About Debra
She was the child who could be surrounded by a houseful of people and still find peace in her own company
Once Upon a Beginning
Debra came into this world as the firstborn — and for a while, she had her parents all to herself. Not that it spoiled her. Her mother made absolutely sure of that. She grew up in a home that was always full. Cousins everywhere. Laughter in every corner. Food on every table. And yet, in the middle of all that beautiful noise, young Debra learned early how to be still within herself. Quiet. Thoughtful. Content. She was the child who could be surrounded by a houseful of people and still find peace in her own company — a quality that has stayed with her through every season of her life.
She was shy. Soft-spoken. A homebody who loved being home. She had few friends — and she will tell you herself, she still does. Not because she does not love people. But because Debra has always believed that depth matters more than numbers. She would rather have one true friend than a hundred acquaintances she has to perform for.
When her brother Raymond — Sosa, as the family calls him — finally came along, she was glad. The house felt complete.
The Parents Who Built Her
If you want to understand Debra, you have to understand where she came from. Her mother was a disciplinarian. Warm, generous to a fault, and overly accommodating — but she did not raise soft children. She taught Debra that your own child should be the best-behaved child in any room. She taught her independence. She taught her not to wait on anyone. She
poured into her daughter the belief that the best gift you can give your children is notmoney or things or trips — it is your presence.
Her father was the friendly one. The one she could tell anything to. He knew the name of the first boy who ever asked her out — that is how close they were. And from him she inherited something she carries like a crown: the value of honesty and integrity, no matter how inconvenient. He taught her the value of trust. The importance of showing up. The understanding that family is not a background detail — it is the whole story.
Debra had present parents. Deeply, intentionally, beautifully present parents. And she has never stopped being grateful for that. Everything they poured into her, she has poured into her own children. The faith. The food. The full house. The presence.
She did not know how much of her mother lived inside her until her mother passed. She knows now.
The Heart She Carries
Debra will be the first to tell you — she is an emotional person. She cries for strangers. She feels the weight of other people’s pain as though it is her own. If you are not happy in her presence, she will feel it. She cannot help it. That is simply the architecture of her heart.
She is deeply compassionate. Empathetic to her core. The kind of person who would rather find a way around a hard truth than say something that causes you pain. She is diplomatic — not because she is afraid of honesty, but because she genuinely does not want to be the reason someone hurts. She does not like confrontation. She does not like drama. What she loves — what she has always loved — is peace. She will go out of her way, sacrifice her own comfort, swallow her own feelings, just to make sure the room is okay.
She is a promoter of peace. A keeper of secrets. A maker of space for other people to simply be themselves. People open up to her. Strangers. Friends. People who have just met her. They tell her things. Deep things. And every single secret is safe with her.
She is deeply compassionate. Empathetic to her core. The kind of person who would rather find a way around a hard truth than say something that causes you pain.
The Man Who Made It Easy
In 2002, Debra met her husband. She had been in a long relationship before him — one that, over time, left her feeling like she did not truly know the person she was with. So when her husband came along, she did something she had never been able to do before. She figured him out quickly. Completely. Easily. What you see is what you get. That is who he is. And for a woman who had learned to be careful with her heart, that kind of transparency was everything. She made up her mind. She chose him. And twenty-three years later, she is still choosing him. He is the most intentional man she knows. Family-oriented in a way that makes her proud every single day. Education-focused. Present. Deliberate. The kind of husband who makes a woman feel not just loved, but seen. She loves him — flaws and everything. He loves her — flaws and everything. They are doing life together, and by God’s grace, she says, they will keep right on doing it.
She is a proud wife. An enviable one, she will admit with a smile.
The Helicopter Mom, The Mommy Bear, The One With All the Food
Ask her children about their mother and they will give you two titles without hesitation: Helicopter Mom and Mommy Bear.
She is involved. Deeply, unapologetically involved. Her husband has gently reminded her, on more than one occasion, that he is not one of the children. She laughs about it. But she cannot help it — presence is the love language her mother taught her, and she has never unlearned it. In her home there is always food. Always. You literally have to run away from it. That is not an accident — that is a value. That is her mother’s house, rebuilt in a new city, in a new season, with the same spirit. When people eat around her, it gives her joy she cannot fully explain. She just loves when people are fed. When people are happy. When the table is full.
She has, according to her son, collected extended sons and daughters along the way. Young people who wandered into her orbit and simply stayed. She did not plan it. Love like hers tends to draw people in.
The Choir Girl, The Counselor, The Kingmaker
Since the age of five, Debra has been in the choir. She went to university in 1994 and joined the choir there too. She was in evangelism. She was an usher. The church has never just been a place she attended — it has been the place that formed her.
She is still in the choir today. And she will tell you plainly: that is her ministry.
But she carries another calling alongside it. Back home in Nigeria, she counseled teenage girls. She sat with them and helped them find their confidence, their identity, their sense of self. She taught them to be self-starters. Self-motivators. Women who define themselves not by the world’s standard, but by who God says they are. It was her passion then. It remains her passion now. She also sings. Not professionally — and please, do not ask her to demonstrate. But music is her sanctuary. Her reset button. Her escape. R&B is her first love — Lionel Richie, Anita Baker, Whitney Houston, George Michael, Bryan Adams. The music of the eighties, nineties, and early two thousands. She is old school and proud of it. And on the other side, worship music — the quiet, weighty, soul-settling kind. The kind that brings you to your knees. She thrives in the background. She has never wanted to be the one people notice. She calls herself a kingmaker — one of those people who makes things happen from behind the scenes, whose fingerprints are everywhere even when their name is nowhere. There is more fulfillment in that for her than any spotlight could offer. And yet — she gets noticed anyway. She believes that is simply the grace of God. She has stopped trying to fight it.
The church has never just been a place she attended — it has been the place that formed her
The Woman She Is Today
Debra is not the same girl who kept everything inside. She is not the teenager who smiled through her hurt and hoped no one noticed. She has grown. She has healed. She has chosen herself — not out of selfishness, but out of self-preservation — and she is learning what it means to be free
without guilt.
She does not compare herself to anyone. She stays in her lane. She measures her progress only against herself and finds genuine peace in wherever she is. Comparison, she believes, is the thief of joy — and she refuses to let it take a single thing from her.
She respects everyone, regardless of age or title. She does not gossip. She does not carry other people’s stories carelessly. She loves peace more than she loves being right.
She is a woman of faith, of family, of deep and abiding love. She is a firstborn, a daughter, a wife, a mother, a choir member, a counselor, a friend to the few she holds close, and a safe space for anyone who finds their way to her table.