The Autobiography of Andrea J. James: What the Devil Meant for Evil, God Turned it Around for Good

By Andrea J. James

These are the things you will get from this book:

Because you have a wrecked past, you believe that God cannot save you.

You believe that the trials of your life will stop you from accomplishing what you were created to do.

If you are a gangster, you think you cannot do a 180-degree turnaround.

If you are a drug dealer and believe that you have to sell drugs to support your family, one day, you will realize that in the end, it is not worth it.

You will see that dangerous experiences in your life were there for a reason.

This book is a true story of one who overcame many obstacles in her lifetime. She is still alive by the grace of God.

Rev. Andrea James is a minister of the Word of God to all who come along her path. She obtained an evangelist and reverend certification while incarcerated since 2001 and 2003. Also, she encourages and comforts and helps other individuals with their sexual abuse.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Covenant Books, Inc.
• Release date: Oct 17, 2023
• ISBN: 9798888512654

Book preview

Table of Contents

Title

Copyright

Acknowledgment

Chapter 1: Born into This World

Chapter 2: The Abuse

Chapter 3: More Abuse

Chapter 4: Elleston

Chapter 5: The Birth

Chapter 6: The Struggle

Chapter 7: Ugly Out of Prison

Chapter 8: Traveling Began

Chapter 9: Traveling in America

Chapter 10: The Marriage

Chapter 11: First Arrest

Chapter 12: Danger

Chapter 13: Bouncing Back

Chapter 14: North Carolina

Chapter 15: Moving On Up

Chapter 16: More Trials

Chapter 17: Second Arrest

Chapter 18: The Voodoo Operation

Chapter 19: Break Up with Hawn

Chapter 20: Business

Chapter 21: Wake County Jail

Chapter 22: Leading of Bible Study

Chapter 23: The Two Dreams

Chapter 24: The Gift of Healing

Chapter 25: Filling of the Holy Ghost (Tongues)

Chapter 26: The Suicide Attempt

Chapter 27: The Story with Phil

Chapter 28: The Lawyer

Chapter 29: The Store

Chapter 30: The Feds Traveling

Chapter 31: Traveling Back to NC

Chapter 32: The Way to Trial

Chapter 33: While Awaiting Sentencing

Chapter 34: Sentencing in Raleigh

About the Author

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The Autobiography of Andrea J. James

What the Devil Meant for Evil, God Turned it Around for Good

Andrea J. James

ISBN 979-8-88851-264-7 (Paperback)

ISBN 979-8-88851-265-4 (Digital)

Copyright © 2023 Andrea J. James

All rights reserved

First Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Covenant Books

11661 Hwy 707

Murrells Inlet, SC 29576

www.covenantbooks.com

This book is dedicated to my family. To my daughter, Tanya Miles, who is truly my best friend and has been there for me during my time of trial in my incarceration. To my granddaughters Princess, who loves me in spite of prison, and Kierra, who always defends me all the time. To my grandsons Joshua and Isaiah who make my life complete. And to my son-in-law, Tyrone, who far surpasses anything I could have ever wanted in a son-in-law.

I am thankful to Jair Jamm Ministries and all the other ministries who taught me and encouraged me throughout my time of incarceration. God bless.

Acknowledgment

I would like to acknowledge these two people God has used greatly in my life: Pam and my mother, Rhonda, who helped me to start writing this book and let me read How to Write Your Book. This greatly educated me with wisdom on how to properly write a book. And to Sherri Smith, who encouraged me and prayed for my vision so that nothing could come to stop it.

Chapter 1

Born into This World

I was born on April 3, 1966, at Jubilee Hospital in Kingston, Jamaica. The day my mother brought me from the hospital, they told her to dump me in the outdoor toilet. My mother told me that I was a beautiful baby and that they were just jealous of me. I was the last child my mother and father had together. Therefore, I was spoiled, and my other siblings were envious of me.

I had several siblings: one brother from a previous relationship by my father, two brothers, and one sister from a previous relationship by my mother. I lived with one of my half brothers along with my four sisters from both parents at the Glass House in Kirk. In those days, there was no housing scheme.

My mother's name was Estelle Brown, and my father's name was Carlton Dewar. Although they had never been married, they lived in a common-law union. I never knew any of my grandparents because all four passed away before I was born.

My mother told me that her mother always showed up in her dreams at the beginning of my life, telling her she would protect me. Once, when I was three years old, I had a dream and heard a voice telling me to call my mother. During this dream, I called out to my mother while I stood at a barn door unknown to me. My mother suddenly appeared and entered the barn while I stood outside. At this point, I heard the voice telling her to take care of this child because wherever she is, so am I.

This dream was a very memorable moment in my life that always stayed with me in my heart. I was used to my mother telling me that my grandmother visited her in her dreams, and my childlike mind created a grandmother who still communicated with me after passing away. This became a comfort at times of trials in my life.

My older sister, Maxine Dewar, was my favorite sister out of them all. She spent most of her time dressing me and taking me wherever she was going on any given day. I loved Maxine so much for all the love and care she showered me with.

This extra love, care, and attention didn't stop here. Mother made it her business to always provide extra clothes and toys for me at Christmas. As expected, my older siblings whined and complained about this extra special attention I was receiving, but no manner of fuss or jealousy could sway my mother from her set course of action. In her eyes, I was her baby, and this was a role that I relished and enjoyed.

Well, things can't always remain perfect, even in the world of a spoiled and well-loved child. I became very ill at around the age of five or six and was taken to the doctor by my mother. No one (including myself) ever knew what went wrong with my health, but it caused the doctors great concern. I was examined for a number of things and had tubes attached to my arms and chest. Nevertheless, whatever my ailment was, I was miraculously cured!

Sometime later, I came to the realization that I had a mental block from traumatic experiences that happened earlier in my life. Exact dates and months elude me at times. Even years vary by one or two. This has become a lifetime battle as I learned myself and learned to live with the reality of my past and present. As an adult, I realized that I had to face my past in order to compose my life story and use it as a therapy to heal and move on.

My first memory of school was around the age of four. The name of my school was Elleston Preschool. I have no recollection of any of my teachers' names. At six, I entered Elleston All-Age School and was allowed to pass the first grade and move on to the second.

Chapter 2

The Abuse

My mother started sleeping out. I assumed because of problems with my father. When I was seven years old in the third grade, my mother moved out of the house to a place on Vauxhall Avenue. My five siblings (made up of four girls and one boy) and I remained at the Glass House with my father in Kirk.

One terror-filled night, my father came home drunk and raped me while I was asleep. I just lay there confused. My seven-year-old mind had no understanding as to what and why this was happening to me. Ever since this first traumatic experience, my memory of dates in chronological order has become jumbled. I'm still unsure if this was the first or third time my father committed such a despicable and shameful act.

My adult mind, until this day, has no memory of how my mother came to find out about my father raping me. I remember her showing up at our house and taking me to a new doctor far away from my regular physician. During the trip, I sat confused and hopeful to have some of that familiar comfort that I missed so much from my mother. I will never forget that day—the way she looked at me as if I was nothing. This became a turning point in our relationship, and things between my mother and me were never the same.

The doctor gave my mother instructions for me to sit over hot water in a basin every day for two weeks along with taking a bitter-tasting medicine. Until this day, I refuse to eat or drink anything bitter. You'd think that my mother would explain or at least give me some clue as to what was going on with me and why I had to go to a different doctor so far away. No one came to my rescue, and this terrified seven-year-old child was too timid to ask. After the doctor's visit, I did not return to the Glass House with my father. My new home was once again with my mother at her new address on Vauxhall Avenue. I was relieved and elated at the same time.

Mother started a new relationship with a man named John who, naturally, became my stepfather. He seemed to be a good man, and he treated me with more care than anyone else in the household. There was one demon that rode my stepfather's back. Every full moon, he became a violent man, out of control. He did no harm to anyone, but the house appeared as though a twister or hurricane had passed through. I could not understand in my young mind why he blew off steam like the top of a pressure cooker. Plants became uprooted, furniture demolished, and debris all over the house. Afterwards, I was the only one brave enough to enter the house to clean up the damage.

I would sweep the entire house and the yard. Our yard had plenty of fruit trees, and dry leaves were scattered in abundance.

When I was eight years old and in the fourth grade, it was determined that I needed glasses. My perception of wearing glasses was nerdy in my world, and for that reason alone, I refused to wear them. The doctor who examined my eyes at school gave me a written prescription to take home and give to my mother. Of course, it never reached her. I had a great fear of being ridiculed by the other kids if I wore glasses. My regrets came later in my adult life when I realized the damage that this caused to my eyesight.

I hardly have any recollection of the fifth and sixth grades. I remember my mother working at a housing construction site. She and other female workers worked in an assembly-style manner, passing cement to the male workers. My mother sold cigarettes, fruits, and other snacks the men would buy, and some would get these on credit until payday.

It was at this time that I met a man named Frederick, who was genuinely nice to me and respected me as a female. I would always go to have lunch with him and the other men and