Well, where do I start because there’s many stories I can tell, Lbvs! 😭😂
Born and Raised in the Church; matter of fact being birthed into the family that feels like the 1st Family in the White House, the Pastor’s Family. My Dad was a Pastor and Bishop of his organization, my mom was dad’s right hand. My Grandfather was a Pastor and an Administrative Assistant in the Church of God in Christ. Last, but not least, my Great-Grandfather was a Pastor of a Methodist Church.
It wasn’t so bad being a PK, but I cannot say I don’t miss being one or not, once a PK, always a PK. While doing what God really wanted me to do in Ministry, like sing, work with the youth, I remembered at one time becoming so depressed and no longer wanting to do anything with church because I felt like life was getting bad and I was taking many L’s that year. From being stabbed in the back by “friends”, to losing many loved ones so unexpectedly, struggling a bit in school, losing lots of sleep, and just wanting to stay home to plan my death because I was just tired of what many thought I should do, and just being hurt by people I believed I should’ve been able to trust, especially the “Saints of the Most High.” I really never say much on it and even tried hiding it, but a friend always told me, “Your smile can really hide your pain, but not your eyes nor facial expressions.”
The Season felt rough, but thank God for some PRAYING friends. If it wasn’t for them, I really would’ve been dead by now. They always knew what to do to cheer me up and always remind me to take care of me after a long day, whether burned out or not. I really felt alone at one time, but glad I had them pushing me to keep going. With their help and the help of God, I survived on Broken Pieces! Acts 27:39-44