Hi! I am Mauriel Davis. I was born in Richmond, Texas into a broken home and raised in Denver Colorado practically by my mother. My mother, whom I dearly love and view as a hero for giving me an opportunity at life, was determined to give her children the best possibilities for a substantial future she could. Her circumstances were so straining however, she found herself constantly wearied by the weight of poverty, abuse, and generational curses. My Father was but little support to my mother as a husband, beyond financial provision, and wasn’t always in the picture, due to his “in and out of prison” lifestyle. When my father was around, he was never steady and was a “bad seed” to say the least, leaving my mother in a place to be strong, independent, and to find hope only in God.

My mother grappled her way through motherhood, and gave her all to being a wife to a husband whom she practically raised, and taught the essentials of being a man and father. She took much pride in these areas, and found safety in being in control. She did her best to raise her three children (my two brothers and I) in some sort of religion, in order to know God, to lay a moral foundation, and to teach us to respect him. Therefore, just as many other Blacks did in the United states, we attended a traditionally black Baptist Church, and learned the fundamentals of salvation: repentance, faith and that our sins have been forgiven and paid for by the blood.

I can say that we never fully committed to one particular church, as my mother found herself perpetually wounded by the other members. She felt judged and shunned, and that they made hasty assumptions without any true regard to her struggle. Their ignorance was in part her own fault for never fully opening up about all the domestic abuse we experienced, or admitting she wasn’t able to fight the fight alone. There was definitively some pride there, and as her life progressed she became more and more of a pessimistic recluse. She taught us that all we had in this world was each other, but I quickly learned that I didn’t even have them, when she kicked me out of the house at eighteen years old in dangerous hustle-bustle Houston, and I went to live with a Godly angelic couple who had previously been my Sunday School teachers.

What I will never forget are the lengthy prayers my mother prayed each night, when we were young. She never neglected to pray the blood over all three of her children, which I think gave me an opportunity to understand the providence and protection of God. She also a spent a great length of time in her women’s study bible. Don’t get it wrong. My mother lived, for the most part, a very ungodly life, but there were just certain choices she made, which gave me a sense of stability and left a permanant impression on my little juvenile heart. In so many ways she was very brave, and I will forever love my mother!

Despite the odds constantly against me, loneliness was the driving factor for me to press into the presence of God and seek my Savior for who he really is. He is good, and I have constantly found that he stood firm by my side through and through. I remember him laying this verse on my heart before I left to live with the Roberts: “When you pass through the waters I will be with you; and through the rivers they shall not overflow you. When you walk through the fire you shall not be burned, nor shall they scorch you . For I am the Lord your God, the holy one of Israel your savior. (Isaiah 42:2-3). Sure enough, he kept his word, because I stand today, anchored firmly in him, with every intention of serving him and bringing glory to his name. He never drew a sword against me, or let any weapon formed against me prosper (Isaiah 54:17). Even through all the hatred I endured in deciding to officially break free from my family, and bind the curses they chose to live by, God has been my fortress. Now is my time to tell of how good he is. You have a voice also! I want you to use it!

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