Not Until Twelve

By Barbara Fomby

As a daily routine, we need to remind ourselves that each individual is special and gifted in God's eyes. Although we might not know it or see it, we all have been given unique gifts. Some are being uncovered, like stories with characters. Some yet to be discovered, and unfortunately, some may never be used. But as you flip through these pages over time, hopefully, you might see that doesn't have to be your story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9781662482359

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Not Until Twelve

Barbara Fomby

Copyright © 2023 Barbara Fomby

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2023

ISBN 978-1-6624-8234-2 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-6624-8235-9 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

In loving memory of my parents

Mr. and Mrs. Douglas and Virginia Davis

A special dedication to

the late Rev. Johnnie B. Saulsberry

(Promise Kept)

About the Author

In loving memory of my parents

Mr. and Mrs. Douglas and Virginia Davis

A special dedication to

the late Rev. Johnnie B. Saulsberry

(Promise Kept)

Here's to all the late bloomers and late risers. When we really think about it, that might include most of us, in some form or another. Rather, we have achieved our goal or are still trying to muster up the steam to pursue it.

However, there is always another group, the overachievers—kudos (come on, let's not hate), hats off, and acknowledgment to you. In a vast world where every individual has his or her own dreams, it's reassuring to know when God created us, he gave each one of us personally designed, custom-fixed, unique gifts. Even when it's in the same field or profession. Like a handmade plate or vase, no two pieces are ever identically alike.

Now it's up to us to figure out what they are and what we are going to do with them. This is for those who find the need to hit the snooze button a half dozen times and to all those who need that cup of coffee to get that engine purring and the blood a-pumpin' or maybe just for those who wake up kind of cranky with a morning attitude. The truth is, while I have been sitting on my procrastination for many years, some others saw some potential in me. I'm thankful for the wake-up call and continually being reminded not to hibernate, but to incubate and bring it forth. Today, with the fact that it was placed on your heart to read this, I believe that you too have potential, and I believe that if you haven't used your God-given gifts yet, then you intend to—maybe not now, but later. So what's your hold-up?

Today we are living in a world of far greater advancements and technology than ever before, with a wide variety of electronic gadgets, apps, and downloads; with an unlimited amount of information, video games, and virtual reality where a good number of the younger population tends to gravitate toward. Some of the most popular professions like sports and entertainment.

There is a common denominator that we all share, and that is, everyone of us seems comfortable in his or her own domain. Sometimes not realizing that we've been there so long that some of our dreams have slipped past us and gotten lost or are in the process of being that. A dream is something unattained, somewhere beyond where we are presently. And if you don't stretch, you won't reach it. Now don't get me wrong, I have had some small victories and accomplishments, but I've always given myself reasons for not getting around to the rest. Now that doesn't have to be your story.

Most people have dreams. I won't say all of them, because believe it or not, from time to time, I've run across people who say that they don't have any dreams at all, but if you just pay attention and watch them closely, you'll find that most all of them have gifts without you even having to ask, like the studious young man who passes your window every morning on his way to school. Who knows what he might become down the road when there are so many avenues that are open to him.

While we tend to be drawn to the most popular sports like football, basketball, baseball, and hockey, even the rapidly advancing field of soccer is becoming options for them.

Oh yeah, what about entertainment sports like Wrestlemania? There are also those who dream of becoming rappers, and by no means are these the dreams of all youth, but these are the most popular. The rapper is striving to become one of the next great and upcoming stars.

Young people walk through the streets or huddle up in groups on the corner rappin', demonstrating their talent; and if they're pretty good, you can usually find them surrounded by a crowd. They're not hiding their gift; you can find them on the curbside promoting themselves.

While everyone has gifts, not all have the same talents. The statistics show that to make it as a successful rapper, the odds are against you. There's only one out of a million chances that you will make it. What's comforting to know is that it's all right if they start out small, but they have big dreams.

They're mobilized and activated. Some of their words may seem to flow together easily, while others are only birthed through pain, an individual masterpiece, no fleeting thing and all requiring action.

From babies and children to older adults of all ages, many people imitate their favorite artist. The most fascinating and spontaneous of the group is the babies, some of whom were read to or listened to music in their mother's womb. It's always amazing watching little toddlers running around, calling themselves rapping, some just got out of diapers, some still wearing them with a few here and there, barely over one year old. They may have not fully learned how to articulate their full vocabulary, but they're not going to let that stop them (hint, hint). They know how to rap, and, boy, can they rap, with all the body motions, head bobbin', and even the attitude that goes with it. You can be sure that the tiniest one will react or give some kind of movement to the sound of a musical beat. They don't have a time clock or any structured schedule. Their utilizing their God-given gifts.

At birth, it's been documented that babies cannot see. I don't know if that's true 100 percent of the time or not. But even without vision, they have the ability to look in the direction in which the sound is coming from. When they're hungry, they cry. When they need their diapers changed, they cry. When they're unhappy, they cry. Even when they're happy and content, they have their own way of conveying what's going on by their cooing and gurgling sounds that they make.

In Mark 10:14–15 (NIV), Jesus said, Let the little child come unto me, forbid them not. Part of what Jesus was trying to convey to the disciples is what he's still conveying to us today. Besides looking at their genuine innocence, we see that they are small in the world and are in need of assistance. Yet they show real emotion and real devotion in what they believe.

Have you ever had to ask someone to help you with something, or are you trying to do it all by yourself? Children are not like some of us adults who procrastinate on getting things done that we know we've been putting off. Children, they're consistent; they're persistent. They might want to make you pull out some of your hair, but it will get done. No, they're not going to let you or anything else stop their plans just because of bad timing or the way you're feeling. I almost dare you to try to tell them Not until twelve.

This story starts with a young woman by the name of Kimberly Warner. Her father is a bus driver in the city she lives in. Her mother is a social worker at the school her son attends.

Kimberly is a student at the city's junior college and works part-time to better herself and provide for her son. Although she was considered to be a good girl in her community, she had her share of issues with self-esteem and being a young unwed mother. She was a daddy's girl, and her father often doted on her—that is, whenever he was around. Her mother and father had never married, although they lived together off and on.

It seems that their relationship had hit rock bottom by the time I had turned ten years old, as I recalled after one of their huge fights one night. Momma was fed up with Daddy's ways, mainly his drinking and his womanizing. That night my mama told my father to get out, like she had told him many times before. This time my father swore to her that he was gone for good, that he would not spend another night in the house.

My mother did not seem to care. She kept screaming and hollering at the top of her lungs, Get out, get out!

I was always the one who would beg her to forgive Daddy, but not this time—she wasn't listening. She'd had enough of Dad's drinking and womanizing. While they used to argue quite often when they were together, they both seem to be more cordial to each other now that they are separated. Both believed in God, but I would say my mother was the more faithful one. You could always catch her going around the house singing one of her favorite gospel tunes.

The joy of my life is my six-year-old son Michael, whom I had while I was away at college, where things became tight for me and it was often hard to make ends meet.

My mother tried to send me a little money whenever she could, but I knew that it was hard on her now that she and Dad had separated. To cut corners, I did whatever I needed to do to get by.

Some days when I was on my way to class, I would bring along an old grocery bag to pick up the scattered bottles and cans I came across along the way. The refunds from the pop cans and beer bottles would be enough to provide me with one extra meal during the day so I could stretch the food at home in the refrigerator. I knew that I was under a lot of pressure to maintain an acceptable grade, but also, I had to maintain my job at the bakery.

My employers were a little Jewish couple—the husband started the bakery in the basement of the house he'd built from the bottom up. His name was Joseph. I just called him Joe like all his family and longtime customers did. Joe was a big man in size, with a sometimes intimidating voice, yet he was soft as a teddy bear. It was easy to see why so many people liked and respected him.

They had two children. One son, who was a teacher at a nearby school, and a daughter around the same age as myself who was away