THE SEER CHRONICLES (P. 1)

In 1994, I experienced my first vision.

I was on my way to my maternal grandmother’s funeral, riding down the freeway toward Oakland, California. My mother, brothers, and sisters were talking around me, but my attention had drifted elsewhere. I looked out the window and into the sky.

I was thinking deeply about my mother—about what it must mean for a daughter to lose her mother.

Then I saw Him.

The image we commonly recognize as Jesus appeared in the sky. The image did not move, shift, or change. He simply remained there, the same.

Then another image appeared: the familiar representation of the devil, with horns. But unlike the first image, this face would not remain the same. It began transforming into the faces of different people—people I did not recognize. One face became another and then another, changing faster than I could even process what I was seeing.

I told no one.

Later that same year, God spoke to me audibly:

I needed to take my son to church. Otherwise, he would not know Him.

So I obeyed.

My son was only two years old, and I did not try to explain any of this to him. We were broke back then, but I took that little boy to the mall and bought him some Italian leather shoes, along with a few dress shirts, pants, and ties.

Listen—if God Himself was asking for my son, whom I had already dedicated to Him, I figured the timing of the thing must be important.

So I moved with precision.

Still, I told no one about the vision or the voice.

At the time, I had no language for what was happening to me. No one around me preached about ordinary people having visions, dreams, or prophetic experiences. Those things seemed to belong only to the people we read about in the Bible.

I needed understanding, but I did not yet know where to look for it.

So there we were: a single Black woman and her little boy, visiting church after church.

No one ever really asked who we were.

None of those places stuck. None felt like home.

I was also in school, busy trying to build a life and preparing to go straight to work after graduation. Eventually, my son grew older. By his teenage years, he had become uninterested in church. Meanwhile, I became consumed with work, responsibility, survival, and searching the world for something I did not yet realize I already possessed:

Love.

Years passed.

Then came more spiritual experiences. More moments I could not easily explain. More pieces of a story I had not yet learned how to read.

And eventually, things became Seer Clear.

I remembered.

God had spoken to me years before.

He had already begun revealing something to me long before I understood what I was seeing, hearing, or becoming.

Whew.

I am so glad I listened.

Sometimes God gives us something long before we have the language, maturity, or understanding to comprehend it. Sometimes He tucks a thing away and allows us to live for a while before bringing us back to it.

And years later, God called me again.

This time, I could recognize the Voice.

He reminded me of what had been there all along—of all that He was, all that He is, and all that is yet to come.

SEER Q