We all are a product of our childhood, the good, the bad, and the ugly. My Uncle Khalid once said, “If it takes a village to raise a child, it takes a village to abuse one with their words and life traumas.” The moment that I disqualified myself was because of three reasons: church, Christmas, and feeling irrelevant from a child. Growing up, there was a powerful belief that was taught to me that if you were good, they rewarded you for Christmas. That God loves the obedient child. It was what the Sunday school teacher embedded in my head. Imagine a ten-year-old little girl waking up on a Christmas day with no tree, no gifts, and on top of all that, a mother is not around on this special day.
I listened to my Aunt Cookie days before calling around to borrow money to buy us a gift and search for my mother. To hear the quiver in her voice and the tears falling from her eyes still breaks my heart. Children who weren’t hers, nor related to her by blood, and she was seeking to make this day special. Looking to the right of me sharing a bed with my brother, who was crying while silent night by the Temptations, played on Hot 97. All that kept racking my brain was how did I displease God. Did I not pray enough? Was I not nice enough? Did God not love me? It is the same trauma that repeats itself daily every…
