Free Lost and Found: Finding Hope in the Detours of Life by T. D. Jakes, Sarah Jakes

school as a mother. Although we didn’t have the same classes, having her there was like an extension of the security I experienced at home with our family.
    Never one to mince words, my sister is notoriously known for speaking her mind. It’s what everyone loves about her! You never have to wonder what she thinks or feels. Her candor has often been the source of humorous moments within our family. So one day when we were in the small cafeteria of our high school, Cora’s frank personality revealed my secret. And there was nothing subtle about it.
    Another classmate of ours was having a heated discussion about teenage mothers with some other students. “I mean, how could they be so stupid,” she said. “It would be so much easier to just give it away instead of being selfish and ruining the kid’s life.”
    “Yeah, you said it,” agreed another girl. “They already made one mistake. Why make another?” The rest of their group nodded as if she were preaching the gospel.
    I sat in the corner, face down, and focused on finishing my lunch. I didn’t want to say anything. All she did was vocalize the thoughts I assumed everyone was thinking anyway. I couldn’t blame her. They were the thoughts that haunted me at night. The things that made me want to give whatever was left of my future at least my best shot.
    “What kind of girl allows herself to get into this kind of trouble anyway?” continued the second girl. Everyone was listening by this point, including my sister.
    “Only hos do that!” exclaimed the first girl and laughed.
    I sat there soaking in all the thoughts that I knew the world had about me. Instead of standing up for myself, and others like me, I acted as if I were far removed from her subject. Speaking up would only remove my invisible shield.
    “WELL, MY SISTER HAD A BABY AND SHE AIN’T A HO!” Cora yelled.
    Suddenly, I saw the white light. This must be what death feels like. I was mortified . Most teenagers experience this moment at least once, usually when their parents embarrass them in front of their friends. But now I was the parent and everyone knew it. Standing in a room full of people who didn’t even know my name, I now was forced to accept that they knew my secret.
    As if being the only black students in the class didn’t make my sister and me minority enough, the fact that our father was a nationally known preacher was even more of a separation. Now the fact that I did my homework while burping my son would create another divide.
    I felt the separation everywhere. At home, I felt like a black sheep. Not because anyone made me feel that way but mostly because no one else had done anything to place us all under such heavy scrutiny. My father’s ability to effectively minister was brought into question, my mother’s commitment to women marred. The overall closeness of our entire family was being investigated by the outside world because of what I did.
    ———
    My first Sunday back at church, everyone from my brothers to distant cousins came into the service with me. They knew that I was nervous about showing up with my infant son, confirming and enflaming the rumors that were already constantly growing. Some people knew and had been sending letters to the church demandingI apologize publicly or they’d leave the church. My father made sure they knew where the door was located.
    I know what you’re thinking. How blessed I am to have a father who was willing to stand by me at the expense of losing his position. You’re right, but I couldn’t see that at the time. All I could do was feel the shame of his even being placed in that situation. It’s hard to accept pure love when you feel you don’t deserve it. It’s essentially what keeps us from maximizing our relationship with Christ. How can salvation be available to a wretch like me? So instead of feeling the comfort of protection on the Sunday of Malachi’s debut, I prepared for the sting of shock.
    “I’d like to welcome