Eat. Love. Pray.: A birthday led by God

God speaks to me a lot through signs. So, when my initial birthday plans began to fall through one by one, I knew He was up to something.

First plan: Virgin Islands. Nix.

Second plan: New Orleans and the New Edition, Boyz II Men and Toni Braxton concert.  Nope. (Should have gone to see them in Charlotte.)

Tampa, Florida: Seriously. 

(Shoutout to the travel agent who endured my ever-changing itineraries. You know who you are. You are appreciated and on deck for my next planned trip, God willing.)

Then how shall I celebrate my 56th birthday, which falls on Good Friday? The one idea that gave me peace was to go somewhere and be still and listen.

Where could I go to do that and still be surrounded by what I love?

Then it hit me like a crashing wave: The Outer Banks (OBX) of North Carolina.

I had not been there since 2010, and at that time it was a quick day trip with an old friend.

So, I called up by travel besties and gave them my plan.

Birthday theme: “Eat. Love. Pray.” (From the popular movie of the same name)

Location: South Nags Head.

Itinerary: Bring your own joy!

And that’s exactly what we did.

 

For five days, we settled into a rhythm of peace at the OBX, where it seems like serenity is the rule of law. It’s quiet. It’s remote. It’s sacred in its own way. It’s an ideal area to meditate, pray, be still and listen. Just what God ordered.

It’s the complete opposite of Myrtle Beach. At times, you don’t even feel like you’re in North Carolina with the windblown sand sweeping across towering dunes, the possibility of spotting wild horses and beach houses that sit right at the water’s edge. With a permit, you can even drive along the shoreline and build campfires on the beach.

Each morning, my day began with a walk on the beach. Like many people have said before, there’s something about the water that makes God’s voice easier to hear. Or maybe, it’s something about standing next to one of his most majestic creations. Or maybe, we're just quieter there.

Either way. I heard Him. I got answers. I got clarity.

Not the full blueprint because God rarely gives us that. Seeing the whole picture wouldn’t require faith, now would it.

But dear God, can I at least see the next step?

My friends were blessed as well. We rested. We watched TV. We played games. We sat on the beach. We did whatever brought us joy. There was no itinerary except for on my birthday, which was a photo shoot on the beach and dinner.

I am grateful for friends who don’t always have to have big, shiny things to make them happy, who don’t always need grand experiences to define joy. 

Don’t get me wrong. That can be us sometimes. But we also know how to “get somewhere and be still,” as my grandmother would say.

On Easter Sunday, we held our own sunrise service right there on the beach. We had prayer, Scripture, songs and a devotional God gave me the prior weekend while watching a movie. (another blog for another day).

My birthday theme came to life as God intended. We did a lot of eating. We did a lot of praying and in the midst of it all there was love: Love for each other. Love for ourselves. And the greatest expression of love of all: the Son-rise of Easter. 

This video link shows some of the signs God gave me while in the OBX for my birthday: Eat. Love. Pray. Video

My Dream Twin Went First: How Brandy Hunter lived the Liberian dream and left proof that mine is possible

Brandy Hunter

This holiday season, amid the fellowship of family and the laughter of friends, I have been quietly grieving.

A few days before Christmas, a friend I called my dream twin slipped into her eternal rest.

Brandy Hunter was my shero.

I met Brandy while working with the Liberian Organization of the Piedmont, a Winston-Salem–based nonprofit whose mission is to champion the cause of Liberians living in the region while advancing educational opportunities.

On Zoom calls filled with West African accents, one strong, confident voice would rise above the chatter. She spoke with resolve, assurance and authority. You didn’t have to ask who was leading -  Brandy made it clear.

When I finally met her in person, I asked if I could take her to lunch for her birthday. During that meal, I learned something that genuinely surprised me: Brandy was not Liberian.

All that time, I had assumed she was. She was so deeply embedded in the culture, so committed to the cause of the Liberian people, how could she not be?

As we talked, we discovered we shared the very same dream.

“I want to live in Liberia,” Brandy said.

Me, too.

“I want to build a home there by the beach.”

Me, too.

“I want to buy property and sell it to other Black people interested in relocating to Liberia.”

Me, too.

By the time lunch ended, we were best buddies.

Brandy was also a chef, and I happily supported her pop-up plate sales. I even convinced her to cater my mom’s 92nd birthday party, an event she handled with the same excellence she brought to everything else.

But it wasn’t until we began planning the Liberian Gala in September 2024 that I truly came to know Brandy on a deeper, more professional level. Brandy, Pamela Turner and I became the three American musketeers on the planning committee.

From the smallest details to the most critical moments, Brandy poured her heart, soul, sweat and energy into the planning. I watched in awe as she worked meticulously, meeting every challenge head-on, solving problems in real time, and refusing to quit when obstacles appeared.

I think the entire committee would agree: Brandy almost single-handedly planned that gala. The rest of us simply followed her lead.

The event was a tremendous success. And once it was over, all of Brandy’s energy shifted toward her ultimate goal, which was relocating to Liberia.

Within months, she left Winston-Salem, heading to Liberia by way of Virginia.

But fate intervened.

Brandy became ill. Cancer struck her body and delayed her departure. After surgery and months of recovery, she remained resolute. For Brandy, delay was never denial.

In March 2025, she finally moved to Liberia.

When we video-chatted, the glow on her face rivaled the Liberian sun. She was home. She was in her happy place. And I was planning to go visit her this year.

I spoke with Brandy at length on November 6. She excitedly shared updates about her work on the local town council there and her progress toward acquiring land. With pride, she told me she had purchased 50 acres.

She also mentioned she was recovering from malaria.

What she did not tell me was that her cancer had returned.

A few weeks after that call, Brandy flew back to the United States. She was hospitalized immediately and transitioned just days later.

I had the honor of speaking with her one last time as she lay in her hospital bed.

I told her I loved her.

She told me she loved me, too.

“Liberia needs you,” I said, still believing, still praying for a miracle.

Brandy lived her dream, even if only for a short while. She became my compass. She proved – and validated – that our dreams are not foolish, not far-fetched, not impossible.

As Brandy is laid to rest today, and as we step into a new year, my hope is renewed. I am recommitting to the dream and purpose God placed in me for Liberia.

Because if Brandy could do it…

I can, too.

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Arrangements: A memorial service will be held Jan. 3, 2026, at noon at New Mt. Joy Food for Living Ministry in Suffolk, Va. Locally, a Celebration of Life Music Gathering will be held Sunday, Jan. 4, 2026, at 3 p.m. at Goler AME Zion Church in Winston-Salem, where she served as minister of music prior to relocating to Liberia.

From left, Brandy, Pamela and me (three American musketeers) with Olu Brown and his wife.

Brandy with Sayo Doe Sio and me at the Liberian gala.