A Peaceful Day Of A Crummy Condo

A long time ago, in about 2004, I was born to two drug and alcohol addicts. We lived in Plano, Texas, in a disgusting apartment. We had cat and dog feces everywhere, and overall it wasn’t the best environment to raise a child in. But when I was about four and a half, my mother put me up for adoption without telling me. I ended up being adopted by my aunt and uncle, but although being four and a half, I will always remember that day vividly, because that was the first day I had experienced real love.

When we arrived at the house, I stood there for about five seconds before knocking on the door. They didn’t answer at first, so I knocked again, harder, and then saw the handle start to move. My stomach filled with butterflies as I watched the door slowly open. The face that greeted was one of a two year old, and as I looked up I saw her father standing over her.

I remember being taken away from my mother at age seven. My brother was only a year old when we were separated. We were ripped away from her arms and placed in foster care. I can recall that day clear as a crystal. My throat felt constricted as I yelled out for my mother, my eyes were red and puffy from all the crying, my knees bruised because I refused to be taken away. From then out my life tumbled down. I could no longer protect my brother, I could not be there to wipe my mother’s tears away. I was alone and frightened. Now that I look back at my experiences in foster care it made me stronger. As of today I am more grounded, and able to go through life with a new lense. I got to experience foster care and am able to empathize with those who have gone through it as well.

When I was a three week old newborn, Social Services decided that my mother and father were no longer fit to raise my sister and I. My mother was an alcoholic who would soon be in prison, my father was not yet an American citizen, and my parents were in the midst of a divorce. Instead of allowing my sister and I to be split up and sent to separate foster homes, my grandparents brought us into their home for what was intended to be a temporary length of time. This temporary length of

Two months later, In March 2010, My parents decided to return to Haiti in order to be able to provide for my sister and I. My sister and I were left alone in an unknown country, we were scared, confused and stressed, when two good samaritans were sent our way and gave us shelter for five years. Shortly after my high graduation, I was no longer able to stay with my care provider and had to leave in order to survive mentally. I moved to Miami, Fl from Orlando, Fl, where I thought that I had finally found someone was sincere and would love unconditionally and that person was my Aunt but once again, just like everyone else they had left me and treated me otherwise for no apparent reason.

In Eagle River, Wisconsin June of 2006 my parents and I made the 30 minute drive from my brothers camp, Kawaga, to mine, Chippewa. I was seven years old sitting in the back seat of this car thinking about how my brother, Max, loves his camp so I would too. However, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. We arrived and my parents stopped the car to take a picture of me in front of the big red rustic sign “Chippewa Ranch Camp” it said. As we drove down the long dirt driveway it finally hit me that I was about to get out of this car and not see my parents for an entire month. I couldn’t even spend the night out I would call them to pick me up at midnight from my friends homes, how in the world was I going to survive four whole weeks of

Before I went into foster care, I was heading back to Iowa, from Arkansas, to see my older sister Shantell’s graduation. I left early that night and fell asleep in the car. It took us 22 hours ,but we also stopped a lot, and when we got to Iowa Falls, it was like 5:00 p.m. We got lost until my mom called Shantell’s foster mom, and she told us where the house was. So when we got there, my sister Patience and I went into the house and went into the living room where my older sister Shantell was sitting on the couch watching TV, and she saw us, and we saw her we hugged. She cried then we asked her foster mom if we could stay the entire summer. The foster mom said yes, and then me and Patience asked our mom if we could, and she said yes Then she was told by Shantell’s foster mom, if she was gone over a week it would be called abandonment. Our mom didn’t tell us that. Then she left a week later.

At only nineteen years old I have been through a lot in life. So much to the point that most people soon realize why I give my all in everything that I do.one thing that will forever stick with me is being homeless as a kid at a young age. Growing up in Mobile, Alabama I grew up with my mother and four siblings. I was next to the youngest out of five kids. My mother had a job at USA medical center where she had worked since she was 21 years old. My mother worked with the house keeping service as basically a janitor. My mother worked six days a week as much as she could to ensure we at least got to school. Even though mom worked so hard sometimes ends were just not met. Some nights she would go to bed hungry so that my siblings and I would have something to eat. Well one day mom came home from a long day’s work to a letter that stated that basically we had a nine days to get our stuff and leave because we were being evicted for not having the money to pay rent. We didn’t have anywhere to go, we couldn’t even afford to go anywhere. This was the first time I had ever seen my mother break down and just cry her eyes out. I didn’t realize at that moment what was going on. Four to five days had passed by with no luck at all. Then by the grace of god we got a phone call from an organization known as family promise. Family promise basically assists with families who are at risk of becoming homeless. They had called after someone had let them know our situation. So we arranged to stay

In that car ride to what would be one of several temporary homes, I resolved to never have hope again. I silently made a vow that I would not allow myself to let anything or anyone engender groundless optimism in me after that day. The years leading to this cynical oath were the hardest I ever underwent, leaving permanent scars (both emotional and physical) I would never outgrow. But the day they took us away was the day my world fell apart, and it was undoubtedly my breaking point. I stayed strong for my younger brothers; I had to take care of them seeing as all the foster parents we lived with were elderly. But all throughout the ordeal with courts and foster families and multiple new schools, I felt smaller and smaller inside. I would occasionally look at the self-harm scars on my left arm and wish with all my might to be back with my father and stepmother, because at least then I would be somewhere familiar. I felt that misery and suicidal thoughts were a fair compromise if it meant I would be in a place I

By the time I returned home safe, something miraculous had happened. I still have no recollection of any traumatic incident from my first journey away from the safety of “home.” I never knew until recently that my parents were worried to death. I only have memories of my family going to church, living a Christian life, and my parents active involvement in our home church. God worked in my parents hearts, orchestrating His will with the innocence of a child. Maybe they realized that only God the all-knowing, all-powerful Creator can protect and bless, “He giveth and taketh away (Job 1:21)… All good things are a gift from God (James 1:17).” I don’t know what exactly happened that day, but I do know this one fact. A child named Danielle with enthusiasm and passion to know God, changed a family forever. I attended Beth Eden Baptist School during my later elementary years, I was blessed to be home-schooled by my mother and father in junior High, and attended Maranatha Christian for High School, graduating in 1989. My life has been filled with exceptional events, joy, heartache, surprises, pain, loss, and miraculous

than usual. Being in foster homes was not easy for me or my sister; At times, we got abused for no reason. I wondered every day when I can be granted back to my mother, and will I ever see her again. I used to ask her every time at visitation if we were coming back home. Her response would be “Baby your coming home real soon”. As I got older to realize what was going on it left a part of me empty and broken hearted. And I used to have dreams about so many things as to why I thought I was going through so much pain and heartache. Some of them never came true though I thank God for that. My mom is a very strong individual she lost everything she had. She never really had a relationship with her mother and she never met her dad. She’s from Chicago

I woke up the following morning and glanced outside my foggy window. I closed my eyes the sound of rain began to slam on the roof. I dragged myself out of bed knowing what this morning had in store. Today I had to say goodbye to Sam. I lathargically brushed my teeth and got dressed subconsciously, in a daze. When I walked downstairs, I heard my dad ask, “How are you feeling kid?”

My brother was walking towards us and without a seat left, he hopped into the old ski-boat and sat down. He had a confused look on his face but that turned to anger when my dad said “We’re talking to Carlyn about what I told you yesterday.” With a face as red as his hair, he stood up and screamed “You guys are ruining my life.” I had never seen my brother like this. He was always happy, he even had the nickname “happy Pappy.” He was crying from sadness but still screaming with anger. This made my mom’s cry louder and mine begin. My dad stood up in attempts to calm down my brother and I ran over to my mom. I wrapped my arms around her as she gave me a big hug, and told me “everything is going to be alright, everything is going to be alright, everything is going to be alright.”

When I was thirteen years old, my mother kicked me out of the house. My grandmother graciously took me in, since my father had no means of caring for me. Three years later, my mother left. There has probably never been a more devastating event in my life. I may have only seen her occasionally, but “never” was a whole new idea. It was always upsetting to never see her

It was May 17th, 2011, it was a normal school day when my brother and I were told that my mom called to say that she was picking us up early. I was anxious, wondering why we were going home early and breaking our usual routine. When my mom came to get us, the first thing that I noticed was that she didn’t greet us with her usual smile. I was 9 years old, very observant, but not able to sense what was to come. We got into the car, when I asked my mom where we were going hoping