Lately, as I’ve taken a step back and looked around at my circumstances here in Mexico, I’ve begun to understand why I believe God brought me here. There are many reasons, and I will talk about one of them today.
Go backward with me briefly before November 2012, before I wrote a bestselling book that changed my life forever.
I grew up poor, or at least we were considered poor according to the State of Arkansas and society’s expectations. Sure, we didn’t have much money and couldn’t afford name-brand clothes, cable TV, or a telephone, but we had everything we needed and more. As I got older, left home, and started my own family, I carried the “poor gene” with me and passed it along to my children. Despite not having a lot of material things and sometimes not having the money to pay the bills, we were happy. I raised my three children alone; it was just the four of us for most of their lives. I chose not to have another man in my life; I distanced myself from all people who were once considered friends but were bad influences on me and my children. I chose to associate only with family, and I no longer did any of the unhealthy things I did in my teenage and young adult years. My children were the most important things in my life, and I didn’t need anyone else…
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