I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.

Philippians 4:13

God has seen fit to provide me with various jobs over the years to help make ends meet.  At various junctures, I worked as a Certified Nurse Assistant, a Secretary, and licensed medical specialist--you name it, I did it. I worked diligently no matter what the task and these jobs helped me take care of my responsibilities.  I always felt in my heart, however, that there was something else I was meant to do. I knew God was working on a bigger plan for me.

Whenever I felt unfulfilled, I kept the faith and my spirits up by whispering a silent prayer.  I knew God understood my prayers, my late-night cries, and my worried heart. There was no way I could have gone through the motions of the everyday grind if I did not have a bigger passion burning inside me.  We all have dreams. Some fulfill theirs faster than others. Some let the bigger voices outside their heads interfere with the little voices in their hearts—that little voice that keeps whispering, “ You can do it! Don’t give up.”

I was born with determination and that was one of the many attributes my mother passed on to me.  I also had her steady, unwavering support.  She gave out her encouragement as freely as she shared her authentic hugs and the large slices of her delicious, made-from-scratch carrot cake.  And I wanted to make her proud. 

Growing up in a large family wasn’t easy--especially being the seventh of eight children. I often felt like my siblings navigated easily on the road to success and that even my younger sister was racing full speed ahead of me.  I felt like the slow starter in a race, struggling to reach that evasive finish line.

Even though I was a little slow in my calling, somehow I knew I was going to unleash my passion. My dream was to be a writer and I finally accepted that obstacles would stand in my way.  I had to drown out the voices of doubt and negativity and move past those obstacles.

I often laid my head on my pillow but sleep would evade me.  My mind flickered like a television with characters out of nowhere and bits and pieces of their stories haunted me. The challenge was to piece all the bits and pieces together into a unified story.  In the wee hours of the morning, I felt forced to search for paper and pen as the scenes would not dissipate until I wrote them down.  On the occasions where I did not get up to write, my memory would fade by morning like a faint dream. 

I put together my first full manuscript and my mother was the first to read it in its entirety.  It evolved much after that, but she expressed her support and belief in my ability to publish that story. I could tell that she was very proud.  

With my mother’s belief in me, the strong faith she had instilled in her children, and my undying perseverance, my dream to publish a book became a reality!

Having my first published book in hand, did not stop the sleeplessness.  In fact, more and more images and characters keep me awake at night. I know that there will continue to be struggles and obstacles as I continue on this path, but I can’t stop now.  I won’t stop now.  The stories, characters, and ideas just keep flowing out of me.  

My mother passed away before my book was in print. It was hard for me to accept that she wasn’t going to be here to see it…read it… touch it.

I often stare into the clouds and whisper, “ Hi God; Please tell Mimah hello for me. Let her know that I am alright.”  

I finally feel like I’ ve caught up to the rest of my siblings now. Of course, my mother never saw me as lagging behind.  I just needed to listen to the little voice in my heart nudging me to follow my dream…