Fifth grade. Mrs. Jackson's gifted and talented class. That's where it happened. My love for writing. But it wasn't that head-over-hills, I can't get enough of this writing stuff. Ironically, I hated the idea of writing when I was first introduced to keeping a daily journal as a class assignment. Later, it would help me come through the darkest period in my life.

As a child I often found myself lost in dreams of faraway places that would become tales of adventures on paper. I dreamed of being a famous author some day and spent lots of time writing in my little green spiral notebook. I was introverted by choice and circumstances and found it easy to escape into the worlds created in paperback books.

On the horizon of adulthood, I flung my insecurities to the world in my poetry and short stories. I continued to feed the dream of becoming a writer.

Fast forward to 1987 when I left my small hometown to go to the big city to get an education. Actually, I went off just to get a degree, but got an education all the same. Since I loved to write, I figured that journalism would be a great career choice. How was I supposed to know that a love for creative writing was not the same as being a reporter? And off I went to Howard University in Washington, D.C. to pursue a bachelor's degree in journalism.

I was a young southern girl who thought she had all she needed to succeed in life-intelligence and talent. I never would have thought that I lacked the single most important factor necessary to succeed in life That teenaged girl learned in just one week at the university what she had missed all of her life-that Jesus Christ was the answer. That first week I was led to Christ and that decision impacted my life literally for eternity. I got involved with Campus Crusade for Christ, which challenged me to grow in my faith, and taught me how to pour my life into others. It also helped me to truly realize that I had a natural ability to talk your ear off, if you'd let me.

I worked for the The Hilltop under the tutelage of Alonza Robertson and learned what excellence in journalism really meant. My first assignment missed the mark so badly that he had to rewrite it, but he gave me the byline anyway. So I figured from that day on, I would show him that his faith in me as a writer wasn't misplaced. I would pay attention to the details. I spent many nights in the basement of The Hilltop house realigning every column in the newspaper to make sure everything had the correct pica spacing.

But I wanted to be married more than anything else and I thought it would never happen. Then out of the blue, this Georgia boy showed up at church with the most beautiful brown eyes that you ever saw, a smile that would put anyone at ease and exuding confidence with every step of his stride. God brought me Sebastian Bryson. Who even while dating, encouraged me to follow my dreams. After only three months of dating, he offered to pick up whatever costs to publish my book of poetry on his credit card. After all, he concluded, it was just green paper! Four months later we were engaged.

I received my master's degree in communications from Marquette University in Milwaukee. I continued to write and edit, but more so for my job than personally. I knew God had given me something to say, but that dream was a long time coming.

What started the path to the dream, was something very tragic and very personal. I was pregnant with twins who were born prematurely. They later died five weeks apart. I thought back to when my dad died. I was just eight years old. My daddy meant the world to me and more than twenty-five years later, he still does. I remember it like it was yesterday. I came home from school sick and as I was lying on the bed, my mom got a phone call. I couldn't tell you what she said to me, but I know I reacted with a violent vomit. My daddy was gone. There was nothing I could do. And when I lay in that hospital bed and they told me I would deliver those two precious boys way before their time, there was nothing I could do.

Five years later, I have put our story to paper. Five years of toiling through manuscript revisions and yes, even rejection letters-kind and considerate, thank you but no thank you letters, but rejection letters nonetheless.

Now, here I am, married for more than a decade to the SAME guy, the mother of not one, not two, but four God-given, wonderful children, and yes, at last a writer and speaker. Jehovah-jireh. God is my provider.