Sound Track

Soundtrack of My Life:

My Life Song

A couple things you should know about me before you read this story is that for one, I am a foster care alumnus. For those of you in the back, that means I was once in foster care and completed the program. Two, I am a black woman, which means I am not only a woman but a black one. And lastly, you need to know I am a very strong individual, so when I tell you my story, I don’t want sympathy. These events have made me strong, they have made me special. Every three months or so, I speak on a panel with other foster care alumni. I try to inform youth before they leave care, I also talk to caseworkers and foster parents. I tell my story at least five times a year. In hopes that they don’t repeat the same mistakes I made, as well as advocating for other youth who may not have a voice. “Lord I give my life A living sacrifice To reach a world in need To be your hands and feet. So may the words I say. And the things I do. Make my lifesong sing. Bring a smile to you.” By Casting Crowns. This song is the perfect represention of my as of right now. My life started out very hard, and I was so angry with God. I couldn’t understand why he would let this happen to me, one thing after another. I felt there was no mercy, the only thing the world had not taken was my life. But through telling my story, and advocating for others like me, I feel my pain isn't in vain. My youth was sacrificed, and I wouldn’t change a thing. “Lord I give my life, a living sacrifice. To reach a world in need, to be your hands and feet.”

At the age of 16, I found myself on a plane headed to my second emergency shelter within the past two months. I had gotten into a fight with a couple of the other residents and had gotten an immediate discharge. I sat next to my caseworker, who wasn’t very happy about the situation. We exchanged very few words; we both knew there was nothing to be said. I was so angry at the world, no one could penetrate my hardened heart, and we knew.

Just months before I was an unaccompanied minor, living wildly on the streets of Amarillo, Texas. And now I was chained to the system. My mother gave up her rights after DFPS came knocking on her door asking what she wanted to do with me. A couple years prior to this exchange, my mother left me at my grandfathers house, while my family went on vacation. I couldn’t go on the trip because I would start problems between my mother and my step father. She felt she needed a break, but assured she would be back in two weeks. She never came back. X Ambassadors, “Unsteady”, till this day shakes my core and brings back those memories. “Mother, I know that you're tired of being alone. Dad, I know you’re trying to fight when you feel like flying. If you love me, don’t let go.” My mother made the choice of having a man, over having a daughter. My father has spent the majority of my life in prison, so the song doesn’t really pertain to him. As a parent, I now know my mother was wrong and was being very selfish. But when I was a child, I felt like I was so unsteady, she had to let me go. I was so disruptive that she would rather abandon me completely; my younger self accepted this ideology.

A couple weeks into my new placement, I learned Tyler, Texas was a bit rougher than Amarillo. My new high school, John Tyler high, had a fence around it and everyone needed a school id to get. Police guarded all entrances, and the kids were tougher than I had ever seen. Apparently, there was a prostitution ring, and drug dealers ran through school like kings.

We traveled in a large white bus that screamed, “unwanted child pickup”. This screaming van filled with multi colored legs, all shapes and sizes, only had three destinations. The head RTC ranch, where we got meds and our meals. The girl's cottage, where we slept, and the school, where we felt most free. One day on our way to the Ranch, Miss. Lesly let us listen to the hip hop station on the radio. Wiz Khalifa feat. Snoop Dog, “Young wild and free”. She blasted it, and we caught the wave. Our lifeless legs began to swing, our hands waved with the beautiful melody, we shouted, “So what we get drunk, so what we smoke weed, were just having fun, we don’t care to see... Living young and wild and-”. The wave stopped; death took his rightful place over our lifeless bodies. I remember looking over the 6-year-old girl who had just got removed from her home. Her freckled nose pointed towards the van floor; she was alone. She was young, wild, but wasn’t free. None of us were. Wiz Khalifa Teased, “Now I'm chilling, fresh outta class feeling. Like I'm on my own, and I could probably own a building. I got my own car. No job, no children.”

This very moment, I realized it wasn’t a game. I was in foster care, and I wasn’t free. If I ran, they would find me. Everything I did was being closely monitored and reported. suddenly death left us, and we shouted at the top of our lungs, “So what get drunk, so what we smoke weed, were just having fun, we don’t care to see. So what we go out, that’s how it supposed to be. Living young and wild and-”, we covered our mouths with our hands. We weren't free, and knew it, but we could still be wild, and we were still young. We laughed, to keep from crying.

There were a group of Christian volunteers who would come to the girls cottage once a week. Ms. Emily, among the many, sticks out in my mind till this day. A strong woman, who stood for what was right, and didn’t mind getting in your face. She loved Jesus, she made me want to know who this man was. Although I had grew up in the church, I never really took God or religion seriously. She seemed happy, she had a good job, a husband, and all her kids. Something I didn’t see in the hood.

It was one visit that wasn’t like the others, they had brought a women to talk to us. First she sang, the entire cottage is silent; this was very rare. After she was done singing she began prophesying to each of us. One by one, we dropped in tears. How could this be? She spoke life into our dead bodies, she was a vessel of God. My heart jumped rapidly as she made her way to me. She closed her eyes, and began speaking in tongues, praying over me. She opened her eyes, and simply said, “You already know God, but you are going to find out how cool he really is.” I wasn’t surprised by her word, I was hoping for something special.

At this moment, my real relationship with god started. I went to bed that night with my little mp3 player turned to AIR.1 radio station. Mercy me, “the hurt and the healer” began to play. “So here I am. What’s left of me. Where glory meets my suffering. I’m alive..” I found life again. The song continued to fill me with the holy spirit, I’m alive.”

Even though a part of me has died. You take my heart and breathe it back to life. I’ll fall into Your arms open wide. When the hurt and the healer collide. Breathe. Sometimes I feel it’s all that I can do. Pain so deep that I can hardly move. Just keep my eyes completely fixed on You. Lord take hold and pull me through” This song reminds me of when I joined hands with God, and he began replacing me piece by piece. I am the hurt and healer.