CHAPTER 1
"Deep Roots"
Deeply Rooted
Born in a season where summer still lingers
but fall is fiercely playing tug of war.
Young parents, during an era when opportunity
was not knocking upon your door.
Brown, bald, bundle of joy, Germaine be the name.
No "J" leading the way, little girl not little boy.
Happiness, love, unselfish pride,
days of hard work to provide and survive.
I had arrived, my gifts and blessings buried within my soul.
My path determined, days numbered, future known
only to my creator. But my purpose never told.
Who am I? What will I become?
My destiny already determined.
My parents' values being instilled.
Born, sworn, priceless creation with
God's greatness "Deeply Rooted."
Growing by leaps and bounds unable to sleep
in my make-shift bassinet made from a dresser drawer.
While sharing a backroom with my likeness
on the second floor.
Sprouting like a weed in a garden with room for many more.
Welcoming the arrival of a smaller likeness of me
for my parents and others to adore.
First responsibility, God's first task assigned.
The role of a big sister, protector, leader learned in
a child's heart defined state of mind.
Little did I know this would prepare me for the battle
I would have to endure before I was even a decade old.
Fighter, survivor, already "Deeply Rooted"
within my tiny little soul.
Barely introduced, our time together short and sweet.
Difficult to recall the sound of her voice,
warmth of her touch, smell of her perfume on our
lumpy mattress dressed in a thin lint-balled fitted sheet.
The one with whom I was joined for nine months
then for too few years,
Had successfully completed her mission here
as cruel as it may seem.
A daughter, a sister, a mother, a friend and
wife among other things.
She laid the foundation for her two,
accepted her wings ready for a new start.
And still her memory, her independence and
accomplishments remain deeply rooted within
my spirit and evident in my giving heart.
At five plus one, a half decade;
too young to realize the impact of such.
Too young to shed tears cause I'd miss her so much.
Too young to know the pain of those she left behind.
Too loved to feel alone, too loved by God's design.
Never really knowing her husband, our father,
his family nor being too much a part of his plan.
Enter a sweet, soft, mild tempered honey colored
angel named Lucille.
Ready and willing to fulfill a promise
she made at her daughter's bed side.
Grandma became our mom and with her we would reside.
Still younger than a decade, a big sister
and grandma Lucille raising us,
life once again seemed bright.
But failing health had taken hold and
grandma had her own battle to fight.
Little girl grow up.
Little girl grow up fast.
No time for cartoons, and things little girls do.
Not realizing the danger, our living arrangements
would expose us to.
So why tell my story?
Although I don't point the finger
and it took me years to forgive and not place blame.
I just wanted to empower another soul
who may be enduring such pain.
Since God's goodness is deeply rooted within
His mercy is coursing, pulsating through your veins.
Family members young and old under the same roof
but too engrossed in their own life.
Embattled in their own personal fight.
Sex, drugs, home turned shooting gallery
as day gave way to night.
Little girl run, prepare for night.
The unwanted guests would be arriving once more.
Forget about the hunger in your belly, and the few stale
oatmeal cookies you borrowed earlier from
the square somewhat round red corner store.
No wonder red is the color I most adore.
Never do I remember feeling so alone,
still younger than a decade and now the woman of the home.
Never did I know that the fat cold box, a refrigerator,
was supposed to have more than mustard and an onion
behind the lead-like dirty door.
Fearless little girl run, take cover, pull out the bucket
disguised as a portable toilet and look around the room
to see that grandma and little sister are all accounted for.
Push, pull and slide the recliner over behind the door,
serving as our deadbolt lock once more.
We would lay in bed coming up with nicknames like
"Cat" and "Mousie" as the unwanted visitors
climbed to the third floor, the wooden steps announcing
each as they arrived.
Grandma in the middle, her two angels,
me and my little living responsibility on either side.
We would laugh, sleep and awake to see that we
had survived another night in the shooting gallery.
God had sent morning so soon.
Push, pull, slide the recliner removing the dead bolt
on the bedroom door as the sun engulfed the moon.
Day in and day out, and still younger than a decade.
I still never knew that these weren't the things
other little girls use to do.
I use to wonder how we survived.
I often wondered why we'd made it through.
And now I know it was because God was there deeply rooted too.
Enough was enough.
Anyone who knew our mother,
knew of her independence too.
How ironic was it that on the Fourth of July,
our independence day blessing would arrive.
God sent angels of mercy to our rescue.
A couple just embracing the age of 27 years, the parents of two,
my mother's sister, her husband his wife arrived
at the holiday cookout that would forever change their life.
With little time to ponder the consequences,
our angels took us under their wings and headed for the door.
We were without suitcases nor a change of clothes.
Un-bathed for what seemed to be weeks
and our hair had its own uncombed matted style
adorned with lint and filth.
Happy to be spending the night at our favorite
cousin's home.
We shared everything.
Clothes, slept two to a twin bed adorned with
cartoons on the sheets.
Disney latch hook rugs on the floor under our feet.
Now knowing I'd never have to push, pull, slide the recliner
to secure the door, my fear of nighttime was no more.
A family of two then became four.
Still younger than a decade we had parents once more.
Four then became five,
but we were family and determined to survive.
Many would question why God would let such
sweet innocence endure so much, so young.
And allow danger to invade our home.
Why did He allow us to walk that road alone?
Why didn't He step in?
Why didn't He send our angels long before?
Why did He not alert others of the hunger that existed
and forced me to steal from the square somewhat round
red corner store?
Questions I never knew the answers to.
Details I never wanted others to know.
Experiences deeply rooted
and forever locked away in my heart and soul.
Experiences which would have destroyed most and details untold.
As the years passed, but still younger than a decade,
God once again sent angels down
and presented grandma with her wings.
Then I became angry and asked God,
"how many more things"?
How many more loved ones would He call home?
Would He take my uncle and aunt, now my new parents,
and once again leave us all alone?
I became afraid of God,
but I felt like He was so near and I knew what He could do.
So every Sunday we rode the cheese bus to Sunday school.
And receiving a signed bible for eight weeks
perfect attendance was pretty cool.
It was the beginning, and I forgave God.
Once again, He intervened
and removed the chains on my heart
and unleashed my creative spirit.
He placed a pen in my hand,
provided me a platform on which to stand.
At Grandma's homegoing service,
I wrote, read and declared my love.
Shared my gift of poetry deeply rooted
and instilled from up above.
Never did I know I had been blessed with the
gift to write, nor recite.
But I knew at that moment God had never
let me out of His sight.
He spoke through me when the time became right.
With years behind me, the angels returned for my father.
The one who gave me life and several more times
with wings in hand.
But I was no longer afraid
and accepted it to be part of God's ultimate plan.
And still our family endured
and our bond became ever so strong.
"We Are Family" became somewhat of our theme song.
Teenage years, high school, graduation, college,
heartaches, heartbreaks, uncertainties, defining goals.
Determination, anticipation,
wondering what my future would hold.
Good times, bad times,
disappointment, struggles, sorrow,
cloudy days filled with rain falling upon some dreams.
Angels still visiting with various pairs of wings.
Days I wanted to give up, battles I couldn't seem to win.
Poor choices that I made and decisions I couldn't defend.
Any yet and still I was never allowed to quit.
Never allowed to give in,
always reminded of my self-worth and God's plan
deeply rooted within.
Remember you are precious, priceless and
perfect in every way.
Even after what some would call an
unlucky beginning,
but I thank God who once again proved
He would always have the last say.
So as I have now surpassed four and one half decades,
I reflect on my life, my strife, my trials, my struggles,
my hurt, my joy, my pain, my successes, my failures, my truths
and untruths, my advice to others and other's advice to me.
I now realize that this was just a test
and a lesson on survival and faith
which was deeply rooted in me all this time.
But had now blossomed into this perfected masterpiece
created with God's design in mind.
Far from perfect,
but I'm here and still deeply rooted not easily moved nor uprooted.
Generations
Although you may not have been there
when history was made;
you have been a witness to a past by which
your children, and their children's children
foundations have been laid.
You've walked unfamiliar roads,
which often times were a dead end.
You've detoured and sacrificed in ways
we may never comprehend.
Through your eyes, generation after generation,
we have seen things children's eyes should never see.
And through it all you've been our role model,
our protector; an example of who we would grow up to be.
It must make you laugh when you hear the young folks
of today speaking on how tough things are.
And all the while we reside in expensive homes
and get around in luxury cars.
But even with all of our riches,
we could never repay you in dollars nor in cents;
no matter what our wealth.
But how rich we would be if we could bottle your wisdom,
strength and courage and sell it from a shelf.
And still, a platinum credit card would not do.
Such an item would be priceless
just like each and every one of you.
We could never thank you enough for ...
The many life lessons, the continuous blessings.
The unselfish giving, the down home good living.
The roofs over our heads, the many mouths you have fed.
Thank you for pressing onward,
when you were told to stay in your place.
Thank you for turning the other cheek,
when hatred looked you in the face.
Thank you for wiping our tears
even when we knew not what we were crying for.
And for helping a generation at a time succeed and endure;
even when "whites" and "colored only"
was part of the everyday décor.
We could go on and on
and a million thanks would not compare
to the things you've been able to do.
Just know we are so very thankful
just having been touched by you.
Although you have many great accomplishments,
one of your greatest was that you came to know
the Alpha and the Omega,
the one who has carried you.
The one who paid the ultimate price
Our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.
Had it not been for His goodness and His mercy,
perhaps you would not have found the strength
to share your life's experiences, your hopes, and your dreams.
Or have been the vision for generation after generation,
for which Christ supplied you the means.
We are ever so thankful.
So to all of our ancestors who've paved the way ...
We salute you for all that you've done throughout the years
and for all you continue to do.
And with lives under construction,
thank you for being a priceless blueprint
with a strong unwavering foundation.
Architecturally sound, for generation after generation.
