21 (eBook)

Preface
The Vantage Point

It is my pleasure to introduce this book to you with great anticipation that you will be encouraged and find the freedom to begin to embrace your journey and eventually enjoy it. Whether you purchased this book or received it as a gift, know with certainty that, intentionally, it landed in your hands. Placed in your hand is half the journey; reading it is the other half. Let’s get busy. Don’t be a spectator. Get involved in your journey.

This book is an anthology, a string of short stories strung together like pearls with one theme: hope; one foundation: fear; and one turning point in each writer’s life that I call the vantage point. The women are vastly different, from different locations and having different experiences, observing whatever is at the center of their attention, what it is they are striving to find. It matters not where they started; they all end connected at the vantage point. Most people look from the vantage point, but in these ladies’ stories, the vantage point is looking at them. I challenge you to embrace each story. Should you find yourself within the pages, I pray you find hope. If you do not find yourself within the pages, be grateful for that. Maybe you dodged a bullet.

I have always dreamed of writing a book. I had the title and all the substance to write it from beginning to end, but it was not this book entitled 21. I could deal with writing a book about my journey, but to collaborate with twenty-one women telling their stories and penning them—well, that was not my desire. God wanted me on this journey to teach me about the characteristics of love and humility and the power of a story.

Unbeknownst to me, this book would come about when two friends and I traveled to Los Angeles to attend the 100-year celebration of the Azusa Street Revival. The revival was renowned for a few reasons. First, it ignited a strong desire in the hearts of people to return to God. In a time of racial segregation, it attracted Blacks and Whites worldwide and was led by an African American gentleman named William Seymour. Although it started somewhat racially united, it ended racially divided. Out of this revival came the birth of the Pentecostal faith giving us racially divided churches once again. For the Blacks, the Church of God in Christ. For the Whites, the Assemblies of God, and Church of God. But today we were a mixed multitude attending this memorable celebration.

Upon our arrival, we checked into our hotel, scheduled a time we would gather for dinner, and retreated to our rooms to make ourselves comfortable. My friend and dear sister Carol and I were well acquainted, but our other sister I only knew by face and name. Another friend had told us about her desire to attend the celebration and she wanted a traveling partner, so we connected. She was one of the sweetest people I could ever meet. Her name is Mulu.

I arrived at the hotel restaurant and found Mulu sitting alone, waiting for us. We greeted each other, and then the conversation ensued. I love meeting people, really meeting them. I sincerely want to know about the person and their interests, inspiration, and life ideology, not just the surface, passing the time in conversation. After we finished our introductions, we moved into deeper waters. I was curious enough to ask an openly bold question: I asked her to tell me her story.

I guessed she sensed my sincerity in knowing her better and began to share her story. The more she shared, the larger my eyes became and the wider my mouth fell open. I will not tell you her story; I will let you read it for yourself. The entire weekend we were together was an adventure. It was one glorious experience after another, and the more we shared, the more we knew about each other, all three of us. We became connected sisters.

Upon returning home, I couldn’t wait to tell our Bible study director, Pastor Mary, about her story. I impressed upon her that it would be nice to share testimonies during our women’s Bible study, starting with Mulu’s story. After I told her Mulu’s story, she agreed, and the journey began. I assisted Mulu in writing her testimony as concisely as possible to be shared in a short amount of time. The night came, and her testimony was the last item on the evening’s agenda. Mulu stepped up to the podium, notes in hand, and began to tell her story. The audience was in awe, just as I had been the first time I heard her story. Because her story started when she was just a teenager of sixteen, the youth in the room could hardly believe it. Nonetheless, they were encouraged by her courage. Once she finished and stepped down, the audience bombarded her with questions and accolades.

As I was exiting the room, a young lady named Tina, whom I didn’t know, got my attention. I knew she was an educator, but that was about all I knew. She asked me if I had written the testimony for Mulu to share. I hesitated to answer because it was Mulu’s story, and I didn’t want to distract from Mulu. I finally said yes, I had helped in composing it. She then looked at me and said, “I hear God saying, ‘twenty-one’!”

I asked, “Twenty-one what?”

She replied, “Twenty-one, stories—testimonies!”

Suddenly, someone said that “twenty-one” was not a good number. I thought, Praise God. I was glad to hear that because I had no intention of writing twenty-one testimonies. And that is where I left the conversation. The problem was, the conversation never left me, and it would surface at the most awkward times.

I tried to get it off my mind by repeating what I had heard, that “twenty-one is not a good number.” I didn’t know what that meant, except it got me off the hook for writing a book titled 21. I shared this occurrence with one of my pastors, and he said, “Twenty-one—wow, that is a good number. It is three times seven, and everyone knows that seven is God’s number.”

The dilemma in my head started again and worsened. I visited my friend Angela’s home to celebrate her husband’s birthday. One of the guests was her pastor, and as we were talking, he asked about what I was doing. By then, I had decided maybe I should reconsider the book. I told him that I was considering writing a book entitled 21. He quickly said, “That is a good number. It is God’s number multiplied three times!” Done! I was convinced. I said yes to God: I would write the book.

Once I said yes, my next question to God was, “Who and where are the twenty-one women? And why women only?” It came with the revelation. Around that time, I attended a Sisters Retreat in the mountain, just us women having a fabulous time together in God’s presence. While I was there, I started having conversations with other women. Once I said I was writing a book, I was surprised at the number of ladies interested. I left the retreat with the names of a few women who had shown an interest. Some of those ladies are in this book. I hadn’t known them before this, just as I hadn’t known Mulu, but they shared their stories with me.

The incident that sealed the deal and afforded me my last confirmation after I had committed to God to write this book occurred when I was seeking a location for our first writers’ workshop. My dear friend Nancy was using a building called the Barn to conduct Bible studies. She offered to connect me with the owners. The owner and I finally connected, but the conversation was difficult because he had a bad cough. He said it was okay for me to use the Barn, but he insisted on telling me a story of a miracle that had happened a few years back. I offered to pray for him, and we could discuss it another time, but he insisted on telling me then. I listened. He told me about a young lady who had come to the Barn for a youth event her daughters were attending. She had been in a bad car accident and was having severe back pain and other physical problems. He said that the young man conducting the ministry for the event prayed for her, and God healed her back. Not only that, he said she had been shot twice in the face and had lost eyesight in one eye, and God restored her vision. When he said that, all I could think about was how I would love to meet this miracle, and it would be great to have this testimony in the book.

It was Friday, and I needed to get home to prepare to attend a church life group meeting later that evening. I offered to pray for him, he accepted, and we prayed and hung up. I was elated for the person whom God had blessed with the miracle of healings. That night, my daughter, her sons, and I went to the meeting and had a great deal of fun. We left refreshed after meeting so many friendly people. On Monday morning, I received a call from the life group hostess, Gloria, informing me that a young lady at the meeting wanted to meet me because she heard I was writing a book. We chatted, and I asked her to have the young lady call me. I thought, Wow, God, You are making this happen. Thank You!

Within a few days, the young lady called me. We talked small talk for a while, and she reminded me who she was at the meeting. I remembered her, her daughter, and her husband. Finally, I said, just as I had to Mulu, “What is your story?”

She said, “I was shot in the face twice!”

I did everything I could to keep from actually throwing...