59 Weeks

By Stephanie Marie Atkins

59 Weeks by Stephanie M. Atkins
In this body of work, Stephanie Atkins chronicles the accounts of a daughter who cares for her ailing mother over fifty-nine weeks of illness. The narrator weaves her roles as pastor and daughter with her fixation on death and dying. Sprinkled with poetry into prose, she tells a stirring tale of family love and sacrifice. A story of caregiving, separation, and family loss, the book will leave you feeling the warmth of generations of love between these women.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 14, 2021
• ISBN: 9781664147201

Stephanie Marie Atkins

Mrs. Stephanie Atkins is from the nation’s capital, Washington, DC. She is a veteran of the U.S. Navy. A recent graduate of Goucher College, with a MFA in Nonfiction Writing. She also holds a Master of Divinity degree from Howard University and a Bachelor of Science in Business Communications from the University of Phoenix. She is a proud wife, mother, GiGi and Pastor. She enjoys dancing, writing and teaching. She is the owner of Mink’s Signature Desserts and Foods, named after her granddaughter.

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Copyright © 2021 by Stephanie M. Atkins.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

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.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 01/12/2021

Xlibris

844-714-8691

www.Xlibris.com

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Contents

Acknowledgments

Prologue

February 2018

March 2018

April 2018

May 2018

June 2018

July 2018

August 2018

October 2018

January 2019

April 2019

This manuscript is

dedicated to my granddaughter,

SaMoht Mink Patrick.

A story in your family’s legacy.

Mommy, thank you for everything. Your legacy lives on.

Acknowledgments

I would like to thank my husband, Ajene Atkins for his encouragement, patience, and love during all of my early morning writing. You held my hand and my heart when I was depleted. I also would like to thank my daughters, Sequoya Monee’ and Aaronica Domonique, for their listening ears when I wanted to read and for the tears we shared when the memories overwhelmed us. Thank you to those who could see a writer inside of me many years ago. Thank you, Dennis, for standing in the gap and filling the empty spaces.

I would like to extend my appreciation to my sisters in ministry, Tracey Scott, Sheri Smith-Clayborn, and Akisha Jefferson-Greene, for not letting me give up and pushing me to the finish line. Many, many thanks to my editor and sister friend, Rev. Valdes J. Snipes, Ph.D. (the pusher), for pushing me and so many others to our destined place. To my team of artists: Christian Belton (CB Creates) for the awesome book cover and DuRaun Epps (Epps Photography) for the professional photos, thank you so much!

Prologue

Our story began in 1967 in Charleston, South Carolina.

On June 24th of that year, my mother married Sgt. Stephen L.J. Graham in a chapel in downtown Charleston. They rented a furnished trailer at 137 Midland Park Road. There was a living room, kitchen, bedroom and 2 bathrooms. My mother lived there for 10 months before returning home to Washington, DC.

My mother was pregnant when Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King was assassinated. It was April 1968. I would be born the next year, one day after his birthday. From that moment forward, for the next 50 years, our lives would be intertwined. Even in the turbulence, we were able to steady the course to maintain our sacred relationship- loving, reverent and nurturing until the very end.

Mother

When God called you, Mother it was divine

When He thought of your child, you came to mind.

See, He knew this day would come, the time when you would smile

to see the work, the progress, the answered prayers for your child,

the hours you laid at His feet with tears

filling your eyes,

God leaned over and wiped your face and said,

Mother, you can smile.

Know that all is well in your house,

all is well with you and those you love,

God has given you something special, it comes from up above.

That something special is a treasure, a gift,

a precious life

He has placed in your hands and trusts

you to make it right.

Not always the right decisions, not always

the best advice,

but you have given your child something

miraculous,

The miracle, the gift of life!

So, smile, be joyful, have a twinkle in your eye,

today is your special day and I have told you why.

God is smiling on you and nodding

His head with praise,

you have done well, Mother,

and for that you can Celebrate!

February 2018

Are you still coming this way? I asked my mother who had moved in with her own mother just a few years earlier.

Yes, she said. I’m scheduled to be at Jackson Hewitt by 10 a.m.

Great! You can get Aaronica and Uber to Empowerment Temple for her YPD meeting, I replied.

My mother would drive from DC to Baltimore, where she had lived for more than 30 years and where we now live. My husband, Ajene and I were driving to D.C. for a prison ministry re-entry training.

Normally, my mother would have more to say or inquire about the details. She was always adamant about knowing the details and itinerary for my youngest daughter’s schedule, especially when she was involved. Our family took great concern with Aaronica’s affairs since her epilepsy diagnosis. But she was quiet that day. Absent were the questions she would typically pose. Who is going to pick her up from the meeting? What time will you be back in Baltimore? Can you do me a favor? Her response was brief. I thought she sounded kind of blah, but I chalked it up to her having a lot to do with caring for my grandmother before she left the house. Or maybe she was already running late, and I was holding her up.

Call me when you get in the car. We can talk on our drive over, I said before hanging up and as I rushed Aaronica into the car. We dropped her off at my stepfather’s and mother’s, Baltimore house on the way out of town.

In the weeks prior, our conversations had seemed shallow. She was not saying much, merely responding to questions or conversation with giggles and sighs. That was not like her. Normally when we talked, it was about everything from church to work, school, my girls, the latest news on our family and especially what was going on with my Grandma. Every day, several times a day, we would call each other. But something seemed different since she had had the flu. Her voice had changed and was faint.

She had worked on my birthday, a few weeks earlier, so I visited her at Jackson Hewitt. A year had never gone by without the two of us spending time together on my birthday. But with my mother in DC caring for her mother, this was a bit more difficult. So, I went to her.

Immediately after, I started to notice her text messages did not make sense. It was more than just the average typographical errors. Her thoughts were not complete. She would type one or two words and hit send without finishing the sentence or she would text me a message meant for someone else. I should have asked more questions. I assumed she was just busy or very tired.

But on this day in February, she seemed more distant and nonchalant than ever. We drove all the way to D.C. before I realized I had not called her back and she had not called me either.

The morning was a rush. My husband and I arrived at a community center in D.C.’s Brookland neighborhood and we hurried into training for the next few hours. The room was filled with recently released men, workers from transitional housing, providers of re-entry resources, community members and other pastors.

The call of God can be unsuspecting and untimely to say the least. Experiencing a deeper walk and life of service can be a totally unrealistic occurrence in the life of a believer. God spoke to my heart in 1998 in a special way, one that would forever change my life. This happened while I was on bed rest, pregnant with my second child and unmarried. What a mess I thought? Why hadn’t God called me when I was still married? Why hadn’t God called me when things were going well in my life? This timing was all wrong in my sight. My personal life was chaotic and hectic. There was a deepening in my prayer life, but the results were looking pretty bleak to me.

Nonetheless, the calling was deliberate and constant. In prayer I began to seek God for wisdom, counsel, and direction. Only to my surprise, there was not much being said. I did not know whether to share my experiences with friends or family or whether to simply wait it out. I did not feel comfortable going to my pastor at the time, Rev. Dr. Vashti McKenzie, because she had begun her campaign for the office of Episcopal leadership in the A.M.E. Church. I always believed she knew before I did. It was quite clear whether I chose to share my calling or not; God would not leave me alone. In other words, the demand for a response or some form of action was necessary on my part.

Pondering this next phase in my life was all too complex for a woman who was approaching age 30 and carrying a new child. I was perplexed and bewildered all at once. I began to meditate on 2 Corinthians 4:8-9. These verses reminded me that I was not to despair. Was this the help I really needed at this time in my life or did I need a clearer response? Well, the next few verses say, and I paraphrase, we have the death of Jesus being carried around in our bodies that will give us both death and life. A light bulb went off and I begin to consider for a moment, perhaps Jesus was going to use me to reveal the purposes of the Kingdom and a life of salvation through my confusing, imperfect, and compromised life as I knew it. Could it be, Stephanie that God has a purpose to fulfill in the earth, that your raggedy life can contribute to and impact others just like you? Hmmm, I wondered.

Over the years leading up to my initial sermon, I began to see my gifts and talents unfold in a fashion that was of service to the church and the Body of Christ. I have since learned I cannot manage my confusion and chaos, I must cast my cares on God, who cares for me. I still do not have all the answers. But I am working daily to unpack the load of disappointments, struggles, triumphs, and victories to see how I fit into the plans God has for my life. In the end, I still believe these plans are to prosper, not to harm, to give me a hope and a future (Jer. 29:11). At the end of the day, the unsuspecting, untimely call may have come at just the right time in my life. It has helped to save and shape me in an image greater than I would have imagined for myself. I preached my initial sermon in 2003.

I always felt that I would be preaching and serving in the church to establish the relationship between Jesus and people through fellowship with one another. After completing my Master of Divinity degree, my instructor Dr. Harold Trulear, Ph.D. recognized my interest in rebuilding families after release from incarceration. My husband and I have a strong desire to work to restore families back to a healthy, loving state of existence. Working with men, women, children, and communities, faith-based and corporate, to solidify the family structure is of vital importance to me and my work in ministry. Impact DMV Healing Communities, the organization