Black, Christian, & Trying to Figure It Out
Part 1
Did you miss me?!
Let me tell you something about this season of my life. It’s giving wilderness. It’s giving “Lord, are You sure You meant me?” It’s giving “I’m walking by faith but my knees are wobbling.” I’ve been a caregiver for my mom since August 2023, but long before that, I wasn’t the family caregiver — I was the dependable one. The one you call when things fall apart. The one who steps up because nobody else will. The one who carries emotional weight that should’ve been shared. And the hardest truth is that me and my mom never had the soft, warm mother-daughter relationship I always hoped for.
But I still show up, because of this scripture:
“Honor your father and mother…”
(Ephesians 6:2)
Honoring someone who wounds you is a different kind of obedience. Sometimes I feel like I’m living a Ruth and Naomi story… except in my version, Naomi acts more like Cinderella’s stepmother. My mom cuts me with her words, talks down to me, makes sharp comments, and introduces me as her caregiver at appointments like I’m a stranger — not her child. And every time, the nurses or admin staff look at her and say, “You’re lucky to have someone who cares for you like this.” I stand there holding the weight of those words, knowing they see the truth even if she doesn’t.
She goes to dialysis three days a week. She was recently diagnosed with colon cancer. We’re scheduling treatments, prepping for hospital stays, and managing symptoms. And I’m the one holding all of this together.
A lot of people don’t understand why I stay or why I’m holding onto this house. It’s because of my grandmother. She lived here with me while my mom worked. She raised me, protected me, prayed over me. Her love fills every corner, and her memories live in every room. She was my first safe place, my first example of love, and my first introduction to God. Everything she taught me — how to pray, how to fast, how to hear God — happened in this home. So when people ask, “Why don’t you just leave?” they don’t understand that I’m not attached to the house.
I’m attached to the memories of my grandmother.
Before caregiving took over my days, I wasn’t struggling. I had a real career in IT and web design for nearly 10 years. I worked two jobs at one point — one full-time and one part-time. I was stable. I was building something. I had goals I was actively reaching. Then everything shifted. In January 2024, I lost my part-time job. In September 2024, I lost my full-time job. I’ve been applying ever since — interviews, applications, repeat. At this point, I truly believe God hasn’t opened a door yet. It’s His timing. And although I’m trying to hold on, it’s hard. Christmas is coming, bills are due, and I’m standing here trying not to lose myself in the waiting.
Stay tuned for Part 2.
If you’d like to support my writing or my family during this season, my Cash App is $jasminep88.
Thank you for being here. 💛
#Faith
#unemployed
#prayer
#ChristianLiving
#Caregiving
#Motherhood
#BlackWomen
#PersonalEssays
#Healing
#Survival
Black, Christian & 