About Me

HELLO!! I’m
Tamara, it sounds like camera with a T. I’m just gonna go ahead and put this
out there: I have NEVER blogged and don’t know what in the world to say! And
believe me…I’m not one to be at a loss for words!

Well…

I am from Memphis, Tennessee. Not
the sub-burbs, but the ghetto. It’s the truth. I grew up there, but now live in
Oxford, Mississippi. Like the sign says, it’s a nice place to live. I love
it. I graduated from Ole Miss (The
University of Mississippi) with a degree in Social Work. I think that should
tell you what I’m like. I’m highly energetic, very much of a morning person. I
have HIGH levels of compassion and empathy for people. I feel alive
when I have deep conversations, especially with new people in new places.
Travel is a priority in my life.

So is my puppy, Tucker. I adore
him.

I have been called effervescent, and my first
thought was of a denture commercial…then I realized it was the best compliment
I had ever received!! People bring me joy. As does sunshine, hot coffee in
mugs, animals, St.
Patrick’s day decorations, fireworks, the smell of skunk and fire, daffodils and the
Lord. That list is in no particular order so don’t be concerned that Jesus
isn’t mentioned first. 

Most importantly:
I am a daughter of The King. That’s my identity. I am a sinner. I am broken. I
am redeemed. I am blessed. I am called to the mission field. I love Jesus.

My Soul Story.

            I’ll
start by saying that I did not grow up in a Christian home. Far from it in
fact. My momma passed away right before I turned 4. My dad re-married and the
rest of my childhood was spent with a father and stepmother deeply involved in
drugs and violence. I’ll spare the details, the point is, I was not taught
Christ, did not go to Sunday school, and was clueless to the fact that Christ
could be someone a girl like me could know.

            Long
story short, after years of broken emotions and bones, a girl in my 7^th grade class
bugged me every day to go to youth group with her. I kept telling her that I
wasn’t allowed to go to church. Finally, we made a deal in physical science
class that I would go with her once if she promised to never mention it again. My
first lying and sneaking around experience was to get to church. Hmm. I walked
in, fresh meat to this Christian crowd. I was embraced. People were happy.
People liked each other. People liked me. For 7^th and 8^th
grade I continued to sneak off to church every Wednesday. Eventually my dad
found out I was going and told me it was okay as long as my stepmom didn’t find
out. She did at some point and surprisingly didn’t act too crazy about it.
Although it was her favorite thing to ground me from. After two years of being
a “Christian” things weren’t working out. My home life was still rotten, in
fact, it was worse. The fighting, screaming, and pain continued. When I
realized that this god that was supposed to fix it, didn’t actually fix
anything, I was done. I left the church with burned hands and headed literally
straight to a friends house where I sat with a group of kids in a gang and
complained of my church experience.

            Once
again, I was welcomed. These people accepted me for different reasons. I could
relate to them. I knew the same hurts, the same hardships, and knew what all
the drugs were and how to get them. After a while, I was right there in the mix
of everything you can imagine. I thought I had found my friends for life. I saw
friends go to jail, close friends put in ambulances, and closer friends
overdose. Shootings, drugs, alcohol poisoning, pregnancies at 15, these were
normal occurrences for the people I ran with. God was the furthest thing from
my mind.

            By
high school graduation I had made all sorts of different friends. I even spent
a year in a Christian choir. I can say that we sang church type songs, but
never once did I hear the gospel. There was no time for that…we had voice
lessons to attend to. But the friends I held closest were the ones though that people’s parents hoped their sons
and daughters would never befriend. My living situation changed several times
in high school. I grew in bitterness.

            Once
I had my diploma in hand, I found myself living with my southern Baptist
grandparents. Imagine that-a girl from the ghetto with a drinking problem
living with Sunday school attendees. I didn’t make this easy on anyone. One
thing that Granny and Pepaw stood their ground on firmly was the fact that I
was GOING to go to college. Not something I wanted.

            After
the most rebellious summer of my life (truly) I moved to Oxford, Mississippi to
begin college. My thoughts? Ole Miss was the number 3 party school in the
nation, it couldn’t be that bad. I planned on finding the first party and sticking it out until Granny realized I
wasn’t cut out for this college business.

            One
of the benefits of going solo to school is that you will befriend anybody.
Enter Amy. I met a girl in the grove at a freshman event who invited me to this
cookout…at a preacher’s house. No way! HAH. Me? Christian cookout? Just hand me
the whiskey please.

            Fast
forward about 5 hours. All of a sudden I’m on my way to the director of Campus
Crusade for Christ’s house. I walk in (wearing a Bob Marley shirt I might add)
and immediately feel that same acceptance from the 7^th grade youth
group. Something about me must have screamed HELP because by the end of the
night I had f-o-u-r meetings set up with staff women and older girls. The next
couple weeks were spent hearing the gospel constantly. I was surrounded by
genuine girls who cared to know me, my story, my goals, and to share their
source of joy with me. 

            By
October, I had decided to give my life to Christ and felt that I had so much to
catch up on. My freshman year I was in as many Bible studies as I could cram
in. I went on a summer project with crusade that year where I learned so much.
Mainly, that I wasn’t supposed to play catch up, but learn at the speed God
decided to reveal himself to me. The desire was planted deep within me to spend
my days learning the character of my Savior, His Word to me, and His call on my
life.

The rest of my college years were
spent in spiritual growth. There of course was failure, rejoicing, tears,
laughter, and all that comes with the Christian life. Through all my ups and
downs along my spiritual journey, it is clear as a bell to me that my crazy
life was given to me so that I would have this passion for the message of
Christ in order that I will share it with the nations. I am made to be a
missionary.