"My God Story"

"My God Story"

God has been part of my life for as long as I can remember, I just haven’t always followed him.  My mother was a faithful servant of God.  She herself was raised in a strong Christian household full of love and trust. I remember going with my parents to church, sitting on the pew listening to my Uncle speak about Gods wrath and sinners going to hell. I remember as a child being frightened of God and that I tried making sure to stay out of trouble.

My mother was always there for me and I was her shadow. My father was another story.  My parents’ marriage wasn’t an easy one for them. This was my mother’s 2nd marriage and my father’s 3rd. They argued over everything, especially money.  I was made aware early on that I was a “mistake” by my father. My relationship with him was a constant struggle, but my mother shared with me her love for God. We often sat on our front porch talking about God. She often talked about Matthew 6:26. How if God takes care of all of the little birds, how would he not take care of us, his children? This verse would become a life raft.

Only God and three people know of my darkest secret. It was around when I was in middle school, my trust was completely broken, my father crossed a line and molested me. I almost took my life that night, but God told me my journey wasn’t over and that my mother needed me. That night the battle began, me against my father. The relationship that I wanted fell apart.

For almost all of my school years, my father and I remained at odds.  I was constantly told I was stupid, ugly, fat and called every curse word in the book. I struggled with my self-esteem and just to make friends.  I found I got along more with my friends moms, instead of other kids. I questioned everything I did and I looked for approval anywhere I could get it, especially my teachers which only made me a target for being bullied.

 I spent much of my time praying to God to give me strength.  It was God that kept me from pulling my father’s rifle on him one night and pulling the trigger. My poor mother.  I never told her what had happened because as much as she loved me, I knew she loved him more. She often told me she just wanted him to love her, as her first marriage had fallen apart. 

I also was nervous of having friends over at our home. I never knew what mood my father would be in, especially with company over.  I still remember mom doing a big birthday party and having me invite several friends. I had one friend stay the night and I barely slept. I was nervous about what would happen and stayed awake to protect my friend.  When my friends were over, I never let my father or my friends out of my sight in fears something would happen. The parties would soon stop, as I couldn’t handle the anxiety.  I struggled to keep friends and boys were something I couldn’t understand.  I often made myself look like a fool.

And then once again, around my late teens just as I started to find myself, my life took another turn. My father started acting like he was going to put things down my shirt and not in a teasing manner. I had started to thin out due to wanting to look “pretty” and he noticed.  I talked to my mother and she tried to address it, but nothing changed.  And then one evening, the police were called. My father put his hands on me in the middle of an argument. I didn’t press charges due to mother begging me not to, but that night things changed. He never threw anything else towards my mother or myself nor did he ever act or put his hands on me again, but the damage was done. I swore off men, telling myself I would be safer alone.

But this was the same time that a friend’s mom got me to join her going to church. It was a small welcoming church. I found my center. The church choir called out to me and I found myself surrounded by sisters and brothers in Christ. I found a new energy and a new passion.  I joined a bible study and discovered what a true loving and forgiving God we have. I got baptized!! I became a deacon of the church! I was on the top of the world. I shared with my mother every lesson. I recorded choir practices for her to hear.  Little did I know that God was preparing me for the next challenge.

My mother’s health had been steadily deteriorating.  And in my early 20s, I became her caregiver all while working full time and trying to go to college part time. It was soon too much, and I took a break from school, never to return.   I also tried my best to clean our home and cook, but my cooking skills lacked. My father tossed many meals on the floor or flat out refused to eat what I had tried to make. I found myself praying to God to guide me.

 I often had my friends go with me to get groceries or run errands for them.  I was trying my best, but was angry. I hadn’t asked for this. It wasn’t fair.  Even my mother during this time wanted my attention. She was scared and lonely.  She wanted to hear about my day and to sit and watch tv with her, but I had no time. There was never enough time. I was stressed past my max trying to balance it all.  I was angry at God for dealing me this hand. I was angry at my mother for not listening to doctors or taking care of herself. I was angry at my father for not taking care of his wife and making my life harder. Many tears were cried at church or in the car. Only God helped me though those years. God helped me find peace and patience during those late nights. God listened when I begged for forgiveness for the horrible things I said in frustration.  I lashed out and friendships fractured because of the stress of it all. I found myself looking for anything to end it.

I often prayed to God that I wanted a guy in my life, but often was let down when I thought there was a hopeful relationship. I had just about accepted I would never marry, but then in my late 20s, I met the love of my life. God put us both in the right place at the right time. It was truly a miracle that our paths crossed.  I found myself part of something. I found my happy. His apartment because my safe place. I cried the day he gave me a key to his apartment. The key was blue with the word home printed on it.  I still have the key.  I was soon married to the love of my life. We were married before God and family one day before our one year anniversary.  I allowed my father to walk me down the aisle, to my new life waiting.

I soon flourished in my marriage and found myself.  My relationship with God was stronger than ever. My relationship with my mother was back to mother and daughter and my relationship with my father was civil. I had told my hubby long before we were married of the secrets I carried and he promised me that I would never have to live with my father again. A promise he had made sure of.   For several years I had married bliss, with the normal ups and downs. And then as always, came another path in the sand.

My mother had been moved into a nursing home after a bad fall which brought devastating news. She had Parkinson’s. I had to watch my sweet loving mother change.  Every visit was harder than the last. First she struggled with words, then her memory.  I watched as she could no longer use her hands, then she struggled to eat or even move. She no longer knew me, no longer could talk to me. The visits took everything out of me. I came to hate going. I dreaded it knowing she wasn’t the woman that raised me. I had some hard conversations with God. I was furious with him. I remember asking why her? She was your faithful servant? If she sinned, I will pay for it.  I prayed God would give her peace.

On March 21st, 2019 God answered that prayer. She was called home, and my heart was shattered. I struggled on autopilot for days.  I still was so angry. I had only had her for 37 years and it wasn’t enough. She died days before my 38 birthday and it took everything I had to just keep going.  I found my strength once again with God and lots of love from family and friends.   Now that my sweet mother was gone, the civil relationship with my father started to crumble.  We struggled to talk to each other or even relate. Not even a year after my mother passing, I found out he has a girlfriend, moms roommate from the nursing home. That was almost the final nail in the coffin for that relationship. I have come to peace that I will never have the relationship I want with my blood father, but I have a far better one with my heavenly one. With Gods help, I gave him forgiveness but have given myself distance. I often pray for guidance and peace with the whole situation.  I often find myself looking at the birds knowing that God is in control and that brings comfort beyond words.

Written by~ Marie

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