Happiness = Being Pregnant by Beverly Baptiste
Raising a Godly Child by Cheryl Hillman
Roaring Twenties by Darcus Griffin
My Time to Shine by Imeh Umoren
Playing the Game by Eboni Walker
My Dream Job by Raymond Wright
Living Without by Rabia Abdul-Jalil
Being Twenty by Divida Daniel
Holding Children Hostage by Marion West
The happiest time of my life was during my pregnancy with my daughter Olaide. My happiness, my obsession with my stomach, and the euphoria that the idea of becoming a mother gave me, could not compare to any other event.
I was so happy that sometimes I felt I would burst. In my happiness I acted as if I was the first woman to "be with child". My friends and family probably rolled their eyes every time I called; "Here we go again," they probably thought. I was so excited I wanted to share my every feeling with anyone who came in contact with me. If you had met me at that time, you would have thought I was on a mission to educate the world on pregnancy and childbirth.
I never quite believed I was actually pregnant until I felt that first kick. I became obsessed with my stomach. I also became intimate friends with the full length mirror on my closet door. Sometimes in the middle of a conversation I would sneak off to my room for a visual check. I would pull up my clothes to see if there were any signs of a new growth. I would awake in the middle of the night to measure my stretch marks. I knew how ridiculous I was behaving, but I'd just giggled to myself and jumped back into bed. I'd say to myself "Girl, you are beyond help," and I actually answered myself too, "So What, I'm having a baby." I'd spend hours pondering whether it's a boy or if its a girl, what did he/she look like. I wondered if he/she would have my eyes, nose, ears, complexion, hair? I really hoped she looked like me, all except the nose part. I never really liked my nose. Even though the important thing a nose is supposed to be able to do is smell, I hoped she had her father's nose. I wondered whether he/she would be short, tall or medium height. I wanted my daughter to at least be taller than me. I filled my days with questions that would not be answered until I delivered. But I was HAPPY!
With the passing of time, and after all the doctor's visits and wearing the poor man out with question after question, and even some self diagnosis, I finally went into labor. My girlfriends and I had pigged out on Chinese food the night before. After all my anticipation, my planning, my reading up on pregnancy and my sharing everything with anyone and everyone, I didn't even know I was in labor. I made a hundred trips to the bathroom that morning. I didn't have a clue. I blamed my trips on the Chinese food. I thought my stomach was just upset. My girl friend called to see how I was feeling. I relayed my trips to the bathroom and the cramping in my stomach. After she asked how often does it happen and I told her every 15 minutes, she shouted "Fool your'e in labor." my response was "you really think so?" "I'll be right over," she said. When she arrived I was dancing to the beat of the pain. She proceeded to laugh and told me how crazy I was. I jumped in the shower and danced in there too. We laughed all the way to the hospital.
When the doctor announced I had my girl, I was so elated. I would have jumped off the table to do a gig then too if not for the after pain and the anesthesia numbing my legs. I simply kissed my happiness twice and went to sleep!
I've been instructed since childhood to obey God and follow his rules or else. I remember my great grandmother reading and quoting scripture from the bible. She would say," Cheryl, if you want to live with Jesus after you die, you must cleanse yourself from the world." From the age of five I decided to cleanse myself from the world. I was told of horrible things that would happen to people who involved themselves in worldly pleasures.
I was instructed that Jesus would return to this earth for the true believers. If you are left behind you will endure terrible tribulation. Don't associate with people of other beliefs, because they are sinners. The only people Jesus will save in the end are the ones who are obedient to his word. To say the least, my childhood and adolescent years were filled with religious teachings and fear.
At the age of fifteen my great grandmother passed away. I no longer had the person who was caring for me physically or guiding me emotionally and spiritually. Most of my other family members lived the life that I was instructed to live. Entering adulthood I became withdrawn and fearful. The temptations of life became unbearable. I tried to talk to other church members about the problems I was having. Their advice to me was to fast and pray. I found myself drifting away from God, my family, and church members. I didn't want to be judged anymore. I wanted a life. I wanted to be happy.
So I went out and found a life. I went to every party in town. I became aquatinted with drug users, drug dealers, thieves and probably murders too. I didn't know a person could have so much fun. I was living, and I didn't have a care in the world. There wasn't anyone there to judge me, no one there to call me a sinner. Just when I thought my life was in my control, God stepped in. All of a sudden I began to have nightmares. In these nightmares I would see my great grandmother being taken to a beautiful place. But I was always in darkness and couldn't reach the place where she was. These nightmares were continuous and more graphic. I reached the point where I wanted my mind and thoughts to be erased out of my head. I didn't want to remember my teachings, but they were embedded into my memory.
Life had become a living hell. My newfound happiness was no more. I found myself reaching out to unscrupulous people for answers. Their advice was to take drugs or drink alcohol. They advised me that the substances would help me forget, but I was too much of a coward to try those things. A therapist told me that I had been brained washed. He advised me of a ten-step program that would help me for the price of three thousand dollars. I didn't have the money and by that time, I had developed an ulcer. The ulcer was very painful, and the nightmares were driving me crazy.
I was at the end of my rope. I fell down on my knees and I cried out to the lord for help. I wasn't embarrassed or afraid. For the first time in my life I wasn't afraid of God. I needed him not only for salvation, but also for existence. At that moment I felt his love and compassion all over me. At that moment I knew for myself that God loved me because of who I am, and not what I am. God is love and not fear. I believe God knows that we are human and we are going to make mistakes. Because we do make mistakes God shows us his mercy and grace. I now know and understand the love of God. My early training was valuable and important. I developed a strong conscience, always thinking of the right thing to do. I can implement my great grandmother's teachings into my life without the fear factor. I no longer have nightmares. I believed that I am a God's child.
I believe my great grandmother's intentions were correct. In my opinion, it was the method of instruction that was wrong. I now have two children of my own, and we attend a different congregation. The new church we attend has children's ministry, as well as adult counseling. This new congregation has helped me deal with a lot of misgivings about my early teachings. I have the same concerns for my children as my great grandmother had for me. In my opinion, to raise godly children you must stress that God is love. Explain to your children that they are going to make mistakes. Tell your children the repercussions of wrongdoing, but explain it in love, not using intimidation or fear tactics. You must let them know that God has anticipated all the mistakes that we can make. The message I received as a child was the same, but the method of instruction is different. I would use children educational tools to convey Gods message about salvation. With these educational tools you can convey to your children the dangers of worldly pleasures through illustrations. You can even find humorous pictures. This will put them at ease and hold their attention.
Read the word of God with your children. Try to get your child involved in the discussion, be patient and answer all of their questions. In my opinion, through love, understanding, patience and prayer you can raise godly children.
My twenties was the happiest time of my life. Life was a party that was to be lived daily. Having a roommate was a nice thing because you learn how to share, especially if you grew up without sisters like I did. The best thing is that before AIDS came along, you could have a lot of boyfriends, not sleeping with all of them but always having a date to go dancing or to the movies or just to the park.
When you're in your twenties, you think that you have life by the tail because everything is so fresh and new. For me, having a roommate was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. Having a roommate was like having a sister to talk to and share your secrets with. Roommates are good to have when you have overbooked yourself with dates and she's there to tell the necessary lies for you and cover for you. It's really neat when you have someone covering your back.
My twenties were really a time for partying, hanging out with the guys. We had no conception about time when we were out enjoying ourselves. Playing cards was our most fun thing to do .The lies we told when we were playing bidwhist just to get the bid was amazing, and we had to laugh at ourselves because we were like children, trying to up the next person.
AIDS wasn't on the horizon and we were carefree when it came to sex and dating because we thought the more dates you had, the more popular you were, the more fun you had. Everyone wanted to take you out dancing or to a movie or just be seen with you. But as we grew older, we learned that AIDS was on the horizon and we had to change our ways. AIDS was something new to us and we weren't clear on the effect of AIDS on our society. All we knew is that we couldn't have unprotected sex anymore because sex was now killing people. I'm glad that we made it through those loose and carefree times.
In conclusion, I can say that my twenties were the high point of my life so far. Living was easy then, without all the restrictions that are put on you today, such as not having sex without a condom. I never would have thought that we would live in society where sex will kill you. I miss having a roommate to cover for me when I get out of control.
In June of 1996, I graduated from high school. I was an honor roll student, choir member, a student tutor and worked at the University of Pennsylvania as a lab assistant. Looking at my track record you would say I was on a roll. In August I was going to start college at Lincoln University. I thought 1996 was my year to shine. It wasn't.
In June, the same month I graduated, my mother had been fired from her job. She had worked at Children's Hospital for twenty years as a pharmacist technician. She was fired for having too many absences. They would have been better classified as sick leaves. My mother has a history of mental depression. She has been in and out of hospitals since I was eight years old. Anything could trigger these days and weeks of depression. An unhappy marriage, losing her mother to cancer, and getting fired from her job were the most recent events I remember her going into the hospital for. My mother has been in inpatient care all of eleven times. Each time she got sick and went to the hospital she would have to stay there for weeks or even months.
I can remember changing schools, having no friends and moving in with relatives that did not really want my brother and me to stay with them. Even if our relatives didn't mind keeping us it never would feel like home. I am the older more responsible child of the two my mother has. It was my responsibility to make sure my brother and me had a place to stay. It was my responsibility to make sure my mother was checked into all the hospitals and stayed there until she was well enough to function in our world. You see, I had to do all the things she couldn't do while she was sick. Each time my mother got sick the load of responsibilities would get harder and heavier for me.
I was not at all mad at my mother for getting sick, but I was very frustrated. It felt like my feelings had been put in the back shelf, so I could be strong for my mom and brother. There is no problem with that, except I never had anyone there who could be strong for me. During those times when my mother was in the hospital, I became emotionally unstable. By the time my mother would get of the hospital, she would barely remember what happened. My mother didn't have a clue as to what had been going on in her own children's lives. We never bothered telling her because we didn't want her to have another episode. Hence I felt upset, set up, and set back.
Everything came crashing down just as I started school at Lincoln University. I was living on campus fifty miles away when my mother began getting sick. This meant that my brother would have to be responsible and handle the situation the best he could. At the time my brother was too young to work, so I paid the bills and made sure he had some extra money for food. Sooner than later I ran out of money and could no longer keep up with the bills. When my mother did get out of the hospital, she came home to an eviction notice. My mother and brother had to move to Georgia. Meanwhile at Lincoln, I had developed my own depression caused by loneliness and stress. I could not keep up with school, so I drank. Needless to say, I flunked out of college.
When school was over and the family was reunited, I decided that I would never be set back by my mothers illness ever again. It was very apparent to me that my family would become too dependent on me if I stayed in the situation. I know that now I would not be able to handle those responsibilities. I plan to move away from my mother, so I can accomplish some of the things I want out of life. I can only hope that she understands my motives.
My mother is now staying in Georgia surrounded by her sisters and brothers. She is a volunteer at a local church. We spend a lot of time together and are each other's entertainment. Mentally and physically she is in good health. Presently I am attending Atlanta Metropolitan College, where I am working towards bringing up my grade point average. In August I plan to go back to Lincoln University to study my major, psychology. I will be eagerly waiting for my time to shine.
As I gaze through my blurred vision at my best friend talking to a stranger in his shiny black Range Rover, I hear gun shots wizz past my ear. We all duck for cover and I pray that nobody is hurt. As the ringing in my ears begins to cease, I cross my fingers in hopes that my best friend is not stretched out in the parking lot dead. I raise my head from below the console just enough to see her brushing the dust from the gravel off her Calvin Kleins. Whew, close call!
Cruising down Peachtree: what else could three intelligent young ladies be doing on a Sunday night? If you asked me that question now, I'd probably say reading a book or maybe studying. However, at the time I wanted to drink and cruise down Peachtree Street hollerin' at cute boys in their four-wheel drive utility vehicles. Although I claimed that an education was important to me, college was far from my mind and having a good time was first on my list of "things to do." My life consisted of the same weekly cycle: Atlanta Live, 112, Kaya and meeting men. My life was in serious need of a priority check.
At a certain point in life, one should begin to set goals and get priorities in order; unfortunately, I got started a little late. I never seriously thought about college during high school because my parents never talked to me about it. My father was never around and my mother always worked to make ends meet. She would always tell me, "You better find you a good man that's gone take care of you, girl."
For financial reasons my mother entered into a relationship that turned abusive, which made home life very unstable. We moved often, which meant I had to change schools and adapt to new surroundings. I was so distressed about where the next move would take me that I barely had time to think about school or my plans afterwards. I always thought no one cared about where I ended up, so why should I. Instead, I focused on other things like having fun.
Focus is important in life. If you lose it, you may lose sight of your goals and stray in the wrong direction. After my escapade at the parking lot as well as several other consecutive incidents including horrendous hangovers and fleeing street fights, I decided life was more important than partying. I snapped out of the Cinderella syndrome and realized that my Howard graduate boyfriend was not going to marry me to live happily ever after on his opulent GM salary. Becoming so fed up with what my life was turning out to be, I prayed. It was time to stop feeling sorry for myself and take action instead of wishing and hoping that my life would just automatically turn into a fairy tale.
Instead of crying the "I can't afford college blues," I did my homework on grants and loans. I finally stopped waiting for things to be handed to me on a silver platter and realized that it was time for me to become more responsible for my life. At this point I have realized that life is what you make of it. You either play the hand life's dealt for you or lose the game.
If I had the chance to teach a sport it would be football, and I would coach it not teach it. I would like to coach it at a black college. I would try to have my team at the same competitive level as the teams such as Tom Osborne's Nebraska teams or Joe Paterno's Penn State teams. I'd do this because America looks at black college football as more or less second hand football, with a lot of good athletes. Giving teams and schools like this good winning programs would bring a large economic gain to both the school and the community.
NFL scouts generally see black college football as a gold mine for getting good athletes, but feel that at the same time that these players lack the experience of playing against the caliber of athlete they will see every Sunday in the NFL. This is because they do not feel that black college football is on the same level as white college football. It would be a tremendous challenge, that I am willing to take on to change black college football from being inferior to an existing plain where it would be viewed and looked upon in the same manner as white college football. The biggest differences between to two programs are that black school lack the strict discipline and work ethic of the traditional NCAA top ten programs. This would be my mission and number one goal and the foundations of my program. By creating a football program with such a base and foundation it would begin to show in the community and the school.
Giving a school a good program-winning program would increase the school popularity, overall enrollment and most of the financial gain. Schools such as Florida State and The University of Nebraska are best known for their football programs, by football fans. If someone is a fan of that school and the opportunity comes for them to choose that school to attend most of the time they will. If not that person still is a fan and can also increase school funds by purchasing school paraphernalia. The biggest way to increase capital gain would be to get people to watch you play whether it be coming to the game of watching it on TV. Out of the thousands of black college football games played last year only two were viewed nationally. The perfect utopia to achieve that would maximize a schools financial gain through a football program, would be to win nintey percent of their games and play them all in front of a nationally televised audience. Winning most of your games would fill your stadium to capacity with people who love to see you win and people who want to see you lose. This would benefit the community because the people will leave behind money. This would take Morris Brown College from not just playing at Herndon stadium but filling it up. Winning and being on TV would take people eyes off Penn State a Saturday afternoon to watch black college football and anything people watch on TV sells.
Transforming a black college football program from being a expense account to an multimillion dollar money making tool for a school; is a challenge that I hope to meet one day in my life. Because the life of a black college football program can do tremendous things for the atheletes, the schools, and the community.
As I look at myself in the mirror, many unusual questions come to mind. "Do I look like him? Do I have his eyes, or maybe his nose?" Or sometimes I am faced with the more difficult, heart-breaking questions like "Does he love me? If not, at least does he think about me?" These are just some of the questions I find myself wondering about almost everyday. To this day, I cannot claim to have been as fortunate as many. My life has been filled with many years of not knowing who my father was. For as long as I can remember, I have felt as though half of my existence was not known. It is hard to get people to understand what it is like not knowing your father. I remember sitting up all night crying hoping to receive at least a phone call, a call I now know I will probably never receive.
It all started when I was about two years old. My mother packed up her four kids one night to escape an abusive husband. This was the last day I saw my father. I am now eighteen years old and I have not seen him in a little over sixteen years. Then, I was too young to understand what was going on, but now I see. My mother did the best thing she could do. She brought her kids out of a potentially dangerous home and moved as far away from my father as she could.
It didn't really hit me at first. I really didn't care that he was gone. All I knew is that we were better off without him. It wasn't until I turned about ten years old that I noticed a difference in my life compared to all of my friends' lives. I saw them with their fathers. They were laughing, playing and doing all the things fathers and daughters do. I never had a chance to do any of these things. And it hurt. For the first time in my life I felt myself unleashing all of the resentment I felt towards my mother for leaving my father. I felt a deep pain that will never pass. I felt a void that will never be filled.
Sometimes I'd wonder why my mother left. Would I be wrong to tell her she should have stayed for the kids no matter what? To answer the question, I really don't know. If my mother would have stayed, we would have a father, but we would have grown up in an environment that is dysfunctional. On the other hand, the fact that she left hurt her kids tremendously. I really believe that if you find yourself in a position where you have to leave, never allow your kids to lose complete contact with their father because what is best for you is not always best for your children.
Today, my life is a lot different -in a sense. I am able to cope with the pain I have felt for the majority of my life. It's hard to see people I know neglect the gift of fathering a child. This is a gift many take for granted. If they only knew the pain they will cause a little boy or girl later on in life. In my life, I found myself trying to fill the void I have in making wrong decisions in the men I choose. They say the first man you have a relationship with is your father, and that is a relationship I cannot claim to have had.
To all of my readers, If you are a father to a child, be there no matter what happens in the relationship. If things get bad between you and the mother, don't give up. Your children are a part of you and believe me, they need you. And if you are a mother to a child, never deny your child of his or her father. Unless the guy is harmful, let him be a father. Even if he doesn't make all of his child-support payments, you will only be hurting your child. But in the event that leaving is the only alternative, please, make sure you offer your kids every opportunity to keep in contact with their father because a child can never get those years back. I am all too familiar with the years of hoping and praying for a father.
Recently, my sister came back from Detroit with a handful of pictures. In that stack, I picked up a picture of a tall, strong-build, dark complected man. This was my father. He was beautiful. It was hard to put the picture down because I was looking at myself. As I glanced at the photo, one thing came to mind. "I have his eyes!"
Out of 20 years of living I have had a lot of happy times. This present period of young adulthood has been the happiest. I have experienced and enjoyed new things. I am the happiest right now because I work a full time job, go to school, and have become a responsible young adult.
I never in a million years thought that I would enjoy waking up early in the morning. I enjoy getting up in the morning because I enjoy going to work. I work for Crown Crafts Inc., in the accounting department. My job title is imaging clerk. I have the easiest job in the whole corporation. I scan invoices into the computer. This job may sound boring but it gets busy. This is my first job that I have been really involved in corporate America. I get to see day to day how a million dollar company manages their bills. Working in a business setting was never a job I had planned to do, but working at Crown Crafts I see that it is not so bad. In a year at Crown Crafts I have learned a lot about accounting. My co-workers are cool. I think that is one of the main reasons I enjoy going to work. I'm glad that I do not have to go to work and see a bunch of unhappy people.
Besides going to work everyday, I attend Atlanta Metropolitan College. Sometimes it is hard to work a 10-hour day then come to school. On three days a week I come to class on my lunch break. My job allows my to extend lunch. Twice a week I attend class after work. This may not sound like any fun but I am very happy. This schedule keeps me focused on my goals in life. In order to achieve my goals I have to come to school and in order to come to school I have to go to work. Although I am not involved in activities here at the school, I enjoy the few hours that I come.
Another reason this is the happiest time is because I have become a responsible young adult. Many older people say that at 20 you're still wild and crazy. Many times I have proven my mom wrong. It has been many days that I wish my mom would pay for my school and other expenses. I thank her for making me become responsible for myself. I am glad she cut me off at a young age because I can appreciate the things that were given to me. Working full time has also made me into a responsible adult. I know realize that jumping from job to job was not good. It makes me feel good when people tell me how much of an adult I am.
In closing, being 20 years old is terrible for some people, but this is the happiest time in my life. Working and going to school is hard but I have to do it. Although my social life has been cut in half, this will all pay off in the end. I will not say that I enjoy paying my own bills but I feel good that I can.
There goes another child's happiness! It's beginning to become the ex's best way to get revenge on the dad. Many mothers are so mad that their relationship is over, they will do anything to see their ex in pain. In most situations many angry people make quick and rash decisions they soon regret. Many women immediately cut of all parental rights from the father. This is something I've seen too many times before. Women know that dads are just as connected to their kids as they are; men just express their love in totally different ways. While women may feel that they are getting even or hurting the ex-boyfriend, they are only hurting the kids involved.
The first time I saw a friend of mine tell her ex-husband that he could not see his family again, I felt so confused. I didn't get involved because I felt it wasn't my place to tell her what was right or wrong about her decision. Days after her decision I could see the withdrawal from her kids and the vivid pain they were feeling when I asked them about seeing their dad. But looking back now I wish my first instinct had prevailed over my cowardliness.
Today I find myself in the wrath of somebody's revenge. Three years ago I became involved with a man that was divorced with three young children. His ex-wife aimed to hurt him by not allowing him to see his kids. What motivated her to use her three sons to hurt their father was the fact that after the divorce he had moved on with his life. At first I could not truly understand his pain. That all chanced with the blink of an eye when I gave birth to my son. I instantaneously learned the happiness of being a parent. Then I imagine not being able to see or even speak to him. When I became a parent, I found every ounce of me wanting the best for my child. Immediately I found myself opening savings accounts so that he would have the finer things in life. You would think that every parent would feel the same way, but something that is priceless that you can't save or buy is the love from a mother or a father.
We thought of many other ways to see the boys. But after endless disappointments we finally had to use our last result by going to the court. In this situation the court only provided the terms of the custody agreement and visitation rights. The courts are usually not involved with enforcing the visitation process. If she purposely breaks the outlined agreement for custody or visitation, the courts instruct the ex-husband to contact the authorities. Imagine a situation where the father has to call the police to enforce his legal visitation rights. You have a predicament where the police either escort the children out, or place the mother into custody if she still refuses to cooperate. Imagine watching those kids screaming and crying as their mother is being handcuffed and put into a police car. The children don't understand the specifics or why their mom is being taken away. His kids only see that he caused their mother to be taken away by the police. This causes so much unnecessary pain for their innocent children to endure.
When she initially took her anger out on her ex husband by not allowing him to see his kids, she not only hurt him but hurt her own children more than she'll ever know. That changed my outlook on women who use their kids as punishment. Now we have a situation where four brothers will most likely not have a normal sibling relationship. What started out as revenge only resulted in hurt and confused innocent children. Whether the kids withdraw themselves from others or cry when they think about missing a parent, the most comprehensible solution is that every kid needs two parents, together or apart. I can sympathize with a woman mourning the loss of a loved one. But even in the lowest of spirits women should not take away the rights of the other parent to see their own child. You must put your child's happiness first.
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