lock them in the first place. There were times I raced to the doors in just enough time to ensure the security of my home. Was I the only one home? Moreover, where was everyone else? Sometimes I locked the door within just seconds of the man in black placing his wicked hand on the doorknob in his attempt to enter. These dreams caused much anxiety for me upon awaking.

In these dreams, it was always a dark and gloomy night, or a hard-raining night. Interesting enough, the man in black’s attire and persona changed. He was now dressed in a long flowing black garment or a black cape with an exaggerated hood. The wind always caught the garment and caused it to give the appearance of flying or gliding motion. Everything about him was black and sinful. There were no facial features, just the shape of a face and body. It appeared effortless for him to move about, as if he glided from door to door. The man in black appeared when I least expected him, which meant I was always caught off guard. With these sets of dreams, I experienced so much anxiety, and a continued fear of sleep. I was very exhausted.

OH, BABY!

When I was not dreaming of my old house or dying at the age of forty, I would have pleasant dreams of having a baby or being pregnant. I would dream that I was in my old house or sometimes in the hospital, and I gave birth to a baby. The father was there, but with a blotted-out face, or the father was a man that I had never seen before in my life. Sometimes the dream centered on me trying to make it to the hospital to set a delivery date. However, when the baby was born, it gave me so much joy and peace, especially when family members surrounded me. Dreams about my old house and having a baby went on for months. A realization came to me that I should record my dreams immediately after any encounter.

MEETING EVIL

There was some type of parallel between the level and intensity of my dreams and my Christian walk. The more I became knowledgeable and strong in the Word, the more my dreams elevated in intensity as well. As a result, Satan would come to me in my dreams and cause sleep paralysis with his presence. In the dreams, I could not move or speak. Rendered helpless, I felt pinned or worse yet, nailed to my bed. Helplessness was the overwhelming feeling. It felt as if gravity was pulling and pinning me to the bed. I had no control over any of my body parts, so I thought. I could not wiggle a finger or blink an eye!

Satan seemed to enjoy holding me captive in a state of paralysis while he sipped a cup of tea in his favorite chair, because that was how comfortable he appeared. While caught in this state, this evil and dark spirit proceeded to drag me off the bed to the floor, and later dragged me about my house. Scared stiff, I could not escape the torment. Gravity would fasten my mouth shut, which rendered me incapable of calling for help or commanding the demonic spirit to stop.

These dreams went on for months, to the point that the dreams evolved into actual waking dreams. Yes! My eyes were open and I was fully conscious. The torment and the torture would occur in real time. Satan would politely wake me up, viciously attack me, and pull and drag me around the room. While it was happening, I never knew how far it would go, and this caused me to hyperventilate and panic. I would try to anticipate his next move in order to prepare my mind, to reduce the apprehension. Would I be dragged to the kitchen to be knifed? Would I be dragged to the bathtub to be drowned? These waking terrors were further than the feeling of surrealism.

When the waking terror dreams occurred, I could not sleep for weeks. Praying and fasting did not stop them. I would look like death warmed over at work and around friends. Sometimes after showering, I would observe fresh scratches on my back in places my fingers could not really reach. My eyes would be bloodshot, with huge swollen bags under my eyes. During this time, I was in the Army and working in a medium-confinement facility where alertness was imperative, so I constantly lacked energy and barely functioned at 60%.

Still today, Satan finds a need to plague me with attacks, whether in my sleep or waking terror dreams. We battle, but now I have victory because of believing in the name and blood of Jesus Christ, which allows me to employ my spiritual armor and weapons.

From the age of eighteen to the present, I have dreamt a variety of themes that have reflected my life and warned me of situations to come. The themes of death at forty, Satanic attacks, babies being birthed, and my old house have been threads that have connected my life from one event to the next. These dreams are the fiber and details of this memoir. Without these dreams, there would be no memoir to write.

FRIENDS AND FAMILY

“God sets the lonely in families.”

Psalm 68:6

“A friend loves at all times.”

Proverb 17:17

I am in my old house on Halldale and in the kitchen preparing food. My mom, stepdad, Aunt Sara, and Uncle Art are all there; I feel as if I have not prepared enough food to go around. Strangely enough, there is still food left over after everyone has been served. I never sit down to eat. I keep bringing more food to the table. The table is full of food. The lighting over the table is warm and cozy.

When I am dreaming, God uses people, objects, or symbols that are familiar and common to me to express His instructions. Most of the symbols in my dreams have centered on my family, friends, and childhood memories. My family and friends have been instrumental not only in my dream world, but also in my waking life.

God has blessed me with a very loving and supportive family. Support systems are necessary in almost every area of human involvement because they offer comfort, encouragement, love and even sometimes silence. For whatever reason, I surely need a support system. In my life journey, I have been fortunate and blessed to have a strong combination of both friends and family for a strong support network.

What is interesting is that we never choose our family members in this thing called life, unless you are adopted or orphaned. Some people wish they could pick family members from a menu, but we are born into the relationship through God, as we travel across this journey of life. However, friends are very interesting and seem to be placed strategically by God and used by the Holy Spirit. There is no doubt about it, I needed friends to shape my life experiences, which has helped to mold who I am today.

My immediate family members have given me love and support throughout my life. Without this love, I do not believe I would have lived as long as I have. I thank God for mandating the web of relationships that I have with my family and friends.

INITIAL CONTACT--PARENTS

As far back as I can remember, my childhood was filled with love, affection, structure, and sporadic moments of loneliness. My father is a southerner from Mississippi who migrated to California, like most southerners, in the mid-1950s, hoping to create a new life for himself.

When he arrived in Los Angeles, he moved in with his sister and brother-in-law, who had just moved to Los Angeles in the early 1950s and with their help, became a true Californian. As fate would have it, he moved next door to a family that would later introduce him to the love of his life. His next-door neighbors were first cousins to Theresa, the woman who would later become my mother. It did not take long for the families to become close, and my mother would often visit them, along with my grandmother. My father and grandmother became such good friends that soon they even became drinking buddies.

My grandmother was a very intuitive woman and saw the connection between her daughter and her newfound friend. She introduced or should I say played matchmaker with my parents and of course went the extra mile by constantly telling my mother that my father was a good and decent man and the marrying kind. The two began spending a lot of time together and my dad would expose my mom to all kinds of new foods from his world. My mother hailed from the Gulf of Mississippi, so she had been mainly exposed to Creole favors, such as gumbo, jambalayas, etouffée, stuffed crabs, smothered okra, and bread pudding.

My father taught her how to prepare greens, hot water cornbread, Crowder peas, fried corn, and barbeque. He would take her on dates to Chinese and Mexican restaurants, allowing both of them to experiment with foods from different cultures. My grandmother clearly had a great eye for a match, and they dated for nearly a year before they got married in 1956, not hesitating to begin a family.

In their late twenties and after being married for only five years, my parents purchased their first home. This was no small feat, because most African-Americans during the late ’50s and early ’60s were not granted this opportunity. My parents were determined to establish a life for themselves, and despite all the obstacles, they were able to accomplish this goal. This was a time that was electric with the Civil Rights Movement, and even though they were living in Los Angeles, discrimination was not a foreign concept.

What is even more interesting is that they purchased a house in a predominantly white neighborhood, but which was filling up with families from various nationalities. To the left of our home lived the Zacharias (Greek) and the Inge (German) and the Keefer family (German) on the right. Down the block were the Gomez and Delgado families, which along with my family created a very interesting mixture in my neighborhood.

One of the most impressive families on our block was the Thomas family. They were an African-American and very rich. Yes, we had a family on our street that inherited millions, and decided not to move, but to stay true to who they were.

As a little girl, I loved walking down the street to the Thomas family’s house. Mrs. Thomas would always welcome me warmly and give me snacks on their porch. The outside of their home was beautifully manicured and landscaped. The inside of their home was impeccably clean and fashionably decorated. The furnishings were of high quality and spoke of money.

Mrs. Thomas enjoyed my company so much that she gave me the nickname of Cheri Beri, which has stuck with me all my life. The Thomas family served as a role model for my parents as well as for me of what can be achieved and how the other side lives. At the time, my parents were not educated, but were able to purchase their first home in a middle-class area of Los Angeles. No, we did not have all of the things that the Thomas family had, but we were blessed as well with the provisions of the Lord and His love.

Such provisions from the Lord, which made it possible for my parents to purchase their first home during an unusual time in our history, continue to amaze me. Life was settling in comfortably for my family when my mother discovered she was pregnant again with her second child. My family was barely adjusting to the new address when they received this news. My parents were thrilled about the news of a new addition, but were overjoyed when in the third month of my mother’s pregnancy, the doctors told her that she was having twins. My dad was hoping for boys, dreaming about football games and toy trucks, while my mom wanted just healthy babies.

MIRACLE BABY

However, in the fourth month of her pregnancy, my mother started to bleed heavily, and her body was threatening to miscarry. She was ordered by the doctor to stay on total bed rest for the duration of her pregnancy and, fearing for the life of her child, my mom obeyed this order, for the most part.

After hearing about the difficulties my mother was having, my father’s sister, Aunt Sara, suggested that my mom be baptized as an act of prayer and faith that God would save her baby. It did not take much convincing, and this was the only time my mother broke the doctor’s orders, and took the plunge into a spiritual Baptismal pool. The church issued her a Certificate of Baptism, and although she took a risk, God answered her prayer and she was able to carry me to full term.

When my mother went into labor, everyone was excited about the twins that would soon join the family; however, when she arrived at the hospital, the doctors quickly realized that something was seriously wrong. The doctors calmly briefed my parents on the situation and tried to prepare them for the worst news of all. They had discovered that I was not in fact a twin, but rather, sharing a space with a fibroid tumor that had grown so large, it blocked the vaginal canal. Due to the size and position of the tumor, there was a real possibility that I would not survive the delivery. Naturally, my parents became extremely concerned and began to panic, but there was no need, because God had another plan.

The story of my birth is one that my parents love to tell, mostly because they say that my birth was the first sign of my combative nature. They claim that while making my way out of the womb, after having turned myself upside down and backwards, I somehow managed to kick the tumor out of my path and was able to be delivered safely. A baby that was supposed to be a twin, and unable to survive delivery, came boldly into the world with a fighter’s spirit. Even to this day, my mother calls me the “Miracle Baby.” My being alive and well today proves that we may not know how it will happen, but God’s plan will always come to light no matter what the obstacles. This was a lesson that God proved to me over and over throughout the course of my life.

DADDY’S LITTLE GIRL

After a short stay in the hospital, my mother brought me home to the house that we owned, and life began to slip into a comfortable routine. My mom worked during the day when I was between the ages of two to five years old, while my dad worked nights.

At the time, they chose not to have a babysitter for me, so my dad kept me during the day. A carpenter by trade, my dad is a man’s man with a pickup truck and a toolbox. Honestly, he is a Jack-of-all-Trades. He can tar roofs, fix plumbing, reupholster furniture, paint a house inside and out, change the oil and brakes on a car, landscape yards, plant gardens, prepare the best foods, immaculately clean a house, and play poker while smoking a cigar.

During the day, my dad took handyman jobs to earn extra money, and I was his little assistant. Instead of dolls and makeup, I played with paintbrushes, knocked over paint and roofing tar, made mud pies, and tried my best to put on his heavy tool belt. I cannot tell you how many times I knocked over cans of paint, walked through wet cement, got covered in tar, or needed tetanus shots from stepping on rusty nails. I remember the look of utter disbelief that would paint itself across my father’s face every time he would find me covered in whatever mess I’d made.

On a few occasions, he would catch me just before disaster struck and would yell “no” in slow motion while he tried to catch me. This tactic rarely worked, and every day I wound up covered in something. Even with all of my mishaps, my father never got upset with me, or yelled. No matter what I destroyed or tampered with, my dad would always hug me and say, “It’s okay, honey. Now sit down somewhere!”

Always thirsty for a new project, my dad decided to add on to our house to accommodate our expanding family. Even though there were only four of us, my parents always had relatives and friends over, so we needed the extra space to have room for our revolving door of hospitality. As his first major project for the house, Dad decided to build a den with a small bathroom. It took my dad approximately ten months to complete his construction project, since he had two full-time jobs at night and a babysitting job during the day.

However, once the project was completed, aside from the backyard, the den became my favorite place to play in the house. My sister was always busy with her friends and didn’t have much time to spend with me, so I spent a lot of time playing by myself.

Though I spent quite a bit of time in my own private sanctuary, the true purpose of the addition was so that my father would have a space to play. Friday nights in his precious den were spent with my Uncles Zuber, Chuck, Boo, Joe and Curtis; the men were free to laugh, listen to music, drink, and smoke to their hearts’ content. Anytime they got together was a good time. You can tell just by their nicknames that they were all characters, and I loved to get my chance to sneak in and join the fun.

After the liquor kicked in, I would come out to the den and hang around the table while they played poker. The guys thought I was so cute that they would give me their change, and sometimes dollars. Of course, the money was nice, but I was just happy being in their presence. Every time they got together, my father and uncles would drink and play poker all night while listening to James Brown and Aretha Franklin, with me right in the middle of it all, soaking in every moment. I do not know how my mom tolerated it, but I loved it.

The den was always a great place for my father to spend his nights, especially on his days off from work. For some crazy reason, my dad had a tendency to play the same song over and over again, particularly James Brown. At the peak of his career, James Brown had an act where he would be escorted from the mike with a cape. As he got close to leaving the stage, he would throw the cape off and run back to the microphone to sing and dance. This was classic James Brown material. Somehow, I got really good at imitating his act, and often my dad would wake me up in the middle of the night to entertain his group. While I was half asleep, my dad would take my favorite old crusty baby blanket and tie it around my neck to make a cape. He would put “Please, Please, Please” by James Brown on the record player, and I would start my act. He and his friends would get a good belly laugh out of the sight of this little kid imitating James Brown.

MY ENTOURAGE AND BEST FRIEND—“BUNNY”

Because I spent most of my days playing carpenter’s assistant, getting dressed up and girly was somewhat unfamiliar to me. While my father was excellent at spending time with me while teaching me life skills, and training me on different types of tools, he often fell very short when it came down to dressing and grooming a little girl. This was a supreme source of frustration for my mother, especially when my dad would show up at her job with a homeless-looking little girl.

My mother was an expert at hiding her embarrassment from her co-workers, but the moment she got home, she let my dad have it. My father never quite got the message, which caused my mother to go overboard when she got the chance to dress me up. Holidays became even more of a production, especially Easter Sunday, when my sister and I would emerge in yellow and pink dresses, covered in lace, ribbons, and bows. She would spend hours oiling and lotioning every body part she could, doing everything she could to make us look like little ladies. Of course, our cooperation was rewarded with giant Easter baskets filled with stuffed rabbits and candy galore. I can remember my eyes widening at the sight of yellow spongy chewy bunnies, jelly beans, chocolate bunnies, and of course chocolate Easter eggs.

One particular Easter, I received a basket with a purple and yellow stuffed bunny rabbit inside. He was shaped like a human with two hands, arms, and legs. I instantly fell in love with him and called him “Bunny.” Wherever I went, Bunny was there. He was my entourage and my best friend.

As time went on, Bunny lost his sewn-on mouth, an eye, and whiskers; his color began to fade, and because I slept with him every night, he smelled like dried saliva all the time. Of course, I didn’t see any of these things as flaws; they simply made me love him more. My parents would sneak him to the cleaner’s owned by a family friend, Mr. Howard, to get Bunny cleaned and return him to the house fresh and tidy, with me none the wiser.

Naturally, it took no time at all for him to start smelling like drool again, but he was my best friend and I loved him. If anyone asked, I was happy to tell them how important Bunny was to me. We did everything together. Bunny had a spot at the kitchen table, he ate when I ate, he took a bath when I took a bath, and he slept when I slept. We enjoyed the same cartoon -- “Bugs Bunny” -- and had great adventures together.

One day on a local bus ride, I accidentally left Bunny on the bus, and I cried hysterically as we returned home. Unable to stand my distress, my dad went down to the RTD Bus Terminal and searched for Bunny, bus by bus. After a short time, my father returned with Bunny intact and my dad instantly became my hero.

After all the years of wear and tear, Bunny met his demise when a violent Doberman Pinscher viciously ripped him to shreds. I cried for days at the loss, and though my parents tried to comfort me, all I knew was that I lost a great friend: Bunny.

THE NEW ADDITION

Knowing that I was upset by the loss, one day my dad came with a mutt puppy that was mixed with Doberman and German Shepherd. Ecstatic at the sight of a new friend, I immediately named him Butch and he became my new playmate, something that landed him in world of trouble. Had he known what I was going to put him through, he probably would have run away.

While playing in the den, I would make Butch attend tea parties. Here I would place a bonnet on his head, put on diapers, and carry him around like a baby. On special occasions, I would make him eat mud pies, and Butch would comply, all the while looking miserable.

This insane playtime went on for a few years, and Butch tolerated the torture and torment. I guess one particular night I was putting a diaper on sixty-pound Butch and he’d just had enough of this little kid’s crap. As I reached around him to secure the diaper, Butch reached down and bit straight through my tiny hand. The look on his face clearly said, “Knock it off with the diapers!” I ran in the house to my dad, crying loud. My dad looked at my hand and then looked at Butch. Butch had the expression of, “Yeah, I did it and I would do again if she put another diaper on me!”

In a split second, my dad grabbed my other hand and ran to the car, not even allowing my feet to touch the ground. Before I could blink, I found myself in the emergency room getting rabies shots and crying like a child gone mad. My dad calmed me down and held me tight in his arms. Suddenly, in my father’s arms, I felt incredibly safe and soon my pain and fear began to subside. On the way home, my dad explained to me that Butch got tired of the diapers, and he did not mean to hurt me. I learned my lesson the hard way and from that day on, the dog and I started a new relationship. Butch became the family dog, living the life of luxury and completely free from diapers and tea parties, just like he always dreamed, and I was left looking for new ways to entertain myself.

MY MOM

When I was not playing outside or hanging out in the den, I could be found next to my mom in the kitchen. My mom believed you were never too little to contribute to the household, so at a very young age, I was introduced to chores. Some of my earliest duties were as her assistant in the kitchen. I remember watching her and being mesmerized by her precision in preparing our meals. Every meal was treated like an intricate surgery, and I felt I was watching a top surgeon as I stood by her side. Like every good teacher, she made sure I knew my way around the kitchen, and I loved every minute we shared together.

Thankfully, my mother never had an issue with how close my father and I were. In fact, she encouraged it. She and I had our own relationship. When she and I were together, it was more than just learning recipes and watching her cook. My mother was about order, and she felt that it was her goal to keep me on a tight and rigid regimen. Whether it was homework, chores, church, or Girl Scouts, I was on a strict schedule and dedicated to my activities, whether I liked them or not. Despite my numerous complaints, I learned the value of having a strict regimen and was able to translate these lessons into every aspect of my life, including breakfast.

Every morning for school, without fail, a piping hot bowl of oatmeal was placed on our kitchen table for me to eat. I was always late to the table every morning, dreading what was waiting, so by the time I got there, the piping hot oats had turned into a cold gray glob. Even though I would whine and complain, she would tell me every morning, “You better eat that oatmeal or pray that the oatmeal eats you. We don’t let food go to waste around here!” I would sit at the kitchen table on those mornings praying diligently that the bowl of oatmeal would grow a huge mouth and devour me down to the hell of all oatmeal cereals.

Unfortunately, I never had that kind of luck. There I sat and with my prayers unanswered, forcing cold oatmeal into my mouth while solidifying my hatred for the lumpy, gray glob.

My mother was not completely lacking compassion, and on this one particular Saturday morning, she decided to have mercy on me and fix pancakes to give me a break from the cold lumpy oatmeal. I remember that the pancakes were light and fluffy and served with eggs and bacon, leaving me beyond excited. As my mom and I sat at the kitchen table to eat, I poured Brer Rabbit (thick molasses) syrup on my pancakes, ignoring the Log Cabin syrup we usually used.

I silently watched as my mom poured the Log Cabin syrup on her pancakes, and giggled as we sat there eating and talking about our week. Finally, she noticed my giggles and asked why I chose to use the Brer Rabbit syrup. “I thought Log Cabin syrup was your favorite,” she said, eyeing me curiously.

I looked over at her nearly halfway done eating our pancakes, and replied, “There’s a fly in the Log Cabin syrup.”

She quickly picked up the bottle to examine it. Sure enough, suspended in animation was a huge hairy fly. Her discovery caused my giggles to grow into full-fledged laughter, but my mother was not amused. In my mind, this was payback for all of those lumpy oatmeal mornings, but my delight quickly faded as I watched steam blow out of her ears.

That day, she gave me a spanking from out of this world, and I never tried to play a joke on her again. Through all of our ups and downs, my mother is one of the strongest women I know. She is a woman of her word and can be depended upon in any situation. She has always presented herself as the perfect lady; she is always groomed, polished, and presentable. My mother is a role model for a little girl to mirror, and I will always love her.

THE DREADED DAY

Being a little girl, I found myself at home with my father and not at preschool like most kids my age. At that time, it was customary for relatives or neighbors to watch or babysit the kids while the parents worked. My dad also did not want me to attend preschool because he felt it was his responsibility to raise his baby girl.

So while my mom worked during the day as a clerk typist for the County of Los Angeles, my dad worked nights as a janitor, spending his days with me. Sadly, there came a day when the good times ended, and soon I became old enough to leave my father’s side and finally go to school.

My parents were Catholic and they were obligated to send me to Catholic school. The nearest school to us was St. Raphael’s School near the intersection of Florence and Vermont. I had no clue that this was coming until the day my mother came home with a large bag full of brown-and-white plaid uniforms and white oxford shoes.

My mom made me try on the white little blouses, jumper dresses, cardigan sweaters, and the infamous militant white oxford shoes, all the while excited about getting her daughter ready for her first day of school. I could not understand why she was taking me away from the work I had to do with my dad. I was not excited about this change in my routine, and I certainly had no interest in wearing any uniforms.

The first day of school was a complete shock and change from the life I had grown used to. All around me, children were crying hysterically, having full conversations with their imaginary friends, kids peeing on themselves while sniffing glue from their tiny hands. I remember sitting back, observing the chaos and wondering why my mother wanted me to be here, instead of with my dad. In my head, I knew that this was going to be my first and last day at school. There was no way I was coming back and dealing with this every day. No way at all!

When my mother came to pick me up that afternoon, I felt a wave of relief wash over me, and I ran toward her the moment I saw her. As we drove home that afternoon, my mother asked many questions about my first day at school, and I had very little to say. My goal was to erase the entire experience from my mind, and the last thing I wanted to do was talk about it. When we got home, my first order of business was to change clothes and get rid of my uniforms.

As soon as I had the opportunity, I gathered all of my uniforms including those horrible white shoes and dumped them in the kitchen trashcan. “Cheri-Beri,” my mom said as she walked into the kitchen, “what are you doing with your clothes?”

“Well,” I replied, “it was only a one day thing. I don’t need these clothes anymore.”

“No, honey; you have to go to school for the next eighteen years.” I stared up at her, horrified, praying for any sign of a joke in her face. Her expression remained exactly the same and I knew that she was completely serious. I felt my knees buckle underneath me as my throat released a panic-stricken cry. My thoughts immediately went to my father. How could my dad let this happen? I thought we were a team. After this inner dialogue, it took a long time for me to come to grips with my new reality, and I unknowingly began yet another routine in my life. I did not know this then, but I was beginning a long life of spending every day in uniform.

DIVORCE HURTS

While my sister and I were constantly being showered with love and affection, things between my parents were far from perfect. During the course of their relationship, my dad began conducting himself as a man who no longer loved his wife, but loved only his children. After twelve years of marriage, my mother decided to leave my dad when I was six years old. When my parents broke the news to us, I felt like my whole world was caving in.

My mind instantly placed blame on my mother. Too young to understand the true reasons why they were separating, this moment sparked a strong sense of resentment toward my mother that would last for years, and I quickly learned to build strong defense mechanisms to battle emotional attachments. I never wanted to invest emotions in another human being again, because I never wanted to hurt like this again. The prospect of not seeing my father was more than I could handle.

Thankfully, despite the divorce, my fears of abandonment were never fully realized and my father remained very active in raising me. Now, instead of teaching me handy skills, he taught me sound values in managing money and time, and constantly pushed me to think outside the box. Although we spent as much time as possible together, it broke my heart in a million pieces, knowing that my dad was not around on a daily basis.

Acknowledging my sense of loss, my mother constantly showered me with love and affection, often competing with my dad for my attention. I was still Daddy’s girl, and every day I did not get to spend with him was like a formation of bricks that built up a strong wall between my mother and me. I had no real desire to be close to her, so from the age of six to the day I moved out, I was a very obedient and a respectful child to my mother, but did not allow us to build a real relationship.

Life as I knew it was changing, and as much as I despised it, all I could do was sit back and adjust to my new world. Now there was only my mother, my oldest sister, and me living in our house on Halldale.

BIG SISTER, BIG FIGHTS, BIG LOVE

Once the divorce was final and my dad had moved out, my mom became a national statistic of raising two African-American kids on her own. My mother worked full time during the day and attended college at night at Los Angeles Southwest Community College. She was not home a lot, but made sure we were busy with constructive and challenging activities and the best babysitters. Yeah, we saw our dad almost every other weekend, but it was not the same as living with him.

My oldest sister is six years older than I am, and caused a lot of stress in my young life. My mom told me a story where my sister was six years old, and I was only a few months old. My mom decided to let Big Sis hold me. Why would she allow such a thing? My mom left the room for a few seconds, and upon her return, she caught my oldest sister letting my back go. Big Sis inquisitively claims that she wondered if I could sit on my own at three months old. Sure you did! My mom screamed, “Catch that baby!” I am glad she did, because if she had not I probably would have cracked my skull on the coffee table behind me.

In any case, as I got bigger, my older sister could still outthink me on almost everything. She was bigger than I was, so she took what she wanted from me. If I resisted, she would result to beating me up or other brutal tactics. I guess this is typical between siblings. As far as I knew, she was not one of my favorite people to be around, especially when she took my weekly allowance.

Today, unbelievably, my sister is one of my best friends. As we matured in age, we have been able to bond and share our life experiences. We bounce everything off each other and keep it very honest and real. She helps hold our family together, which I thank her for doing. They say the oldest child is always the caregiver, and she plays that role to the hilt.

What I have learned from my big sister is how to be a woman of self-reliance, charity, and hospitality. My Big Sis got pregnant at the age of twenty, during the late ’70s. This situation did not reflect favorably on my single-parent African- American household. People talk and people look down on you, but it did not stop my sister from persevering. She delivered my oldest nephew, Linky, on Easter break while attending a local community college. Her recovery time was approximately two weeks, and she went back to school and work while being a single mother, and appointed me her official babysitter. She never skipped a beat, and I have patterned myself after her determination never to give up, despite the odds.

My Big Sis has opened the doors of her home to countless people over the years. She does not think twice about nourishing the lonely-hearted with good food and company. The dishes my sister prepares melt in your mouth. She is world renowned for her gumbo, potato salad, macaroni and cheese, ham, fried pork chops, and cobblers. There is nothing like being satisfied with a meal prepared from the heart, along with healthy laughter.

My Big Sis has a sense of humor that is priceless. She can be somewhat sarcastic, but it boils down to good old belly laughing. She has a gift of making you laugh at yourself, so you do not take yourself too seriously. The most beautiful thing is that my brother-in-law supports her with her hospitable manners. It is her own unique ministry of opening her home to all walks of life. I am beyond elated that our relationship blossomed into a close and loving friendship.

BEN AND DAVID

My mom worked a lot and my sister had other interests, especially when she became a teenager. I often thought that I would be lonely for the rest of my life and that was all there was to it. The thought of spending the rest of my days in solitude added to my loneliness, making each day go by slowly.

Thankfully, God answers the prayers of both children and adults, and He sent me the new loves of my life: Ben and David. I was around nine years old when they made their way into my life, and it seemed to take no time at all for me to fall in love with these two. Being a single parent, my mother was very protective of her children and always resisted when I wanted to go outside the house to play. When I was allowed to venture out, I was given strict orders to ride my bike from corner to corner of our block, and never in the street. The confined bike route quickly became boring, but even I knew better than to completely break her rules; I just needed to find a way to get around them.

So after spending some time working out my master plan, one brave day, I decided to put my black ops covert operation to the test and decided it was time to test out this plan. The plan was to time myself going around the corner to another block and up an adjacent alley, and return to my block. It would be a complete circle, and if I was fast enough, by the time my mom peered out the window, she would see me back on our block and we would both win.

Excited by the prospect of freedom and getting one over on my mother, I began pedaling as fast as I could, feeling the rush of wind on my face. As I went through the alley, I saw two cute boys rummaging through junk that had been tossed. I had never seen them before and became very curious. My first lap was a success, so I decided to take another trip around the block, this time stopping in the alley to see what those two cute boys were doing.

When I appeared and inquired, they turned to me and simply said, “Looking for stuff to play with.”

“I want to look for stuff too,” I replied, stepping off my bike and walking toward them cautiously. They moved to one side, and as we sifted through the junk together, in that moment, my friendship with Ben and David was born. I was having so much fun with them that I’d completely forgotten about my mission, and by the time I got back home, I was in serious trouble. Yet despite my mother’s anger, it was worth it, because now I had Ben and David.

The three of us would have the best play sessions when my mother allowed me go over their house. They lived around the corner from me, and had lost their mother to a premature death. Their dad was raising them along with three older sisters. Neither one of our single parents could afford to purchase the games and toys we always wanted, so we would be creative and scour the neighborhood for things to play with. On one of our many adventures, we found some abandoned diesel truck tires, and took them back to Ben’s backyard to use as a playground. We also dug holes in Ben’s backyard and used them to booby trap Barbie and G.I. Joe in some covert operation. We would meet as often as we could after school, and it got so that on weekends the choice between playing with between Ben and David or going to my dad’s house for the weekend was a major dilemma. Ben, David and I were having too much fun to miss out on any of our adventures, but I definitely wanted to spend quality time with my dad. I had to learn the art of balance very early on, and so I had to plan my weekends carefully.

For a while, everything was going along smoothly, with me making secret plans to marry Ben when we got old enough and our adventures stripping me of any loneliness I once felt. Of course, I had no idea that my life was about to take a drastic turn at the ripe old age of fourteen. After my parents divorced, my mother began dating, but I refused to take seriously any man she introduced into my life.

My mother is a very classy woman and is always dressed in the current fashion trends. One day while attending a party, she caught the eye of a very noble and respectful man, who quickly swept her off her feet and became a regular part of our lives. Shortly after they began dating, he proposed to my mom and soon we became a family. After they married, my stepdad moved our family into a home in Carson, California, ending my dreams of growing up to marry Ben, but the move created a painful distance between me and my best friends.

From the very beginning, my stepdad or “Dad,” as I called him, we bonded off the bat. He was very quick to volunteer to take me anywhere I needed to go, taking me on errands, shopping to buy my school supplies, or anything I needed at all. When he and my mother were dating, he would take Ben, David, and me to get ice cream and to the zoo. We would have a ball, and I enjoyed having him around.

Most importantly, he never tried to overshadow my real father, and gave my father respect for his role in my life. My sister, on the other hand, was not so quick to embrace this new Dad in our lives. I quickly learned that we were going to move after my mom delivered my new baby sister. Just as I was beginning to wrap my mind around the news, exactly 6 weeks later, my sister told us that she was pregnant as well.

Our house on Halldale was turning into a barn of chaos. My entire world was spinning, and the hurt I felt from having to leave Ben and David behind caused me to build up defense mechanisms and retreat once again into my own world.

As we moved to Carson with new babies, I had already entered my freshman year of high school, and I became a class clown. In order to mask my hurt, I hid behind pranks and sarcasm. I was very smart, but I was an average student who never wanted to apply herself. My thought was if “C” is passing, what’s the point of wasting time by going the extra mile? I decided the best use of my time was doing what I loved to do best: making money and having fun. I got my first job at the age of 14 working for the City of Carson as a Park Recreation Aide I.

As a Park Recreation Aide I, my job duties were to open and close the park, issue sports equipment to patrons, and make sure the kids were playing safely. The job did not require much work, so I spent most of my time talking and making new friends. I really liked my job and took great pride in serving my city, but most of all; I enjoyed making and saving my money.

While the money was nice to have, the absolute best part of working was that it allowed me to be out of the house more often than not. Being home was extremely overwhelming with two crying babies, and of course, I was the one who had to take everything that was thrown my way. I had to run errands like going to the store to retrieve more diapers, milk, and other baby items.

Despite this new situation, I was grateful that my mother was always there ready to answer any questions I had. The days flew by as I adjusted to my new stepfather (who later nicked named me “The Original Baby Girl”), the new house, my new school, and the new babies that now made up my entire world.

A GOOD FRIEND

With everything that was going on at home, and me now living miles away from my two best friends, God knew that I needed some type of relief. During my freshman year of high school, God sent me a new best friend--Jacques. From the moment we met on the first day of school, Jacques became my “ace in the hole.” We attended a small high school of around four hundred students, so our classes were exceptionally small, often allowing Jacques and me to share the same schedule.

After school, we would catch the bus to our jobs, me working at the park and Jacques working at the nearby Burger King. During high school, we spent as much time as possible together, but our friendship developed even more after we graduated. Jacques and I were truly kindred spirits, and enjoyed a lot of the same flavor in music, clothes, and men.

However, one huge factor in our relationship was our deeply rooted love for Prince. I cannot think of anyone who would be more devoted Prince fans than Jacques and me, which was evidenced by our attendance at every concert, especially the ones before the world knew who he was. We both had Prince posters in our bedrooms, Prince Buttons, T-shirts, and most importantly Prince cassette tapes that allowed us to have mini concerts whenever our hearts desired.

Prince’s favorite color at the time was purple, and it became Jacques’ favorite color as well. Just about her entire wardrobe was purple from head to toe. On our senior high school prom night, Jacques even wore a purple dress, shoes, and purse. Yes, it was that serious!

One summer, news of a Prince concert at the Universal Amphitheater sent our teenaged hearts into overdrive, and we knew we had to be there. We saved our money and bought the tickets, almost working ourselves into a frenzy with our excitement. Nervous, giggling, and beyond excitement, we danced and laughed our way through the opening act, anxiously waiting for “The Purple One” to come onto the stage. We talked this concert up so much that once Prince appeared on stage, Jacques fainted into her seat. She quickly composed herself so as not to miss the elaborate display of vanity and sexiness of The Purple One. I just laughed at her in disbelief that a pop star she didn’t even know personally had so much influence over her. I had a lot of nerve to say that, but I did. That was one of the funniest moments in our relationship. Still today, we laugh about that night.

Another major highlight of that night was our Eddie Murphy sighting. As we were on our feet singing our hearts out, Eddie Murphy, a comedian at the height of his career, walked right past us, heading down the aisle to his seat. Jacques and I giggled once again at the sighting, and marking that night as the greatest night ever. Everything about that concert was amazing, and the memories continue to produce laughter between Jacques and me.

Jacques and I both ran with what was known as the “bourgeois clique” and were constantly attending parties in Ladera Heights, Baldwin Park, Santa Monica, and other nice parts of Los Angeles. Jacques and I both went to college after we graduated; Jacques went to Cal State Los Angeles and I started classes at El Camino Community College. Both of us wanted to major in business. We both had fantasies of becoming powerful rich business executive with the finest men escorting us to events. It was easy for us to sit around and imagine our futures together, because we both wanted the same things and enjoyed the same activities.

We had a ball, and it felt good to have someone to spend time with and simply have fun. Over time, Jacques became like family to me, and it did not take long for me to be adopted into her family. Every Sunday, her mother would cook an elaborate Sunday dinner and would invite a multitude of people to come, eat, laugh, and enjoy each other’s company. Each week had a different mix of people, but all were equally entertaining. On any given Sunday, Brother Issac, Chemise, Andre, Aunt Betty, Felicia, her nephew Dougie, and her sister Monique would gather for food and laughs, and I was happy to be a part of the mix. I looked forward to sharing those times with Jacques’ family because they always made me feel like I was part of the family, and that I was meant to be there.

Jacques and I continued to be thick as thieves through high school and college, and at the age of twenty-one, Jacques accepted the Lord as her Savior and our relationship hit a serious crossroad. I was a typical twenty-one-year-old, partying, drinking, and living the wildest lifestyle I could possibly live. While Jacques attended Bible studies and church activities, I was experimenting with the wild side of life. In those days, sleep was a complete stranger and I still have no idea how I maintained such a full schedule.

At twenty-one, I had a full time job working at an automotive wholesale company, packing orders and preparing them to be shipped out. I was in school full time as well, and as soon as I could see the sunset, I was out anywhere there was a party, having the best of times. Jacques and I lived in two different worlds, and I was learning to find a new circle to run with, but none of them were close to what I had with Jacques.

Even though my heathenish way of life continued, she never gave up on me, even though most times my actions forced her to keep her distance. She would call me most Sundays and ask me to attend church, but was always met with opposition. Even when I rejected her invitations, mainly because I was too hung over to get out of bed, she remained faithful in her prayers for me. She always had a knack for calling me when I was doing something I had no business doing, often serving as a moral reminder that I was wrong. Her words of encouragement, vision, and direction were always exactly what I needed, and were the seeds that were planted to help me redirect my focus on Christ. The bond we shared was something that could never be replaced, and that is something I will always cherish.

THE EARLY LIFE

“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you,

before you were born, I set you apart;

I appoint you as a prophet to the nations.”

Jeremiah 1:4-5

“We know that in all things God works for the

good of those who love him, who have been

called according to his purpose.”

Romans 8:28

I am at my old house on Halldale in the backyard where the garage is located. My father is making me clean the inside of the garage without any lights. I am sweeping the inside of the garage by the use of a small crack of light that peeks curiously towards the inside. My father instructs me to place a ladder to the top of the roof. I climb to the top of the roof and start throwing down some of the big trash that had accumulated. I then start sweeping the top of the roof to make it clean. My father is supervising the whole time.

As I entwined myself in my new social circle, my early life became a cesspool of trash. As a result, I ran from God as far as my little legs could carry me. God knew me before I was formed in the womb, and I often wondered why God allowed my conception. I became a growing ball of trouble or an accident always waiting to happen.

With a life of promiscuity and excessive partying, you would think that Webster’s dictionary would have added my name as a 3rd or 4th definition to the words rebellion and debauchery. I never met someone like me who was on such a self-destructive path to hell. How could I not love and respect myself, when I am such a beautiful creation of God?

As a college student, I learned exactly what it means to work hard, and play harder. As I mentioned before, I attended El Camino Community College part-time at night, three times a week, and worked my full-time job during the day. Even though, I was majoring in Partying 101, God kept me gainfully employed and in school. I would often find myself in the wildest situations, but somehow managed to escape. Somewhere buried deep inside, I knew that God and His band of angels were always watching and protecting me.

The perfect example of this came one night as I was coming home from a long night of partying and celebrating life. As I pulled into my assigned parking space for my apartment complex and exited my car, a young white male, in his early twenties, appeared out of nowhere next to my vehicle. For a few seconds, we stood face to face in the parking lot without another soul in sight. There was no doubt in my mind that something terrible was going to happen, and instantly images of me being robbed or sexually assaulted began to race through my head.

“How are you doing tonight?” the stranger said nonchalantly.

“Fine, thanks,” I replied calmly. At that moment, the young stranger looked past me, as though he saw someone taller and bigger standing behind me. I turned around to see what was behind me, and saw nothing. As I turned back around to confront the stranger, he hurriedly backed up and walked away quickly. I let out a small relieved breath as he said, “Have a good evening,” from a distance. I can only imagine what could have happened that night, but God’s hand of protection was truly on me, and I managed to make it to my apartment safe and sound.

It seemed like almost weekly, I was encountering some type of life-threatening experience, and always managed to escape. There were times when I drove home and totally disoriented, but managed to make it home safely without harm to myself or anyone else. I never quite knew what it was that was watching over me, but strange incidents like this happened to me all the time, and through them all I always somehow felt safe, thank God.

As I continued on my self-destructive path, I partied at upscale clubs and homes until all hours of the night, with strangers and men from foreign countries. I could only picture what demonic forces were at work or what the demonic spirit world looked like during those times. Yet, despite all of the chaos, narrow escapes, and fatigue, somehow I managed to graduate from El Camino Community College in three years with a 2.0 grade point average. In that time, I was graciously protected from several life threatening situations, but God had another plan for my life and continued to pour His grace over me.

U.S. AIR FORCE RESERVES

After graduating from community college, I had to figure out what my next step would be. After meeting a recruiter, the next step seemed abundantly clear and I enlisted with the United States Air Force Reserves as an Air Passenger Specialist. Here, my job was to load and unload passengers and hazardous materials, such as explosives, missiles, and flammable substances, from cargo planes ranging from C5s, C141s to C130s and KC10s. In addition to hard work, I was also afforded plenty of opportunities to have fun and have new experiences.

Working in the Air Force allowed me to travel around the world to places like Japan, Korea, and the Philippines and all across the United States. Through my travels, I was free to soak in new cultural experiences, job experiences, and many unexpected new sexual experiences. The sexual experiences came because of outlandish parties with fighter and cargo pilots, aircraft mechanics, and security police officers.

Constantly surrounded by men, I was free to have sex with whomever I chose without worrying about ever seeing them again. It was perfect. I had a history of having a hard time forming meaningful and serious romantic relationships, often running from commitment as soon as it presented itself. This was true with men as well as my relationship with God. If commitment was a part of the deal, you could count me out. Besides, I was having too much fun to be bothered dealing with feelings or the remorse of a guilty conscience.

Looking back, I can only envision the evil spirits that attached themselves to me during all of those self-indulgent moments. I know now that it is by the grace of God that I am not dead from a sexually transmitted disease, or from some other vicarious situation.

Yes, despite my lustful and sinful nature, God always allowed me to survive when I probably shouldn’t have, and even allowed me to have favor and positive experiences along the way. In fact, it was due to my signing up with the Air Force that I was granted a full scholarship from the Air Force that eventually paid for my Bachelor’s Degree in Business Finance from Cal State University Dominguez Hills. When I think about those days, I know for certain that had it not been for His grace, I would not be here today.

MEETING MR. WRONG

Like many young women, I fell in love with the wrong man and got married at a very early age. Prior to marriage, Mr. Wrong constantly pressured me to spend the night at his apartment, and my mother was not having such behavior from her daughter. To keep the peace on both fronts, I married him to get both of them off my back because of the pressure placed upon me in keeping a curfew at home. Our relationship was doomed from the start because neither of us was a follower of Christ, especially me.

Mr. Wrong was a product of a very dysfunctional family, and witnessed severe physical abuse between his parents. His mother was known for beating his father to a pulp, especially when he drank himself into a drunken stupor. The low socioeconomic upbringing caused him to have a ton of insecurities as a man, and he often displaced those insecurities onto me.

Most young women experience sexual abuse, physical abuse, mental abuse, or a combination of them all. I encountered only the physical abuse, and I constantly lived on pins and needles after marrying this young man. I never knew what would set him off to explode into his tirades. He would explode at the oddest moments, which resulted in my being the recipient of black eyes, bruises, and scratches.

Once, he came home from work and I was in the midst of doing a major assignment for college that was due the next day. He asked me, without giving any type of salutation, “Where’s the remote for the television?”

I replied in a calm voice, “I don’t know. Look for it.” He began to throw my school papers and books off our desk looking for the remote. I was thinking, “Here we go again!”

He found the remote buried under my papers, and felt I was purposefully hiding it from him, which I wasn’t. He balled his fist and swung at me with all his might. His fist connected to my forehead with such force that I was knocked out of my chair. I flew backwards at least five feet, and my head hit the floor like a brick falling from a skyscraper.

Of course, I was in a daze as I tried to pick myself up from the floor. I realized my forehead was bleeding, and a huge knot had formed because of the blunt strike. When I was finally able to focus without seeing double, he was sitting down on the floor crying due to guilt. I figured I should be the one crying, considering the injuries I had just sustained. Nonchalantly, I picked up my chair and finished my school assignment as if nothing had happened.

These violent episodes happened often, and it was very difficult to explain to friends and family how I ran into the doorknob or accidentally slipped and fell down a flight of stairs every other week. The funny thing was nobody believed those lame excuses anyway. It would be safe to say that my family and friends saw through my lame excuses.

Due to the excessive abuse, I chose to dull the pain by having affairs with old boyfriends, and I tackled the club scene at all hours of the night, which made matters worse. None of these things changed my reality, but at least I was able to escape for a few hours. Even though our relationship ended in divorce, this experience prompted me to move out on my own, and I became a very independent and assertive young woman.

AMERICAN CONTROLS COMPANY

While being used as a puppet by Satan through a failed marriage, I was fortunate enough to land a job with a company called American Controls. The business distributed hydraulic and pneumatic valves and fittings to a wide range of manufacturing companies around the country. This was a small family owned business by the name of Yaros. I worked for Robert (Bob) Yaros, who taught me so much about business, life, and Jesus. We talked for hours at work and after work about Jesus and the life of a Christian. Yes, Bob was happily married with a child, but our friendship was a spiritual bridge for me.

Our talks about Jesus led me to attend church again. Calvary Chapel was the church I selected to make my home church. While attending church, I asked Jesus to forgive my sins and to transform my life. I did not realize transformation would be a lifelong process.

The reason why I selected Calvary Chapel as a home church was due to their radio program. As a kid, I remembered driving with my older sister; she would listen to Pastor Raul Reese, Calvary Chapel Chino, on the radio at 5 p.m. I recall that Raul sounded as if he had just come out of living in the street that day and had been turned around because of Jesus. His testimony sounded so real to me and most importantly, he made God sound real to me through his explanation of the scriptures. Pastor Reese taught the Bible verses as if you were standing right there with Jesus, Paul, or Moses. Moreover, Pastor Raul Reese is still on the air at 5 p.m. on 107.9 FM and leads a great fellowship in Chino, CA.

For that reason, I looked up a Calvary Church near my house and attended Calvary Chapel of Southbay. I loved attending that church, with Pastor Steve Mays. His sermons convinced and moved me each and every time, because they seemed always to explain what I was feeling at the moment or what I was going through at that time and space in my life. I learned even more from the mid-week Bible studies. I guess the best thing that came out of attending Calvary Church was family members attending with me and giving support and fellowship. Through my attending church and studying the Word, Jesus started the transformation process of my life.

My job at American Controls ended due to an ambitious and inspiring idea of starting my own landscaping business. The early ’90s proved to be a tumultuous time for the city of Los Angeles. In 1992, a video of L.A.P.D. police officers beating a man named Rodney King surfaced, and the nation was shocked at the severity of the beating. Tensions escalated when the officers were later acquitted for their crimes and shortly after the verdict was read, Los Angeles went up in smoke, literally. The Los Angeles riots brought massive property damage to the city, from which it never truly recovered. The following year, Los Angeles experienced a record number of fires and mudslides, causing even more physical and emotional damage to the already seemingly fragile city.

However, despite all of this, somehow, the residents rallied together and began the “Rebuild Los Angeles” campaign, where money was raised for disadvantaged small businesses, businesses owned by women, African-Americans, Tribal Native Americans, disabled persons, and veterans were awarded grants through the city, thereby boosting the local economy. There was a sense of hope and renewal and at that time, it seemed that anything was possible.

During this time, my father was retired, having spent over twenty years of his life working for the City of Los Angeles Department of Airports as a Landscaper and Airport Maintenance Crew Member. As I said, there were a lot of new opportunities for new businesses during this time, so I decided that with my business savvy and my father’s expertise, this would be an opportune time to start a landscaping business of our own. Excited by the prospect of this moneymaker, I conducted research, and created a business plan, concept, and later finalizing the plans for my new business, with my dad working as my silent partner.

As we began to make plans, it did not take long for me to see that as an African-American female business owner, I would be able to make bids for contracts with the city and county and would be almost guaranteed to make money. My father agreed to help with securing equipment, bids, and estimates, and once it became necessary, I would later hire laborers to perform the manual work.

It took me approximately one year to do my business plan and network to get my business on the road. I was always working on getting certified as a Veterans, African-American, Woman Business Owner; however, it was a long and tedious process. After the completion of my business plan and the final review from the Small Business Association, my certification was pending, as were business contracts.

As my business was evolving, I decided to throw a grand opening party. My older sister pitched in to help with the planning, and it turned out to be a huge success. I invited Jacques, Dee-Dee (close high school friend), co-workers from Roadway Package System, co-workers from the U.S. Air Force, my sister’s L.A. County friends, local businesses from the surrounding area, and neighbors. The party was an overwhelming success at my sister’s house.

We had a blast, plus I got business contacts. Who knew? Although it was a joyous event for me, the party quickly became more than a celebration. As I mingled with the crowd of well- wishers, I managed to secure small deals and make many connections. At the advice of friends, I began to attend Chamber of Commerce events, Small Business Administration events, as well as events hosted by the City of Los Angeles, all with the goal in mind to create more contacts and secure bigger contracts. Right before my eyes, my business was growing, and I was once again flying high.

Maurice, a good friend of mine, came on board and began assisting me with an early expansion. With his help, we were able to secure more vehicles, more estimates, and more deals. I was on cloud nine. However, right in the middle of my efforts, my father decided that this project was much more than he wanted to participate in, and he simply wanted to be at home and enjoy the retired life. I was absolutely devastated.

I knew nothing about planting sod, fertilizing different types of grass, installing sprinkler systems, trimming or pruning trees and shrubs, or planting the just right mix of flowers. I was clueless about cementing flowerbeds, or even how to use a weed whacker. In fact, the only real knowledge I had about the hands-on portion of the business was cutting grass, which I often did on weekends to relax. Having my father’s knowledge and expertise was crucial to the success of the business, and I knew that I could not do it without him.

I had to regroup, figure out what was next, and figure out how to keep from sinking physically, mentally, and financially. As time passed and my vision for a successful business began to fade, I needed to find a way to get back on my feet and avoid bankruptcy. I knew the Army was looking for Soldiers and giving bonuses, as mentioned in TV commercials, so there I went. Instead of following the path of bankruptcy, I decided to join the Army for three years, live like a monk, saving every single penny I could, and pay off all of my bills, while avoiding accruing even more debt.

I later signed over my Air Force Reserve contract, sent it over to the local Army recruiting office, sold some of my belongings, and prepared myself for this new transition. All I had to do was stick to the plan three years in the Army then I could come back and start over with another business idea.

The Original “Baby-Girl”

Mom

Dad

U.S. Army—Korean War

A Mother’s Faith in God—

A Mission to Save Her Baby

The New Family 1963

Richard Thomas, Me, Mom, Big Sis and Dad

First Day of School-St. Raphael

Neighborhood Friends

Big Sis, Little Sis

The Start of the Dreams

St. Mary’s Academy 12th Grade Year

The Dark Side

U.S. Air Force Reserves

Airman of the 1st Quarter 1987

COL Thomas Neubert, 445 MAW VICE-COMMANDER

Exploring Life

Jacques & Dee

Support and Celebrate my FIRST Business Venture!

SERVING IN THE ARMY

“If anyone serves, he should do it with the

strength God provides, so that in all things

God may be praised through Jesus Christ.”

1 Peter 4:11

I am in a fighter plane with a pilot. The pilot shows me the airplane’s flight pattern and how the satellite tracks all flights. I am so amazed. We both have to abandon the plane by ejecting. After ejecting, the pilot is holding on to me for dear life; however, he is wearing the parachute and I am not. He fumbles to release the parachute. I become frantic and help him release the chute by pulling the release cord. The release cord does not work. I then pull his reserve chute’s release cord and the chute comes out, but does not inflate with air. I try to open the chute manually, but no luck, as we are falling fast to the ground. We fall into the ground and to my surprise we do not die; nor or am I injured. I shout, “This is a miracle from God!”

As a young child, I knew that I would end up in some type of law enforcement profession. There was always a voice leading me or giving me a desire for this career field, so I left the U.S. Air Force Reserves and my family, and joined the U.S. Army Military Police Corps to avoid financial discord.

I prepared for my new journey, sold some of my belongings, and prepared myself for this new transition. In May of 1995, I entered Basic Military Police Training, and graduated the following September. Upon graduating from Military Police School at Ft. McClellan, Alabama, my first duty station was Camp Humphreys, Korea. The Air Force Reserve had sent me to Korea years before, and after visiting, I had no desire to return. It was a country that remained foreign to me, and I knew I would have a hard time adjusting again.

The few weeks of leave I had before my departure found me in a deep depression. I could not envision what life would be like, living in this new country for over a year, and was sad about leaving my friends and family behind.

All too quickly, my vacation ended and it was time for me to leave. As my mother drove me to the airport, I told her not to get emotional and not to cry at the gate, because I had everything under control. Of course, this was completely untrue. I was an emotional mess on the inside; the sight of my mother’s tears would send me over the edge, and I needed to stay strong.

Back in 1995, the Department of Homeland Security or TSA did not exist, so family and friends were allowed to wait with you at the gate before your flight departed. When the final boarding call was made for my flight, the control I had been fighting to maintain finally melted, and all of my fears began pouring out all at once. Suddenly, sitting next to my mother, about to board this plane to what felt like the other side of the world, everything I was about to embark on hit me like a ton of bricks. My tears became so dramatic that I somehow managed to hold up the plane from leaving. After a few minutes and threats from the flight staff, I somehow managed to leave my mother’s side and board the plane.

As I predicted, living in Korea was a particularly hard adjustment because suddenly, absolutely everything was different. Now there were open markets, large crowds without police presence, zero street signs, and an open sewage system. The food was also a major adjustment and it was rare for me to find anything familiar to eat outside the base. Life on the base, which was typically the one familiar aspect of life, was also incredibly foreign.

In Korea, geisha girls were often brought to the base to perform various services for the service members, and every time I saw one; I knew I was in a whole new world. Almost from the moment I landed in Korea with all of its cultural differences, I went buck wild partying in an effort to combat my loneliness and uneasiness.

One night, as I returned home to the barracks after partying in one of the local Korean villages, I had a moment with God. That night, I had gone out with friends, and between us about five to six of us, we drank at least 2 gallons of Soju Punch. Soju is an alcohol mixed with formaldehyde and is probably over a 100% proof. Formaldehyde has no taste, making it a perfect mixer with alcohol and juice or punch.

For the record, Soju is extremely dangerous to consume. Aside from what it does to your body, the lack of taste makes it virtually impossible to gauge the amount of alcohol you have consumed. Your mind thinks that it is drinking punch or juice, while your body is taking in large doses of formaldehyde and alcohol. The knowledge of the dangers was not a deterrent, and I continued to consume large quantities of this mix. That night, when I got home, I was so intoxicated that all I wanted was to shower before going to bed. Trips to the bathroom were always slightly irritating because the barracks had community bathrooms per gender, which meant there was no privacy sitting on the toilet or taking a shower.

As I started to brush my teeth, I began spitting out a lot of blood. I tried to rinse my mouth out with warm water, but the blood kept coming. Nervous, I examined my gums and realized that the bleeding was coming from my stomach. My mind began replaying the events of the night and it dawned on me that I was spitting up blood from drinking too much Soju Punch.

As I continued spitting, I recalled that a few nights before, while walking home from another party, I asked God to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that He was real and that my life was not a joke. That night, I stopped walking and gazed into the sky with its sparkling stars, reached my arms to the heavens, and asked God to show Himself to me. God answered my prayer and I realized that God was showing me that He was indeed real and that it was time for me to change my ways. As the bleeding subsided and my fear began to wane, I let out a sigh of relief and began to prepare for bed.

Of course, one would think that after surviving such a terrifying moment, I would be on my knees begging God for another chance. This, however, was not the case, and it did not take long for me to get right back to my old ways.

As usual, I did not heed God’s sign. In order to heed His signs in the future, God knew my heart and surrounded me with two great friends while in Korea to keep me on the straight and narrow: Pat and Shima. Pat was one of the evangelists at the church, while Shima was my barracks roommate, and she also was a member of the church choir.

Pat was a Texan who loved the Lord with all her heart. She made no secret of her commitment to the Lord, and shared Jesus with everyone she met. Her presence alone made people squirm around her, especially our shady company chain of command. She made it known that darkness cannot exist where light was present.

I have never seen someone who had so much favor on their life. In my eyes, Pat was the modern-day Elijah. She was constantly in prayer and when obstacles came her way, she was able to fight successfully because she was always in full spiritual armor. Unlike other Soldiers, Pat was serving a two-year tour in Korea as opposed to a year stint, meaning she was away longer from her teenage boys. As a divorcée raising two kids on her own, Pat relentlessly prayed for their protection, success, health, and salvation. Pat’s prayers were powerful and in the two years she spent away from her boys, not one negative incident came their way.

In viewing her walk with the Lord, I always wanted just a little of her favor to ooze over on me, like Elisha wanted from Elijah in 2 Kings 2:9-10. Without knowing that I wanted the same favor from the Lord, she inadvertently taught me how to pray, how to fast, and how to discern evil spirits. She even began to teach me how to interpret some of my dreams. Her walk and faith in the Lord have been a true testimony for me, because she never compromised her spiritual commitment, and always set the spiritual example.

Of course, God gave me a Christian roommate while in Korea. Shima hailed from Washington D.C. and had a lot of street attitude. There was a certain confidence and swagger about those from D.C., that I figured came from the constant battles of maintaining a living there. At times, our living space was reminiscent of a battleground, with Shima often winning the battle of wills. When I wanted to play secular music by provocative artists, she would begin to play gospel artists like Helen Baylor, Kirk Franklin, and Fred Hammond.

When I wanted to have dates in the room, she would invite a group of her Bible-thumping friends over to block my escapades. She drove me crazy, but set a great example of leading a pure life.

Pat and Shima became great friends because of their strong desire to serve the Lord at the base church. Pat partially ran the administrative function of the church, while Shima served in the choir. One day, they both came to me in my room, Pat standing on to the left of me and Shima standing on the right, both laying hands on me. As the prayer intensified,

I was introduced to the true presence of the spiritual realm. During the prayer, my eyes were open, but all I could see was pure white light. My entire body felt like it was on fire and I began sweating buckets of sweat. Shima began vomiting and without missing a beat, Pat yelled, “Do not remove your hands! Keep praying!” They prayed for thirty to forty minutes without stopping and when they finished, I felt like a ton of bricks had been lifted from me. I believe Shima was throwing up because of some of the evil spirits hovering around me. We never discussed what happened that night, and I still cannot say what motivated them to come into my room to pray. Whatever the case, a huge seed was planted and I would never forget the power I felt.

After making their acquaintance, they both talked me into joining the hospitality committee at the base Protestant church. Once a month, the hospitality committee would put on Sunday dinners for the congregation, who were usually homesick soldiers. The dinners were so rewarding because not only did we provide fellowship for the church members who were so far away from home, but also I was able to learn the moving parts of a church from the financial, administrative, and spiritual aspects.

During my last eight months in Korea, I matured immensely as a Christian. I owe it all to my Lord and Savior, and the two great people He placed in my life. Over and over again, God proved His existence to me through dreams, friends, and trying work conditions.

Right before leaving Korea, I was promoted to Corporal due to my leadership skills and taking on additional duties that enhanced the quality of life of the soldiers in my unit. It was evident to me that God had answered my question about whether He really existed. I knew that God existed with all the experiences from church, dreams, and people who took care of me. I left Korea a hardcore Bible thumper, reading the Bible every chance I got, and on fire for the Lord. Finally, I was leading a spirit-filled life for once, because I had so much conviction to live the scriptures, as opposed to just reading the scriptures. The life of fleshly consumption were things of the past. My faith and trust in the Lord were strong but not strong enough, as I soon would learn.

I left Korea in December of 1996 without an earthly husband; however, I was walking with my spiritual husband. That was more important, and definitely more gratifying. God led me to Ft. Lewis, Washington, a place where a whole set of new life experiences or spiritual refresher training were awaiting me. Unbeknownst to me, I would be enlisting in a spiritual boot camp.

FT. LEWIS, WASHINGTON

Ft. Lewis, Washington is one of the most beautiful Army installations in the world. Picturesque views of Mt. Rainer, standing bold and majestic with a pillowcase snowcap, are seen from any location on base, and the views after a crisp rain leaving behind a pasty full moon would take your breath away. Although a complete 180 from Korea, I was met with a fair amount of challenges. When I came to Ft. Lewis, I had no vehicle and was forced to take taxis everywhere I went.

I was still in the process of getting my credit repaired after my landscaping business did not pan out, and knew what my priorities were, and it was not possible for me to simply go out and buy a brand-new car. Taking cabs every day was not financially smart either, so I began to pray to God to help me find a reliable vehicle.

While shopping on base one day, I kept seeing Ford Broncos and Ford Broncos II. Being the year of 1997, SUVs were hot vehicles to purchase, but not Broncos. Broncos were old news and on their way out. However, every time I saw one, my gut feeling was that I needed to find and buy a Bronco. I looked around at a variety of used car dealerships, and could not find a vehicle right for me. Finally, when my money started to dwindle down from catching taxis all the time, I took my last few dollars to catch a cab to this one particular used car dealership that I found in a local base paper. As I was in the cab, I prayed to God that I would find the car that I needed, because I was at the end my rope.

After saying that prayer, I remembered the cab driver turning around to the backseat and giving me tips on the dos and don’ts in buying an used car, and questions to ask the car salespersons. I was grateful for the advice and by time we made it to the dealership, I was excited about the possibilities. However, when I got to the dealership, I did not see any cars I liked. By this time, it was getting late and the sun had already set. The salesperson took me around the lot, and with each row we passed I became more and more disappointed that I was wasting my time.

As we made our way to the back lots, there it was: a brown and tan Bronco II that was waiting for me. Remembering the kind advice from the taxi driver, I asked the questions he gave me and the car checked out fine. That night, God answered my prayer and I drove off the lot with my Bronco II, along with an affordable car note.

Blessed with transportation, I was able to find a Calvary Chapel in Tacoma, Washington. It was a small church with about 35-45 members, but God was speaking His word there and I loved it. Every sermon seemed to have my name on it, and God led me to give a public testimony through my baptism. The baptism served as a very intimate act in building my relationship with my Savior. I later ventured out and participated in the women’s Bible study, which was totally against my socialization norms, even though I was such an extrovert in high school.

Back then, I was always the center of attention and had no problem with speaking in front of people or cracking a joke for the class to enjoy. After entering the Army, I lost that zeal and I was living as a recluse. During this time, I also started working at the 704th Military Police Battalion Confinement Facility on Fort Lewis. Unfortunately, I actually lived next door to the confinement facility, which gave me no privacy from co-workers or inmates. To give a clear picture, the inmates’ recreation yard faced one of the entrances of the barracks, so everyone knew your business whether you wanted them to or not. Of course, I grew to understand that as usual, God had a plan and a purpose for my life, and He quickly put me to work.

While I was living in the battalion area, the Lord led me to pray and anoint the major doorways to the battalion area, the confinement facility major doorway, and my barracks room door. The Lord told me to pray for good leadership, protection, and the removal of demonic forces, especially while working in a prison. God also put on my heart to anoint the Bronco for safety, all of which I did with the greatest of humility.

Ever faithful, God saw to it that many top and middle management personnel at the confinement facility were removed from their positions while stationed there.

During all of this, while I safely served in a medium- security confinement facility without incident and without fear of reassignment, God also saw to it that my Bronco was a trusty, reliable vehicle, especially during the snowy and rainy months.

FAVOR FINDS ME

While stationed at Ft. Lewis, I found myself pushed into challenging situations that I had never encountered. At this time, I was a very young ranking Squad Leader and a Primary Leadership Development Course (PLDC) Instructor. These titles constantly forced me to compete against experienced personnel in the field, and the odds were always against me. Yet, by the grace of God, I was always victorious. A perfect example of this came when my company first sergeant, First Sergeant Jones, pushed me into the Military Police Correction Competition against my wishes. This competition was composed of completing a series of tests, including a physical fitness test, a 12-mile road march with full gear, a weapon qualification range, and a land navigation course, along with correctional tasks. I was forced into this competition where I applied my skills to the best of my ability.

Although my team placed neither well nor last, we received great exposure to networking opportunities, and my name was placed on the career map, thanks to God’s plan.

After that event, there was no going back. My command sergeant major told me I had no choice but to submit my package to become a military police drill sergeant. Command Sergeant Major Sapp looked like a Clint Eastwood double and could be very persuasive, with his nonchalant demeanor and way of talking. I pleaded with CSM Sapp to select someone else, but he did not budge. I had no aspirations for any of these assignments because the odds of becoming a Military Police Drill Sergeant were slim to none. Those selected are supposed to be the best of the best in their chosen military occupation specialty. I felt I was not the “best” and did not possess the maturity, experience, leadership, or servant’s heart the position required, but God knew differently.

FT. LEONARDWOOD, MISSOURI

To my surprise, my drill sergeant package was accepted and approved by the Department of the Army. I was to report to Drill Sergeant School in April of 2000. I had no idea of what to expect, nor could I have anticipated what to expect. Drill Sergeant School or DS School, as we called it, turned out to be one of the most challenging and demanding aspects of my career.

As the training began, I knew that physically, I could handle the challenges, but the technical information of combat maneuvers and weaponry systems sometimes went over my head.

Thankfully, during this time, I was able to make friends and together, we created a study group where we reviewed class subjects and practiced performance-measured skills. Despite my shortcomings, I graduated with one of the highest physical fitness scores, even graduating on the Commandant’s List, which meant I was in the top 10% of the class, with high test scores.

After this experience, I became much closer to God, needing daily doses of His strength and wisdom to get through my day. God seemed to put me in situations that were impossible in my eyes, and only He could see me through. Constantly, I prayed for Jesus to get me through upcoming Army courses successfully, and each day I completed a major accomplishment as my training program continued. Often, I felt out of my league that I was too old for this type of work but God got me through and allowed me to complete the courses.

Once I graduated, I was assigned to train at the same unit I had attended as a private. I was flabbergasted. If I thought DS School was hard and challenging, I had seen nothing yet.

My chain of command was pure evil and constantly adjusted training stats to receive high accolades from the higher-ups, battalion, and brigade. I learned the hard way that basic training was a numbers and money game, and it cost several thousands of dollars for a soldier to complete Military Police Basic Training. Because it was so expensive, training companies had to explain in great detail the loss of any recruit during basic training. A loss was considered a possible career stopper for middle and top management, and was a poor reflection on the chain of command. If ever a recruit washed out of training, the Department of the Army wanted answers and in the end, everyone wanted to look good and everyone wanted power, no matter who you had to turn on to get there.

While a small number of recruit washouts were due to incompetent trainers, this was not the main reason for recruits dropping from training. One of the main causes for recruits washing out was a failure to tell the truth about their medical and criminal history. Many times, this information did not surface until halfway through training. It was impossible to motivate a recruit to run an obstacle course if they are suffering from spina bifida, flat feet, mental illness, delusions, or schizophrenic fits. However, no matter what the actual cause, drill sergeants were blamed and held accountable for recruits who failed to make it through training.

My ethnicity and gender also played a huge role during this time and I constantly had to prove myself as being competent in all areas, much like a real-life GI Jane, not to mention, the bombardment of sexual harassment. As drill sergeants, we were required to know the location of all training sites for basic training on the first cycle of training, which is impossible, because the training base was the size of a small city of over 100,000 people in small wooded community. I was belittled and ridiculed for being late to training sites because sometimes I would get turned around. After being yelled at so many times, unlike my male counterpart, I was finally able to fall into my own regimen after developing a strong resolve to do so.

Despite these challenges, I loved training Soldiers, and took great pride in doing so. The recruits were like little sponges that wanted to learn everything they could to serve their country. Prior to this final stop, some of the privates were on the brink of homelessness and this was their last shot at being successful in life. With all my ability, I ensured that they were successful and passed the different classes, by providing remedial training when necessary, along with much needed encouragement and love.

While living on the base in close and confined barracks space, the little things became significant for recruits, and mail time became one of my favorite times. The prospect of receiving lifelines and treats from family members allowed them to receive the needed love and support in order to survive the next training day. It also allowed me to find out what really motivated the recruits. Drill sergeants are required to inspect the mail for illegal items and contraband. In doing so, I was able to inspect family pictures, magazines, and homemade cookies, which I consumed in mass quantities.

It was also a time of comfort for those privates who did not have outside family and friends by giving them added attention of praise. Drill sergeants at times also become the family that their recruits are missing, and in order to effectively train, a trainer must get to the heart in order to get to the brain. When the sergeant succeeds, the private can trust the orders given them during conflict and battle.

After a year on the trail as a drill sergeant, promotion found me again. This promotion to Sergeant First Class shocked me. Due to the overwhelming number of promotions in my company, my battalion had to redistribute the wealth of sergeants first class. I was moved to another training company directly across from my previous one, and life improved greatly for me.

As a drill sergeant, you are required to do two years of DS duty and a third year as an instructor. Once your three years are up, you are supposed to get one of the three duty stations of your choice. I was not granted any of my requested duty stations, which really brought me down in spirit.

Once again, minding my own business, I was asked to do my third year for a program called RTIC—Rehabilitation Training Instructor Course. RTIC taught civilian law enforcement officers to become drill sergeants, so they could later instruct their state boot camps for first-time felons programs. A RTIC instructor was another position that was considered a privileged position, as this was a huge program due to the “War on Drugs.” It was an honor to be asked to participate in such a program not every drill sergeant could do this duty, only a select few.

FT. LEAVENWORTH, KANSAS

I had only three weeks to pack up and move to Ft. Leavenworth, Kansas. I was under the impression that the Army was going to reassign me to Miramar, California where I could live with my new husband. He was a drill instructor at Marine Corps Depot Center, San Diego. Instead, I was on my way to Kansas, where Dorothy has a standing reputation.

Ft. Leavenworth is one of the oldest historical military installations for the Army. It served as a resupply post because the Oregon Trail and Santa Fe Trail crossed at this location. Today, the base serves as the major war college for Army and foreign officers, such as Colin Powell and Saddam Hussein. The Discovery Channel runs specials on Ft. Leavenworth having one the oldest running confinement facilities: U.S. Disciplinary Barracks.

For what it is worth, Ft. Leavenworth is known as the fourth-most-haunted place in the United States. Rumor has it that the Pope will not fly over Kansas due to this fact. Trust me; I had my run-ins with the paranormal at this installation. To my surprise, many of the soldiers that served with me were Satanist and Wiccan.

Well, as I in-processed into my new company, I was assigned into a dual role as a platoon sergeant and as an assistant guard commander, not to mention all the additional duties I had to perform, e.g., post staff duty, parole boards, and unending staff and training meetings.

Our battalion was short-staffed due to the “War on Terror.” Our former president got us in such an unbelievable pickle that our great military was fighting two war fronts, which caused the Defense Department to stretch the fabric of our soldiers to a sheer nothingness. I felt like a trapped slave forced to work against my will, with very little wherewithal.

The War on Terror was killing our morale, health, families and of course, it was killing our prized possession, our Soldiers. Soldiers from my battalion were being deployed and leaving the different companies undermanned to run the confinement facility. When I left the Army, my workweek consisted of twelve workdays straight and each workday consisted of twelve hours. Therefore, I worked twelve days on with one day off, which caused me stress, and as a result, my health started to deteriorate. Stomach and digestive problems were the least of my worries.

With such a rigorous work schedule, I felt a small glimmer of hope because my enlistment was up soon. Don’t get me wrong; I love my country, and served honorable and faithfully. However, I did not believe in the wars we are fighting. I am fully aware of the oath I affirmed, but Soldiers were dying for oil and the greed of oil. I did not want to die that way.

Even though my enlistment was to end soon, I was afraid that I was going to be caught in the stop/loss process by the Department of the Army. This is where the Army involuntarily keeps you pass your contract date because of their need for bodies. Living and starting my life with my husband was a necessity for me because we had been separated for far too long and were now encountering major problems. Now, I was truly stressed beyond my limits. If I felt this way, I could only imagine that other soldiers and their families were pushed to their max as well.

My first sergeant at the time decided to step down from his position, which blew my mind. Soldiers never quit, but he did, which was unheard of, especially with his being in such a high-ranking position of authority. I never knew this was possible, because Soldiers do not have options. Obviously, he did. Soldiers are required to carry out the orders of the officers appointed over them, and that means you do not walk away from an appointed position, unless relieved of duty for disciplinary reasons.

A leader sets the example for subordinates by leading from the front. My first sergeant’s actions caused my company commander and battalion command sergeant major to select me as the acting first sergeant.

Why was this happening to me now? I didn’t need this new and added stress. I repeatedly recited, “God will not give you more than you can bear.” It was my opinion that I did not hold the proper rank for the position. I thought my head was going to explode, because not only was this unwanted stress forced upon me but my 41st birthday was around the corner. I felt that maybe I would die any day now, and it became a welcome moment, as long as it was not in Iraq.

Here we go again! I was forced into a position that I did not ask for or want. So many other sergeants first class wanted this opportunity; they were all vying for the position. How could I lead soldiers when my marriage was falling apart and I was stressed to the outer limits? Let’s go a step further! My company commander’s mother died during this time, and he had to return to Nigeria for the funeral services, which meant he would be out of the area for at least three to four weeks. Let us go another step further; in a couple of weeks, I would turn forty-one years old.

Would I die soon? If death was imminent, then I welcomed the experience because I was so frazzled, frustrated, and dismayed with the Army, as well as my personal life. Now, I had a company of soldiers to lead and weakness I could not display, not even a hint but I believe I did.

My assignment as the acting first sergeant went well, and I survived the experience, but my marriage did not. This takes me to the dream at the beginning of this chapter of the jet pilot. The jet pilot represents God, and He is showing me my ministry and how all-knowing He is. As we abandon the plane, I have to rely on God to protect and save me, but I try to do it myself and fail. In the end, God could let me die, but He saves me and it is a miracle.

The same held true during the last stint of the Army. All along, God had been showing me that He is all-knowing and He has been showing me my road to my destiny. When it was time to bail out or leave a situation, I failed to rely on Him, and went on my own, but He saved me anyway by His grace and mercy.

ROMANS, COUNTRYMEN, AND ARMY FRIENDS

“Greater love has no one than this,

that he lay his life for his friends.”

John 15:13

I am dreaming of two Clydesdale horses, and one is bigger than the other. They are brown, with healthy, flowing manes. I am not afraid of them and am not afraid to ride them. They love me, and display a deep affection for me. When I try to leave, they follow me and motion for me to pat them. I have a hard time trying to leave them forever.

The Army instructs Soldiers throughout their careers never leave a fallen comrade behind. In basic training, a Soldier is taught to account and to be responsible for their team, squad, platoon, or company, whether you like the Soldier or not. I have served with some great Soldiers, and during that time, I tried my best to live up to the Army ethos of what it takes to have a distinguished character. The Army ethos consists of always placing the mission first, never accepting defeat, never quitting, and never leaving a fallen comrade behind.

Even though I may lack many great and memorable working times in the Army, I was blessed to make some great friends, friends who shaped my life and friends whom I will never forget or leave behind.

I was not the only late-blooming or older Soldier in my basic training class. Bev was there as well. Bev was a Floridian, married, with two lovely daughters who are probably grown now. We instantly bonded because of our age and our common life experiences, such as issues we had with men, aging, and what we wanted out of life and the Army. After basic training, Bev remained at Ft. McClellan because it was her first duty station, and served as a patrol MP, and I moved on.

When I returned to Ft. McClellan for additional military police training, she opened her home to me for meals, relaxation, rest, and a source of transportation, a home away from home. Her spirit was that of unconditional giving, caring, and hospitality. She was the type of person to give her last dollar without a blink of an eye. If you needed it, and she had it, you got it.

During my stay at Ft. McClellan, I lacked transportation, so Bev offered her spare vehicle, which had a manual transmission. She ensured I was a competent driver of a manual transmission by giving me lessons. Her crash course in driving a stick was puttering around base for a few hours until I felt comfortable and confident in traffic. I performed some parking drills, and she cut me loose. However, she failed to instruct me on driving and parking on a hill. I believe this is vital information to a driver. Unsurprisingly, I got stuck on a hill and panicked like a kid who lost control of their training wheels. I called Bev on my cell phone, and she stopped her day and came to my rescue. Bev and her family treated me like family, and I thank her for the southern hospitality.

Pat and Shima were not my only friends in Korea. Carol, or “Red,” as we called her, was a friend from Kansas City, and much like me, knew the Lord, but did not always follow as closely as she should. Carol and I became quick friends and she was always a lot of fun to be around. She had pale white skin and fiery red hair, which I always attributed to her having so much soul. Carol worked as the cook in the confinement facility on base, and had extensive experience preparing mouth-watering meals.

Even though it was forbidden, Carol would often cook in her room and soon, her spot became the barracks bistro and was always filled with jazz and good food. The barracks I lived in were meager, to say the least. They were built during World War II and had not been well maintained over the years. The furniture was old and beyond worn out, but against all odds, we made it work. Always the exception to the rule, Carol somehow managed to make her room like a display right out of Modern Interior magazine. Lace flowed from her walls onto her bed, while her floor rugs accented her bed and pillows. Of course she had plenty of fancy flatware to serve her famous dishes, and there was always enough to go around. Luckily, for me, Carol’s room was directly across from mine, and anytime she was home, I enjoyed tasteful food entrees and jazz from her menu. Thanks to Carol, our hallway was filled with spicy aromas and cool jazz throughout our workweek. Carol was a great friend to me and always made sure that I never felt alone.

Another amazing person in my life while in Korea was my good friend Mac. Mac was originally from Los Angeles and attended Serra High School in Gardena. By the time I made it into the Army, Mac had been there for a while and was experienced enough to teach me how to survive in this new environment. His lessons were invaluable, because as a junior enlisted and brand new to answering to this kind of military authority, I naturally questioned every order given, relying heavily on common sense. Even though I was older than most of the other soldiers of my rank, my ranking did not allow me to question anything coming from officers who were contractually appointed over me; I was obligated to obey their every order. There were plenty of times when my leaders made decisions that made no sense, but Mac quickly taught me to slow down and carefully pick my battles.

Before Mac, I always felt that I was going to war with my commander with no ammunition, but with Mac’s help, I was slowly learning how to fight. Along with Carol, Mac’s room was also a great hangout spot. Whenever we wanted to play cards or dominoes, watch videos, or just party, we always made our way to Mac’s room. Somehow, he always managed to get all of the latest music and movies, which was great since everything was released six to eight months later in Korea than the United States. Mac’s room was definitely the after-hours speakeasy, and always provided a welcome break from the monotony and routine of the Army.

When we were not hanging out in his room, we would play hours upon hours of racquetball. I played him until I literally injured myself from muscle overuse, and eventually tore my right rotator cuff. Some days we could barely walk back to the barracks from pure exhaustion. I do not think Mac got much sleep while he served in Korea, because everyone enjoyed hanging out in Mac’s room. Mac was my big brother in Korea who watched over me, and I truly respect him for his love and guidance.

Ft. Lewis, Washington, the land of grunge music, was the place that gave me a full family away from home: the Jones family. The Joneses consisted of David, Dena, and three little adorable boys. I served with Dena at the 704th MP Battalion. The Joneses were a non-stop family that made me go to church and Bible study, baby-sit, eat dinner, celebrate every holiday, and a whole host of other activities.

Our Bible study sessions were so intense. You would have thought that we were Greek Hebrew scholars working on our third doctorate or studying the meaning of the Dead Sea Scrolls. David would pull out every Bible he owned and turn the television to Trinity Broadcast Network to battle. In the background of arguing, you could hear Jesse Duplantis or Joyce Meyer delivering a sermon. We would argue into the wee hours of the morning on a particular scripture verse, regarding who had the correct interpretation. Dena provided fattening snack foods such as fried sausage balls, nachos, and cheese dip and sometimes pecan pie not to mention the best coffee made in the world. The snacks and the coffee put us back on track to argue another twelve rounds.

After these biblical debates, all three of us would share our fears, trials, dreams, and love for Christ. We became sounding boards for one another, but most importantly, they made me believe in myself. They encouraged me to have faith in the Lord, and they encouraged me to stand up for my beliefs and convictions in the midst of opposition. They reinforced how important a family must become, and how the family should never take second place to anything but God.

Charmaine, on the other hand, was my road dawg. When I got the itch to go out and listen to jazz or cut a rug in Tacoma, Charmaine and I were rolling. I admired Charmaine because she also was an up and coming talent in the Army. She served in the Medical Corps and had her own set of challenges. Charmaine maintained a positive attitude despite much opposition. I never witnessed her in a fearful or panicky state; she was always the beacon of hope.

The Department of the Army awarded Charmaine the Combat Medic Badge, which is hard to get as an African-American female. She always challenged me to run with her because she averaged 6-minute miles to my 7-minute miles. Her accomplishments were a big deal, and I am proud of her. Charmaine was career-minded, as well as being a wife and a mother of two. She balanced the ball, and I am proud to have served with her. Unfortunately, she lost her husband, Ricky, to a motorcycle accident a few years ago. Charmaine is resilient and adjusted to the loss by continually being a great mom to her girls and a Soldier of Soldiers.

We all made the acquaintance of a very attractive man that had a following of women. Well, that was Joseph. I do not think monogamy was part of his vocabulary. However, Joseph turned out during this time to be a good friend, as well as a very popular ladies’ man. As a fellow instructor at Primary Leadership Development Course, PLDC, he always made sure my classes were properly prepped. He made certain I had all the current teaching materials and was familiar with all the running routes. This manly, sexy infantry Soldier called me most mornings to make sure I was up and on time for accountability formations, and to inform me of the uniform of the day.

He was my backup plan or better yet, he had my back, and I could trust him. Joseph was a hard corps Mechanized Infantry Soldier who went out of his way to make sure I was successful in a male-driven environment. He proved to me that sexism and racism did not have to hinder my goals and aspirations.

In contrast, SFC Captain was one of those Army leaders who taught me the politics of the Army. She was old school and was soon to retire, which led her to take me under her wing for protection.

When I worked for her in the Prisoner Service Branch of the confinement facility, our first sergeant at the time was a manipulative, corrupt, and treacherous leader. If you were out for good, he was there to stomp it out, unless there was a benefit to him or it made him look good. Statistics, prestige, and power drive the Army. This particular first sergeant was on the warpath for success at any cost.

There is one thing I learned from this particular first sergeant: “Knowledge is power.” He mentioned in a conversation with me that if you know the rules, regulations, and procedures inside out, then you are able to manipulate the results to your advantage. The Army is based on rules, regulations, standard operating procedures, and field manuals. There is a manual to explain how to breathe and how to tie your shoes. Most Soldiers are overwhelmed with all the manuals available to them, so they shun reading and assimilating the information, but I thought otherwise. This particular first sergeant stressed that it is impossible to know all, but at least know where to find it, or have your subordinates conduct the research. It is best, however, to know where the information can be found yourself.

Well, I bumped heads with this first sergeant on providing the truth as it related to my job. I had damaging information on a soldier that would have implicated my chain of command as being derelict in duty. Basically, my chain of command knew a Soldier was conspiring to commit a dangerous crime and never addressed the issue, but I did. SFC Captain ran interference for me by taking accountability for my words and deeds. Later, more dirt on my first sergeant landed in my hands. Talk about a sense of power. The next thing you know, I was offered a great job outside the unit as a PLDC Instructor and guess who was behind this deal? Crooked old First Sergeant!

Being a military instructor (PLDC) propelled me on to become a drill sergeant at Ft. Leonardwood, Missouri. As a military police drill sergeant, I have served in training thousands of soldiers. This has been a great honor, and has afforded me some memorable moments in my life. The recruits or privates, as we called them came from all walks of life, which made for an interesting training experience. The privates ranged from the hard-core New Yorker to a carefree surfer from California, to an Oklahoma cowboy, to the hospitable southerner from Mississippi. In the end, it did not matter where they were from because the privates made me angry, proud, happy, tearful, laugh, and scream all in one breath. One of the most important duties of a drill sergeant is to motivate the privates to train, but quite often, they motivated me to train them.

One particular morning, 0445 hours, I was pushing the privates out to first formation for accountability and physical fitness training. I stood there screaming, “Let’s go! Formation!

You’re moving like pond water! Move it! Move it! Let’s Go! Move with a sense of urgency!” Finally, my platoon was in formation, and I noticed everyone had silly smiles on their faces. They were trained to never smile or laugh, because training was serious business. My blood started to boil, because my platoon was lacking discipline. It was obvious that I hadn’t done my job of instilling the fear of the mighty DRILL SERGEANT.

Instantly, I began to lay into them with threats of how I was going to kill them with extra physical training and extra duty for smiling so much. Finally, one private got up the nerve to ask permission to speak to me. “It better be important! I mean, it better be worth your life!” I yelled. He chuckled and said, “Drill Sergeant, your shirt is on backwards!”

There was a brief moment of silence before we all burst into laughter. The Army logo on my shirt was supposed to be on my back, but I had it facing front. After a quick giggle, we all straightened up and I got them back in line.

Graduation ceremonies were tough times for me. After spending sixteen-hour days for four and a half months with my trainees, I was more than glad to see them go, but sometimes my heart was heavy with sadness. Whether I wanted to or not, I developed strong bonds with some of them, and would miss them as they left for their next duty station, never to be seen again.

Aside from parting ways with my trainees, graduation also meant interacting with the families. The parents always gave a heart wrenching “Thank-You” or “God Bless and keep you,” often melting my heart. Even though I did my best not to show it, their solemn and sincere words made everything all worthwhile. I would hear the moving stories from the parents of how their son or daughter had totally transformed into a mature, disciplined fighting machine, and if it wasn’t for the Army, their child would surely be wasting away in a detention center or county jail. There were times when I had to excuse myself to the restroom, so I would not tear up in front of them, especially in the presence of my newly trained warrior.

During this time, I was privileged to work with some of the best drill sergeants in the country. My success as a United States Drill Sergeant was predicated on the drill sergeants who mentored, assisted, and shared the best camaraderie I could experience. When I was dead tired from the long hours, the privates were acting like zombies, and my chain of command was waving the working whip on my back, I could count on my fellow Drills to encourage and push me forward. I hope I did the same for them.

Down the road, I would come to realize how hard it would be to say “So long and goodbye” to my Army friends, as well as to the Army itself. The friendships I made over the years would later prove to be a testament of my life. With all the friends that I made, we worked hard and long hours at our jobs in fulfilling the mission of our national defense: “To Deter War.”

We lived the Army ethos, and later sacrificed our families, health, and lives to ensure that the American people sleep safe and soundly with their democratic pillows and freedom blankets.

THE 2ND EX-HUSBAND

“For this reason a man will leave his

father and mother and be united to his wife,

and they will become one flesh.”

Genesis 2:24

“He who finds a wife finds what is good

and receives favor from the Lord.”

Proverbs 18:22

I am in my old house and I realize that I am pregnant. I have the baby, and I am so happy. My family is there, but they do not look like my mother and father. I have to scrounge for clothes and other baby things for the child. I realize I have to tell Derrick that the baby is not his child.

After the terrorist attack of 9/11, the budget was cut for the RTIC program, and soon there was no longer a “War on Drugs,” but “War on Terror.” As the Army transitioned into this campaign, I found myself falling in love and getting married again.

So how did I meet the Second Ex-Husband? Well, I remember Derrick as a very energetic, charming, intelligent, persistent, preserving, and just full-of-life type of man.

Derrick served as a U.S. Marine Corps Military Police instructor when our paths intersected on one of the high-profile Army installations, Ft. Leonardwood, Missouri. I would see him every three months through the rotation of the basic training cycles. Derrick was always on the move and always on the go, and knew what he liked. He instructed military police report writing, constitutional law, and other specialized courses for the Army’s Military Police School.

The idea that a Marine was on Army installation really enticed me, but also made me very cautious. Marines have their public presentation, like any other organization, and he lived up to the reputation of being invincible, time-honored, and macho. Marines believe that they are the only legitimate branch of the Department of Defense; however, in actuality, they fall under the Department of the Navy, which means they are not their own department. Nevertheless, they do serve as the President’s elite choice in times of global conflict, legitimizing the certain air of confidence that Marines always have. Derrick was the epitome of all that, and had an inviting swagger to him, which eventually won me over.

Upon my initially meeting him, our work environment prevented me from being even remotely attracted to him. When our paths first crossed, I was a U.S. Army Military Police Drill Sergeant, and worked so much that I did not have time for any kind of social life. Most times I saw him, Derrick would ask me out and I always used work as my excuse for saying no. He always said he understood, but that never stopped him from asking when he saw me again.

It took a year of his persistence for me to finally give in to his requests. Of course, the fact that he lived a block away from me made it nearly impossible to say no. After he moved closer to me, I would often see Derrick running through the neighborhood in tiny green Marine Corps physical training shorts, often causing me to daydream and stare.

Eventually, a simple gesture finally won me over. On the day of my birthday, Derrick decided to host a card party at his house. I knew that there would be many other women there, along with some of his Marine friends, so I decided that it would be safe to go and have fun. During the party, he decided to surprise me by presenting me with a single Hostess chocolate cupcake with a lit candle on top. I fell for that like a young girl in high school, because he was becoming my chocolate cupcake. The thoughtful gesture won me over, and soon I was head over heels.

On our first date, we went to a pool hall/bar in town with a few other couples. Everything felt easy and effortless as we laughed and enjoyed each other’s company. Toward the end of the evening, all of the couples were talking about life in the Army. During the different conversations, Derrick would lean against me, resting his right arm across my thighs, silently claiming his territory. I did not ask him to move, as somehow, everything felt natural and comfortable. As the night progressed, I realized that I could fall in love with this man.

Derrick was the perfect date, and was always great company. We were often found together, going out to movies or renting them, shooting pool and listening to Seal, Miles Davis or classical music in my backyard while I barbequed. We knew other couples and would alternate having each other over for dinner and cards. Spades was the game, unless Derrick insisted on Taboo; then we were strongly persuaded by him to play his game of choice.

As with any budding or established relationship, Derrick and I were not without our share of disagreements. One particular evening, we had friends over to my house and I prepared Derrick’s favorite meal, shrimp jambalaya, for our four guests and us. Once everyone arrived, we all sat down for a friendly game of cards. As we dealt the first hand, Derrick was nowhere to be found. I got curious when I heard him fumbling around in the kitchen and called out to him, to find out what he was doing. When I received no response, I finally got up to investigate what was happening. When I entered the kitchen, I was completely shocked to see him standing in front of the stove, inhaling all of the jambalaya out of the skillet like a Neanderthal cave dweller.

By the time I caught him, there was only a small portion left, barely enough to feed a small child. Needless to say, I was livid!

I chewed him out and insisted that he go to the store to buy food to replace what he had devoured. I learned an important lesson: you never send a man or Marine to the grocery store without a physical shopping list. Without my giving him any instructions before he left, Derrick returned from the store with a huge party shrimp tray, which in itself was not a bad selection. In fact, I was a little impressed that he came up with that idea on his own. With my anger dissipating, I took the tray into the kitchen to prepare it for our guests. However, as I pulled off the lid, I felt my anger begin to boil again as I discovered that the shrimp were completely frozen. There was no way to defrost these shrimp in time to prepare them for our guests, so that night we played cards hungry, laughing affectionately at Derrick.

Yet, despite his manly flaws, I enjoyed his sense of humor, especially when he recited his poetry, while simultaneously barking at the moon. I knew that no matter what, there was no other place on this earth that I wanted to be but with Derrick.

As our relationship continued to develop, we would spend countless weekends together playing cards, Monopoly, Scrabble, and other board games because our outside community offered no social circle or social activities. So, sometimes, Derrick held me hostage in my own house until he could beat me at Scrabble. Due to the fact, Ft. Leonardwood and our surrounding community did not offer much in social activities; Derrick and I had to be creative.

With the generated creativity, we grilled different foods for the palate and spend quiet evenings in my freshly cut backyard, listening to classical music while enjoying a cool glass of champagne during those hot summer evenings in St. Robert, Missouri. It was easy and effortless to share his company. We would spend countless hours on the phone, just talking about nothing, until we fell asleep on each other. We would then just wake up and continue talking the next morning. It was crazy! I enjoyed just being around him, even if we were just playing footsie.

Derrick became the love of my life.

As the clock rolled its hands forward, we became very fond of one another, without asking God if this was the path to follow. Clearly, we fell in love on a very intense level that did not have its foundation on the Word of God. What we felt for one another is beyond what I can explain in words.

Yet, despite all of these feelings, something told me that this relationship was not what God wanted for me. I knew better than to be in this relationship, but I continued to fall deeper in love, relying on God’s permissive will to justify my actions.

THE PROPHECY

On September 1, 2001, Derrick and I flew to Los Angeles, to meet my family. From the visit, my family fell in love with their soon-to-be son-in-law and Uncle Derrick, and my love grew stronger for him as well. Up to that point, I had yet to meet his family in person, and it seemed as though it was not a priority of his to make this take place. Normally, this would be a giant red flag, but love has a way of blinding you to the truth, and back then, I was as blind as a bat.

Our visit ended five days before the horrific terrorist attack of 9/11 in New York. On September 6, 2001, on our way to the LAX Airport, Jacques tried to track me down to say some parting words to me before I boarded my flight and returned to Missouri.

Jacques had just encountered an evangelist the night before at a church revival. She felt God was leading her to connect this particular evangelist to me, so she called both of my parents and was met with negative results. Jacques was finally able to track me down on my cell phone. The moment I answered the phone, she said, “It is urgent that we talk before you get on the plane.” Jacques began to tell me about the prophetess she had encountered the night before, and said it was imperative that I speak with her. Before I could respond, Jacques connected the prophetess to our conversation via cell phone, and the three of us were on a 3-way conversation.

Prophetess Rita was an evangelist visiting Jacques’s home church of West Los Angeles, and prophesied over my life in such a way that my mouth dropped to the ground. Because it was a three-way conversation, Jacques and I were both able record what we heard.

These are the notes Jacques recorded:

- Called to an Apostolic Evangelist Ministry.

- You have allowed people and fear to hinder you.

- A heavy mantle on your life.

- Change in your life—relocating.

- New job-elevation.

- New business next year.

- You are not being paid what you are worth.

- You will get back what was stolen from you.

- Need to begin to tithe and sow in good ground.

- You need to be taken from people and certain people need to be moved out of your life.

- You haven’t done what God wants you to do.

- You are to minister to the hurt, but also to those in high positions.

These are the notes I recorded:

- I am a Warrior inside.

- A heavy mantle on my life.

- Called to be an Apostolic Evangelist.

- God has waited, waited, and waited on me.

- People do not know how spiritual I am.

- Need to tithe.

- I am not being paid what I am worth, but I will next year.

- I will have my own business.

- I am supposed to move next year.

- I am reaping what I have sowed in the past.

- There are leeches around me.

- God is waiting on me.

After hearing all of this, I instantly became numb. The first thing that came to mind was that Derrick was not mentioned. I contemplated how odd it was of God to leave out such an important detail, because Derrick and I were planning our future. We had so much to consider. How could God not convey an important message about Derrick? Upon arrival at the airport, I became severely ill without rhyme or reason, throwing up several times at the airport and on the plane.

The sweat was pouring from my face and my entire body ached while my stomach stayed in a spiral of knots. I was in agonizing pain, with no sign of relief. Derrick was so sweet about sitting in the middle of the row on the plane. As a result, I was able to move freely up and down the aisle to the restroom. While on the airplane, I remember looking out of the window and seeing a black cloud chasing the airplane, along with lightning.

Funny as it seems, during the flight, I felt like William Shatner on an episode of The Twilight Zone when his character thought he saw a furry monster attack the fuselage system. He disrupted the whole flight with his psychotic antics, and as a result, the plane was forced to emergency land. Everyone on the flight thought William Shatner’s character was crazy, only to find out that something had attacked the fuselage system on the airplane while in flight.

I did not disrupt the flight; however, I felt as if I was the only passenger who was remotely concerned about this black cloud pursuing the plane. To my surprise, the pilot did come over the PA system for an announcement. He mentioned that it appeared storm clouds were chasing the plane and there was no need to be alarmed because we were flying at such a speed that the plane would outpace the storm, and we were within a safe range.

Despite the pilot’s assurance, I immediately understood that the plane was under attack because of my presence and the revelation of my prophecy. This particular incident has been a defining moment in my life and proved to be very symbolic for me. The plane represented a ministry or better yet, my ministry. The storm represented spiritual warfare, while the clouds represented trouble or difficulty that was coming my way. Interestingly enough, Derrick was not concerned about the storm or my ill-looking appearance. He sat motionless and calmly in his seat and contentedly read his paperback novel. He wasn’t spiritually in tune with me at all.

A million questions began racing through my head. Was this a foreshadowing of what I was to encounter as this prophecy unfolded? Was Derrick part of the people that needed to be removed from my life? Was Derrick hindering me from doing the will of the Father? During the flight and a few days afterward, I felt surrounded by a demonic presence, but all I could do was try my best to ignore my uneasiness and keep moving forward.

God’s prophecy made absolutely no sense to me at the time and completely contradicted everything that I thought was coming. Here I was on my way to an illustrious military career, a strong, competent, black female, with a very strong chance of becoming a command sergeant major in the U.S. Army. Not to mention, I was planning to marry the love of my life. None of this was in the prophecy, and surely, I was not expected to give all of this up. So, in spite of what I was told, and instead of being still and praying about the situation, I blew the prophecy off, and continued moving onward with my life as I saw it. I should have known better, because as with everything, God would have the final say.

Spiritual blindness is not a pleasant state to experience, especially when you are looking in hindsight. Evangelist Rita had laid some heavy words on me, and Derrick was soon to leave for Drill Instructor School for the Marine Corps, and I would be left behind to ponder this whole ordeal.

When you look in the Bible on times that God prophesied over a person’s life, there are some attention-grabbing facts that stand out. Prophecies do not happen instantly, but over time, they have multiple fulfillments, and sometimes have double or triple references. The pattern is equally true today, and as I was suddenly alone with my thoughts, I wondered who would help me understand everything that had been told to me. I knew from studying God’s word that God always allows His people to repent and change their ways before His word can come to fruition.

I knew that God did not give a specific time frame, and that the prophecy would be fulfilled in His own good time. Upon arriving safely to Ft. Leonardwood, Derrick asked what was discussed on the phone with the prophetess. I choose to withhold the information from him because I felt it would fall on deaf ears. At that moment, I knew I needed a man who could spiritually nurture and assist me. Derrick and I were not spiritually yoked, and I needed someone who was in tune with my spiritual needs. In addition to prophetic words, God gave me a warning dream showing me that Derrick was not part of the plan He had for me. In the dream, I had to tell Derrick that the baby (ministry) was not his. I gave birth to a new idea, a new ministry, and I had to tell Derrick that he was not a part of it and has to leave.

Derrick was not the man of God that I needed, but my flesh won out. We started making plans for our future prior to his departure to Marine Corps Drill Instructor School at the end of September of 2001. He felt that we could maintain a long distance relationship while he was in school; I thought otherwise.

Derrick completed school with many honors and returned home after three months. He had less than a month to pack up and move to San Diego after the first of the year of 2002. He left with us being engaged to marry, and we got married later in the year on December 3, 2002. In February of 2003, the Department of the Army decided to relocate me to Ft. Leavenworth, Kansas. Derrick and I realized that the Army and the Marine Corps were not going to cooperate in getting us stationed closer together. So we decided I had less to lose concerning time and money, and I would sacrifice my career and leave the U.S. Army for the sake of our marriage.

At first, this decision did not sit well with me, but it was the right thing to do if our marriage was going to have a shot, only because Derrick was the love of my life. After I had served with sweat, tears, and devotion, the Army gave me a three-week notification to change duty station to Ft. Leavenworth, Kansas. The protocol of moving a Soldier is usually a two to eight-month notification, so that way, the Soldier and their family can properly prepare to move but not me. I got orders in March 2003, and moved in April 2003, exactly one month before my 40th birthday, and still apart from my husband.

U.S Army Military Police Corps

PLDC Instructor of the Cycle 2000

U.S. Army

Military Police Drill Sergeant with Soldiers

Echo Company, 795TH Military Police Battalion

BASIC TRANING UNIT

Promoted to Master Sergeant

God’s Prophetic Words

Appointed to the City of Carson

Veterans Affairs Commission

December 16, 2008

City of Carson Memorial Day Service

Chair of the Ad-Hoc Planning Committee

May 2009

City of Carson

Veterans Day 2011

2008 Presidential Election

United Democratic Center

Election Night Countdown Party

The Election Year 2011

A Family Affair of Politics

FAREWELL, ARMY

“The Lord Almighty has sworn,

surely, as I have planned, so it will be,

and as I have purposed, so it will stand.”

Isaiah 14:24

“And afterward, I will pour out my spirit on all people.

Your sons and daughters will prophesy,

your old men will dream dreams,

your young men will see visions.”

Joel 2:28-29

I dream that I am sleep and dreaming. In the dream, I am dreaming of Derrick. I dream that we feverishly want to be intimate, but the air around us is so intense that we cannot. I immediately wake up from the dream and think I am wide-awake in real life. The dream within the dream of wanting Derrick to engulf me seems real. All of a sudden, I finally realize I am still in the dream, and I force myself to wake up.

The year 2004 found me at Ft. Leavenworth military base, ending my assignment as acting first sergeant. My chain of command finally selected a permanent first sergeant to run my company, and I was able to resume my duties as a platoon sergeant and prepare to end my military career.

Despite what I thought, I had managed to survive my 40th birthday, but that birthday did mark the beginning of all of the things my flesh would die to. Amazingly, I did not physically die, but my 40th birthday also presented me with a fresh perspective on where I was in my life. At this time, I was halfway through my career in the Army, and had two choices. The first choice was indefinite re-enlistment. This meant that I would re-enlist and finish the second half of my military obligation without the option of another re-enlistment. With this option, one has to request to leave the Department of the Army, which is historically denied due to the needs of the military. If I took this option, it would be risking my marriage.

The second option would be to leave at the end of my contract and forfeit my retirement benefits. This option was not ideal for me personally or financially, but at least I would still have my husband. With impending war, I knew my contract would be involuntarily extended and my leave request would be denied, but I had to try. Derrick and I had already decided it would be best if I left the Army after my enlistment was up, even though everyone I knew thought it would be crazy to leave a promising career for a Marine.

However, despite all of the objections, Derrick and I decided to move forward with our plans. Two weeks prior to my out-processing from the Army, I broached the idea to Derrick of my joining the U.S. Army Reserves to retire my twenty-one years of federal service. His temper hit the ceiling at 100 mph as he yelled about me never putting him first, and that my career was my first priority. As I listened to him rant and rave, I wondered if there was any truth to his accusations, and then I realized that the same was true for him. There I was, ending my career to move with him, so our marriage could have a chance at success, and he was not even trying to hear what I had to say.

That night, I was trying to explain to him that since my career would be over, it made the most sense to salvage my federal time by rolling over to the reserves for a couple of years. This way I would receive a retirement check and medical benefits that would serve as additional income in the years to come. Derrick vehemently disagreed, but I had no idea until four days before I was to pack up and leave the Army. That day I called Derrick to finalize the plans when he coolly stated, “I don’t want you to come here.” I paused for a moment, processing what he had said, and I felt my heart begin to sink. I was devastated. I hung up the phone without responding and I felt my body slowly turning numb.

He called later that day to apologize and explained that he was afraid for our marriage, and did not mean to hurt me. I did not buy his apology, nor did it comfort me, because I felt so numb inside. Everything was surreal, and the only thing I could focus on was the fact that he said he did not want me to come home with him. His words replayed in my head for months, tormented by the blatant rejection. Deep down, I wondered if he was hiding something from me, and I could not understand why he was not excited about starting our life together. Suddenly I was traveling across country alone, and all of my plans were gone. My mind was reeling, but thankfully, I had plenty of time to think as I drove from Kansas City to Los Angeles.

As I drove home, I felt completely worn out from everything that had happened. The regrets of my decisions began to parade through my head. I thought about the job I gave up with Northrop Grumman, as a facility instructor in parts of Africa making great money. I thought about the residence and career I left behind that was becoming a distant memory. I thought about my time in the Army and the people I met. A month before my contract was to end, the Army decided to offer me a promotion to Master Sergeant. I turned the promotion down with the hopes for my future with Derrick. Of course, I should have stayed in Kansas and made a decent life for myself, but that was not God’s plan for me. My grief and devastation would not let me see that God was beginning to separate me from certain people. All I could see was that every hope I had for myself fell apart, and suddenly I was blind with grief, depression, and hopelessness.

My marriage was over and suddenly I found myself without a plan and without a place to live. I called my mom and asked her if I could come home to live with her, and thankfully, she said yes. My mom did not ask questions, but welcomed her devastated daughter home with open arms. God knew I needed compassion and my mother’s house was the perfect place to get it. As I drove, I realized that I was headed back to California alone with no dreams, no career, and no husband.

Looking back, I did not realize that this was the beginning of my death at forty, the exact moment when the warning dreams were coming to fruition. I was dying to everything I had formed close attachments to, and everything I had made more important than God.

The first step was that I had to die to self through the loss of my marriage. In my marriage, without a doubt I compromised my personal relationship with God in order to fulfill a fleshly desire. God had not ordained my marriage and it became a major hindrance in my spiritual walk. I had to learn the importance of putting God first in all areas of my life, especially in making major decisions such as selecting a husband who must be equally yoked in spirit but most importantly, sent by God.

I also had to die to my career. Even though the stress level was high on the job, I held powerful leadership positions, which were prepping me for the next promotion. I loved the fact that I had a great chance of becoming a command sergeant major in the U.S. Army and saw myself commanding hundreds of soldiers or maybe working at the Pentagon as an advisor of some sort. I see now that my lust was for position and titles, and it was so strong that I refused to change to my married name because I thought it would damage my chances on the next promotion. I was known as Shaffer, and it was going to stay that way until I got what I wanted. I could not see that I was disrespecting my husband by showing him that it was more important for me to keep my own individual identity.

I also needed to die to my health. Two months period before leaving the Army, I had three surgeries, two on my reproductive organs and one on my right foot. The reproductive surgeries came just after Derrick and I discussed having children. There were medical issues that needed to be resolved on my part, and soon after the surgeries, the doctors gave me the green light for conception. Unfortunately, my marriage dissolved before we even had a chance to start a family; however, instead of seeing this as a blessing in disguise, the only thing I could see was my dream for children painfully dying. With everything that had happened, I should have learned my lesson, but instead I chose to turn my focus away from God and rest in my misery with no husband, no direction, and no idea of what was to come next.

I also had to die to my finances. I associated success with how much money I had accumulated and invested, and as far as I was concerned, my financial status was in the black with room for more growth. Throughout my career, I was able to save a lot of money by living on a strict budget. My plan was to have the financial support of my husband and keep my money stashed for myself. Of course, I had no idea that I would use my money to live because I would not have a full-time job or a husband as support. Suddenly, I found myself going from having power and position in the military to applying for entry-level positions and eventually, unemployment.

This was not at all, what I had planned. I thought I would be using my savings on plush vacations and moneymaking investments, but instead my dream slowly gave way to personal expenditures.

I felt like I had lost my self-worth, and I was so embarrassed by my current situation that I cut all ties with my Army friends and Soldiers whom I had served with for so many years. How could I explain that I was unemployed, husbandless, and every plan I had for myself was dead? The prospect of having to explain everything was too much, so I decided to cut myself off from the world, and become a recluse in my own suffering. I poured on the self-pity and just waited for the next tragedy. I lost all hope and felt like I was the walking dead. When my divorce was finalized, I was left as a single, scarred woman who was afraid to love and live.

Afraid to start over. Afraid to socialize and afraid to tell people what happened. Fear had cut my connection and voice with God, and I was living in a self-induced hell and I thought there was no way to escape. Little did I know that God was about to use family members and friends to deliver more prophetic words over my life.

VISIONS

Somehow, despite my enormous ego through self-pity and temper tantrums, I found my way back to God through a church called Calvary Chapel Southbay. I have to say that God inconspicuously and softly nudged me back to church. I hate to hug and greet people at church, but it was the fellowship with church friends gained through these uncomfortable interactions that helped keep me sane.

Attending Calvary Chapel helped me move past my irrational temper tantrums to become a rational human being. God’s Word comforted, encouraged, hugged, and kissed my soul. During this time, God appeared to me in four distinct visions that I instantly recorded. These visions managed to build me up in spirit while giving me purpose, guidance, and hope. The visions took me from a spiritual rebirthing that redefined who I am in Jesus Christ and redirected my focus on God’s promises and prophetic words. The visions meant a lot to me, and I wrote them down so I would never forget.

In the first vision, I was looking at myself; where my eyes should have been, there was nothing but pure light coming out of my eye sockets, mouth, and ears. I was levitating in the air and my arms were parallel to the ground. There was bright and blinding light all around me, and I had long black hair.

In the second vision, it was late at night; great warmth came over me as I felt a presence hovering over me while I was in bed. Words seemed to be flowing down from heaven, and I heard them without any distortion: “I will speak directly to you from heaven. This is something to be happy about.”

In the third vision, it was a Friday night, and I was asleep. I tossed and turned, finally settling into a comfortable spot. My brain emptied of all thoughts, and was in a zone of nothingness. I heard a voice talk to me while I was lying in bed that said, “I have plans for you.” I immediately woke up, and I saw a bright light in front of my bedroom door. The light formed into the likeness of a man. I panicked and hid under the covers from the image. I thought to myself that I was not ready to see Jesus or any other celestial being, and begged it to go away from me.

The fourth vision came in December of 2009, and in this vision, I woke up after having another dream about being satanically attacked. I heard a voice that stated, “Change will happen in your life on February 1st. The change will take effect in seventy-eight days.”

After recording these experiences, I told only a few family members. I realize now that those visions were a direct communication from God and after them, my communication with God was on a new and more intense level. I realize that I should have immediately sought counsel to assist me in understanding what I saw and heard, but I neglected to do so.

BIBLE COLLEGE

Experiencing those visions opened me to another spiritual sphere or realm which proved very amazing, and it was truly hard to explain the intensity of those encounters. Those visions and that time in my life were also the official spark to my rebirth in Christ. I knew I needed more of God, and after attending church every Sunday, I realized that I was on my way to an emotional and spiritual recovery.

It was during this time that I enlisted in the U.S. Army Reserves as a Drill Sergeant. After serving one year in the reserves, I was promoted to Master Sergeant once again. I served as a First Sergeant of a Reserves Drill Sergeant Unit, which was very rewarding, and a dream come true. I served for one additional year and would later retire from the Army with twenty-two and a half years of total federal service.

While serving in the U.S. Army Reserves, I also enrolled in Bible College at Calvary Chapel South Bay. I completed several classes, ranging from studying the Books of Hebrews, Matthew, Romans, Galatians, Ephesians, Acts, and Daniel to the basics of the Greek language. I was also enrolled in the Inductive Bible Study and Teaching Ministry classes. During this time, my schedule consisted of Bible college classes during the week and Reserves drills on the weekend. I would also take on additional assignments that the Reserves would send me for extra income. I also saw for myself that God is a provider, and I definitely came to the realization that it is rarely in the way you think He will provide. God will always do things His way. Always.

While at Calvary Bible College, I studied under George Baum, one of the preeminent Calvary Chapel Bible College professors. George took great pride and time in preparing for classes and it was quite evident in his presentations and lectures. In his classes, students would become so involved in the Word of God that we rarely realized that hours had elapsed like seconds. In George’s class, I was completely engrossed in the Word of God, and I was not the only student who felt that way.

The thing that made him such a great teacher was that he would not only break the scripture down line by line, word by word, but he also gave us the history, and practical life application, for all of us to understand. George’s passion and energy for the Word of God transferred to me and a fiery passion was started. The fire was building again, and I discovered that my fire was burning again, and I was excited.

It was through these classes that I got to know Jesus on a further level, and suddenly the scriptures were coming alive and each page of the Bible made me feel like I was getting to know Jesus on a new and more intimate level. Soon, my prayer life became stronger, and I began to learn the specific ways that God spoke to me and how He deals with me on a personal level. I can honestly say with strong and bold conviction that I have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. God resurrected me from my death and became truly real in my life. I know now that there is no going back in this relationship because I am His, and He is my God.

TEACHER, TEACHER

As I wrapped up my time in Bible College, God revealed another step in His plans. Due to my extensive background in teaching in the Army, I soon found myself teaching criminal justice courses at the college level. Even though God made it clear that He did not want me to work a full-time job or move away from my residence, I would find myself doing my own thing and found myself looking for both a full-time job and a new place to live. Thankfully, the memories of straying from God’s word were still vivid in my mind, and even though I was offered several great jobs over the years, I declined them because I knew I had to be obedient to my Father.

A job was one thing, but a new residence was another, and I continued my search. As it turned out, every place I fell in love with, God fixed it so that I could not get approved for the place. It was always funny, because I knew I was not supposed to be doing this in the first place, and that moving into a new place prior to accomplishing what God wanted me to do would only hold up the blessing He had.

As I began to teach a civilian audience for the first time, I found myself suddenly forced to adopt a new approach to teaching. The ways of the Army included verbal threats and physical training as a form of punishment for not doing assigned homework. As I learned to unlearn the military tactics, I was more open and willing to accept my new set of privates in the form of college students.

In no time, it became clear that teaching went beyond the required time allotted for class. I constantly found myself staying after class, helping students discover their career paths, or giving them an ear as they talked about their trials and tribulations with school. There were times when I stayed after class to pray with them, even though I stayed in constant prayer for them anyway. I went out of my way to ensure that they not only learned theory, but also practical hands-on experience through field trips, guest speakers, and in-depth class exercises. I cared about my students and would do everything I could to help them pass my classes. I was compelled to give them practical life or work applications, just like George taught me. It was the beginning of my teaching ministry, as well as a platform to minister to the hurt and broken-hearted.

I really tried to be a hard nose when it came to my classroom policies of no late assignments or no eating or drinking in class. There were rules that needed to be enforced; however, there were times when compassion and exceptions were needed to help support a student over the hump, which I understood because I had been there. Some of the students I taught had serious personal problems, but they chose to overcome those obstacles by going to school to give themselves a better life. Each student was special to me, and there were plenty of times when I bent the rules or even threw out the rules for a few students who truly needed the help. In the end, my kindness would pay off when I would hear all of their success stories of graduation and employment. To this day, I am grateful that God continues to use me as an instrument to touch the lives of students, because they bring joy to my heart.

FAMILY AGAIN

As I adjusted to being home and out of the military, I was able to spend countless hours with my family when I was not teaching or at Reserves duty. Strangely enough, I had to get to know my family all over again and vice versa. For example, now I was an extreme obsessive-compulsive organizer, a weirdo by nature, a patriotic militant, and sometimes an insensitive combatant, who was very sensitive to the mission at hand. I had to make some serious mental adjustments now that I was back to civilian life, and this of course meant that I could not treat my family members like the enemy of war or new recruits. I knew that I had to demilitarize myself on so many levels, and God knew exactly where and who this debrief needed to come from: my family.

While I was away, my family had gone through major changes as well. I had been away from home for over ten years, and after coming back, I became aware of how much my parents had aged, and how my nieces and nephews had matured into respectable adults. Everything, including the place where I grew up, had a different look and feel. The biggest change was seeing my parents get on in age. It did not take long for me to note the role reversal that had taken place. I would often catch myself talking to them like five-year-olds, explaining what they could and could not do, such as eating to much candy or staying up too late.

On the flip side, it was a lot of fun reacquainting myself with my sisters, my brother, and their children. I cannot begin to describe the great times we have shared since my return from the military. We partake in family dinners, birthdays, Bible studies, and other outings. We are truly a family that loves and enjoys each other’s company endlessly. Sometimes people say we are the perfect family. I just say we are blessed.

IT ALL COMES TOGETHER

“We know that all things work together

for the good of those who love God;

Those whom he has called according to his plan.”

Roman 8:28

“Teach me to do your will,

For you are my God;

May your good Spirit

lead me on level ground.”

Psalms 143:10

It is a very cold night in March of 2009; I am suddenly awakened out of my sleep by a knock on my bedroom door. I hesitantly answer, “Hello, hello.” But there is no answer because no one is there. I sit up and check the clock and it is 3 a.m. I reluctantly lie back down and securely pull the covers over me and fall into a deep sleep. As I dream, I am watching myself sleep from an aerial view. I dream that street signs are falling on me while I am in bed. The signs turn into crosses, and they suddenly stop falling on me. I wake up immediately, only to see a warm bright light coming from under my bedroom door, and I try to wake up because I do not want to confront the light, but it seeps in and starts to form into a man from the ground up, and immediately I feel it is Jesus, somehow. I force myself to wake up because I cannot handle what I am seeing.

Needless to say, I cannot sleep the rest of the night, and I am afraid.

One of my favorite episodes of the television show The Twilight Zone is entitled “Marsha.” That episode was about a store mannequin who forgets that she is on a thirty-day leave of absence from a large local department store in New York City, where she is allowed a short amount of time to become a human living being. The reminder of who she really was comes when Marsha haphazardly wanders back into the store to shop for a silver thimble for her mother. During the visit, she is shocked back into reality and realizes that she needs to return so the next mannequin can be human for thirty days.

That episode is the best description of where my life is today. My experiences and the path that led me to where I am in this moment have shocked me into remembering that I am a spiritual being on a mission form God. Somehow, I forgot my purpose in life, but I have been guided back to spiritual reality. I have been given a great purpose that requires my focus, discipline, and passion in order to reach completion. Staying on the path and running the race are critical to my purpose, and it is my prayer that I can help others share the Word of God, and lead others to become disciples of Christ.

In my wildest dreams, I never imagined writing a book, especially a book inspired by God. The journey has been fascinating to see how every test, obstacle, trial, tribulation, and temptation ultimately led me to this point. Finally, I am at a point where I feel that everything has come together, from the date of the prophecy to this moment in life. The pain, fear, procrastination, and obstacles of completing a major mission from God can stop at least until I get the next mission. After everything I have been through, it is amazing to see my destiny coming to fruition.

DISTRACTIONS

Distractions are my biggest spiritual enemies. I know that I have allowed many of the distractions to enter my life, while finishing what God has called me to do. So often, God warned me of upcoming distractions in dreams or through a person, but I never heeded the warning until after the fact or during the episode. Hindsight is always 20/20, and I am grateful to be wise enough to know that when God warns and speaks to me, even though at times I fail to listen. However, I am human which is a revelation for some and have fallen victim to old distractions. The unfinished saga with Derrick is the perfect example of this.

After separating, Derrick’s refusal to let go of any connection with me drove me crazy and placed me right back on his emotional roller coaster. His presence would often cause heartache for me, but for some reason, I could not escape him. Interestingly, God would always warn me when Derrick was going to reappear by showing me countless Marine Corps decals on cars while I was driving on the congested freeways of Los Angeles. Sure enough, within a few months, Derrick would call or e-mail me. It never failed. There were also times when I would receive a warning dream of his calling me, and without fail, he would call the next day.

Over the last several years, Derrick and I would talk about getting back together, but each time Derrick would renege for any silly reason. I finally got tired of the numerous disappointments, the endless hours of frustration, and the unending roller coaster ride. One day, I realized that I had enough, and after many years of emotional ups and downs, I finally woke up and fell out of love with Derrick.

Months moved on and one Christmas morning, I received a call from Derrick. Derrick has never called me on Christmas since we have been apart, which made the call so odd to me. It was if he could sense that I was completely over him, and decided to clear up a few things about our relationship. He told me that I was the only person that knew him through and through, and that he would always love me. He also said that he was jealous of my career because I outpaced him and always landed on my feet, and that he felt inadequate in our marriage when it came to spiritual and fiscal responsibility.

He recalled a time we went to a marriage counselor right before we got married, and after the meeting, he felt he could not live up to a mature marriage and my expectations, but he married me anyway. He further confessed that he never got over how cavalier I was the day of our wedding, because I truly acted insensitive during our toast in front of friends. He said that he always wanted to make me pay for all of this.

He further stated that he fell in love with me the moment he saw me and that he could not live without me. Unfortunately, he further stated that he became arrogant and cocky in the relationship and neglected to nurture our relationship and that he regretted our past. One of the last things he said was that he will always love me. When we got off the phone, I was grateful to Derrick for giving me the closure that I needed, and for everything I learned along the way.

DEATH TO REBIRTH

I never considered myself to be a writer, but always a Warrior and Soldier. I always kept journals, but never dreamed of completing a book. Thankfully, the journals I kept proved to be a great source of information and helped jar my memory throughout this process. The notes, pictures and detailed narratives, along with conversational monologues lead to the finished product, and I am grateful.

There is no doubt that I had to die to my flesh and this world by humbling myself before the Lord. There is no room in a relationship with God if one is arrogant, prideful and self-centered. I had to get to ground zero with who I am in Jesus Christ and to get to this point, my death at 40 was necessary. The deaths of my marriage, career, health and finances brought me back to God and allowed me to recognize my selfish tendencies.

Death is the pivotal first step to becoming a disciple of Christ because it is never about you. It is about removing yourself in order for God to be first. Humility is necessary in order to be able to serve others with no hidden agendas. Ego and arrogance cannot be in the same room when one is a servant of God. James 1:27 speaks of humility and states, “The brother in humble circumstances ought to take pride in his high position.” Proverbs 3:34 also says, “God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.” So in the end, I died to self and found humility.

“For the love of money is the root of all kinds of evil. Some people, eager for money, have wandered from the faith and pieced themselves with many griefs.” In making different investments to make more money, I lost a fortune, which would have been my retirement nest egg. This taught me to die to my love of money, which I learned was an addiction to being in control. After all of this, one thing I know for sure is that only God is in control.

I died to the lust of high military status, a military career that would guarantee power, status and respect. Now I know that a career does not define who I am but God does.

Death took my health as I took it for granted. There were times in my life when it was one surgery after the other, and I was always alone. One cannot abuse their body as I have done over the years through sleep deprivation, unwanted stress, poor nutrition and libations. I have learned how to take better care of myself and know now to let God take control.

Experiencing death on so many levels, God still gave me vision and spiritual depth. My new residence reminds me everyday of God’s vision through my view of beautiful orange sunrises, and sunsets over the ocean, and the different skyline views of the many cities at night. My view is filled with beauty and I am reminded daily of how great God is. Through my death and rebirth, I am a new person and a warrior on a mission from God.

PROMISES—GOD’S PROPHECY

When reading Genesis 15:1, God makes a promise to Abraham in a vision. “Do not be afraid, Abram. I am your shield, your very great reward.” Abraham is taken aback and questions his situation to the Lord and the Lord instructs him of the promises to come. “But a son coming from your own body will be your heir.”

The Lord took him outside and said, “Look up at the heavens and count the stars if indeed you can count them, so shall your off springs be.” When they received this revelation, Abraham and his wife, Sarah, were beyond childbearing years, so it appeared impossible. However, God operates in the impossible because He is God.

God will always keep His promises but the challenge is being obedient. Remember, the promises never manifest themselves as if we think they will, and we will always be amazed at how things develop. Abraham was told to leave his homeland and family behind. Despite the word of God, he took his father and nephew, which slowed him down to his blessing. He was distracted for a while and did not hear from God. He later takes the recommendation of his wife, Sara, to take Hagar in order to produce an heir. They became inpatient and tried to force the prophecy. They got in the way and created a huge mistake, but God was able to bless their mistake.

Just like Abraham and Sarah, I had a hard time waiting for God’s provisions and promises, and at times did not hear from God. I did not realize that God had a preparation phase for me, which proved pivotal. He had to make the perfect setup, as if He were playing chess with my life. Just like Abraham and Sarah, I needed to be obedient and patient.

ORIGINAL PROPHECY AND THE OUTCOMES

Part of my prophecy was that I would minister to those in high places. After returning home from the Army, my oldest sister volunteered me to become a block captain for my neighborhood at a homeowners’ association meeting. My first mission as a block captain was to conduct a “Meet and Greet” for the neighbors to meet one another, along with the mayor, city council members and our local patrol units from the sheriff’s department. Soon after, I held my first block club meeting, which was standing room only, in my house. On the agenda was the mayor of Carson, our state senator, and our homeowners’ association president. I arranged these guest speakers so that our neighbors could have direct access to their government representatives. This was the beginning of my political or community activism career.

The City of Carson Chamber of Commerce later allowed me to attend their leadership course, which develops community leaders to rise up in order to address community issues. This was a very rewarding experience. The political ball continued to roll and I turned in my application to become a Veterans Commissioner for the City of Carson. To my surprise, I was appointed a Veterans Affairs Commissioner, and I was grateful to be able to serve my city as I had once served my country.

So far, the ultimate political experience for me was volunteering on the 2008 Obama for President Campaign. I served as a phone banker in the Carson United Democratic Center after attending Camp Obama at Los Angeles Southwest Community College. It was an honor and privilege to serve as a patriotic citizen. Not knowing whether Senator Obama was going to win or not, a few of the volunteers and I organized a victory celebration party during the countdown of the votes. What an exciting moment when they announced the winner of the 2008 Presidential campaign. I just thank the Lord for allowing me to participate in such an historic moment in our nation’s history.

Recently, my political experience hit very close to home when my nephew was fortunate enough to gain employment with former Councilwoman of Los Angeles Janice Hahn, now Congresswoman Hahn. Since his employment, he has excelled in his position through hard work and dedication, and has received several promotions. One day former Congresswoman Jane Harman decided to leave her term early, which prompted Janice Hahn to run for her congressional seat. Janice Hahn won her election, leaving her council seat available. When this occurred, I recalled a vision the Lord gave me a few years back where I saw my nephew running for political office before the age of twenty-five. Well, everything came to pass once again when my nephew ran for City Council of Los Angeles before turning 25 years old.

With all my political involvement, God has given me several opportunities to counsel and to minister to those in high places. I have been able to be an example of true servitude, and my political exposure continues to grow as well as my ministry to counsel.

As far as ministering to the hurt, teaching college has also been another ministry for me. I am able to give my testimony of trials and tribulations because I have been exactly in their shoes in most cases. I know how it is to be a struggling night student who has to work during the day to maintain an income and existence. I know how it is to be challenged with course work because I don’t understand the course material and I am afraid to ask for help. I know how it is to have insurmountable personal issues as obstacles but still want to achieve an educational goal. Therefore, I constantly stay in prayer for my students and lend an ear and my time when needed.

In the past, I have allowed fear and people to hinder me in accomplishing God’s will. Satan’s existence and his demons are real to me. Satan’s goal is to kill and destroy and he will not stop until the day we die. There are days when I am involved in small battles, and sometimes large-scale wars, depending on the course of my life. To be an effective soldier of Christ that can battle and defect Satan, I have to walk with a newfound boldness, along with my own weapons of mass destruction, which are faith and constant prayer.

The heavy mantle placed on my life is a passion to serve and help God’s people. Such an undertaking takes a lot of energy, and plenty of moments to replenish that energy. I serve my country, family, friends, students, plain strangers and our veterans. My dreams have been about serving people in very intimate and personal situations, and I am now at that place.

After leaving the Army and moving to where my family resides, God blessed me with a stable location where I am able to enjoy a quaint household with income to maintain my lifestyle. It is very interesting that my condominium number equals eight, a number that represents a new beginning or a change. My new location represents a new beginning in my life, and I am embracing every minute of this change.

An entrepreneurial spirit has always been a part of me, so starting a business is always in the back of my mind. Before writing this memoir, I was engaged in writing a business plan before I was most graciously interrupted spiritually to write my life experience, which was a directive from the man above. I have been offered a part in several business deals over the last few years. There are only a couple of things that interest me to start a new business endeavor, and that is helping people find employment, assisting veterans through the red tape of bureaucracy, living and eating healthy, and finally providing industrial security services. In my spirit, once the memoir is published, I know that God has aligned my contacts in order to birth a veteran’s foundation as well as a security firm.

What was stolen from me? Over the years, I lost a great deal of money through poor investments due to greed. Well, now that I know how to do business with God, my finances are shaping up to the point where I am regaining financial stability that will end in a financial wealth. I have a new perspective and respect for money. I know that whatever I need, God will supply. My newfound truth is that God knows my needs before I do, so my prayers are of worship and praise to His throne and glory. When the praises go up, the blessings come down.

Investing in people, giving of time and giving what God is due, has been me sowing in good ground. I have been steadfast in helping people and sacrificing my time for the good of man. I know what it means to go without and to put your fellow man first. Life is about sacrifice for the common good of humanity.

There are times when I feel like modern day Jonah. God told Jonah to go to Nineveh and tell the people there to repent. We know the story. Jonah felt the people did not deserve to hear such a proclamation and they deserved to perish. So what happened? Jonah tried to run from God and so did I. It was not until God swallowed me up in my own symbolic fish, which spat me out from the Army, that I realized I was able to write this memoir. I believe this completed memoir will lead me into an Apostolic Evangelist Ministry where my true nature as a Warrior will be cultivated for the people of God.

Waiting to war is in my nature. I am always ready to go to war! I am a Soldier at heart and always will be, whether the battle is spiritual or physical.

DREAMS OF TODAY

So what am I dreaming now? My dreams today are me rushing to get to different airports via taxis. It appears I am almost late for my flight, but I make it just in time. I constantly see myself running through the airport to get to the gate, but I am delayed due to problems with my luggage or passing security. My luggage pops open and my clothes and shoes spill all over the floor. Another theme dream I have now is where I witness airplanes crashing into great metropolitan areas over and over again. Of course, Satan continues his mindless attacks through my dreams and I continue to battle him in Jesus name.

As far as visions, God is reminding me of my past visions where He will speak directly to me. I believe I am in the preparation phase for this awesome phenomenon.

CLOSING CURTAINS

Writing this book has been a heavy burden on my life, and procrastinating to complete this book has cost me a lot mentally, but also spiritually. At times, it has caused me to lead a very private and lonely life of personal torment. Through the grace of God, I was able to complete this assignment and I am grateful for who I became during this process.

As I said before, I never imagined in my wildest dreams that I would be writing a book, especially a book inspired by God. It has been interesting living and watching the trials, tribulations, and temptations that have come my way. I am open to whatever God has for me and I can find comfort in the dreams and visions He has placed inside of me. I have fully submitted my life and my plan to God, and I know that He will continue to guide me and will continue to shape me into the woman He has called me to be.

However, as we live our lives, there will always be some type fight, and the victory lies in dying to self. In the death, God reveals a vision and a purpose in order for a rebirth. We have to be open to receiving His instructions in order to follow His will. This is an ongoing process until the day we die and sometimes it is a struggle.

APPENDIX A

SOCIAL MEDIA

Email: Deathat40@gmail.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/DeathAt40

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Website: www.Deathat40.com

APPENDIX B

BASIC MINI DREAM DICTIONARY

ACID - Bitter, offense, carrying a grudge, hatred, sarcasm.

ALLIGATOR - Ancient, evil out of the past (through inherited or personal sin), danger, destruction, evil spirit.

ALTAR - A symbol for sacrifice and for incense.

ANCHOR - Representation of safety and hope.

ARM - Represents God’s power and strength.

ARMOR - A symbol of warfare.

ASHES - Memories, repentance, ruin, destruction.

AUTOMOBILE - Life, person, ministry.

AUTUMN - End, completion, change, repentance.

AXE - Represents warfare and judgment.

BABY - New beginning, new idea, dependent, helpless, innocent, sin.

BARN - Symbol for blessings.

BEARD - Represents old age and wisdom.

BEAVER - Industrious, busy, diligent, clever, ingenious.

BED - Rest, salvation, meditation, intimacy, peace, covenant (marriage, natural or evil), self-made.

BICYCLE - Works, works of the flesh, legalism, self-righteousness, working out life’s difficulties, messenger.

BIRD - Symbol of spirits, good or evil, see the parable of Jesus and the birds.

BLACK - Symbol of famine and death.

BLOOD - Symbol for sacrifice and for life (life is in the blood).

BLUE - Symbol of Heaven.

BREAD - Represents life.

BRICK - Represents slavery and human effort.

BROTHER-IN-LAW - Partiality or adversary, fellow minister, problem relationship, partner, oneself, natural brother-in-law.

BROWN - Dead (as in plant life), repentant, born again, without spirit.

BULL - Persecution, spiritual warfare, opposition, accusation, slander, threat, economic increase.

BUTTERFLY - Freedom, flighty, fragile, temporary glory.

CAMEL - Represents servanthood, bearing the burden of others.

CANDLE - Symbol of light (Holy Spirit or the spirit of man).

CANDLESTICK - Represents the Church.

CAT - Self-willed, untrainable, predator, unclean spirit, bewitching charm, stealthy, sneaky, deception, self-pity, something precious in the context of a personal pet.

CHAIN - Symbol of binding, oppression, punishment.

CHICKEN - Fear, cowardliness; hen can be protection, gossip, motherhood; rooster can be boasting, bragging, proud; chick can be defenseless, innocent.

CIRCLE - Symbol of eternity.

CITY - Symbol of security, safety, permanency, (cities of refuge).

CLOUD & FIERY PILLAR - Represents Divine presence, covering and guidance.

CORN (Oil and Wine) - Represents blessings of God.

CROW (raven) - Confusion, outspoken, operating in envy or strife, hateful, direct path, unclean, God’s minister of justice or provision.

CUP - Symbol of life, health, or could represent death and evil.

DEER - Graceful, swift, sure-footed, agile, timid.

DESERT - Desolation, temptation, solitude.

DOG - Unbelievers, religious hypocrites.

DOOR - An opening, entrance.

DOVE - Holy Spirit.

DRAGON - Satan.

DREAMING - A message within a message, aspiration, vision.

DROWNING - Overcome, self-pity, depression, grief, sorrow, temptation, excessive debt.

DRUGS - Influence, spell, sorcery, witchcraft, control, legalism, medicine, healing.

EIGHT - New beginnings.

ELEPHANT - Invincible or thick-skinned, not easily offended, powerful, large.

ELEVATOR - Changing position, going into the spirit realm, elevated, demoted.

ELEVEN - Incompleteness, disorder.

EYE(S) - Omniscience, knowledge, sight, insight, foresight.

FACE - Character, countenance.

FALLING - Unsupported, loss of support (financial, moral, public), trial, succumb, backsliding.

FATHER - Authority, God, author, originator, source, inheritance, tradition, custom, Satan, natural father.

FEATHERS - Covering, protection.

FEET - Heart, walk, way, thoughts (meditation), offense, stubborn (unmovable), rebellion (kicking), sin.

FIFTY - Symbol of liberty, freedom, Pentecost.

FIG LEAVES - Self-atonement, self-made coverings.

FINGER - Feeling, sensitivity, discernment, conviction, works, accusation (as in pointing a finger), instruction.

FIRE - Presence of God, Holiness of God, purifying, testing.

FIVE - God’s grace to man, responsibility of man.

FISH - Souls of men.

FLIES - Evil spirits, filth of Satan’s kingdom. Beelzebub - “Lord of the flies.”

FLOOD - Judgment on sin and violence (the flood from Noah’s time).

FLOWER - Fading glory of man.

FOREST - Symbol of nations.

FORTRESS - protection, a stronghold.

FORTY - Symbol of testing, trial, closing in victory or defeat (Israel in Wilderness and Jesus on the desert).

FORTY-FIVE - Preservation.

FOUNTAIN - Source of life, refreshing.

FOUR - Represents worldwide, universal (as in 4 corners of the earth).

FOURTEEN - Passover, time of testing.

FOX - Cunning, evil men.

FRIEND - Self, the character or circumstance of one’s friend reveals something about oneself; sometimes one friend represents another (look for the same name, initials, hair color); sometimes represents actual friend.

FROG - Demons, unclean spirits.

GARDEN - Growth and fertility.

GATE - A way of entrance, power, authority.

GOLD - Kingship, kingdom glory, God or gods.

GRANDCHILD - Heir, oneself, inherited blessing or iniquity, one’s spiritual legacy, actual grandchild.

GRANDPARENT - Past, spiritual inheritance (good or evil), actual grandparent.

GRAPES - Fruit of the vine, cup of the Lord.

GRASS - Frailty of the flesh.

GRASSHOPPER - Destruction

GREEN - Prosperity, growth, life.

HAMMER - Word of God.

HAND - Symbol of strength, power, action, possession.

HEAD - Authority, thoughts, mind.

HEART - Emotions, motivation, desires.

HELMET - Protection for thoughts, mind.

HEN - One who gathers, protects.

HILLS - Elevation, high, loftiness.

HORN - Power, strength, defense.

HORSE - Power, strength, conquest.

HOUSE - Home, dwelling place, the Church; self.

KEY - Authority, power to bind or loose, lock or unlock.

KISS - Agreement, covenant, enticement, betrayal, covenant breaker, deception, seduction, friend.

KNEE - Reverence, humility.

LADDER - Christ connecting Heaven and earth.

LAMB - Humility, the Church, Christ.

LEAD - Weight, wickedness, sin, burden, judgment, fool, foolishness.

LEGS - Man’s walk, man’s strength.

LEOPARD - Swiftness, usually associated with vengeance.

LION -Royalty and kingship bravery, confidence; Satan.

LIPS - Witness.

MECHANIC - Minister, Christ, prophet, pastor, counselor.

MICE - Devourer, curse, plague, timid.

MIRROR - God’s Word or one’s heart, looking at oneself, looking back, memory, past, vanity.

MONEY - Power, provision, wealth, natural talents and skills, spiritual riches, power, authority, trust in human strength, covetousness.

MONKEY - Foolishness, clinging, mischief, dishonesty, addiction.

MOON - Symbol of light in darkness, sign of the Son of Man.

MOTH - Symbol of destruction.

MOTHER - Source, Church, love, kindness, spiritual or natural mother.

MOUNTAIN - Kingdoms, dignity, permanence.

MOUTH - Witness, good or evil.

NECK - Force, loveliness, or inflexibility, meekness, rebellion.

NET - Symbol of a catcher as in the parables, catching men.

NINE - Judgment, finality.

NINETEEN - Barren, ashamed, repentant, selflessness, without self-righteousness; faith.

NOSE - Breath, discernment.

NUDITY - Uncovered or flesh, self-justification, self-righteousness, impure, ashamed, stubborn, temptation, lust, sexual control, exhibitionism, truth, honest, nature.

OIL - Holy Spirit, anointing.

ONE - God as a unity and as a source, new beginnings.

ONE HUNDRED - Fullness, full measure, full recompense, full reward; God’s election of grace, children of promise.

ORANGE - Danger, great jeopardy, harm; a common color combination is orange and black, which usually signifies great evil or danger; bright or fire orange can be power, force, energy.

ONE THOUSAND - Maturity, full stature, mature service, mature judgment; divine completeness and the glory of God.

OVEN - Testing, or judgment.

PALACE - Heaven, royalty.

PALM TREE - Victory, worship.

PASTURE - Places of spiritual nourishment.

PEARL - Spiritual truth.

PEN/PENCIL - Tongue, indelible words, covenant, agreement, contract, vow, publish, record, permanent, unforgettable, gossip.

PIG - Ignorance, hypocrisy, religious unbelievers, unclean people, selfish, gluttonous, vicious, vengeful.

PINK - Flesh, sensual, immoral, moral (as in a heart of flesh); chaste, a female infant.

PREGNANCY - In process, sin or righteousness in process, desire, anticipation, expectancy.

PUMPKIN - Witchcraft, deception, snare, witch, trick.

PURPLE - Royalty, wealth, prosperity.

RABBIT - Increase, fast growth, multiplication; hare can be Satan or his evil spirits.

RAIN - Blessing, God’s Word and revival.

RAINBOW - Covenant.

RAM - Sacrifice.

RAVEN - Evil, Satan.

RED - Suffering, sacrifice or sin.

RINGS - Revival, refreshing.

RIVER - Revival, refreshing.

ROACH - Infestation, unclean spirits, hidden sin.

ROBE - Covering, royalty.

ROCK - Christ our rock, stability.

ROOF - Covering, oversight.

ROOT - Spiritual source, offspring.

ROPE - Binding, bondage.

SALT - Incorruptibility, preserve from corruption, covenant.

SAND - Similar to seed, generations.

SAPPHIRE - Beauty, value.

SCORPION - Evil spirits, evil men; pinch of pain.

SEA - Wicked nations.

SERPENT - Satan and evil spirits.

SEVEN - Completeness, perfection.

SEVENTY - Number of increase, perfected ministry.

SHEEP - Chant, the people of God, innocent.

SHIELD - Sign of protection.

SHOE - Sign of walking, protection for your walk.

SHOULDER - Bearing the burden of another, authority, rulership.

SISTER - Spiritual sister, Church, self, natural sister.

SIX-SIX-SIX - Sign of the Mark of the Beast, Antichrist.

SIXTY - Pride.

SIXTY-SIX - Idol worship.

SIX HUNDRED - Warfare.

SKINS - Covering.

SMOKE - Blinding power.

SNOW - Spotlessness, radiance.

SPARROW - Small value but precious.

SPRING - New beginning, revival, fresh start, renewal, regeneration, salvation, refreshing.

STEPS - Signs of spiritual progress.

STONE - Might, permanence.

STORMS - Misfortune, difficulty, trials.

SUMMER - Harvest, opportunity, trial, heat of affliction.

SUN - Glory, brightness, light, Christ.

SWORD - Scriptures, Christ.

TEETH - Consuming power.

TEN - Law and order.

TENT - A temporary covering, not a permanent home.

TIGER - Danger, powerful minister (both good and evil).

TIN - Dross, waste, worthless, cheap, purification.

THIRTEEN - Sign of rebellion, backsliding, apostasy.

THIRTY - Maturity for ministry.

THIRTY-TWO - Covenant.

THIRTY-THREE - Promise.

THREE-HUNDRED - Faithful remnant (Gideon’s army).

TONGUE - Language, speech.

TRAIN - Continuous, unceasing work, connected, fast, Church.

TREES - Nations, individuals, the Church.

TUNNEL - Passage, transition, way of escape, troubling experience, trial, hope.

TWELVE - Divine government, apostolic government.

TWO - Sign for witness, testimony, or unity.

TWO HUNDRED - Insufficiency.

VAN - Family (natural or Church), family ministry, fellowship.

WALL- Fortification, division, refuge.

WATCH - Prophetic, intercession, being on guard.

WATERS - Nations of earth; agitation, under-currents, cross-currents.

WELL - Places of refreshment, source of water of life.

WHEEL - Transport, a circle, speed, spiritual activity.

WINTER - Barren, death, dormant, waiting, cold, unfriendly.

WHIRLWIND - Hurricane, sweeping power, unable to resist.

WIND - Breath of life, power of God.

WINDOW - Blessings of Heaven, openness.

WINE - Holy Spirit.

WINE-SKIN - Spiritual structure.

WINGS - Protection, spiritual transport.

WOLF - Satan and evil, false ministries, and teachers.

WOMAN - Church, virgin or harlot.

WOOD - humanity.

WRESTLING - Striving, deliverance, resistance, persistence, trial, tribulation, spirit attempting to gain control.

YELLOW - Gift, marriage, family, honor, deceitful gift, timidity, fear, cowardliness.

DIRECTIONS

EAST - Beginning: Law (therefore blessed or cursed); birth; first Genesis 11:2; Job 38:24.

FRONT - Future or Now: (As in FRONT YARD); In the presence of; prophecy; immediate; current. Genesis 6:11; Revelation 1:19.

NORTH - Spiritual: Judgment; heaven; spiritual warfare (as in “taking your inheritance”). Proverbs 25:23; Jeremiah 1:13-14.

LEFT - Spiritual: Weakness (of man), and therefore God’s strength or ability; rejected. (Left Turn = spiritual change). Judges 3:20-21; 2 Corinthians 12:9-10.

SOUTH - Natural: Sin; world; temptation; trial; flesh; corruption; deception. Joshua 10:40; Job 37:9)

RIGHT - Natural: Authority; power; the strength of man (flesh) or the power of God revealed through man; accepted. (Right Turn = natural change). Matthew 5:29a, 30a; 1 Peter 3:22.

WEST - End: Grace; death; last; conformed. Exodus 10:19; Luke 12:54.

BACK - Past: As in BACK YARD or BACKDOOR. Previous event or experience (good or evil); that which is behind (in time-for example, past sins or the sins of forefathers); unaware; unsuspecting; hidden; memory. Genesis 22:13; Joshua 8:4.

PEOPLE/RELATIVES/TRADES

BABY - New: Beginning; work; idea; the Church; sin; innocent; dependant; helpless; natural baby. 1 Corinthians 3:1; Isaiah 43:19.

CARPENTER - Builder: Preacher; evangelist; laborer (good or evil); Christ. 2 Kings 22:6; Isaiah 41:7

DOCTOR - Healer: Christ; preacher; authority; medical doctor, when naturally interpreted. Mark 2:17; 2 Chronicles 16:12.

DRUNK - Influenced: Under a spell (i.e., under the influence of the Holy Spirit or a demon’s spirit); controlled; fool; stubborn; rebellious; witchcraft. Ephesians 5:18; Proverbs 14:16

EMPLOYER - Servants: pastor, Christ; Satan; actual employer, when naturally interpreted. Colossians 3:22; 2 Peter 2:19.

GIANT - Strongman: Stronghold, challenge; obstacle; trouble. Numbers 13:32-33.

POLICE - Authority: Natural (civil) or spiritual authority (pastors, etc.), good or evil; protection; angels or demons; an enforcer of a curse of the Law. Romans 13:1; Luke 12:11.

VEHICLES AND PARTS

AIRPLANE - Person or work; The Church; ministry; oversight (Soaring=Moved by the Spirit). Habakkuk 1:8; Judges 13:25.

JET - Ministry or Minister: Powerful; fast. (Passenger jet = Church; Fighter = Individual person). Genesis 41:43; 2 Kings 10:16.

AUTOMOBILE - Life: Person; ministry (New car = New ministry or New way of life). Genesis 41:43; 2 Kings 10:16.

AUTO WRECK - Strife: Contention; conflict, calamity; mistake or sin in ministry (as in “failure to maintain right-of-way”). Nahum 2:4. BICYCLE - Works: Works of the flesh (not of faith); self-righteousness; messenger. Galatians 5:4; Galatians 5:19.

BOAT - Church or personal ministry: (Sailboat = moved by the Spirit; Powerboat = powerful or fast progress) Genesis 6:16; 1 Timothy 1:19. BRAKES - Stop: Hindrance; resist; wait. Acts 16:6-7; 2 Peter 2:14.

HELICOPTOR - Ministry: Personal; individual; the Church; versatile; stationary (when unmoving). 2 Timothy 4:2; Romans 8:14.

MOTORCYCLE - Individual: Personal ministry; independent; rebellion; selfish; pride; swift progress. 2 Peter 2:10; 1 Samuel 15:23.

PICKUP TRUCK - Work: Personal ministry or natural work. 1 Chronicles 13:7; Galatians 6:5.

REARVIEW MIRROR - Word: (Driving backward using the rearview mirror = operating by the letter of the Word instead of by God’s Spirit); legalistic; looking back; 2 Corinthians 3:6; Genesis 19:26.

RAFT - Adrift: Without direction; aimless; powerless. Ephesians 4:14>

TRACTOR - Powerful work: Slow but powerful ministry. Acts 1:8; Acts 4:33.

TRACTOR-TRAILOR - Large burden: Ministry; powerful and/or large work (truck size is often in proportion to the burden or size of the work).

MISCELLANEOUS

ANKLES - Faith: Weak ankles = weak faith; unsupported; undependable. Ezekiel 47:3.

ARM - Strength or weakness: Savior; deliverer; helper; aid; reaching out. Isaiah 52:10; Psalm 136:12.

BANK - Secure: Church; dependable; safe; saved; sure (as in “you can bank on it”); reserved in Heaven. Luke 19:23; Matthew 6:20.

BINOCULARS - Insight: Understanding; prophetic vision; future event. John 16:13; 2 Corinthians 3:13, 16.

BLEEDING - Wounded: Hurt, naturally or emotionally; dying spiritually; offended; gossip; unclean. Psalm 147:3; Proverbs 18:8.

BRIDGE- Faith: Trial; way; joined. Genesis 32:22; 1 Corinthians 10:13.

BUTTER - Works: Doing (or not doing) the Word or will of God; deceptive motives; words; smooth. Psalm 55:21; Proverbs 30:33.

CALENDAR - Time: Date: event; appointment. Hosea 6:11.

CARDS - Facts: Honesty (as in “putting all your cards on the table”); truth; expose or reveal; dishonest; cheat; deceitful. Romans 12:17.

CARNIVAL - Worldly: Exhibitionism; divination; competition. Acts 16:16; Luke 21:34. CHAIR - Position: Seat of authority; rest. Esther 3:1; Revelations 13:2.

CHECK - Faith: The currency of the Kingdom of God; provision; trust. Hebrews 11:1; Mark 4:40.

CHOKING - Hinder: Stumbling over something (as in “that’s too much to swallow”); hatred or anger (as in “I could choke him!”) Mark 4:19.

CLOSET - Private: Personal, prayer; secret sin; hidden. Matthew 6:6; Luke 8:17.

COFFEE - Bitter or Stimulant: Repentance; reaping what one has sown; desire for revenge (bitter envying). Number 9:11; Job 13:26.

DOMINOES - Continuous: Chain reaction. Leviticus 26:37.

EARTHQUAKE- Upheaval: change (by crisis), repentance; trial; God’s judgment; disaster; trauma. Acts 16:26; Isaiah 29:6.

ECHO- Repetition: Gossip, accusation; voice of many; mocking. Luke 23:21.

EGG - Idea: new thought; plan; promise; potential. Luke 11:12; 1 Timothy 4:15.

FENCE - Barrier: Boundaries; obstacles; religious traditions; doctrines; inhibitions. Genesis 11:6; Jeremiah 15:20.

GARBAGE (DUMP) - Rejected: Hell; evil; vile; corruption. Mark 9:47-48; 1 Corinthians 9:27.

GRAVEYARD - Hidden: Past; curse; evil inheritance; hypocrisy; demon. Matthew 23:27; Luke 11:44.

GRAVEL PIT - Source: The Word of God; abundant supply. Deuteronomy 8:9; 2 Timothy 2:15.

MUDDY ROAD - Flesh: Man’s way; lust; passion; temptation; difficulty caused by the weakness of the flesh. Psalm 69:2; Isaiah 57:20.

IRONING - Correction: Change; sanctification; exhorting; teaching righteousness; God’s discipline; pressure (from trials). Ephesians 5:27.

LADDER - Ascend or descend: Escape; enable; way; steps. Genesis 28:12-13; John 3:13.

LIPS - Words: Seduction; speech. Proverbs 7:21; Proverbs 10:19.

MAP - Directions: Word of God; correction; advice. Proverbs 6:23.

MIRROR - Word or one’s heart: God’s Word; looking back; memory, past; vanity; Moses’ Law. 1 Corinthians 13:12; Proverbs 27:19.

NEWSPAPER- Announcement: Important event; public exposure; news; gossip. Luke 8:17.

OVEN - Heart: heat of passion; imagination; meditation; judgment. Hosea 7:6; Psalm 21:9.

PARACHUTING- Leave: Bail out; escape; flee; saved. 2 Corinthians 6:17.

PERFUME - Seduction: Enticement; temptation; persuasion; deception. Proverbs 7:7, 10, 13; Ecclesiastes 10:1.

PIE - Whole: Business endeavors; part of the action. Luke 12:13.

PLAY - Worship: Idolatry; covetousness; true worship; spiritual warfare; strife; competition. Colossians 3:5; 1 Corinthians 9:24.

POSTAGE STAMP - Seal: Authority; authorizations; small or seemingly insignificant, but powerful. Esther 8:8; John 6:27.

POT/PAN/BOWL - Vessel: Doctrine; traditions; a determination or resolve; form of the truth; a person. Romans 2:20; Jeremiah 1:13.

RADIO - Unchangeable: Unbelief; unrelenting; contentious; unceasing; tradition. Proverbs 27:15.

RAILROAD TRACK - Tradition: Unchanging; habit; stubborn; gospel. Mark 7:9, 13; Colossians 2:8.

RAPE - Violation: Abuse of authority; hate; desire for revenge; murder. 2 Samuel 13:12, 14-15; Deuteronomy 22:25-26.

REFRIGERATOR - Heart: Motive; attitude; stored in heart; harbor. Matthew 12:35; Mark 7:21-22.

ROCKING CHAIR - Old: Past, memories; medication; retirement; rest. Jeremiah 6:16.

ROLLER COASTER - Unstable: emotional instability; unfaithfulness; wavering; manic-depressive; depression; trials; excitement. Isaiah 40:4; James 1:6-8.

ROLLER SKATES- Speed: Fast; swift advancement or progress. Romans 9:28.

ROUND (shape) - Spiritual: (A round face, ring, building, etc.) Grace; mercy; compassion; forgiveness. Leviticus 19:27.

SEA COAST - Boundary: Flesh (which contains and limits the spirit of man); limitations; weights. Jeremiah 5:22; Jeremiah 47:6-7.

SHOVEL - Tongue: Prayer; confession; slander; dig; search; inquire. 2 Kings 3:16-17; Deuteronomy 23:13.

APPENDIX C

DREAM WORKSHEET

My first advice to you is always keep a journey of your dreams, visions, and narrative of what is going on in your life. In addition, keep a prayer journal, or you may want to combine the journals. Whatever works out for you!

So let’s get started: On a separate sheet of paper or perhaps in a journal, write the following questions with your response:

1. DATE AND TIME OF DREAM.

2. WHAT IS ON YOUR HEART? HAVE YOU BEEN PRAYING ABOUT THIS?

3. WRITE THE DREAM OUT IN NARRATIVE FORM.

4. NOW UNDERLINE IN YOUR NARRATIVE THE SYMBOLS, COLORS, NUMBERS, ACTIONS, AND YOUR FEELINGS.

5. WHAT WAS THE OUTCOME OF YOUR DREAM? DID IT END ABRUPTLY? DID YOU WAKE UP ABRUPTLY? IF SO, WHAT TIME WAS IT? WAS THERE A SOLUTION IN YOUR DEREAM? WERE YOU INSTRUCTED TO DO SOMETHING?

6. WHAT WAS THE OVERALL THEME?

7. WHERE DID IT OCCUR/LOCATION?

8. WHO WAS IN THE DREAM?

Now, prior to referencing the Basic Mini Dream Dictionary, go in prayer and ask God for divine revelation. If need be, lie prostrate in deep humble prayer. After concluding prayer, assign definitions or meaning to each answer above from the Basic Mini Dream Dictionary.

Once you have accomplished this, pray again and then write the flow of your interpretations. Place this interpretation in your journal and wait for confirmation. This can happen in another dream (theme dreaming), or through fellowship, or through a demonic attack. Record it all in your journal and let God reveal Himself.

NOTES

“Principles of Christian Dream Interpretation, 2004 Mark and Patti Virkler—May be freely reproduced for use in teaching situations. Books and resources at www.cwgministries.org. 1431 Bullis Road, Elma, N.Y. 14059. 716-652-6990.

Mia Sherwood Ministries, Prophetic Ministry of Christians Biblical Dream Interpretation and Prophecy, www.miasherwood.com

“Understanding the Dreams You Dream”, Ira Milligan, Copyright 1997, 1st Edition.

“Hannah’s Cupboard”, A Ministry of Barbara Lardinais, hannahscupboard.com, 2012.

“The Living Insights Study Bible”, New International Verson, Swindol, Charles L., Zondervan Publishing House, Copyright 1996.