Faith at the Crossroads
I grew up surrounded by many faiths.
My grandmother and much of my family were Muslim. My mother, however, chose Christ as a young girl in Ghana, West Africa, a decision that came with deep resistance and lasting consequences. On my father’s side were Muslims and traditionalists, each holding firmly to their beliefs.
So from an early age, I found myself standing at a crossroads, watching, listening, and trying to understand where I belonged.
That tension did not leave me untouched. It shaped me. It stretched me. And at times, it left wounds I did not yet have the language to name.
Healing did not come all at once.
It came slowly, like the rising sun, restoring, little by little, what pain had dimmed.
