We Need To Know How Good God is (A Mothers Story)

When I was born I was the last child out of eight children that my mother had. I have five brothers, and two sisters that are older than me. My mother was always working, so we were left in the care of our grandmother. As a young girl we lived in a house that had an upstairs, downstairs, and basement. We had people living underneath us, but I can only remember, it was always a motorcycle in the basement. Being the youngest child I was always at home while the other children were in school. My Grandmother was always at home watching me because my mother use to be tired from working the night shift, so she use to come home in the morning and go straight to bed. One morning when my mother was sleeping, I asked my grandmother could I watch television, and she said yes just keep the volume down low. As I was watching television someone was knocking on the door saying your house is on fire. My Grandmother immediately awakens my mother and we rushed out of the house. The house was burnt pretty badly, so we had to find somewhere else to live. My mother needed somewhere quick so they gave her temporary housing in the projects. My mother thought it was kind of neat, because we always had heat, and hot water. As a young girl growing up in the projects it was kind of neat, because they had day-care, hot lunches, Y.M.C.A. programs, summer jobs, educational programs, tournaments, different churches, schools, grocery stores, and activities. As I got older, and still in high school I had my first child at the age of seventeen, but I was still determine to stay in school. Two years later after having my first child I walked across the stage and received my diploma pregnant with the second child. After the second child was born I was determined to go to college, but I went to Wilfred Academy for eighteen months and graduated with certificates, and awards. After graduating from Wilfred academy I had my first job downtown working in a beauty salon. After that I had gotten my first apartment, and knew that I had a lot of responsibilities to take on.

I had met my husband to be. When I met my first husband I thought to myself he was good looking, attractive, well built, and smart. We dated for about six years before we got married. During the six years we dated, I had my third child when I was in my middle twenties. After I had my third child, I wanted to have a tuberligation, but my fiancée did not like that idea because he wanted me, to have a son named after him. I told him that was out of the question because he did not have to go through all of the pain that I had gone through with my third child. With my first child, I was put to sleep when she was born, with my second child I did not have any pain, but with my third child, I had pain all during my pregnancy. I finally talked to the doctor, and made an appointment which was a week later. The night before my appointment I asked my fiancée was he going to take me to the hospital. His answer was no, because he did not want me to have a tuberligation, but I told him that, that was my final decision. The next day came and it was about three o’clock in the morning when I awaken. I got out of the bed, took a shower, got dressed, and took public transportation to the hospital, because I did not know how to drive. Before I had surgery I called to see, if one of my friends was able, to drive me home from the hospital. After speaking with one of my friends, I had a tuberligation. Once I had gotten home from the hospital, my fiancée was standing right by the door, and asked me can he talk to me. I said yes but, can we sit down to talk because I did not feel well. He did not want to sit down so I was a fool and stood up to see what he had to say. He really wanted to argue at me for doing what I did, and I really could not understand that because I had just had surgery, and all I needed to do was lie down, but he really wanted to talk. We started talking about what I wanted to do, and that I was not thinking about what he wanted. While we were talking he grabbed me by my arm, threw me down on the floor and started hitting me. I had broke a loose from him, ran down stairs called the police at a neighbors house, waited until they had gotten there, but he had drove off before they got there. I had to go back to the hospital, to make sure everything was okay. As soon as I returned home from the hospital, I received dozens of phone calls from family, and friends. Once everyone saw that I was doing ok, I was able to rest, and block out the things that went on that day. The very next day, I received a phone call from my fiancée telling me how sorry he was, and saying that what had happen, will never happen again. A month had gone pass, and of course I had forgiven him, so he was back at home like nothing had ever happened. While I was living in my first apartment which was on the second floor someone rang the doorbell about twelve o’clock in the morning, and told me that my house was on fire. I immediately ran upstairs awaken my kids, and came downstairs immediately. When the fire department arrived they immediately put the fire out, but everything was destroyed. My sister and her husband came over to pick us up, and told us that it was ok to stay with them until I had found a place to live, which was a blessing. It was a blessing because I had made it out of two fires without any complications. Not only was it a blessing, but what the devil meant for bad God meant it for good.