02/18/2026
The past 48 hours have been especially challenging balancing work, children, and the many demands of life. Last night, my heart grew heavier as I learned of the passing of someone deeply dear to me, a man who had known me since birth and who never stopped encouraging me, even when I was headed in the wrong direction.
As a teenager and young adult, I often think back to the days my cousin Solomon and I would spend hanging around the Sheriff’s Office, just to go see Mr. Womack. He wasn’t just a preacher or a magistrate, he was a father figure to so many. He would correct you, encourage you, and make the hard decisions necessary to keep you out of a body bag or a jail cell. His love was firm, his guidance intentional, and his impact undeniable.
Even after his retirement, I continued to call him “Magistrate.” I reminded him often that I would always address him by his title, because it was a position anchored not just in service, but in his anointing. When I first heard the news, I prayed it wasn’t true. Just a few weeks ago, as he was returning home from a doctor’s appointment, I was able to speak to him briefly, and for that moment, I thank God.
Mr. Womack, thank you from the bottom of my heart for everything you poured into my life and into this community. I love you, Magistrate. This is a different kind of hurt.
Yet, even in grief, I hold on to the promise of God’s Word: “Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth…” (Revelation 21:1). I find comfort knowing that this goodbye is not the end, but a transition into eternal peace.
Rest well, and thanks for the company 🥹💔
