Teardrops in the Wind

By First lady Robin S. Thompson

Life is always full of ups and downs and twists and turns. But no matter how gray the sky turns, there will always be silver lining.

Author First lady Robin S. Thompson reveals a heartwarming read that will surely inspire readers in Teardrops in the Wind.

This is the tale of a woman who has to go through many hardships in life but still hold on to her fate and pull enough courage to face the day. Her admirable strength despite her trials gets her through the darkest part of her life. Join her in this inspirational journey.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: May 28, 2014
• ISBN: 9781496913807

First lady Robin S. Thompson

Robin Thompson (Lady Thompson) is the wife of the Rev. Dr. T.G. Thompson of the Gospel Arena of Faith Church in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. Lady Thompson and Dr. T.G. Thompson have been blessed with a flower garden of biological and spiritual children. They are also truly grateful to have an abundance of grandchildren and one great grandson. Not only is Lady Thompson a proud wife, she is an awesome mother, grandmother, a prolific revivalist, writer, and a Christian entrepreneur. Coming from a lifetime of struggle and sacrifice, Lady Thompson’s perseverance and strong faith in God allowed her to overcome many years of emotional and financial burdens. “In 2006, Lady Thompson became CEO of the Gospel Arena Christian School, in the heart of the City of Fort Lauderdale, Florida, where she serves as a Preschool Director.” Always having a passion for spirituality, children, women, and self-help topics, Lady Thompson decided to write her first book, The Making of A Proverb’s 31 Women (2011). This book not only depicts women in a Godly manner, it instills values and reiterates (Colossians 3:18) Wives, submit to your husbands, as is fitting in the Lord. Lady Thompson strongly feels that the Bible is the only source of authority for women to become a virtuous woman. Respecting your husband doesn’t mean that you are weak, it makes us a candidate for God’s blessings. “In 2013, Lady Thompson was inspired to write, Tear Drops in the Wind, which tells a heartfelt story about a single mother’s life of crime, constant struggle, and love and sacrifice for her children.” Through faith and God’s will, she was able to break a vicious cycle of despair, low-self-esteem, crime, and poverty.

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© 2014 First lady Robin S. Thompson. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 05/21/2014

ISBN: 978-1-4969-1378-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4969-1379-1 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4969-1380-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014909135

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Chapter 1: One Fateful Day

Chapter 2: Just When Life Seemed to be Getting Better

Chapter 3: My Day in Court

Chapter 4: My Life As An Inmate

Chapter 5: My First Visitor

Chapter 6: Thank You, Jesus!

Chapter 7: My Transition Back into the World

Chapter 8: My Daughter

Chapter 9: The Meeting with Mr. and Mrs. Rogers

Chapter 10: Catching up on the specifics: Monica

Chapter 11: Judge Gwendolyn Black

Chapter 12: The Attorney, Angela Williams

Chapter 13: Lonnie and his Mother

Chapter 14: Gwendolyn Williams

Chapter 15: Jackie

Chapter 16: Jackie, Starting Over

Chapter 17: Cloud Nine

Chapter 18: He’s gone

Chapter 19: Confessions

Chapter 20: I’m So Hungry

Chapter 21: You Want To Be My Attorney?

Chapter 22: Can You Help Me Find My Mom?

Chapter 23: The Trial

Chapter 24: Janet

Chapter 25: Janet and Lisa

Chapter 26: Debra

Chapter 27: Lisa’s Road To The Hospital

Chapter 28: The Dog Named Shallow

Chapter 29: A Familiar Touch

Chapter 30: So Close But Yet Far

Chapter 31: Some Bad News

Chapter 32: The Transplant

Chapter 33: The Rest of the Story

DEDICATION

First and foremost I’d like to thank my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ for dying on the cross for me. With that being said, Jesus is the best thing that ever happened to me.

To The Rev. Dr. T.G.. Thompson, my husband and hero- you are the wind beneath my wings I am so blessed to be your wife. I thank God for you each day I live. You have made my life so wonderful. You have given me the opportunity to discover my full potential and why I am here on this earth and the reason is to serve you as y husband. You are such an extraordinary person and such a captivating husband. I am homered to be your wife. I love and adore you.

A special thanks to Erick Mertz. Thank you for all of your hard work and dedication to this book. You were a pleasure to work with. Now we are moving forward to big things. Thank You!

To all my children, thank God for you. You truly are the ones who put that twinkle in my eyes. You are precious gifts.

To my father, Edward brown, and my sisters Angela, Gwen, Jackie and Debra- I am so happy I found you. I realize you have only been in my life a short time; but I believe this is the most important time. Now that I’ve found you, I’ll never let you go.

In loving memory of my mother, a woman of true beauty, Evelyn Lewis Bens and God mother Leola Carter.

To my Gospel arena family and friends, thank you for your love and prayers

To Mrs. Dorothy Corford, thank you for all your encouragement and motherly love.

To my Grandchildren Chelsey, Angel, Kemiya, Denika, Kevin, Dominique, Keon, Kaylah and Nathaniel, you all are so special. I pray that Gods favor always be upon your lives. Thank you so much for all your love and kindness towards me. I love you all dearly. Words cannot explain how much you all mean to me.

To my first great grandson, Jaiden D’Mar Jermajesty Banks, may the blessings of The Lord be upon your life forever.

To my sons Tyrone, Nick, La’Twan (Tarazan), and Casey thank you for your kindness and laughter.

To my daughters Angel, Precious, Takia, and Catherine you will always have my love.

To my god daughter Arkim, You are so special to me. I love and appreciate you for all you do.

To my God daughter and son Toshiba Gardner, and Michael McCloud, May the blessing of The Lord forever be on your lives.

To the Wallace family and my God sons Micah and William, the blessing of The Lord maketh you rich. Always put God first and you will never come in second.

To Yolanda Rinehart, Thank you for your love and kindness. May Gods favor you forever and be upon your life.

To my family the Clements, I thank God for you. I believe God gave you to me.

To Dr. Dillard, Bishop Jr. and Lorraine Thompson, Bishop and Evang Dudley, Bishop Hurricane and Jennett Johnson, Pastor Robert Banks Jr., Mr. Boris Banks, and Overseer Abrella & Family, May God’s blessings and favor always be upon your life.

INTRODUCTION

By the time I reached the age of twenty-one years old, I had given birth to a total of seven children. In each year of my young adult life, I found myself together with a different man, and seemingly each year I was giving birth to another new child. None of those men seemed to care enough about their children to help me out, so consequently, my financial situation became increasingly dire as the family grew. Still, into each new relationship, I brought a great deal of hope and optimism that this time things would be different; they never ended up that way though. I realize now that I was just a child myself. So, chalk some aspects of my story up to poor judgment when it came to matters such as relationships but I had to drop out of high school and soon, I ended up having to work sometimes twelve and sixteen hours a day to support my growing family. Making ends meet with so many mouths to feed though is a challenge.

My name is Shirley Williams. In the following pages I am going to attempt to relate my story of failure and success, and my personal views on life and love. I will do my best to describe my hard fought struggle to achieve a position of responsibility and happiness in the world, and I will relate my fight for freedom from persecution. There have been so many important people that have touched me over time, and because of the way I have chosen to organize things you will forgive me in advance if my story contains some repetition. Looking back on my life though, it seemed that revisiting some key events was necessary because many parts of this story were revealed to me gradually over a long period of time. I have worked very hard to make sure each piece is properly placed into context so it will be immediately understandable.

CHAPTER 1

One Fateful Day

My story begins on a beautiful Florida day in 1985. It was the middle of a particularly hot and humid summer, amid the kind of southern weather that tends to bring some folks down. Not me that day though. I recall waking up full of more excitement than I had ever felt before. I had finally saved enough of my own money to secure my first apartment. Prior to this morning, I had been moving my family from shelter to shelter in the local area, wherever I could convince someone to let me stay the night. Shelters were tough with kids and I thanked God that I was about to be done with that part of my life. The paycheck I was scheduled to receive that morning would finish my deposit savings, allow me to pay my first months rent leaving enough to turn my lights on. That day I remember feeling like the first day of the rest of my life.

I had a steady job. I was cleaning house for a nice family. Mr. and Mrs. Rogers had provided me work for almost three years. They were good people and some of the first employers I had ever had who actually treated me well. As a result, I did good work for them and I felt as though I had become a valuable part of their family. We had arrived at a very comfortable arrangement that worked out well for both parties. They lived just twelve miles from the place I was staying, and each morning, after getting my family ready for their day, I took the short walk down and boarded the bus for work.

My youngest girl was sick that morning though. I wasn’t quite sure what to do, so instead of leaving her with my friend at the shelter, I decided to take her with me. I wasn’t crazy about the idea but felt like I had no choice in the matter. The Rogers had allowed me to bring a child with me to work before, and I knew that more than anything else, a sick child just needs her mama around to feel better.

After getting off at the bus stop I still had another half mile to walk to the Roger’s house. Even at such an early hour of the morning, the air was already humid and sweltering hot, and we were both sweating like no other. The bus ride had upset her already sick constitution and I felt bad that she was going through such an ordeal. Between the oppressive heat and already not feeling well, my daughter understandably became a little difficult to handle. I tried to encourage her but at numerous times throughout that half-mile walk, I had to reach down to pick her up and rest her limp body on my hip so I would not end up being late.

Still, I tried to remain in the positive frame of mind that I had woken up in. We were very close to the Rogers house when a car drove by and group of young, white men leaned out the windows and screamed at us:

Coon, they cackled. Nappy head.

I covered my little girl’s ears and did my best to keep my eyes down and ignore their horrible racial slurs. My lot in life had been to learn how to ignore such things and I whispered something sweet in her ear to distract her from their anger before continuing. Even as the car vanished up the road and into the swamps though, I could see their hate filled faces and as I continued, I hoped that I would never see them again.

As I approached the Rogers driveway, I noticed that the same car was parked about a block on down the street. They were on my side of the street so I crossed over and picked up my pace, walking briskly toward the safety of their house. A young, black woman doesn’t need any more reason to be cautious than a few racial slurs from strangers. I watched the nightly news and it always seemed to be full of terrible stories about women, just like me, getting themselves into horrible situations. I became so frightened that I felt my whole body begin to shake and tremble.

What is it, Mama? my little one asked. Her voice was weak.

Nothing, I replied, caressing the back of her head with my hand. Don’t you go and worry your sweet little head about a thing.

I turned and glanced over my shoulder as I grabbed the doorknob; although the suspicious car was still there, I breathed a sigh of relief. I was safely inside.

In my haste to enter the house, I accidentally knocked Mrs. Rogers’ purse over, which had been sitting on the stand by the door like usual.

I set my daughter down and did what felt natural. With contents spread across the polished, marble floor, I leaned over and quickly set about picking her things up. I was embarrassed more than anything else as I gathered her belongings. I was careful not to be too nosy, but I remember that there were all the usual things a woman carries with her on a regular day, plus some amount of money in an unsealed envelope. Later, I would learn it was $3,000.00 in cash.

Do you want some help? my daughter asked.

I sent her away as I finished with Mrs. Rogers’ purse. As soon as I placed the purse back on the stand she came around the corner.

I thought I heard somebody come in, the older woman said, smiling. She had a kindly face, rarely showing off any anger or disappointment.

Good morning, Mrs. Rogers, I said, still shaken by the morning’s events. As you can see here, I had to bring my daughter with me today because she is not feeling well. My daughter smiled, charming the woman. I hope you don’t mind.

Why of course not, Mrs. Rogers replied. In fact, you can lay her down in the extra room at the end of the hall, if you would like to.

I thanked her. Mrs. Rogers had always been quite generous with accommodating my needs. The trip from the shelter to the Rogers’ house had taken a lot out of her, so I decided to take her up on the offer of laying my daughter down for a nap.

The room was like a palace. The extra room’s bed was nicer than anything I had ever slept in before, soft, unlike the beds in the shelter. I remember that before closing her eyes, my daughter gently touched my cheek and my lips with her little finger and mouthed those three little words: I love you. My heart practically melted.

I moved on to the kitchen where Mrs. Rogers regularly left me my check along side the list of chores I was responsible for that day. She knew that reading was sometimes difficult for me, so she would always also support her written instructions with verbal reminders of what needed to be done. Like I said, Mrs. Rogers was a kind and decent person.

Her son, Robert, was about 16 years old. As I started cleaning the kitchen with Mrs. Rogers going over the task list, he entered to fetch a glass of orange juice.

I’m leaving, Robert announced.

When are you coming back? she asked, preoccupied with her thoughts.

I’ll be back tonight, OK? he said.

Mrs. Rogers grinned as she nodded. Then he kissed her cheek and ran from the kitchen.

You have everything you need to get started, Shirley? she asked.

Everything alright, Mrs. Rogers? I asked, concerned.

Mrs. Rogers said everything was fine. She had been worried all morning about moving a substantial amount of money between investment funds that the family held. I told her that everything was fine and that she could leave.

As she walked out of the kitchen into the downstairs office, I decided to go back down the hallway to check on my daughter when I found her standing in the doorway.

Mama, she sobbed, rubbing her eyes.

Although I could not tell from this distance, as I got closer, I could see that she was about to start crying hysterically. Her hands were pressed against her private area.

What’s the matter, baby?

I looked closer. Her pants and the floor below her body were wet. I never understood how parents could chastise their children for having an accident; the humiliation seemed enough. I could tell she was really felt badly, so instead of making her feel worse, I changed her clothes, gave her some orange juice, and laid her on a towel in the setting room, so I could keep watch on her while I