When we concluded Part One I had skipped ahead to giving my life to the Lord. Well, lets back track to when I left home. As I stated before, within two weeks of my leaving my father died. It was the most staggering blow to me. He had made the choice to drink, and he paid for it with his life.
I want to concentrate on forgiveness, or lack thereof. When I left home my family did the, “It you leave you can never comeback” thing.” I honored that. We spoke by phone, and from time to time I saw them, but for the most part I did not. Even when I thought I was making an effort to forgive I kept running into their words.
I was the child who had parents that were self-centered, but my extended family made me think it was normal. It has taken years to come to terms with the abnormality, and heartless behavior.
I tell you this because forgiveness should never a door you choose to live behind. We all made mistakes because the ego is a complicated thing. Ego destroyed my family because no one was willing to admit they were wrong.
I do believe that God kept me from my family for a season, because they were doing a lot of harm. My mother would call the girl’s home on a weekly basis and threaten to beat me up. It stopped when one of the counselors heard it.
I was 18 the last time I saw my mother. In that time I had gotten my GED one year before I would have graduated from high school. I was sent by Job Corps to college. On my vacation my mother showed up at the center. She proceeded to tell me that I had suffered all the abuse because I talked too much. I put her on the first train that came.
When I met Christ within weeks of this event I prayed a simple prayer. I told God if He wanted her in my life fine, if not keep her away from me. He has chosen the later. I have spoken to her a few times, but nothing really.
She continued going in and out of jail, running away, and having the FBI showing up looking for her.
I tell you this because I believe that sometimes God’s answer is clear. He is a father and has your heart in mind. He loves you more than you will ever be able to comprehend. He has replaced with my family with people who love me, encourage me, pray for me, etc. They may not be flesh and blood, but I say what God joins together can be far stronger.
So, what is your story? Where has God brought you from? I really want to know. There is deliverance in the words our testimony and the Blood of the Lamb.
This is my story (Part One)
Born in 1965, I was given away at 5 days old. My parents were unique to say the least. My mother had started a life of crime 3 years previous to my birth, which sent her to prison my entire childhood for varying lengths. My father was an alcoholic, though back then he would have just been considered a drunk.
At 5 days old I was sent to live with my mother’s cousin. It was here that a trail of abuse began. I was sat on a stove, burned with lamps, and irons. The state removed me and sent me to girls home. One snowy day they got tired of me talking, so they kicked me out. I was four years old. I had these red rubber boots on. I just traveled down the road not knowing any better. That day my father and his girlfriend showed up. This was clearly the first of miracles for me. They saved my life that day, something that I have only come to understand.
Things started out fine at my new home, but my father’s girlfriend was given to fits of anger. The last night my father was there she smashed him in the head with a hammer. It would be over a year before I saw him again.
The day that changed my life was when I was seven and it was the day before my birthday. I answered a phone call where a woman identified herself as my mother. I had always thought my father’s girlfriend was my mother. No one had ever told me differently. She showed up the next day in a yellow cab with lots of packages. I don’t know why, but we did not get along. In the ensuing weeks she received visitation rights. These visits did not go well. She wanted to be a parent, so she thought hitting me was how to do that. Every time she saw me she was hitting me. The first time was because I had left a ring in the tub. I began to make excuses not to see her, but then she pulled the ultimate and won custody of me.
Life at my father’s girlfriend had gone downhill. For about a year I was molested by her current boyfriend and a female she had chosen to raise. One week before my mother won custody Rose tried to drown me.
I didn’t live with my mother, but went to live with my father’s brother and wife. Her family refused me without a promise of payment.
Rose, my father’s old girlfriend, thought the best way to get back at my mother was to not let me have any of my things. She kept them all. Within five days my mother was back in prison. She would be gone for over five years. Then when she would be about finished with some requirement she would runaway and not be seen for years.
Then the day came when I had finally had enough of people hitting me. I ran away from home. Some things followed, but ultimately I was removed on July 29, 1980 to a girl’s home. Two weeks later my father died. I had come to know him during my time at his brothers. This was a huge blow, one that I did not take well. My family blamed me for his death, but the reality was that his drinking killed him.
At 5 days old I was sent to live with my mother’s cousin. It was here that a trail of abuse began. I was sat on a stove, burned with lamps, and irons. The state removed me and sent me to girls home. One snowy day they got tired of me talking, so they kicked me out. I was four years old. I had these red rubber boots on. I just traveled down the road not knowing any better. That day my father and his girlfriend showed up. This was clearly the first of miracles for me. They saved my life that day, something that I have only come to understand.
Things started out fine at my new home, but my father’s girlfriend was given to fits of anger. The last night my father was there she smashed him in the head with a hammer. It would be over a year before I saw him again.
The day that changed my life was when I was seven and it was the day before my birthday. I answered a phone call where a woman identified herself as my mother. I had always thought my father’s girlfriend was my mother. No one had ever told me differently. She showed up the next day in a yellow cab with lots of packages. I don’t know why, but we did not get along. In the ensuing weeks she received visitation rights. These visits did not go well. She wanted to be a parent, so she thought hitting me was how to do that. Every time she saw me she was hitting me. The first time was because I had left a ring in the tub. I began to make excuses not to see her, but then she pulled the ultimate and won custody of me.
Life at my father’s girlfriend had gone downhill. For about a year I was molested by her current boyfriend and a female she had chosen to raise. One week before my mother won custody Rose tried to drown me.
I didn’t live with my mother, but went to live with my father’s brother and wife. Her family refused me without a promise of payment.
Rose, my father’s old girlfriend, thought the best way to get back at my mother was to not let me have any of my things. She kept them all. Within five days my mother was back in prison. She would be gone for over five years. Then when she would be about finished with some requirement she would runaway and not be seen for years.
Then the day came when I had finally had enough of people hitting me. I ran away from home. Some things followed, but ultimately I was removed on July 29, 1980 to a girl’s home. Two weeks later my father died. I had come to know him during my time at his brothers. This was a huge blow, one that I did not take well. My family blamed me for his death, but the reality was that his drinking killed him.
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