The next Generation
TO THE NEXT GENERATIONS....
To the next generation, I want to speak to you from my heart, because the difference between me and so many others is that I knew my father. I knew his love, and I also knew the trauma that was unleashed after his death.
I’ll never forget sitting in a jail cell when the words came out of my mouth: “My father is dead.” And in that broken moment, the Holy Spirit came to me. He showed me glimpses of love I thought I’d lost forever. I remember saying my father was Cecil Williams, because he stood for unconditional love. He wasn’t just my dad — he was a father to everyone who needed one.
I remember getting baptized at Peoples Church in Salem. When I came up out of that water, I had this strange expression on my face. My real hair was worn, my scrunchie fell in the tub, and I looked different. I felt different. That was the start of a journey that only God could write.
I was raised by a single mother who was divorced from a man that caused trauma in my mother’s life. His choices caused one woman’s family to rise while mine fell. There is a difference between being a biological daughter and being someone who was just raised. That pain shaped me, but it didn’t end me.
Because of what I walked through, I have more compassion, more confidence, and more strength than I ever thought possible. I turned to my faith, and God rose me from the ashes. He took me through the cocoon stage — the dark, the quiet, the breaking — and brought me out like a butterfly.
God provides healing in a way that lets me peacefully and non-violently share my story with anyone who will listen. I look more to Malcolm X, who used paper when he gave his speeches, not a teleprompter. He spoke truth from his soul. That’s what I want to do. I’m in Toastmasters now to practice speaking to others, because I believe my voice matters.
Today I’m taking the first step toward the path of teaching, and I’m still a student. I’m still learning. But I know this: trauma doesn’t get the last word. Death doesn’t get the last word. God does. And He’s turning my story into something that can bring hope to you.
If you’re hurting, if you feel fatherless, if you feel like your family fell while others rose — you’re not alone. There is healing. There is purpose. And there is a God who will meet you right where you are, even in a jail cell, even in the water, even when your scrunchie falls in the tub.
You are not forgotten. Your story isn’t over.
With love,
Cathryn
