I was born one of eight siblings in a poverty stricken family. My father was a hard worker with a bad temper. He worked but squandered his money, and often times neglected to provide even the bare essentials. We were not sent to school but kept at home and not educated there either. We lived very secluded. My dad beat my mom and us kids as far back as I can remember. My mother understandably stayed depressed and withdrawn.
At one point my whole head was a matted helmet of tangles. Just completely stuck to my head. My siblings and I dug in dumpsters, and were called mean names by neighborhood kids. I was often sad about my mom and angry at my dad. By the time I was a preteen, I was headed down a road sure to end in my destruction.
One night while at a family member’s house, I overdosed and attempted to just fall asleep forever. I took a bottle of pills and drank a bottle of prescription cough syrup that made you sleepy. A sibling found me on the floor, and I was taken to the hospital and my stomach pumped. I spent time in two mental hospitals and ran away from home. I was eventually removed from the home and placed in a group home for kids. I lost every person I had ever known.
This made me feel like I was even more worthless. I was beyond angry. I had no desire to live because I had already learned life was way too difficult. What really complicated matters was that my father was a very religious man. He could quote the Bible front and back. This made me angry with God. I was very angry and decided God must hate me to allow these things to happen to me and my mom and siblings. I thought that all men who claimed to be Christians dominated and beat their wives. Then I decided that there was no God at all.
I carried a lot of pain around and soon discovered the only escape from it was sin… In my early 20s I married a man who shared many qualities of my father. I was married a short time, then divorced him.
I lived in sin from that point on. I continued self medicating through my 20s and into my 30s… No matter what I tried, nothing made any of it make sense to me. I started truly giving up on myself. I still carried around the way that I felt all those years as a child and then as a teen feeling like I was unloved. Now it was all just covered with years of drug abuse and poor choices. I felt like the only one I could count on was myself, and I was worthless. I felt hopeless and like there was no point in living. I lived in a tent and went through a deep depression. I do not possess words to describe how close to death I lived.
It was then that God started dealing with me. I would like to say that I submitted right away, but I ran. One day I was deeply troubled and I was crying. I cried out loud, “Why can’t I just be happy?” Then just as sure as I am typing this right now, I felt something inside of me say, “You will never be happy living this way because I did not make you to live this way.” It was not an audible voice but it was a voice. I cannot explain it, but it is still just as real to me right now as it was then. I KNEW that was God.
For the very first time in my life, I saw just how filthy my sins were. I realized how desperately I needed God and I knew that He was not at all the God I grew up thinking existed and then denied. I still did not understand Him, but I knew I needed Him. I needed Him more than I had ever need anything or anyone.
I did not know what to do. I was restless. I started trying to bargain with God. It was very hard to let go of that control. He continued dealing with me. Years ago my dad had told me that God did not hear my prayers, so I stopped praying in my teens because I had believed him. I told God that I would refrain from my sins, but I would not be a hypocrite and go to church. God had different plans for me.
A younger sister was attending a funeral for someone who had gone to her church, so I drove her there. I stood in the back of the funeral parlor and folded my arms. I looked at everyone with their long dresses and hair, and I decided they were all judging me. The devil was really fighting for my soul.
I had stood there and nearly convinced myself that this was a bad decision, when this man standing beside me moved to the side to let someone pass and he said, “excuse me sister” to me. It was as if he did not see that my hair was at best an inch long, or that I wore pants and make up. His kindness to me made me have to admit he had something I wanted. He had God’s love in his heart.
It softened my spirit enough that I listened to what the preacher was saying, and he was saying some hard things, but I felt like the things he was saying were true. I went to church with my sister for a few weeks. I said, “ok I will go but I do not believe God cares what I wear, so I am wearing pants,” and I did. At the time I did not even own a skirt.
One day the preacher spoke on the chastisement of our peace. It was as if he was talking directly to me. When he gave an altar call, I could not get to the altar fast enough. It was as if something carried me there. I cried and cried, but this was not like any other time I had cried. I was pouring it all out to God. When I stood up from that altar, I was a different woman. I could not wait to get home and get pants out of my house.
I went home and got rid of everything I thought was displeasing to the Lord. I threw away a lot of things and I was so happy about it. I went back to work that Monday, and my boss asked me if I was on drugs. For the first time in a long time, I was not. He told me I had lost my edge and I looked washed up without make up on and my hair not spiked. He asked me who told me it was wrong to spike my hair, and I told him nobody told me that it was wrong, it just felt wrong to me. He laughed at me. I was happy though. I did not even care what he thought.
I left his office and prayed for him. I would sit in my vehicle on my lunch break and wait for people to come out of the store. Then I would put away their buggy, just to have an excuse to say “God bless you” to them. I wanted to tell absolutely everyone what the Lord had done for me. It made my heart hurt that people did not know God.
Three years later I have fought a lot of battles. I have won some and lost some. I learn from each one to depend on God. I used to be so angry about my upbringing but when I look back now I see the hand of God in my life all along. So many things I did not understand were the very things that brought me to where I needed to be. I have learned the exact opposite of what I was so certain was true before I met Him. I am not the only one I can count on. When I try to go it alone I mess it up, but when I lean on Him I feel a peace I have never felt before. The world has absolutely nothing for me!
There is nothing but heartache and pain out there, but in Him only I find a peace that no drug could ever produce. Every day I am amazed at His love for me, even though I am so unworthy. When I look around and see how strong so many of the spirits I was bound by are, I know it was nothing short of His Amazing Grace that set me free. I thank the Lord for saving my soul and for revealing to me the Elijah for this age. As the song so beautifully states, “He knew me yet He loved me!”
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