Well, I'm extremely nervous about this. I've never shared with so many people, and this is a very short version, but here it goes...
As I sit here quietly in the wee hours of the morning, the radio playing gently in the background, I am called upon to reflect the path my life has taken to bring me into the arms of Jesus.
Having been abused for most of my life by various people, having my mom die at a young age and having been passed from place to place and never having the love I craved, it was no wonder that I looked for it in the wrong places.
By the time I was 13, I was in with the wrong crowd, had been taken advantage of forcefully, and had been starved and beaten by the woman who took me in after my mom passed. I was placed into a youth shelter, where once again was forced to commit adult acts against my will by a staff member, who later took me into his home as a foster child. At 14, I was pregnant with my son, who I later miscarried. Then it was back to the shelter. There followed a treatment center and different foster homes then back to the shelter, where I ran away from to go live with my then boyfriend.
I became pregnat with my oldest daughter while living in the mountains is a small shack with no walls and no door, no electricity, no running water, and an open faced outhouse. I do have to say that living on the mountain was one of the funnest times of my life.
After finding out I was pregnant I returned to town and lived on the streets until I was 6 months along and was taken in by a woman who became what I thought was a good friend. 3 months after I turned 18, my oldest child was born. A healthy, beautiful baby girl. She looked like E.T.
I recieved my inheritance from my mom when I turned 18, and bought a house. I wound up marrying my high school friend when I was 4 months pregnant with his child and during the later months of my pregnancy, he refused to work to pay the mortgage and I lost my house. Still our marriage was able to stand through it. It was his mother that destroyed us.
Two years after our "I do's", I asked for divorced. We tried to remain friends, but it didn't work.
A few years later, after being homeless and living out of a car, my children and I managed to get a room in a very seedy motel that had the reputation for being a druggie hang out. I soon moved in with the maitenance man since I lost my transportation and couldn't work, therefore, couldn't pay for my room.
He had promised me that he didn't do drugs. I, stupidly, believed him. Soon I found myself drinking, smoking pot, and trying methamphetamines for the first time. After that, I was trying shooting up for the first time. It's a completely different world than normal when you exist in a drug ruled life. Everything Steve did, it was for drugs, meth. Or beer or pot, but mostly meth. Oh, and pornography.
9 months after I first tried meth, I quit using it for good. I hated the effects that it had on my body. Hallucinations being just one of the effects. I continued smoking pot and drinking. And I stayed with Steve, I had nowhere else to go. If I did, I would have been gone.
My oldest wound up being abused by a friend of Steve's who I had said couldn't spend the night because I didn't trust him. He had done it to me and I thought he would again, but Steve refused to believe me. I've found that when you have nowhere to go, you put up with things that you normally wouldn't. Well he wound up abusing my oldest.
Steve was rather abusive as well, but never physically. I was always afraid he would become physically abusive because he always threatened it. I thought I found my salvation in a friend that promised to take me and the children out of there. It turned out that he was only using me for his pleasure until his girlfriend got back into town.
When all seemed at its worst and seemed that I had nowhere to go, no one to turn to, Steve went to get a food box at a local agency. When he returned, he brought a book with him. Steve had never thought of me before this. He never got me anything unless I begged, so when he showed up with the book I was rather amazed.
"I saw this and thought of you." he said and handed it to me. I have always loved to read, but since there was a giant lack of books where we lived, Steve never knew that.
I looked at the book, read the back cover, thought it sounded interesting and began to read it. It was Left Behind and it scared the pants off of me. I began praying and about two weeks later, my oldest's only friend invited her to church. I gladly let her go, and two weeks after that, I was invited. I quit smoking pot and drinking within the next two weeks. Two weeks after I quit pot and alcohol, I had found the strenght in the Lord enough to move out from Steve and find a life on my own. Two weeks after that, I quit smoking. With the Lord's strenghth, I haven't had a drink, drag or puff since I quit. God has taken all of my cravings.
God seems to operate in two wek intervals in my life because two weeks after that, Steve found out where I was and came to me and asked me to help him off of drugs. I had just read the words of Jesus that say if a man asks for your coat, give him your shirt as well, and so I couldn't refuse him in my heart. I helped him but my church didn't approve and said that Jesus didn't say that in the context of drug users. I wound up leaving that church over it.
Steve and I found a new church together and about 3 months afterwards (6 months after I found God), he snapped in the head. I had been praying for a sign whether I was meant to be with him or not (for about 2 weeks) and I recieved it. He tried to kill me and my children.
That was when I felt the Lord's touch for the first time.
As Steve's hands wrapped around my throat, strangling me, I felt something between his hands and my skin. Something smooth and cool and soft, protecting me, making it so that I wouldn't feel Steve's grasp. There was a sense of calm and peace with it and I know that it was God's loving hands that touched me. I didn't feel any of the blows that Steve landed to my face, chest and stomach either. They were all blocked.
I never let Steve back into my life. God wanted him gone, who was I to argue?
I moved to where Steve had no idea where I was, stayed in the church that we had found, and spent an entire summer getting closer to God and my daughters as we learned to heal from the wounds that we had suffered.
Now a year and a half after that terrible event, I am still attending that church. I celebrated accepting Jesus into my heart this past November. It has been two years since he saved me. The Lord placed a wonderful man in my life last March, I have my beautiful daughters and life is very blessed. Because of what happened with Steve, I was able to get a domestice violence grant and begin college. I am studying Juvenile Corrections, hoping that maybe I can be an influence in a young person's life that I wish I had in mine.
I'm thankful every day that I found the Lord. No, I really should say, He found me!
As I sit here quietly in the wee hours of the morning, the radio playing gently in the background, I am called upon to reflect the path my life has taken to bring me into the arms of Jesus.
Having been abused for most of my life by various people, having my mom die at a young age and having been passed from place to place and never having the love I craved, it was no wonder that I looked for it in the wrong places.
By the time I was 13, I was in with the wrong crowd, had been taken advantage of forcefully, and had been starved and beaten by the woman who took me in after my mom passed. I was placed into a youth shelter, where once again was forced to commit adult acts against my will by a staff member, who later took me into his home as a foster child. At 14, I was pregnant with my son, who I later miscarried. Then it was back to the shelter. There followed a treatment center and different foster homes then back to the shelter, where I ran away from to go live with my then boyfriend.
I became pregnat with my oldest daughter while living in the mountains is a small shack with no walls and no door, no electricity, no running water, and an open faced outhouse. I do have to say that living on the mountain was one of the funnest times of my life.
After finding out I was pregnant I returned to town and lived on the streets until I was 6 months along and was taken in by a woman who became what I thought was a good friend. 3 months after I turned 18, my oldest child was born. A healthy, beautiful baby girl. She looked like E.T.
I recieved my inheritance from my mom when I turned 18, and bought a house. I wound up marrying my high school friend when I was 4 months pregnant with his child and during the later months of my pregnancy, he refused to work to pay the mortgage and I lost my house. Still our marriage was able to stand through it. It was his mother that destroyed us.
Two years after our "I do's", I asked for divorced. We tried to remain friends, but it didn't work.
A few years later, after being homeless and living out of a car, my children and I managed to get a room in a very seedy motel that had the reputation for being a druggie hang out. I soon moved in with the maitenance man since I lost my transportation and couldn't work, therefore, couldn't pay for my room.
He had promised me that he didn't do drugs. I, stupidly, believed him. Soon I found myself drinking, smoking pot, and trying methamphetamines for the first time. After that, I was trying shooting up for the first time. It's a completely different world than normal when you exist in a drug ruled life. Everything Steve did, it was for drugs, meth. Or beer or pot, but mostly meth. Oh, and pornography.
9 months after I first tried meth, I quit using it for good. I hated the effects that it had on my body. Hallucinations being just one of the effects. I continued smoking pot and drinking. And I stayed with Steve, I had nowhere else to go. If I did, I would have been gone.
My oldest wound up being abused by a friend of Steve's who I had said couldn't spend the night because I didn't trust him. He had done it to me and I thought he would again, but Steve refused to believe me. I've found that when you have nowhere to go, you put up with things that you normally wouldn't. Well he wound up abusing my oldest.
Steve was rather abusive as well, but never physically. I was always afraid he would become physically abusive because he always threatened it. I thought I found my salvation in a friend that promised to take me and the children out of there. It turned out that he was only using me for his pleasure until his girlfriend got back into town.
When all seemed at its worst and seemed that I had nowhere to go, no one to turn to, Steve went to get a food box at a local agency. When he returned, he brought a book with him. Steve had never thought of me before this. He never got me anything unless I begged, so when he showed up with the book I was rather amazed.
"I saw this and thought of you." he said and handed it to me. I have always loved to read, but since there was a giant lack of books where we lived, Steve never knew that.
I looked at the book, read the back cover, thought it sounded interesting and began to read it. It was Left Behind and it scared the pants off of me. I began praying and about two weeks later, my oldest's only friend invited her to church. I gladly let her go, and two weeks after that, I was invited. I quit smoking pot and drinking within the next two weeks. Two weeks after I quit pot and alcohol, I had found the strenght in the Lord enough to move out from Steve and find a life on my own. Two weeks after that, I quit smoking. With the Lord's strenghth, I haven't had a drink, drag or puff since I quit. God has taken all of my cravings.
God seems to operate in two wek intervals in my life because two weeks after that, Steve found out where I was and came to me and asked me to help him off of drugs. I had just read the words of Jesus that say if a man asks for your coat, give him your shirt as well, and so I couldn't refuse him in my heart. I helped him but my church didn't approve and said that Jesus didn't say that in the context of drug users. I wound up leaving that church over it.
Steve and I found a new church together and about 3 months afterwards (6 months after I found God), he snapped in the head. I had been praying for a sign whether I was meant to be with him or not (for about 2 weeks) and I recieved it. He tried to kill me and my children.
That was when I felt the Lord's touch for the first time.
As Steve's hands wrapped around my throat, strangling me, I felt something between his hands and my skin. Something smooth and cool and soft, protecting me, making it so that I wouldn't feel Steve's grasp. There was a sense of calm and peace with it and I know that it was God's loving hands that touched me. I didn't feel any of the blows that Steve landed to my face, chest and stomach either. They were all blocked.
I never let Steve back into my life. God wanted him gone, who was I to argue?
I moved to where Steve had no idea where I was, stayed in the church that we had found, and spent an entire summer getting closer to God and my daughters as we learned to heal from the wounds that we had suffered.
Now a year and a half after that terrible event, I am still attending that church. I celebrated accepting Jesus into my heart this past November. It has been two years since he saved me. The Lord placed a wonderful man in my life last March, I have my beautiful daughters and life is very blessed. Because of what happened with Steve, I was able to get a domestice violence grant and begin college. I am studying Juvenile Corrections, hoping that maybe I can be an influence in a young person's life that I wish I had in mine.
I'm thankful every day that I found the Lord. No, I really should say, He found me!
I was blessed to have read it, so thank you for sharing. I'm sure it will minister to others here.
