Timika: Wrestling with Death and Life
by Sr. Donna Liette, c.pp.s.
This November, Cornelius German—better
known as “Cornbread”—would have turned 21, but
on April 22, 2013 he was gunned down by a 21-year-
old seeking revenge. The gunman later revealed to
authorities that he didn’t kill his intended target. take her to the hospital. The hospital had called and
told her that Ron had suffered a major stroke. As
she sat by his bedside weeping, she still looked for
hope, but there was none. “I have to let go again”, she
whispered, “and let God be God.”
That spring
evening, as
Timika and her
husband neared
President
Obama’s
Secret Service
protected house,
they heard, “A
little kid got
shot,” and as
Timika tells it,
“Everything in
me, my whole
soul and body,
Cornelius German’s shoes
knew it was
Cornbread.” She ran to the site and fell to the ground.
“Yes, my baby…gym shoes and jacket…yes, my baby…
dead!” Later, witnesses told her that his last words
were, “Call my mama!” And she wept. On the way home, I realized how privileged I
was to witness such love, strength, and acceptance
of God’s plans. Timika is an inspiration to me and
others; she does not run away from tragedy but
holds her brokenness and lets it do its
work: transformation.
As she stood there for three hours while police
searched the scene, she told of her wrestling
with death, with God. Reflecting over her life,
she suddenly felt a lifting of her heaviness as if
Cornbread was taking her pain, her past, with him.
Her life changed in this darkest of moments; she
seemed to feel a resurrection, a real God moment.
Three weeks later she was baptized at her church
and she has not looked back, despite the ongoing
challenges of life.
A year after Cornbread was killed, Timika’s sister
died. Sometime later, her older son was incarcerated
and then her husband Ron struggled for over a year
with health issues. Timika did not allow this struggle
to disrupt her faithfulness to her new way of living.
She continued going to work each day and then to
the hospital to be with her husband. On Tuesday,
October 9, 2014 Timika called, asking if I could
Timika is very active in our Mothers programs,
especially our monthly healing circles. No matter
what she is going through, she can lift the pain of
the mother who has just lost a child or have all the
mothers doubled over with laughter as she pulls her
wig off and shouts, “Halleluiah for wigs!”
The Mission Statement of the Sisters of the
Precious Blood includes the phrase, “Be a life-
giving presence in a broken world.” Every day I
pray that I can be that for our mothers traumatized
by the world around them—fearing for the life of
their children, struggling with bills, searching for
affordable housing, or just needing a bus pass to get
to work. They tell of how these killings are dividing
their families as they grieve their losses; they come to
pbmr for healing, for peace.
pbmr is a home for so many—a place to feel
safe, to feel love and acceptance, a place to call
when trauma strikes home. pbmr gives each of us
opportunities to witness the Paschal Mystery of
dying and rising. As Timika so often says, “It took
my Cornbread’s death to bring me to life, for I was
so lost—and in ways, so dead—but Cornbread’s
resurrection gave me resurrection.”
As we reflect on Timika’s story, all of us will
continue to wrestle with God and with death and life,
but let us stand strong, let go, and let God be God.
November 2018 • The New Wine Press • 13