Written: 12/7/11
Background Information:
Since the day I was born, my life wasn’t ideal. When I was born, it was an attempt for my parents to save their marriage. Sadly, I couldn’t be what they needed. So at the age of one, my parents split up. My older brother and I stayed with my mom, and my dad moved out. Right after my dad moved out, my mom became addicted to heroine and crack. After a couple months of living with my drug addict of a mother, my dad fought and won custody of us. So my brother and I moved in with my dad, and when I was 3 my now stepmother moved in. Luckily for me, I was so little I remember nothing that happened. My stepmother was only 18 at the time, and my dad was 28. When my stepmother was 20, she had my brother Travis. Since the day Travis was born, my stepmother hated me. She would tell me she hated little girls, and she would abuse my physically and mentally. When my father would see this abuse happening, he would stop it, but other times my father would be the one abusing me. This continues from the time I was 6 until I was about 14.
My freshman year of high school was really the last time I can recall my father hitting me. When I was a freshman we were evicted from the house I had lived in my whole life, and I was forced to move to a new town and go to a new school. I hated my life. I made no friends at my new school, I missed my old house, and my parents weren’t helping.
The last time my father ever struck me was one morning I had over slept for school, and I had a mandatory test at school, and if I didn’t get a ride within 10 minutes I would be late. My mother refused to drive me and it was snowing and there was no way I was going to make it. So while her and me were arguing, my father who was sleeping came running in my room, and just started throwing me around. I had been wearing my favorite sweatshirt that morning, and when he threw me and I fell, my sweatshirt ripped to the point where I couldn’t wear it anymore. That was the last time he ever laid hands on me, and I still have that sweatshirt because I can’t bring myself to throw it out.
When God Grabs Me:
By my senior year of high school I had only made 2 friends, one of which had just graduated. I was barely ever going to school. I was actually considering getting home schooled my senior year because I just hated school so much. But on the second day of school, I met a boy in my gym class. We became friends pretty quick and after a couple days of knowing each other, he invited me to church where his father was the pastor. I decided there was no reason why I shouldn’t go, and I did.
The first Sunday that I went to church, it was a very new environment for me. I pretty much had no idea what was going on around me, but I felt a sense of comfort. Everyone was friendly to me, and I decided to come back. I began coming to church every Sunday.
About a month after I started coming to church, my parents got in a big fight. They were always fighting, but never like this. Then, one Saturday, my father came home from work, kissed the kids and said he was going to deposit his check. Next thing I know, my mother (step mom) gets a call saying that my father tried to commit suicide. When I heard all of this, I ran downstairs in my basement and just sobbed and sobbed. Luckily, they stopped my father before he could go through with anything, but that was the final straw to my parent’s marriage. My dad went and stayed with his sister, and I stayed at home with my mom and 2 younger brothers.
The day after all of this happened, luckily was a Sunday. That was the first time I ever really made a connection with God. I didn’t know anyone in the church well enough to tell them what had happened the day before, but I remember sitting in church just saying please God, protect my father and heal this situation. I was so scared, but God got me through it. He definitely brought comfort into my life. Looking back on it now, I know that God brought me to that church at the perfect timing. He knew what was going to happen, and He had His hand on me.
My father and I didn’t talk for months. I was scared to talk to him. It wasn’t until Christmas Eve of that year, that my mother forced me to see him. I spent the day with him and my brothers, and that night he attended my church’s Christmas Ever service. Ever since then, he has attended church every week. I would like to say that he has been made new by Christ, but I’m not 100% sure that he’s truly living his life for God still, but I shouldn’t judge him. I should just be glad that he’s attending church and be thankful to God for calling my dad.
After graduating high school, I couldn’t afford to go to college. Since I didn’t go to college, I was living with my mom (step mom) and working up the street from where I live. My mom had gotten a new boyfriend March of my senior year, and by September of the next year, he had moved in. This caused my mom and I to fight like we never have before. So eventually, by November, she had told me I had to move out. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but God blessed me with a new family. My friend from church, Becky, her family was more than happy to take me in. The funny thing is, before any of this happened, Becky and her mom were talking and her mom said, I feel like God’s telling me to take in an older child. Someone who is like 18 and needs to get off their feet, preferably a girl. So little did any of us know, God was telling her about me. So when I told Becky that I had been kicked out, her family took me in, gave me a room and made me feel at home. God has just been so awesome to me.
Living with Becky’s family definitely helped me grow with the Lord. They were supportive of me, and it was so easy. So the longer I lived with them, the more healing God brought to my life. My life still wasn’t perfect, but who’s is?
Now we’re going to fast forward to July/August of 2011. I had become kind of depressed, and I was beginning to doubt God. I had just been very sad about something for so long, and I wasn’t feeling relief from God, so I was becoming more depressed and acting dumb. Well, on July 12th, a friend of mine asked me if I wanted to get high and I said sure. So that night, I slept at my mom’s house and we went and smoked pot. Athough I didn’t like it, I enjoyed hanging out with my friend, so I went along with it. I then continued to smoke pot multiple times after this. Since I had not lost complete faith in God, every night that I would get high I would pray for conviction. But since my conviction had still not come, my friend and I experimented with alcohol, cigarettes, and sexual sin. I didn’t like any of these things, but I liked my friend and wanted more time with that person. But finally, towards the end of August, God sent my conviction. Becky found out everything I had been doing. She found out who I had been doing these things with, and she was broken hearted. I had broken the girl who was supposed to be my best friend. So although everything was out of control and I was angry and hurt and sad and scared, God convicted me. I have not touched any of those things since then, and I never will.
God really had his hand on me through all of that stuff because addiction is in my blood. Both my biological parents struggle/struggled with addiction, and my older brother is an alcoholic. So for me to not have tried those things and been hooked is definitely God protecting me. Also, through this conviction, God is healing my sadness of what I was sad about before I did the drugs.
So although when you’re going through the things, it’s hard to see God moving, but it’s amazing what you see He’s done when it’s all over and done with. So here I am now, 19 years old, clean of drugs, following Christ whole-heartedly, hopefully attending Valley Forge Christian College in the fall, and continuing being transformed by the love of Christ. God is so good, and my goal for this coming year is to truly wake up every morning and die for Christ because He died for me.
So that’s everything :P. I hope that my testimony blessed you, and I pray that God does big things in your life.
