My Journey, His Purpose: An Inspirational Memoir

By Taneshia Brown

I believe in the power of purpose. Join me as I walk through both my traumatic experiences and triumphant victories to reveal that even in our dark places in life, God never stops shining his light. From a young child I was certain of my future, but as lack of faith and bad choices reframed it, God took my unplanned misfortune and painted his masterpiece. Through these experiences, lessons, and blessings, I learned that we only become prisoners when we allow other things and people to change the course that God set for us. My story further reveals that nothing or no one can take from you what God has placed before you; we are only lost along the way. In spite of hopelessness, suicide, abuse, homelessness, and poverty, he said I would survive. God spoke life into me, into my purpose, thus into this book so that anyone who read it would be led out of their dark places into his light, therefore breaking free of their prisons and reaching their purpose as well. I am blessed to share with you all what strikes the core of our lives and peels away the layers of our existence to reverse the negative impact of society, self-hatred, lack of faith, and gross ignorance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Nov 5, 2015
• ISBN: 9781504956406

Taneshia Brown

Taneshia Brown, a native of New Mexico, is the second child of Howard and Fannie Baker. She was raised by both parents in a loving home with two other sisters. Although as a child she dreamed of becoming a lawyer, life would bring her to another passion: writing. This passion is demonstrated in her first book, My Journey, His Purpose. In My Journey, His Purpose, the author relives both painful and difficult memories to unearth the magnitude of God’s power and purpose. She began writing in high school as part of a post-traumatic therapeutic regimen. As a rape victim, single mother, and domestic violence survivor, she fought through the low places in life to acquire several college degrees. She later sharpened her writing skills while blogging for the Examiner and Jambalaya Magazine. The author has continued to rise from the ashes under the cover of God to volunteer, guest-speak, start a nonprofit organization, and now write her own memoirs in order to reach and teach others who have found themselves in similar circumstances. Her journey has taken her from a broken, battered, and lost shadow to a fulfilled, renewed woman, wife, mother, and survivor. Her unique voice speaks volumes to tragedy and triumph.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

THE FACADE

I am sitting in a room, there are four walls that are closing in on me. The ceiling masks the stars. I cannot see to dream beyond this moment and the floor I fear cannot withstand the weight of my life struggles. Who am I? What am I?

I have been afraid, angry, and defeated. I have been ignominious and felt pain, I have been lost. I have been found only to be lost again. What does this mean for my life?

It takes time to arrive at these answers in our lives because we encounter so much uncertainty. But join me for this ride and we will figure it out together.

The room I spoke of earlier is where I spent a great deal of my life. I would escape for short periods of time, only to find myself back in this room. It was not always the same though. Over the years, the room became a little more attractive. I decorated the walls with self-doubt, lack of faith, sin and guilt. Some days I would wake renewed or under the impression of renewal, and paint the wall with empty confidence, the faint existence of a man’s love, a trendy new haircut and fashionable accessories. See, I fooled myself into believing that I was in the right place- that I was happy. Creating illusion was not new for me, it began early in life.

CHAPTER TWO

FAMILY TIES

For the most part, I lived a normal life as a child. I grew up in a house with two siblings and both of my parents. My parents were great, loving parents who always wanted the best for us all. They disciplined us and provided us with a stable home where we survived life’s struggles together in prayer, with friends and family. Both of my parents are rocks, my father, was a proud father of three daughters; my mother a strong, feisty but passionate woman. Our father ruled us with laughter and a strong hand, our mother with all the strength God poured into man’s mate. With this combination of greatness God created for us, we went through most of our youth unharmed.

I remember the first large change in my life - which was my paternal grandparents relocating to our hometown. My Big Mom was a cook and a baker extraordinaire. My memories of her are filled with recipes that brought our entire family together for meals that warmed your heart and filled your belly. She always made sure we were fed with lessons and blessings. My Big Dad, much like our father, kept us smiling at his sarcasm, humor, and raw honesty. We were now blessed with their daily presence. It was an exciting time in our life. Before this, our summers were filled with routine vacations with my Big Mom and Big Dad to Weslaco, Texas. They would round up all of the grandchildren each year and we would pile up in what we coined the good times van to visit my great-grandparents. We made it through the first few hours of the trip with little to no incidents; but as sure as the sun set and rose we were bound to have a fight. Whether it was frustration from my grandfather’s militant road schedule that included or should I say excluded bathroom breaks, mastering holding a bottle and not spraying my cousins, or tiring of mystery burritos wrapped in foil for breakfast, lunch and dinner, an argument would start. Family was important to both my maternal and paternal grandparents. These trips were proof that no matter how much we grew to get on one another’s nerves, we still grew. Grew to rely on one another, love another, and support one another as children, and eventually as adults.

Most people believe that trips such as these only serve as memories that soon fade or exist only for distorted stories that convince our children how difficult life was growing up. For me, the meaning of these trips did not become evident until I grew up and experienced life distant from my family. It gave me the strength to pick up and travel ten hours to see my family when I was in need of an actual hug from my dad or a kiss from my mom. It taught me how to feed my children when I could not afford to stay at a luxurious hotel during a homeward bound road trip; it taught me how to pack 10 days’ worth of clothing for a family in one bag to preserve room and gas. It taught me how to tolerate the unending whines from my children and the repetitious question of Are we there yet? On these journeys, I often asked myself the very same question.

I look back on the baths in the washtubs, the laughter that ensued as we attempted to catch fireflies and the wonderful stories my great-grandfather granddaddy Ike told us while we sat under the stars and were consumed by mosquitoes. These are the seams that hold us together when we reach out to one another during hard times in each of our lives.

Other times, we spent learning childhood lessons that would give me great insight into life’s challenges. When I wondered why we seemed to always seek to hurt one another instead of heal one another, I reflect to memories of being a middle child and constantly worrying about my sisters receiving more than I did. No matter what it was, I constantly measured the benefits that my sisters received. My mom and dad loved us equally but differently, and it took a long time for me to realize it. My father was blessed with three daughters while all of his friends, were blessed with boys, he equipped us to do everything a boy could do and more through training, discipline, and healthy rivalry. My mother equipped us to be uncompromising in the pursuit of our desires. I always struggled with this as a child. How can I be better than anyone, if I do not know what they have? If I am to become a better sister, than I should receive the exact same thing as my sisters at the exact same time. Right? Wrong! My mom and dad taught me to stop focusing on what others have or do not have because someone else’s journey is separate from mine. However, if I focused on being the best at everything than along the way, my talents and skills that God gave me would take over.

The lessons I received as a child guided me despite my reluctance. They empowered me to make better choices and see the errors of my past. I only wish that I would have paid better attention then. But out of my own choices, God would allow my journey to be altered in such a way that as an adult I would still be blessed with the lessons instilled in me during my childhood.

My life has not always been what I wanted it to be. It started off just fine, just as any other kids would; you run, you laugh, you play, your parents feed you, clothe you, put a roof over your head, and everything is good in the world. However, as you begin to grow, and society and life begin to dictate to you what is right, what is wrong, what creates happiness, what creates sadness; that’s when the confusion becomes a part of your everyday life. Some of us have struggled for years trying to make sense of this confusing world. We begin to fool ourselves into thinking that we found the answer. All the while, everything in us is telling us that we are on the wrong path but we still continue down this rocky course. We ignore all of the signs that tell us we are on the wrong road; we deny God, then we reach for Him when we are lost and forsaken, and then leave His side once He has set us back on course. I know much of my teenage and adult years were like this.

CHAPTER THREE

TUMULTUOUS TEEN YEARS

But people would not believe this because I soared through high school with the appearance of not a care in the world. I mastered this appearance by creating fake friendships, giving way to peer pressure and hiding my problems. I was an awkward teenager complete with the eye glasses, acne, and the awkward body. So I became the comedian to compensate for the emptiness that I was truly feeling. I was everyone’s go-to person for a laugh and that worked for quite some time. But I would soon have the wind beneath my wings snatched from me. I was a victim of a violent crime.

I believe it was the end of my sophomore year towards the beginning of my junior year when my father received a job offer to become the manager of Oliver Lee State Park in Alamogordo, New Mexico. For our financial situation, this job offer was the break and the blessing my parents had been looking for, but for my social life, as a dramatic teenager, it was devastating. How can I move now? How could I leave the life that I had become accustomed to no matter how dismal it was? I had grown fond of my pretend life. I had only a few real friends; but I had a lot of people who sought me out for the laughs, the joy that they would see from the good times and the craziness that I was creating and I longed to hold on to that. Thus, I began my petition to remain in Las Cruces. My older sister Collette was enrolled in college and was able to remain at our home in Las Cruces and for all intents and purposes I thought I should be able to stay as well. So I fought tooth and nail giving my parents the guilt trip and even asking my sister to go to my parents on my behalf. I prevailed. My parents agreed to allow me to stay a majority of the week with my sister. For the most part, things kind of remained normal. I went to school, track practice, and I came home, did homework, had dinner, and went to bed. My sister, however, was in college and she lived a college life style, so between school and sports I was left to my own devices. But the old adage ‘be careful what you ask for’ would soon ring true in my life. My sister spent a lot of time with her friends coming and going to and from parties. She was also the hostess with the most when it came to house parties. Most of these parties she kept me far from, making me go to bed and stay locked in my room when the party was at our home, and making sure that I was safe at home when she went out. But where there’s a will there’s a way and I always managed to find some reason to wander out of my room to get a drink of water or to use the restroom. My night was not complete unless I was able to agitate my sister or at least get a mere glimpse of all of her party guests. I became well known as Coolie’s awkward little sis. I would not remain that for long though. From out of nowhere my body begin to change, I grew a little taller, the acne began to dissipate, and finally my curves began to show. Little did I know that the point in which a young girls’ life should change from the blah to the better mine would abruptly spiral out of control and change forever.

I would sometimes recognize Coolie’s friends from her parties in town and offer a friendly wave. I became her glorified receptionist when it came to the phone calls to the house. But on one particular day I took the wrong call. It was like any other day I was hanging at the house by myself watching TV; catching up on my soap opera - Santa Barbara to be exact when the phone rang and on the other end was someone who identified himself as a friend of my sister that we met at a party she hosted. He said he was from White Sands Missile Range; he had planned on coming into town and wanted to see what everyone had planned for the weekend. He mentioned that he remembered me from the parties and asked if I could just pass the message on to her that he called, I agreed and hung