| I was only 2 years old when my parents divorced. My father not knowing
what else to do, promptly took me to live with his mother and father in
Kentucky. You see, my mother didn't want me. For 6 years, my grandparents
gave me the only "home" I ever had. However, what happened during summer
visitations in Florida (with my parents) was a nightmare.
My parents both lived in Tampa, Florida. During the summer, starting at 4
years of age, my grandmother would put me on a plane to my parents. In
Florida, my father would pick me up and off we would go to his den of
darkness. My father's abode had pornography on the walls and in the
bathroom. At night he would molest me when he thought I was asleep.
During the day we didn't acknowledge anything had happened between us. I
was so young (I know it started before 4) that I didn't know any different.
I remember by age 6 asking my friends if there fathers visited them in bed.
They would all look at me shocked, so my shame would stop me from talking
about this.
At age 6, my father (who I now know was an alcoholic) liked to stop at the
bars and drink. So, my Father would leave me in the car and have barmaids
come out and bring me a grape soda and take me in the bushes to relieve
myself. At closing, he would amble out drunk and somehow only God knows we
made it home!
During this time, Mom was busy with her beaus. She had met the man of her
dreams and was not interested in me. I saw her on weekends sometimes, but
not a lot. I usually stayed with a neighbor or my older sister, if she was
there. My sister lived with my mother's parents.
Then 2 years later, at 8 years old, I began another transition. My mother
was pregnant and decided she wanted me to live with her. She got married
and my little brother was born.
Having a stepfather and 3 stepsisters was more then difficult for me. My
stepsisters, as well as our "new baby brother", all slept in the same room.
I had one stepsister who didn't like me or my mother. She physically and
verbally abused me whenever I was left in her care. She was 8 years older
than me. Her abuse along with the *other* abuse made me feel very
insignificant. I became an uncooperative child. It felt as though my very
soul had been taken from me.
Because of the amount of alcohol and dysfunction in our home, my stepfather
and mother had frequent violent, drunken fights. Sometimes my stepfather
would go in the closet, pull out the shotgun, and shoot up the house! God
only knows why no-one ever got hit by a stray bullet.
It is impossible to describe the total emptiness in my heart when as a
little girl I listened to them fighting. To liken it to a cold, dark, pit
with no escape, touches the surface.
To further worsen matters, a year later when I was 9, my father met a woman
who had a daughter my age, whom she willingly turned over to my father's
bed. I now had competition for the only "constant" person in my life, my
father. I didn't want anyone to take him from me.
When I was with my mother, there was a lot of verbal abuse. She also
consumed her fair share of alcohol, which worsened things. I was angry
that my mother never "protected" me. My father's house was full of
pornography everywhere for everyone to see. But at this time, she took me
there, faithfully, every weekend and left me with him. She never
questioned what kind of environment I was in.
Then, though no-one else, not my sister, not my mother, not my
grandparents, no-one picked up on an overly sexual 10 year old, except my
stepfather who took notice, and was now making nighttime visits to my bed.
All of my stepsisters had married and the only other person in the room
besides me was my infant brother. Therefore, it was safe *for him* to make
his visits.
But there was no safe place for me as a child. This continued until I was
13. I had become so rebellious, my mouth was filthy as the gutter. When
my mother would request that I do something, I would shout obscenities at
her and tell her to do it herself. I now hated this woman who didn't
protect me with every fibre of my soul. I begged my mother to spend time
with me and she never did! She didn't spend enough time with me to gain
confidence, so that I could tell her the pain I was carrying around.
Then finally, relief came. My mother had called Juvenile Hall and
fabricated a story that I was on drugs and skipping school (I was
considered incorrigible). The truth is I *never* took drugs, and I *never*
skipped school. I was on the honor roll! But no-one asked me, they just
went to my school, on my 13th birthday and the Florida State authorities
picked me up and placed me in their custody.
When I was brought in front of the Judge who heard my mother's case, I was
asked this question, "How do you feel about living with another family that
is not your own?". My response verbatim without blinking an eye was,
"Anything is better then living with these people." The last words I spoke
in front of my mother for a very long time.
Praise God, He had His hand on my life. I went into a Christian foster
home. Once settled in (that took some doing), I resisted the plan of
salvation for about a year. Then my foster parents gave me a book to read
entitled "Run Baby Run" by Nicky Cruz. In that book when Nicky asked Jesus
into his heart, I knelt on my bed and asked Jesus into my heart and to
forgive me of my sins.
Many miracles occurred in my life after my faith in Christ. Immediately,
the hate for my mother turned to love. My biological father paid for me to
go to a Christian School, where I was blessed to hear the powerful
preaching of men like John R. Rice, Lester Roloff, Jack Hyles, Jack
VanImpe, Bob Harrington, Bob Gray and others. (anyone ever heard of them?)
I attended for only 3 years at this institution, but it had a great impact
on my life.
My life verse, that I have claimed since I was 14 is Psalms 27:10,
"When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up."
P.S.
Unfortunately, I didn't remain faithful to the Lord. From age 17 to 24, I
basically left church altogether and didn't even profess to be a Christian.
I once heard a preacher say, if you aren't living like a Christian, better
to keep your mouth shut, then to be a bad testimony. Get your life right,
then declare the name of Christ. Whether right or wrong, it stuck in my
head.
|
| Last night at our Winter Revival meeting, during the invitation, my
youngest son, Clayton, grabbed me and said, "Mom, let's pray for our
family now." His small but strong arm wrapped around my shoulders and
pulled me forward to pray. He began to pray about the message he'd
just heard and then began praying for our family, specifically for his
father. I just began to weep. This 10 year old that basically is all
boy, got into a fight before church began, forgot to study his history
for a big exam today, just had me in tears weeping at his tender heart
towards the things of God.
The little children do lead us... Thank you Father for using my son to
remind how to come to You for all things.
In His Love,
Nancy
|
| I can't explain what God did in my heart this morning, but man did he
ever reach down and zap me with some real understanding. Oh you know
the kind of knowledge that you've known for a long time, like brushing
your teeth, but now you UNDERSTAND it in a real way, hey it DOES
prevent cavities. Or for the more intellectual, the discovery of the
theory of relativity. :-) But nonetheless God showed me Love this
morning, love in every trial, every hurt, every victimization, every
negative horrible thing in my life, he showed me love.
You know the verse in the Bible that says [let me go look it up, aww
found it];
Luke 7:47 Wherefore I say unto thee, Her sins, which are many, are
forgiven; for she loved much: but to whom little is forgiven, the same
loveth little.
Well, this verse became real to me. Everyone has the opportunity to
know the depth of Love through their trials and failures. Victory
encourages the heart, but a trial reveals the love of God.
I know, you all already knew this, and I KNEW it too. But today God
allowed me to understand it and just taste the compassion of Christ.
Love you guys,
Nancy
|