Twice during my south Minneapolis childhood, I came home from school to find my home in shreds. The thief stole a lot, including $11 from my zebra purse. My mom paid me back. My mom’s car was stolen on Mother’s Day. In college, My friend and I were robbed at gunpoint right before another student was shot. We were walking from one dorm to the next on the University of Minnesota campus.
On Tuesday night in Kenya, someone broke into my house while I was there. The cops never came.
The traumatizing moments have drawn me closer to God. I’m so confused about my fate but somehow I believe I’m protected. My mom says it isn’t time for me to go. I have air in my lungs and hair on my head.
It’s only that I find it hard to laugh and smile.