It was late October 2005, and she was attending Southern University in Baton Rouge. At the time, I didn’t know that my friend—a woman I’d always admired for her poise and quiet strength—was sitting alone in the parking lot of a nearly abandoned strip mall. She was crying in her car, overwhelmed by how her life had unraveled. She was at her lowest point.
Erica had been through more than most could handle. She’d lost two family members in the span of a year: her grandmother, who had raised her, and her uncle Roy, who had been helping her pay for school. The grief was suffocating, but Erica managed to keep up the appearance of strength, so much so that I thought she was doing fine. She was blessed, but she wasn’t at her best. Deep down, she was carrying the weight of depression, pretending she was okay when she was anything but.
On top of her grief, Erica was drowning in debt, and losing her sense of purpose at work felt like the final blow. Even the new relationship she’d entered—a love that should have brought joy—felt like another source of insecurity and uncertainty.
One night, Erica went completely silent. No texts, no calls, no response to our sorority group meeting. Concerned, Kayla, one of our sisters, called for a wellness check. It turned out Erica’s car had broken down, and she hadn’t been able to reach anyone for help. It was just one more thing going wrong in a season that already felt unbearable.
Later, Erica told me how lost she felt in that moment.
“I felt like I was done, Leata,” she confessed months later. “Like, what else could go wrong? What else could I possibly lose?”
But that night, in the silence of her car, something began to shift. Erica described it as a small, almost imperceptible moment—a quiet awareness that settled over her. She noticed her own breathing, the sound of distant cars, and the cool night air against her skin. And then, deep in her heart, she felt it: peace.
“It wasn’t like God spoke to me in a booming voice,” she said. “It was more like... I just felt His presence. Like He was with me, even when I felt completely alone.”
That night, Erica began to rekindle her relationship with God. She didn’t rush back to church or quote scripture to anyone. Instead, she leaned into reflection and deliberate steps toward healing, guided by her faith.
When Erica shared her journey with me. I felt her pain. Because there was a point where I had also walked through my own wilderness of heartbreak and despair, relying on God to help me rebuild what life had broken down.
We began hanging out more after that, outside of the sorority stuff, anywhere we could talk openly about grief, faith, love, and the messy journey of life. We didn’t pretend to have it all figured out. Healing wasn’t a straight path, and faith wasn’t a magic cure, but it was a steady hand to hold as we moved forward.
One evening, Erica turned to me and said, “I don’t think I’ll ever have it all together.”
I told her. “No one does. But you’ve reconnected with God, and that’s more than enough to keep you going.”
We shared our struggles, even prayed together when the weight felt too heavy. I introduced her to books and groups that had helped me, and begin to open up more about her face and her new found a walk with god.
We weren’t perfect women, but we were growing women, earning to walk with God in our own imperfect ways. Erica’s parking lot breakdown became her turning point, just as I’d had my own moment of surrender, realizing that God was with me even in the darkest places.
Years later, when we laugh about those days, Erica will say, “I think I cried enough tears in that parking lot to fill a river.”
“And yet, you found living water,” I’ll remind her.
“Okay, but you still ugly cry,” she’ll tease back with a grin.
Our struggles didn’t disappear; they transformed. And through it all, we’ve learned to embrace the messy, beautiful journey of faith—learning to trust God, to carry the broken pieces with grace, and to find joy in how far He’s brought us.
Because if there’s one thing we’ve learned, it’s that life isn’t about having it all together. It’s about leaning on God, letting Him guide you, and realizing that His grace is enough to carry you through anything.
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