Chapter 1

The Lil’ Boy from Waco

“Embrace who you are and where you’re from. This is what makes your existence and purpose here on earth unique.” - S1

I was born on August 3, 1976 at Hillcrest Baptist Medical Hospital, in the small, idyllic city of Waco, TX. It’s quite impossible to foresee from infancy what this unpredictable journey called life would bring about, and from childhood, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Whether I would fall victim to a single-parent household, an absentee father, or a mother addicted to drugs or practicing prostitution — maybe given away to foster care or initiated into a gang in my teen years. Well, by the grace of God, I can thankfully say that my life did not turn out in any of those ways.

I had a fantastic childhood. No, I didn’t grow up in a rich or wealthy family, and my sister and I weren’t born with a silver spoon in our mouths. I still faced the ordinary and mundane experiences of life, but in hindsight, I always say that I had one of the best childhoods that a child could ever want.

Born into a two-parent household to Charolette and Larry Darnell Griffin Sr., my parents were my guardian angels. I witnessed them sacrifice and dedicate their own lives to give my sister (Schondra) and I, not only life, but also value and substance to it as well. They disciplined us when we did wrong, yet rewarded us when we did good. In the midst of that, the importance of keeping God first in our lives and being polite and respectful to elders was not only taught to us, but exemplified for us as well. Our parents even educated us on how to be thankful for the small things that God had blessed us with, because somewhere, there existed many that were less fortunate than we were.

I witnessed my dad become such a hard worker and observed how he excelled in everything he sought out to do. Whether in his career, financially, spiritually, or even in his personal life, he constantly progressed. He took our family from living in low-income apartments to middle -class suburban housing, just from his sheer desire of wanting to have more and do better. He would continually progress to the highest levels of his job in management because of his drive and determination. Spiritually, I saw him evolve from a man just perfunctorily attending church to personally building a close relationship with God. Not only did I observe him study and teach the word, he lived it by example.

As a husband, he protected and loved my mother in the same way that God loves his children and the church. I was once told that life’s choices determine your destiny and fate. Well, his life decisions were based on his love for all of us and not just himself.

My mom is an amazing woman as well. She took care of our family and made sure our home was in order, all while she worked as a full-time Account Manager. I observed her compassion and how she encouraged my dad daily. She believed in him, and her actions supported that. She also cared for my sister and I like no other. She nurtured us, cooked, cleaned, and in the process, she made sure that we stayed on top of our chores and daily tasks. Back then I hated those duties, however, now I’m so grateful that she instilled those essential values of hard work and responsibility inside of us.

My mom is also a strong-willed and determined woman. During a temporary phase when we only had one vehicle for our family at the time, she walked miles to pick us up from daycare in bad weather, holding me in one arm and my sister’s hand with the other. As a mama’s boy, I’ve always adored my mom and her enduring love for my family and me.

My sister, Schondra, is my oldest and only sibling. We are two years apart in age, and I learned a lot from being her younger brother. She has a huge sense of humor but also a brave spirit, and she was my protector growing up. I recall as a young child in school, getting picked on by older kids, and she would always come to my rescue. It didn’t matter how big or old they were; she would stand up to them if they were doing wrong by us. My sister wasn’t scared of anyone.

One particular time on the bus in 5th grade (she was in 7th), a high school student (much older and bigger than us), would not let me sit down in an empty seat next to him. My sister came over to him and said, “Move over and let my brother sit down in that seat!” The boy looked up at her, then ignored her. She grabbed his arm and pulled him up and said, “Larry Jr., sit down now please!” I sat down in my seat then she pushed the boy back down in his chair. I remember thinking to myself, I wish I had my sister’s courage and bravery. However, another part of me was just immensely proud to have a fearless and bold sibling.

As a family, we would actively attend church every Sunday. Whether it was usher board meeting, choir rehearsal, or bible study, we would be in attendance for most. Our home was a peaceful and calm environment. Eating dinner together every evening was a requirement, and that taught us how to interact and enjoy each other’s company. My parents were very involved in our lives. I could always count on seeing them in the bleachers at my little league games or in the stands at basketball games. Something as small as their attendance was such a massive thing in my eyes. It meant everything to me.

No summer passed without my parents taking us on a family vacation somewhere. Whether Galveston, Six Flags, or even a road trip to Los Angeles, they would make sure that we saw a different part of the country every year. Those were great and fond memories that stayed with me throughout my lifetime.

Not only were my parents supportive, but I also had awesome grandparents as well. My dad’s parents, Cora B. and the late John B. Griffin (Big Mama and Big Daddy), their house was our heaven away from home. My Big Daddy would pick my sister and me up every weekend in his loud Ford truck. A fifteen-minute trip would turn into an hour due to his slow, below-the-speed-limit driving. He was sweet and mild-mannered, and I’d never seen my Big Daddy get mad or angry. His energy was always positive and of love, similar to me. My Big Mama was a sweet soul as well. She would bake us cookies, cakes, and take us grocery shopping to buy all the sweets we wanted. Some of my cousins (Joe, Chris, Sonja, Latricia) lived directly across the street, so I would spend most of my time playing in the backyard or streets with them.

My mom’s mother, the late Dorothy Moriels aka Dotty Mama, was firm but funny, serious but full of wisdom as well. As a child, I would be fearful of her firm character and aura, but as I grew up, I realized how much of a sweet and godly spirit she possessed. She knew everyone and they all knew her. Her presence was greatly felt while here on earth.

My church family at Zion Hill Baptist Church, where the late Rev. Carl L. Buhl Sr. officiated as our pastor, played a big part in my foundation and upbringing as well. Here, I learned the importance of God in my life, the virtue of being humble, and, considering it was a small, family-oriented atmosphere, I also learned the value of community and family. These principles were displayed and instilled even more by the elders, deacons, Sunday school teachers, musicians, associate ministers, and also the other members of our church home.

When I was seven years old, my parents moved us to the outskirts of Waco to a small city called Robinson. We moved from our first smaller house to a bigger one in a nicer area, and supposedly a better school district. Robinson was a more conducive and focused environment with regard to our education compared to my previous school; however, it was a predominantly white community, and was where we were first introduced to “Racism.” We were called “n*gger” on the bus and ridiculed in the hallways at times for having a different hair texture and skin color. This opened up a new real-world perspective for me.

Although we dealt with racism from a few naive individuals, overall, there were more good people around us than bad. Russell Muchow was one of those good guys whom I became best friends with in elementary. I would often go over to his house for sleepovers and we would ride four-wheelers and drive our R/C cars all day. Having a genuine friendship with him and many others showed me that you can’t put everyone in the same category. Ignorance will always be ignorance, regardless of race, gender, or nationality.

Being introduced to racism was not the only factor I had to deal with in my adolescent years, but also some of my own personal insecurities. My dark skin complexion and acne were two of my biggest hurdles. I remember shooting around in the gym one day and I overheard someone say, “Look at that big bump on his face. He’s ugly.’’ As much as I really didn’t care about what others said or thought about me, it still hurt to hear it. Although these hurtful moments led to some sadness and isolation at times, it also gave me a hunger to become greater and prove others wrong.

Sports was another roadblock for me back in junior high. Most of my close friends were very athletic and skilled, resulting in them making the A-teams (in football and basketball). My inability to perform physically at a high level led to me making the B-team. The summer before ninth grade, I made a commitment to myself that I would...