The Weapons Were Formed…But Didn’t Prosper

Prologue

I’ve read hundreds of books during my 33 years on this earth, so you would think writing my own would be a breeze. I used to write when I was a teenager, see, I had this obsession with soap operas and anytime there was a storyline that I didn’t like, I would rewrite the story with my own twist. I only allowed a select few to read them, and since then I’ve been told that if I didn’t write my story it would be a waste of my God given potential. I’ve sat down time after time to think about how I should even start, I mean, how do you really start writing a story about your life without sounding like a cliché? “Once Upon a Time” is too cartoon and fairy tales, so I guess the best way to start is to introduce myself.

My name is Chasity Johnson. I spent my childhood in this small, one hick town in Tennessee, but I eventually moved to Memphis. I can’t really say I had the typical childhood. The story I was told was that, when I was born, my oxygen levels were so low that it caused what the doctor’s call, “coloboma.” Please don’t ask me to explain what that is, because I couldn’t tell you if I tried, but it’s a birth defect, which caused me to be blind in my left eye. I also have a premature sinus cavity, and that led to me being born with one nostril being slightly misshapen compared to my other one. I received a prosthetic eye before kindergarten, because my parents wanted to do all they could to make sure I looked as normal as possible.

I wish I could say that growing up was easy. I have some really great memories, but l would be lying if I said I coasted into adulthood. Everyone has their stories of struggles and hardships, some more traumatic than others. My traumas were a domino effect that began with the loss of my great grandmother and were compounded by physical and mental illness.

Faith and hope in God were instilled in me at an early age, my dad being a minister and my grandfather a pastor. There was always this one passage of scripture that was always spoken to me, “No weapon formed against you shall prosper.” I wish it would have told me how many weapons would be formed, because by the end of this book, you’ll understand why I say I had an arsenal.

Chapter 1

My journey really began when I received my prosthetic eye a few months prior to starting my first year of school. Coloboma in my left eye, was the reason why I needed a prosthetic to protect the eye that did not develop properly. I don’t recall having an issue with my blindness as a young child, you can’t miss what you never had right? Childhood was spent with family, who never made me feel like I was any different from any other kid.

The town I lived in was definitely a Christian, bible believing town, where my Grandfather was a well-known pastor, and everyone was related, so most knew of my condition and called me a “Miracle Baby.” I lived in a trailer on a hill with mama, daddy, and two younger brothers who came six and eleven years after I was born. The hill on Cooper Dr. was a safe place for me, I had 2 loving parents and Dorothy Johnson, aka “Mrs. J. or Grandma J.,” my daddy’s grandmother who raised him since he was 3. She was my best friend. We didn’t have much money, but there was so much love that I never felt like I ever really went without anything. I spent days with my parents and Grandma J, weekends in nearby Jackson, but Sundays were my favorite. Granddaddy preached at St. Paul, walking distance from our trailer, for over 20 years; which is where my parents met and fell in love. Grandma J was a member there and immediately my grandparents took my dad and great-grandmother in as family. His parents weren’t around much, so Sundays were the day when, after church, we would all get together. She loved to cook and, to this day, I’ve never and probably will never meet anyone with the love and talent for cooking that Mrs. J had. Wednesday was my special day, she never let a Wednesday go by without making me homemade chocolate chip cookies. I’d run to her house and enjoy my cookies, while playing in my little corner behind the brown rocking chair, which had a yellow bin that held all of my toys. I would sit there smiling while I play, embracing the safety and love that I felt.