God Favors Me

By Shelita L. Morris

You name it, Shannon Thompson has been through it. From being homeless to being bitter, abuse, and lonely. They are just a few things Shannon had to endure. She discovered that these trials tribulation and tests would birth her testimony. Shannon found favor in Gods eyes to overcome any and every challenge she has been through. A single mother raising her sons on her own, Shannon turned her life over to Jesus. She began to walk the walk of faith. Shannon is moving forward and trusting the Lord with every step.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 23, 2010
• ISBN: 9781453529539

Shelita L. Morris

Shelita L. Morris was born and raised in Seaford, Delaware. At a young age she felt the urge to write. She would always sit at her father’s computer and just type whatever came to her mind. Over the years she had children of her own. Her 3 son’s whom she loves dearly. Shelita is dedicated to making things happen in life. Shelita wants her boys to see that you can do anything you set your mind to do. Now with Jesus in her life, she believes all things are possible to him that believes.

Book preview

Chapter 1

I looked up at the ceiling from my hospital bed. In so much pain, wondering, how could he do this to me? Unable to really turn my head, to look at the television. I replayed all the times my father and other people telling me that things were never going to get better, only worse. It wasn’t that I was being disobedient, but I thought I was in love. But love isn’t supposed to hurt. Love does have its ups and its downs, but it’s never supposed to be physical abuse or mental abuse.

Ms. Thompson, or would you rather for me to call you Shannon? You can call me Shannon, I said to the nurse.

Okay, dear. My name is Ms. Trice. I will be your nurse. I have to take you to get weighed. Umm . . . 110, she said aloud as she wrote on her notepad. Now, we are going to take you to x-ray to get pictures of your ankle and your hand, said this really aggressive nurse.

I guess she didn’t realize how much pain I was in. I couldn’t bear any pressure on my leg at all. The nurse helped me into my wheelchair. My leg was covered with red whelp marks from the thick wooden pole he used to strike me with. After that, it was straight to CAT scan for photos of my head. He really tried to kill me; every time, it was getting worse. God had let me survive each time, but for how long? I remember my father telling me I had been set free and if I went back after God had rescued me I would be like a dog going back to his vomit. I truly loved this man.

I thought Jamal was the one for me. He meant the world to me. I met Jamal at a nightclub. I had recently gotten out of a relationship. I wanted to experience real love. I had given love and put my all into relationships, only to end up abandoned. I had no patience at all. No, I wouldn’t jump on the first train moving. But there was something different about him. His style, his smile; let’s not forget how fine he was. He had my heart racing; I wanted to get to know this man.

At first he didn’t even want to talk to me. I would go out with my best friend Tiyonna. I called her Ty for short. Every time I would see Jamal, I would talk Ty’s ear off about him. I wanted to talk to him.

I was the shy one, so Ty went up to him and was like, My girl thinks you are cute, and she wants to talk to you.

He was like, I am talking to someone at this moment. Lying right between his teeth. He just wasn’t used to no sweet, quiet girl like me. He was used to those loudmouthed, rowdy chicks.

About a month later, we were going out, and Jamal wasn’t out there. That was not like him; clubs were his thing. One night I got bold or either it was the alcohol in me. I went straight to one of his homeboys, Dale.

Hey, Dale, I said to him. I haven’t seen Jamal lately. What has he been up to?

You really digging my man, huh? Dale asked.

I just want to get to know him, I said.

Well, he locked up, baby girl, Dale said. You might as well get at me. Hahaha

NO, we don’t even do it like that, I told him.

Well, look, his name is Jamal King if you want to write him. Thank you, I said to him.

After about a month from having his name and finding out what his SBI number was, I wondered what I would say to Jamal. One day it just hit me: either I was going to at least attempt and see what happens or I would never know. I started writing him. I didn’t jump into it like I wanted to be his girl. Only his real friend, someone he could lean on to when he needed to talk. I was going through problems with a previous relationship. He even took my mind off that. We fell in love after a while. It shocked him that I really wanted to be there for him. He even told me he had been praying to God to send him someone special so he could start all over. He wanted to start doing the right things. He even claimed that when he returned home he wanted to attend church and everything. That brought great joy to my heart because I wanted to start going back to church as well. I was getting tired of my lifestyle, and I knew it was time for a change. I had been married, and my husband moved on because of different choices I decided to make. When I decided to change, it was too late for me to. I had learned from my mistakes. I was really ready to cater to someone. Jamal was fine; he definitely was a real sweetheart. Most importantly, he loved my children. They are my pride and joy, and he accepted them as well as all my flaws.

I instantly fell in love with him.

After being found not guilty, Jamal was released. We had been writing each other for about six months. We were inseparable; we grew to love each other so much. The beginning was beautiful. Going different places as a family. Being there with me when I went through things with my ex-husband. Buying me things just to let me know he loved me. I never asked him to. I never was the type to be with someone because of what they had or what they can do for me. That isn’t love if that’s what you go by. I look at the heart. He had a good heart. He would keep a smile on my face. That’s all that mattered to me.

After being with him for some time, I learned so much about him, about how he had another child that he barely knew. How both of his parents were deceased. They left this world very early in his life. The other people in his real family didn’t want to have anything to do with him. He had an older brother, Jeremy, that he just recently met. Jamal and Jeremy have the same dad. Jamal wanted Jeremy to tell him everything possible about their deceased father. They had gotten close, but Jeremy had his own life too. Jamal had been adopted and was abused very badly. He really had it hard. So that made me love him even more.

I even started getting his son to come over so they could bond and build a relationship. I am a real woman; I don’t feed into baby mama drama. I kept it strictly about the kid. I told her that straight from jump. That child did not ask to be here. She and Jamal couldn’t get along; he couldn’t stand her, so I played middleman.

I was trying to teach Jamal that though he grew up without his father, his child did not have to grow up the same way. See, I had a family. I had a dad to call when I needed something; I had a mother to call on. Grandparent’s Est. Not to rub that in his face, because, truthfully, they also loved him. If there was anything that Jamal needed, he could call on them. My family is in church, and they loved him.

After a few years, I noticed our relationship started to change. Things were changing so fast. Jamal started drinking more and being back into the streets more. He started breaking things that I had owned around the house. When he would get angry, he would punch holes in the walls. I thought he would do that to avoid hitting me. He would get angry at me for the simplest things. No, I was not perfect, and I started a couple of arguments. But find me someone’s relationship that is perfect.

I wanted our relationship to work. I was determined to do anything to make us work. About two and a half years into our relationship, I got pregnant with my third child. He was there with me through the whole thing. He seemed to be so happy about it. He would go with me to doctor visits and everything. I loved him so much for being so supportive. Months into my pregnancy, things started getting bad. We were arguing so much. He wasn’t really treating me how he used to. He was there when my son was born. I remember when I was in the hospital he was making jokes. He really didn’t know how much pain I was really in. I wanted to knock his head clean off his shoulders. When our son was born into this world, his face lit up. It was like he was a new person, and that was his little man. He cherished that moment. He told me how much he loved me for bringing his son into this world. He held little Jamal. He told me how he looked just like him when he was a baby. I loved to see them bond. I thought it would calm him down. I thought he would actually be the father that his father never was.

For a while he was great caring after our son. It seemed as though he wanted to make a difference in his life not only for him but also for his son. About three months later, Jamal was getting very aggravated about finding a job. He needed a job badly to help me with my bills, also to help me take care of our son. He had a long talk with me about selling drugs. Of course, I felt a little iffy about the whole thing. I only looked at it as if he’s trying to provide for us. No one would hire him, and that was the last resort. I loved him; I had it planted in my head, he will never do anything to hurt us. How confused I was. I was risking my life and children’s life if someone wanted to rob him. I was risking our home if it got ran into by police. I guess you can call it young and real dumb.

Chapter 2

One day we got into an argument about something stupid. No matter how small the situation was, they seemed to escalate into huge fights. He dragged my small body down the steps. He had been drinking, and I had our son in my arms. He kept hitting me, and I was trying to shield Lil’ Jamal but trying to get away at the same time. I finally got away. Quickly I ran to my neighbor’s house.

I didn’t even knock. I ran straight in. HELP ME! I screamed. The door burst open; he ran after me straight through the apartment. No one was home; I was so afraid. Jamal pushed me down on the neighbor’s floor while I still had our son in my arms. My neighbors were young guys, but I knew them very well. He was all right with them, but it seemed everyone was afraid of him. Or not unless they just didn’t want to get involved in our business. After he pushed me down, I hurried to get up and ran out their back door and struggled to get into mine.

I hurried to my cordless phone and dialed 911.

Before I knew it, he busted through the back door, snatched my phone from me, and threw it down, shattering it on the floor. I never had seen Jamal in so much rage. He said, You took my son over another nigger’s house. Even though I was just trying to get away from him. He wanted a reason to hurt me more. He knew the cops were on the way, so he hurried and fled. When the officers arrived, I told them the story, and Jamal was wanted for his arrest.

The police were unable to find him. I was terrified; I didn’t know if he was going to come back and try to hurt me again or what. That night, my three children and I all slept in the same bed. I would fall asleep, only to keep awaking in the middle of the night to little noises I heard. I peeped out my blinds to see if he was out there.

The next day I received a call from him. He was very apologetic about everything that had happened, telling me it was out of anger. He told me he had too much to drink and that he would never do it again. I believed him and allowed him to come back home. The next day our friend had a very big barbeque. There were a lot of people out there. Everyone had a really good time drinking and talking and listening to music. Jamal and one of his close friends were walking around the block just chilling when the police ran up to them. Put your hands up! they yelled with their firearms on them. Get on the ground now! they yelled at them.

When searching them, they found marijuana on Jamal, a small amount, but that doesn’t matter. They automatically had to search my place, being that’s where he was residing. When you are staying under housing you will lose your place. Because he was staying with me and he wasn’t on my lease then on top of that.

He had drugs on him. I felt so bad for Jamal. I prayed he would be okay. Around 3:00 a.m. the next morning, I was awakened by the police banging on my door. Where is Mr. King? the officer asked me. I thought he was with you, I told him. Don’t lie to us. We know he lives here, one rude officer said to me.

"Okay, and maybe he is smart enough to know this would be the first place you guys would look. Look, I don’t know where Jamal is, last I knew he