Growing up in Detroit was more than just challenging—it was a battleground where every day brought new obstacles to overcome. Being part of a mixed family added another layer of complexity, as we struggled to find our place in a world that often seemed stacked against us. But despite the hardships, we persevered, clinging to each other for support and striving to carve out a better future.

Now, as I reunite with family from New York, I’m reminded of both the sweetness and bitterness that comes with these gatherings. On one hand, seeing my brother and his beautiful family fills me with joy and gratitude. It’s a moment of connection and love that transcends time and distance. But on the other hand, it’s impossible to ignore the shadow of our past—a past marred by pain, mistakes, and brokenness.

Leaving Detroit was a pivotal moment in my life. It was only when I put some distance between my past and my present that I began to truly understand the depth of the dysfunction that had once consumed us. Suddenly, the streets that once felt like home began to reveal themselves for what they truly were—a breeding ground for chaos and despair. It was a sobering realization, but also a necessary one, as it laid the groundwork for the process of restoration that was to come.

Yet, as I journeyed down the path of healing and transformation, I quickly discovered that old wounds have a way of resurfacing when you least expect them. They lurk in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike, and when they do, they have the power to shake you to your core. Suddenly, all the progress you’ve made feels like it’s unraveling before your eyes, and you’re left wondering if you’ll ever truly be free from the ghosts of your past.

And then there are the naysayers—the ones who have always doubted your ability to change. They’ve watched you stumble and fall time and time again, and in their eyes, you’ll always be the same person you were back in Detroit. They whisper their doubts behind your back, casting a shadow of uncertainty over your newfound faith and identity in Christ.

But despite the doubts, despite the pain, I refuse to give up hope. I refuse to let the demons of my past define me or dictate my future. Because I know that true healing is possible, no matter how deep the wounds may run. And as I navigate the complexities of family gatherings and confront the ghosts of my past, I do so with the knowledge that I am not alone. For in Christ, there is redemption, there is forgiveness, and there is hope for a brighter tomorrow.