Anointed Steps: The Untold Story Behind TLC Nurse Life
Today, people—TODAY—we delve into the vast world of faith, spirituality, and how it all ties into nursing and The TLC Nurse Life.
You see, The TLC Nurse Life movement started long before I could even form a single word. Some may think TLC is just a catchy name for a business focused on health and wellness (which it absolutely is). Others believe it stands for my family name—The Lowery Company—and yes, it encompasses that too. But to truly understand what TLC represents, you have to take a trip back in time.
So… LET’S GO.
A Story Begins – May 1982
In May of 1982, a young woman named Delores and her future husband, Eugene, welcomed their first child. They named him Anthony.
Anthony was born prematurely at just seven months. He was so tiny he could fit into a shoe—A SHOE! When Delores went into labor, she didn’t even know it was happening. She had to be rushed from Central Florida to Jacksonville by ambulance to deliver. Because of Anthony's early arrival, Delores was forced to leave her newborn in Jacksonville and travel back and forth—nearly four hours each way—to visit him.
He was so small that the nurses had to place an IV in his forehead to give him fluids. (Maybe that’s why my head is so big today?)
But it didn’t stop there.
Not long after his birth, doctors came to Delores with more hard news: “Ma’am, there’s something wrong with your son’s feet. We’re going to have to break them and let them grow back while he’s still young. Otherwise, he will never walk.”
Heartbroken, my mother went to her own mother, my grandmother—Annie Pearl—and sobbed. She told her what the doctors had said. But Annie Pearl responded firmly: “They’re not breaking his feet. He’s going to be able to walk.”
She took baby Anthony in her arms, anointed his feet with olive oil, and prayed. And let me tell you something: to this day, I’ve never had a single procedure done on my feet. I walk just fine—and I wear a size 14 shoe.
First Encounter
When I was still a baby, my parents owned what folks back then called a “juke joint.” (You younger readers might know it as a club.) My parents weren’t particularly churchgoers at the time, but my mother still insisted I go. Every Sunday, she’d send me with my aunt while she and my dad ran the club.
Even at a young age, I felt different.
I remember standing in church at the age of five or six, explaining Bible stories to grown folks. I was always drawn to older people—I admired their wisdom, their stories. I wanted to know what that something was inside them that seemed almost tangible. At the time, I didn’t know I was on a path to discovering it for myself.
There’s something else about my childhood—my mother would never let us go swimming, not even with family. At the time, we thought she was just being overprotective. But years later, I understood why.
Before my father, my mother had been engaged to another man. One day, she and her fiancé went swimming at a lake with some friends. When it was time to leave, they couldn’t find him. At first, she thought he was joking—he had a playful spirit. But tragically, he had gotten his leg caught in something under the water and drowned. She never saw him again.
So when it came to her own children, my mother was terrified of water. We weren’t allowed near it.
Side Note:
Kids, talk to your parents. You may feel like they’re hard on you for no reason, but trust—there’s often a story behind it. You’ll never know unless you ask.
And parents, don’t bottle everything up. You don’t have to spill all the tea—but a little sweet tea… or lemonade? That might help your child understand you better.
A Life-Altering Moment
One day—after years of begging—my mom finally let me go to the YMCA with my 4th grade class. It was the best day ever… until it wasn’t.
I jumped into the pool, not knowing how to swim—and went straight into the deep end. I sank to the bottom.
And it was there, at the bottom of that public pool, that I met Him for the first time.
I remember looking up, seeing a bright, brilliant light—and then… a hand. A hand reached down and pulled me out of the water.
Next thing I knew, I was lying on the side of the pool. No one else was around. No lifeguard. No teacher. No classmates. Just me.
I didn’t fully understand it at the time, but I ran over to the other side of the pool to rejoin my class, not saying a word.
Stay Tuned…
There’s more to this journey—more miracles, more meaning, more TLC Nurse Life—than can fit into a single post.
Stay tuned for Part Two.