A New Direction

It's been a crazy past few days, which is the reason I haven't blogged much. I have to admit though, I didn't really wanna post over my "masterpiece" (I call it that not to brag but simply to point out how important it is to me.) I wanna be able to see it all the time as a reminder of how far I've come and how far I have yet to go. But hey, I guess that's what copy, paste, and Microsoft Word are for :)

Anyway, I think I want to take my blog in a new direction...at least for the next few weeks. Who knows, maybe permanently. We shall see. But I am going to start reading and re-reading three books by Leslie Vernick titled How to Find Selfless Joy in a Me First World, How to Act Right When Your Spouse Acts Wrong, and How to Live Right When Your Life Goes Wrong. She also has another book called Lord, I Just Want to be Happy that I intend on picking up sometime soon. If you haven't heard of Leslie Vernick I very much encourage you to pick up her books. Read along with me! She is a fabulous author and her books are so clear cut and not muddled down with a bunch of fluff. Extremely convicting too. There are a bunch of other books I'd like to read in the next few weeks that I am pretty excited about as well!

As for my new blog direction, I'd like to take each chapter and take the time to actually press it into my heart and make some real and solid changes in my life. So often I find that when I am reading Christian self-help books, I get boggled down with so many ideas and things I would like to change that I let my ideas slip away to make room for the new ones. So I intend on writing about the ideas and thoughts that I recieve in each chapter and hopefully it will serve as an encouragement to you as well as a reminder to me on what direction I would like to go in. I would also like to compare what I read about to my life a few years ago as well as my life today. How interesting that will be! I want to clearly highlight what I was struggling with as a teenager in a Biblical light and then see how it has affected me today. All that to say, this should be an interesting journey!

And that's not to say that I won't blog in between chapters about little things I have going on, but my main focus for the next few weeks will be what I am learning in those books. And who knows, maybe these posts will serve as the notes I will use to someday write my book :)

I hope you will stick with me and find encouragement in Leslie Vernick's books! I know I will!

Until next time....

Oh wait, would you like to meet my family real quick?

My son Richie (aka boo) and I. He is 22 1/2 months.

Is he not just the cutest?

My son Matthew who is 5 1/2 months. I LOVE his cheeks!

My husband Richard and Matthew. I have better pictures of Richie, but I adore this picture.

As a side note...does anyone else find it annoying to upload pictures to blogger or am I missing something?

My Story: The Aftermath

Well, let me just start off by saying how cleansing that was. I honestly feel like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. Last night I literally felt like I got fresh air into my lungs. It was awesome. I haven't felt this excited in a long time!

Last night I asked my Pastor if he had me all figured out from the start. I wanted to know if he could name all the reasons for why I did what I did back in the day.
Was it all because I didn't have a strong father figure?
And he said that was one reason...
"Another would be resentment towards your mom. Another would be pride. Another would be rebellion. Another would be no walk with God. Another would be a desire to be loved at any cost. Another would be immaturity. Another would be not listening to wise counsel. Another would be dishonesty."

And that made me so happy!
Because now I can look at that list and see that it is true when two years ago I would have looked at it and denied it at every turn. My list would have looked a lot like this...
It's because no one listens to me. It's because my mom is mean to me. It's because everyone thinks they have me all figured out when they have no idea. It's because I'm ugly. It's because no one really cares about me.

Does anyone else notice a recurring theme in all that? ME ME ME!

Mrs. B always used to tell me how selfish I was, and I would think...."What a mean thing to say to me, this poor suffering soul, oh woe is me..."
Well I didn't think that exactly, but I might as well!

Anyway, I never sat down and wrote this all out before and called everything what it was and what it wasn't. Although it dawned on me before that I had issues (lol) I don't think I ever sat down and told myself exactly what all my issues were and recognized the true reasons for all that I had done in the past. And let me tell you, it feels awesome growing up and finally seeing the truth.

And all that leads me too my main point. Because if you got nothing else from my story, than I hope you take away at least one of these points.

1. Please realize how important a father is in their daughter's life. Whether you are one or married to one. Because I'm not exactly sure where my life would be right now if I had had a strong father figure, but I don't really think I would be where I am today. Or I wouldn't have gotten here the same way that I did. And don't get me wrong, I'm not blaming all my trials on my dad in any way. I love my dad tons and I know that he loves me too. But if I had had him there in my pre-teen years, telling me I was beautiful and that he loved me, well...a lot of things would be different. And I probably wouldn't have as many self esteem issues as I do. There is nothing like a father to a young girl. If he makes her feel like a princess, then she won't waste time on anything less than a prince as she grows up. And that is so important. So very, very important.
It reminds me of all the times I told my dad to "carry me like a princess" down the stairs or to my room. It made me feel special :)

2. I wish this on no one, but please also realize how important a mother is to their daughter...especially if she becomes pregnant. And again I blame no one for what I have done! My choices were my choices. I just think that I needed my mom to be there for me in my time of need more than I needed her to punish me. I hope this is coming out right. My mom had EVERY right to be angry. She had EVERY right to punish me and put restrictions on me. I needed that. But what I needed more than anything, was for her to wrap her arms around me and just love on me. And tell me that everything would be ok. And that we would get through this together. Looking back, I know I gave her such a hard time. And I know I wanted her to suffer because I was suffering. But who knows what a difference a hug would have made? Because even though I don't think it would have changed my life so drastically that I would have fallen to my knees and begged for forgiveness...I do think it would have helped me see that light a little bit sooner.
And like I said before, my mom has become one of my best friends :) Our relationship is better now than it has been in years. I still think we have a lot of learning and growing to do, but we are doing it together. And together is better!

All that to say, please just be there for your daughters. For your sons too! Just listen to what they have to say above anything else. Be a parent to them. Show them Christ's love through your life. Be a parent first and friend second. But still be their friend. Because talking to them and recognizing when they are hurting is the first step to helping them heal. Don't just chalk it all up to regular teenage angst. You never know what a difference you will make by just hearing them out.

3. Lastly and most importantly, PLEASE realize how important the Lord is in your life. Now rather than later. Not just for saving you, not just for hearing your prayers or helping to fix your problems (although those things are important!), but as your strength and your foundation. Because I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that my life would be 100% different if I had just let the Lord run the show from the first day I sat down and heard my Pastor's counsel. And let me just say that I LOVE my boys. Love them. Tremendously. And I so very much love my husband. I love him tons and tons. And although I'm sure most of you will understand that I don't necessarily regret having my sons or meeting my husband..I do wish that it could have taken place at a different time or in a different way so that we wouldn't have to deal with all the consequences of sin that have been such a huge part of our lives. God was always there waiting for me to realize that my strength was no where near enough. And I wish I had listened to Him when He told me that I was still special and I was still loved. Even when I felt like the most unloved creature in the world. Seriously, just let God love you. Let Him love you. There is no feeling like it in this whole world. Nothing compares.

So I guess that's that. I could write forever about all the stuff that I have learned and all the ways I have changed this past year. All the ways I see things differently. Like my Pastors family. I recently paid them a visit and instead of feeling almost "chosen" that I am the one that gets to come over their house, I now feel humbled and I honored that I got to watch their family grow and learn so much from them. A lot of how I want to parent comes from watching them with their kids. And what a gift that has been!

Thanks for reading. Thanks for listening to me vent.
I really think this process, as fast and furious as it was, has helped to melt the last traces of ice around my heart.

And it feels wonderful.

My Story: Part 4

I guess I just have to get this out. This is going to be the last part, so it's pretty long.

When I found out I was pregnant, I thought my life was over. I had always wanted a large family and I had always wanted to start young, but I NEVER thought in a million years this was how it would start. I was terrified. When I found out, I called Richie and cried and cried. A friend of mine brought me up to his house so we could talk face to face. He held me while I cried and we told each other that we would get through this. We had no idea how, but we were gonna get through this.

I had no idea how I was gonna break the news to my mom, but it turns out I didn't have too. I was staying at my Pastor's house for the weekend and while I was babysitting their kids, I went online to look up the results of a few pregnancy tests. Because I was still in shock and needed the affirmation. When Mrs. B got home, she saw the websites I had been on and asked me about them. I tried to lie at first, and say that I had been looking it up for a friend...but she saw right through me. And there it was. My secret was exposed to the family I had always tried hardest to impress.

After church the next day, we broke the news to my mother. And I laughed at her as she cried. Because my heart was so callous, and I only cared about myself and how I was feeling. I was pregnant by the guy I had supposedly stopped seeing three months ago. And I didn't care how this made her feel. I only cared about me.

And of course, after that, everything changed. It became next to impossible to see Richie, although we tried our hardest. Richie ended up leaving BC, and I wanted so much to follow him. I had giving up on pleasing my pastor and his family. I still wanted them to love me, but I was so caught up in my own heartache and rebellion that I thought it was no longer worth my time. They would never be able to forgive me for this. And I didn't care. I just wanted to be with Richie and get away from all of them and pretend that it was all a bad dream.

My mom and I never fought so much in all the years of us being at each others throats. I felt so ostracized. I felt so hated. I felt like no one in my family even wanted to look at me. She took away all of my privileges. She took away my books. She even took my door off the hinges. I hated her for it. I was a rebellious, pregnant, teenage girl who wanted someone to love her. And I hated myself. And felt like the only person who would love me was Richie. He fought to see me, he kept calling, he kept telling me that he loved me. It's all I wanted to hear. But I really wanted to hear that from my mom. I was terrified and alone and needed my mother. And I had never felt so far from her in all my life.

When I had called my father and told him the news, he was shocked, but was accepting. I immediately begged him to let me move back in. But it wasn't that easy. My mother would never give me up that easily. Would never just let me have what I wanted. So I kept fighting with her. Kept telling her how much I hated her. Kept sinking into a deeper hole of depression and loneliness. I was scared for my baby. I was scared that my relationship with Richie would never last. That he would become so sick of all the drama going on that he would just leave. I needed him, or I would become just another statistic. My fear came out as anger, and I lashed out all the time. The cops were called on numerous occasions. I kept complaining to my teachers at school. I knew my mom was going down every legal route she could to get either Richie or I into trouble, and there was no way I could let her win.

Eventually, a social worker got involved through the school, and finally pressured my mom into letting me move back in with my father. I was ecstatic. Not only was I away from my mom, but I was able to see Richie again without having to sneak around. This was it! My life was complete! I was happy! I rarely thought about church even though my heart ached every time I thought about my Pastor and his family. But I knew I would move on. Richie and I would have this baby and start our own lives...and it didn't need to have anyone else in it.

But reality sunk in fast. Me and Richie wanted to behave like a married couple, so that's what we got. Married couple behavior. And it hit us like a ton of bricks. Honeymoon time was over...let reality sink in. We would argue over stupid things. We got on each others nerves all the time. We had adult problems to worry about now. The fun times were over. And I went through a period of time when I wondered if I really loved this man...or if I was just staying with him because I was having his baby. And it terrified me, because what I wanted most was to prove everyone wrong who thought we wouldn't last. And I wanted them to see how perfect our lives were and laugh in their faces. I couldn't become just another teenage mom. The thought killed me.

We fought viciously sometimes. We swore it was over. Then we would make up. Then it would start all over again. Peace and then war, peace and then war. I was so scared that this was the life I was going to bring my baby up in. I felt like a failure. I even fought with my Pastor. I attacked him every time he tried to reach out to me. I wanted him to just leave me alone and let me handle myself. Because even though I kept failing, I swore that I could make it through the tough times on my strength alone. The only thing that I did right, was call my mother and try and reach out to her so that she could be apart of me and my child's life. Because even though she had caused me so much pain, I couldn't let my baby grow up without his grandmother. Life went on like this for a while, and then my senior year started. Richie and I were learning how to deal with each other, but we were far from perfect. And had a long way to go. We even fought the night before my son was scheduled to be induced. But on January 3rd, my precious baby boy was brought into this world, and my life hasn't been the same since.

We named him Richard, and I loved him so much. I loved him from the moment I first felt him kick. And I felt some of the ice break off my heart the moment I saw his face. He was so beautiful and so perfect. And I thanked God for giving me this precious gift regardless of the circumstances that led to his birth, and regardless of the mistakes I had made in my past. I wanted to raise him to love the Lord and have the strong walk with God that I never had. I wanted everything in my life to change the moment I held him.

And so part of my healing began.

I am again so thankful for my high school, that worked with me all throughout my pregnancy and made it easy for me to stay on track so I could graduate on time. It was tough juggling school and being a mom, but I did it, because I loved my son. I even decided to nurse him and would spend my lunch period in the nurses office pumping bottles for him. Everything was working out. I was on good terms with both my parents. My relationship with Richie was still a little rocky, but we were getting better all the time. We loved our son so much, and wanted a better life for him. We wanted to get our lives back on track. We still wanted so much to follow God.

But the major thing that was tripping us up, the one things that was truly hindering our attempts at getting closer to the Lord, was sex. Because we kept doing it. Even though it had OBVIOUSLY brought us so much pain and heartache in the past, we ignored all that. Because we were still stupid, and still foolish. And during this time I even met with my Pastor and his wife to make up with them and apologize for all the trouble and heartache I had caused. And I sat at their table and lied in their faces telling them that me and Richie were no longer doing those things we used to. And that we were going to wait until marriage. And my sin again was taking me farther from the Lord. Farther and farther still.

In September of that year, when I was 18 years old with an 8 month old baby, I moved into Richie's sisters house. He was living there while his previous home was fixed up after a house fire. I was thrilled to finally be living together as a family and happy to finally be an "adult" and not have to answer to anyone. But I soon learned once again that you can't run from God. You can't hide your sins. I hated living with his sister. His grandparents were also living at her house and the three separate households blended into one was not a good combination. We had three separate views on life. We had three separate agendas. We were always arguing about dishes and housecleaning. It was miserable. I hated watching Richie leave for work knowing that I would be stuck at home all day with the fighting and the lies. It took a toll on our relationship. We were both miserable people trying to raise a son we loved to be better people than we were. And then it happened. The thing I dreaded more than anything...I was pregnant again.

Oh I cannot describe to you the misery I felt! It was true that I no longer had to deal with parents and church and school...but how was I going to bring another little baby into this world with a nine month old baby sitting at home already? And I was so unhappy? I didn't know how I was going to make it, I really didn't. And the tension in the house kept growing. And things kept getting worse. And one day, the tension broke out. And Richie's sister and I got into a huge fight. And we yelled and screamed at each other and she hit me. Square in the face. And as I was sitting there with tears streaming down my face, hurling curses at her, I realized something. It took me a little while before I could sit down and let it dawn on me, because after that I moved into my aunts for a month until Richie's house was fixed. But it was something that truly began the final process of healing in my life and in my heart.

Here I am, 18 years old, I have a boyfriend and a baby with another one on the way. And this is my life. I screamed and yelled like a trashy, filthy human being at a woman I currently hate, for circumstances that I have the power to change, and this is my life. I keep running from God and by doing so I am telling Him that He is not strong enough to help me through my problems. I am telling Him that He is not able to turn my life around. Only I can do that. But I haven't done that yet. I keep waiting for it and it hasn't happened. And yet here God is, standing in the sidelines, waiting for me to realize how much I need Him. And He has been crying with me and grieving with me this whole time. And I ignored Him. Because I wanted to prove that I could make it. I wanted to tell this world that never loved me or made me feel special that I was worth something. That I was worth loving. When God knew that all along. And had been trying to tell me that from the start. And I sat there and thought about the huge fool that I had been. The years of my life that I had wasted. The roads that I could have avoided. The life that I could have had. And I cried and I cried and I cried. And I told God that I wanted Him. I told Him that I knew He was strong enough and good enough and purely ENOUGH to heal me.

And my life hasn't been the same ever since.

I'm going to write a post tomorrow sometime (or I guess today sometime) about all the changes in my life and the things I have learned, but this is the basic overview.

My relationships with my family have never been better. My mother is one of my best friends. My dad supports me in everything I do. I love them both to pieces. I am still close with my Pastor and his family. I still run to them if I have a problem I need help working out. And they still put up with me :) And I love them for that too. Richie and I have recently gotten married. We had our second son a little over 5 months ago. We still argue from time to time...but what married couple doesn't?! I even made up with his sister, whom I see and chat with at least once a week.

And don't get me wrong... it has been a year since I sat down and had that Ah-ha! moment, but my life was not something that you could just flip a switch and heal overnight. It had taken years for me to dig the giant hole that I had buried myself in. And it will take years to dig myself out. But I am a work in progress. I am getting better everyday. My relationships have all changed for the better. I am trying to raise my sons to love the Lord. I am still dealing with a lot of the circumstances that stem from the choices that Richie and I have made in our past, but I know the Lord will see us through. Our walk with God is stronger than it's ever been, even though we still have so far to go. But that is something to be truly thankful for.

I still struggle with a lot of self esteem issues from time to time. I still seek love and attention on occasions when I don't need to. I still look at myself some days and think
"Really, how could anyone truly love me?"
And then I remember Psalm 139:14
"I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvellous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well."
And when God says I am fearfully and wonderfully made....I believe Him.

My Story: Part 3

Sorry, I guess I'm on a roll.

Richie had been a member of BC for...I'll say three years. And even though I knew who he was, I can't say that I had ever talked to him much. He drove the church bus and he occasionally picked up my brother and other young teenagers to hang out at his house and lift weights from time to time. I did think he was cute though, and I would sometimes go out of my way to get him to notice me when he would swing by to get my brother.

On the day he helped us move, my mom bought everyone pizza. So I sat and talked with Richie and everyone else while we took a break. Richie and his friend "C", another member of BC, kept cracking jokes and making me laugh. I wanted to get to know him more. So on Sunday at church, I went out of my way to talk to him. And it must have paid off, because he asked me and a friend of mine from church "T", to hang out with him and C and play mini golf the following weekend. Of course we agreed! Now Richie was almost five years older than me. I was 16. Making him 21. But my mom trusted him because he was a solid member of our church. And we were both taking friends. So no worries.

But what ended up happening was that Richie and C called me a few days before we planned to go out and wanted to cancel our plans. And I didn't really know why. So I kept talking to them, trying to figure out what exactly the problem was. And the three of us kept talking. And talking. And finally, we were off the subject of mini golf and onto other things. And it was just me and Richie talking now, because C had gotten tired of listening to the two of us and hung up. And we talked about life and things we wanted and our goals and things we liked to do. It was amazing. No guy had ever talked to me this way before. No boy had ever sat down and cared enough to listen to what I thought. We talked for 8 hours that night. 7 hours the following night. 6 hours the next. Richie decided that he really did want to go mini golfing on Saturday, and the four of us had a great time hanging out together. I was so happy! Richie and I kept talking and hanging out for a while after that. We moved into our new home around the beginning of July, and on August 15th, he more or less asked if I would be his girlfriend. And of course I said yes!

After that we were pretty much inseparable. Lots of people, including my Pastor, advised against us seeing each other, but my mom trusted him, so that was that. He would come to see me all the time. He would visit me after work and come pick me up after school. We would go to see movies and go out to eat and hang out with friends. I was loving every minute of it. Here was this nice guy, a CHRISTIAN guy, that wanted to be with me and talk to me and hang out with me. It was almost unbelievable. Too good to be true. I looked forward to his phone calls every night. I couldn't wait for him to come pick me up. I was falling for this guy fast and furiously. And I really thought he was Heaven sent. I thought God had sent him to me so that I could lean on Richie and become a great Christian. But that was the problem right there. I wanted to lean on Richie, when I needed to lean on God.

And things started out slow...we would hold hands as he was driving. We would hug before I went in the house. But after a while I wanted more. Because I was confused, and thought love meant kissing. And love meant touching. Because that was the only love that made sense to me. Oh I believed in the kind of love that left sexual intimacy for marriage, but deep down I never thought that would happen for me. I didn't think I would be able to find it. So I started taking chances. I would give Richie a quick peck on the lips or touch the outside of his leg. And we would get into arguments over it, because we both knew that it could lead to more. And that wasn't what we wanted. Or at least that's what we told each other. But it seemed like every time we would set boundaries, we would go out of our way to break them. We both feared the Lord, but neither one of us feared Him enough.

And as all this was going on, I began to realize that Richie wasn't exactly the strong Christian that I thought he was. He definitely loved God and desired to walk with Him, but we were both immature Christians struggling to get things right. We played a good part in church, but if you looked hard enough, you could see our cracks. We were young, we were stupid, and we were full of pride and arrogance. We were a dangerous combination. And we had freedom to pretty much do whatever we liked. So, so dangerous.

And on October 15th, just two months after we had first started "going out," Richie told me he loved me. And I told him I loved him too. And I did. In my own way. It wasn't the kind of love God intended. It wasn't the type of love that I would be capable of in the future, but it was the only love I could give him. And I did give it too him. I gave myself to him. On that night, Richie and I had sex for the first time. And all the while I was thinking how lucky I was, how wonderful everything was going to be...and I ignored the coldness I felt within my heart and the part of me that wanted to sit in a corner and cry.

After that, there was no stopping us. It was the first thing we did when we got together. It was the last thing we did before he took me home. Sometimes I would get friends of mine to tell my mom I was sleeping over their houses when I would be sleeping at Richie's. We couldn't keep our hands off each other. And I was loving it. I felt so special and so beautiful and so..complete. I thought this was all I needed. I thought this was what love was supposed to be. I even convinced myself that God would be ok with it once Richie and I got married. Then it would all be forgotten. We were still going to church, I was still going to my Pastor's house, I still loved his family (which had now grown to six), but none of it held the same luster as before. My life with Richie took precedence. That was all that mattered to me now.

At one point, my mom found a journal I had been keeping and read about some of the things I had been doing with Richie. She put an end to it right then and there. This was around the beginning of January. I was devastated. I felt like I couldn't breathe. But Richie and I vowed we would still see each other, so he gave me a cell phone so we could stay in contact with one another. He came to visit me while my mom was still at work. I still had friends telling my mom I was sleeping over their houses, when I would really be with him. We saw each other in church and had to pretend that we hadn't seen each other the night before. I was fighting with my mom a lot more. I was hurting because I wanted to be able to see him without being sneaky. I was so afraid of getting caught. But I couldn't stop myself. I wanted to see him more than anything. I felt like no one or nothing could stop me. I even called my dad in the midst of this and made up with him in an effort to win him over to Richie's side. I wanted him to be supportive. I wanted him to tell me that my mom was wrong and I was right.

My life was in shambles, my walk with God further than it had ever been, and that was the last thing on my mind. Richie consumed my every thought and every action. I was trying to play the part in church, mend my relationship with my father, rebel against my mothers decisions, sneak around and see Richie, go to school, deal with the guilt from all that I was doing...was it any wonder things came crashing to the ground?

And come crashing did it ever, because in April, I found out I was pregnant.

My Story: Part 2

Ok...so where were we?

Well, my mom didn't want to have much to do with me anymore. I can't say I blamed her. For over two years we had made each others lives miserable. We couldn't stand being around each other. I blamed her for everything that was wrong in my life. I welcomed change.

Although I hadn't seen my dad much as a kid, he wasn't exactly a stranger to me. I kept in contact with him from time to time and occasionally my mom would let me come down for a few days. Since I remembered him more from before my parents divorce, I fought more to see him. My brother was only one or two years old, and hardly remembered seeing him. That was another cause of family friction for me.

When I moved in with my dad, I was torn. I was so happy to be away from my mother, but my heart broke because I would no longer see my Pastor and his wonderful family. My father wasn't a Christian and even if he was, he would never take me to a church my mom attended. So I hid my pain deep inside my heart and told myself that time would heal my wounds. And I started living a different life. I reunited with a few of my friends from my childhood days. They weren't Christians, but they were simple and good and never encouraged me to do wrong. I never felt pressure around them. Life was good. I started high school. And although I wasn't exactly popular, the kids at my new school were generally nice and welcoming. I loved it. I will forever love my high school because of the difference it made in my life. I thought all kids were into drugs and alcohol and partying, and although this went on at my school I'm sure, it was much more frowned upon than anywhere else I had been. I loved it for that reason.

I didn't think about my mom much, but I often thought about church and my Pastor's family. I missed that part of my life. Sure things were alright living with my dad, but I was still empty. I still had a piece missing from my heart.

So over time, naturally friction started between my father and I. Only a little here and there..but enough to scare me. Enough to make me think the process of fighting and yelling was going to start all over again. I didn't want to be caught in the midst of more hatred and have no where to run, so one emotional evening, I called my mom. I cried and cried and cried and told her how sorry I was for everything I had ever done. How sorry I was for being such an awful daughter. I wanted to be friends. I wanted to have a good relationship. We talked for hours and wept together and when we hung up, I was happier than I had been in a long time. I had my mom back in my life. And she would love me and we would be happy. We had learned a lot from being apart and now we could begin to work on our relationship together.

Life was alright for a while after that. My mom would pick me up on Sundays to go to church. I LOVED being back in church. Walking through those doors was like a breath of fresh air. I started talking to my Pastors family again. I slowly started coming over again to babysit their kids (there were now three). Everything was kind of falling into place. I was happy. I wanted to please God. But I still hadn't given my whole heart to Him. I still thought I could make things work on my own. I still relied on my own strength. I denied the tugging in my heart. And because I did so, my life began slowly unraveling before my eyes.

Since I was hanging out with my mom more and more, I started hanging out with my old friends. I felt so accepted and cool among my friends at my fathers, but still felt so inadequate around my friends at my mothers. I still wanted desperately to impress them. So I started falling into my old habit of doing whatever they told me. And I started hanging around boys. Boys who had no interest in me as a person. And they would come around to see my other, prettier friends and naturally one of the cast off boys would pay attention to me. And I would fall all over them. I thought I they liked me because they thought I was special, when really they only wanted me because I was there. And because I was foolish.

There was a pair of boys that one of my friends met through a social site called Myspace. They wanted to come meet her, but she kept putting them off. One night, they told me they wanted to come visit me. And they would drive all the way down to my dads to see me. I thought that was the most awesome thing! They must be really cool if they are going to make the drive all the way to my fathers just to visit me! I got all dressed up and came out to meet them in their car. I'll call them B and R. I asked a friend that lived on my block to come meet them with me. I sent her off with B and I stayed and hung out with R. He started kissing me in the car. It wasn't my first kiss, but it was my most intense. I thought he really liked me. He must like me a lot if he was kissing me this way. It was the start of the most painful series of events I have ever lived through.

Naturally I wanted to hang out with B and R as much as possible. I invited one friend at a time to come hang out with us. I thought I was the coolest person in the world. I was so proud of myself. I thought R really liked me. But you know what is really funny? I stopped wanting him. Oh, I still wanted him to like me. But I wanted B more. Because he was the one I perceived as the alpha male. He was the cooler one. He was the one everyone else wanted. So even though I would still hang on R and give him kisses, deep down I was doing it to get B to notice me. And he must have. Because one weekend while I was staying at my moms he came to visit me. He didn't have a car at the time so he took two buses and came to my house just to see me! I felt so special! And I was basically home alone, because my mom and stepfather took my brother out of town for the day and left my grandfather in charge. He had fallen asleep on the couch within the first hour of coming to the house. So I snuck B up to my room. We talked for a while, we played on the computer. We were waiting for my friend to get ready so the three of us could go do something.

And we waited, alone, in my room. For a while.

And naturally, him having no value of me as a young girl and me wanting so badly to be loved and accepted, we started kissing. And one thing led to another. And I ended up giving myself to him. Completely. I was terrified and guilty the whole time, but wanted nothing more than for B to love me and think I was cool. So I did whatever he asked. And it lasted all of 5 minutes. And it was the most worthless thing I have ever done. And I hated myself. But I had done it. And there was no taking it back. I was 15.

And when it was all over, he called R and left. And I didn't see either one of them again. We talked for a little bit after that, but they kept avoiding me and eventually I realized they didn't want to see me anymore. So I left them alone. And my heart broke.

And after that I felt so worthless, so undesirable, so disgusting, that I just let my life get out of control. I started fighting with my dad more and more. I stopped caring what my Pastor said in church. I started hanging out with a group of boys on my street. One night I stole alcohol from my fathers stash in the basement and got me and a friend of mine drunk. And I let those boys take advantage of us. They didn't have sex with us, but they did touch us. And I was sober enough to know they were doing it and I didn't try and stop them. Because I didn't really care. This is what I thought life had to offer me, so I let life have its way.

And once again I blamed anyone and everyone for how much I hated my life. Most of it went to my father. We fought and fought so much that I called my mom and told her to come pick me up and take me back to live with her. And she did. She took me back to my house with all my old friends and I thought that I had left all my hatred and heartache behind with my father.

But I hated my new school and I hated the way my old friends seemed to ignore me because I didn't really have a desire to be like them anymore. I didn't have a desire to do anything. I just went to school and hated life and came home and hated life some more. I was miserable.

I just kind of floated through life for a while. I still went to church and hung out with my Pastors family. I still loved them and wished they were mine. I still had a lot of pain in my heart. But I managed. But as luck would have it (so to speak) my mom ended up separating from my stepfather for a while and moved back down to my fathers area. I was so excited. I would be able to go to my old school with my old friends again. And I would be happy. I thought that is what would make me happy. Living with my mom and being able to go to my old high school was the perfect combination. I could still go to church and still see my Pastors family. That was all I would need.

And when we moved, my mom asked a few members of the church if they would come help us. And that is when I really started noticing Richie...

My Story: Part 1

Just as a little disclaimer, I'm probably going to be writing this fast and furiously and I'm not really going to try and be an "author" about it. I'm writing this as a way to vent and also to share my testimony. So please excuse my writing if it becomes poor and all over the place. And I may purposely be a little vague to protect the identities of a few people involved.

Gosh it sounds like a murder mystery or something doesn't it?

Well, I guess it all started when I was 12 years old. My parents divorced when I was six and my brother (who would have been 8 at the time) and I lived with our mom in a little apartment not far from my fathers. Even though we lived close to my dad, I can't remember seeing him much as a kid. To this day, I'm not entirely sure why that was. My parents still blame each other for that. Either my dad didn't want to see us that much, or my mom wouldn't let us go. The jury's still out on that one.

Eventually my mom met and married my stepfather, and we moved to his house. It all happened very fast. I can remember meeting him once, and then my next memory is them getting married and us packing and moving. It was only a half hour away from our old house, but it felt like another world away. There was a Catholic church down the street, and although my mom was raised Catholic, we weren't the faithful kind and only went on holidays and to the occasional Sunday school.

I'll leave my mom's testimony for her to share some day, but when I was 12 she was saved and we began to look for a new church. We found a Baptist church not far from our home and that was where it all started. As a 12 year old girl who was not used to going to church, this was all very new to me. The church we were going to was nice, and they believed in salvation, but they didn't preach it from the pulpit. Never had an alter call. They were very luke warm in their convictions. And to be honest, a bit snotty. They were nice to your face, but you could tell they spoke about you behind your back. They were the kind of Christians that thought they were better than everyone else. The kind that rubbed you the wrong way. And in the midst of all that, I was saved. Yep, just like that. And I can't even remember the date. The greatest day of my life and the beginning of my walk with Christ and it passed without notice. Because in that church, although they believed in salvation, it wasn't celebrated like it is in other church's. They were happy for you of course, but they didn't announce it to the congregation. No one praised the Lord. At least not openly. So I know I was saved at 12 years old, but it wasn't very special to me. At least not then.

Eventually my mom realized that the church we were going to was not for us, and we began searching for a new one. A series of (kinda funny) events led us to a church I will refer to as BC. Boy was that ever different! The people here were excited and on fire for the Lord. They sang His praises, they threw up their hands to worship Him. The preacher spit fire from the pulpit. And he was fun! He was the most awesome guy I had ever met! He was a follower of Jesus and had FUN doing it! It was unbelievable to me! He was like a big kid with a heart after Jesus and I wanted so much what he had. From the pulpit I learned about conviction, I learned about how much Jesus sacrificed for me when He died in my place. I was excited to go to church. This finally felt real to me. But somehow, as ashamed as I am to say it, it wasn't enough.

My mom changed so quickly. She started making new rules and taking away privileges. She started making me copy verses out of the Bible. She wouldn't let me do the same things I used to do with my friends. As a pre-teen, this was simply not acceptable to me. We fought all the time. ALL THE TIME. I was dealing with a low self esteem stemming from years of watching beautiful people on TV and struggling with weight. And from not having a strong father figure in my life. I wanted to be accepted by my friends. I wanted to start high school in a few years and be popular. I loved my friends more than I loved Jesus. It's horrid but it's true. We went to church Sunday morning, Sunday night, and Wednesday night. And even though I was excited for Jesus in front of my fellow church members, I could turn around and talk filthy with my friends. I would come home and tell them how glad I was that it was over and how my mom forced me to go.

And what's funny is, none of this made me popular. I had friends yes, and we had a lot of fun together but I was never the prettiest, funniest, coolest girl in school. I did the whole lying, two faced act and it didn't make me feel better about myself. I desperately wanted to be a good Christian and be involved in God's work but I had given my heart to the world. I wanted the world to look upon me and deem me acceptable and I ignored the tug at my heart and the voice in my head saying "I love you and have always accepted you. I am right here waiting for you. I always have been." God was telling me that all I ever wanted was waiting in His arms. And I denied Him again and again.

And my mom and I kept fighting. We would get physical. I told her I hated her, she would tell me she hated me too. She was a baby Christian and so was I, but I had no desire to give into the conviction I was feeling and turn from my rebellious ways. I would write evil things on the walls in black marker, just to scare her. But I was scaring myself. I was sinking into a depression of my own making. Because I wanted attention. I wanted someone to validate me. I wanted someone to whisk me away from all my troubles and tell me I was beautiful and I that I was loved. I hated myself. I cut my arms. Not enough to cause real damage, because all I wanted was attention. I wanted someone to feel sorry for me. I wanted someone to tell my mom she was wrong for trying to limit me and she was wrong for the mean and hurtful things she did. I was right and she was wrong.

Eventually the fighting got to be too much, and that's when my mom decided to ask the Pastor of BC for family counseling. She was afraid of me, and afraid for my brother. I don't even think my stepfather was a true Christian at this point, or if he was he didn't have a very strong walk with God. We met with the Pastor for a while after mid-week service. He listened to me and helped me deal with my thoughts and emotions. I loved talking to him. I actually couldn't wait for service to end so that his attention would be on me. This awesome preacher with a strong walk with God would listen to me and joke with me and tell me that everything would be ok if I would just give my heart over completely to Jesus. If I would truly walk with Him. And I wanted to listen to him, I really did. I knew he was right and I wanted so very much for him to be proud of me, to think I was a good Christian. But that was the problem, I was so desperate for his love and acceptance I again denied God and placed my value and my self esteem in my Pastor. Because I thought he would be like a father to me. And that made me feel special. I felt almost chosen. So now my heart was split between my friends and pleasing my Pastor, and almost none of it was truly given to God.

I'm not sure exactly how it came about, but my Pastor's wife, who I will call Mrs. B, started asking me to come over their house once in a while. Sometimes to babysit their two kids or sometimes to just simply hang out. I fell in love with their family. I wished so badly that it was mine. Even though I knew no family was perfect, their family was what I pictured as close to perfect as you could get. When I was there I could be the Christian that I so wanted to be and I knew no one would judge me for it. In fact, that would make them proud! It was a win win! As I grew closer to their family, I naturally grew closer to the Lord. I still had so far to go, but I was doing better. And I gave my Pastor's family all the credit. I was talking to the Lord more and trying a little harder to please Him, but I still gave my heart and my value to people instead of to Him.

My mom and I were still at odds and everyone saw that the counseling could only do so much. I would promise to do better and I would for a little while but eventually the vicious cycle we were on would start anew. I still had such a low self-worth and looked for validation in all the wrong places. I loved my pastor and his family, but I still loved my friends. I would do awful things with them. We shoplifted. We tried smoking. We even experimented with drugs once. I wanted so badly to be cool that I would try anything. I would follow them anywhere. I would do whatever they told me. I took no stand. I rarely said no. I felt guilty for letting my Pastor down. I felt guilty for being such a failure as a Christian.

As I grew closer to my Pastor's family however, I kind of grew farther from my mother. Not because they encouraged that in any way, but simply because I saw this perfect family and was angry at my mom for not giving it to me. If only I had been raised a Christian. If only they had been my parents. If only I could just stay here forever. And I was staying there more and more. Sometimes for a a week at a time. Sometimes I would get in a fight with my mom and she would let me go over there and skip school so she wouldn't have to deal with me. And I loved that. There was nothing I loved more than spending time with their family.

But one night, everything fell apart. My mom and I were at each others throats. I couldn't stand it anymore. I went upstairs to my room and found the knife I had hidden in my closet and tore my arms to shreds. My mom called the police on me. They took me to the hospital. My mom left me there...and told my father to come pick me up.

--

I think that's enough for one night.

Stay tuned...

So I have a really long and complicated story to tell.

It's very long and very complicated.

And I was debating about what I should do with it. Because I don't know if it's a good story or a bad one. Or if it's even worth telling.

I thought numerous times about writing a book, but I don't know how many people will find it encouraging or discouraging. I don't know how many people will read the first chapter and be so filled with revulsion and false judgements that they'll declare me the worst Christian in the world and tear my book to shreds. I just don't know.

And really, I don't care what people think, I just don't want to cause friction. Or dishonor the Lord in any way.

But what does God want me to do with this story? To be honest, I don't really know that either. I would like to think that He wants me to share it, if only so that my mistakes may be made an example of and so that I can bring glory to God through a few of my triumphs. I still have a lot to pray about and a lot to think over. A lot of falling to my knees and asking for wisdom. A lot of that for sure.

And really, my story isn't even over. I have so very far to go. And hopefully the best has yet to come. And the worst is over. Hopefully that is true, but you never know. God knows, so that is why I have to trust in Him and know that He knows best.

Anyway, I decided that since I don't have a million readers out there, maybe now would be a good time to share my story. Maybe the followers I do have and the ones who read through Facebook are my first audience so to speak. Maybe this is the time to open up and speak out. Maybe I can alter someone's life for the better through my story. Maybe I can stop someone from making a wrong choice. Maybe I can help give someone hope.

Maybe you'll finish reading my story and say "That's it? That's all? That was nothing special."

I don't know. God does. But I don't know.

It will take me a long time to get out. I'll have to post it in parts or else I probably won't have another blog post for a few months until I had enough time to sit and get it all out.

But there you are, I have a story to tell. 100% honest and 100% mine. God was not at the center of all of it, as He should have been. But he was always there. Watching and waiting, sometimes grieving, other times celebrating. He has been very patient with me and much too gracious. And always forgiving. Always dusting me off and lifting me back up again.

God, may my story bring you honor and glory first and foremost. May your light shine through me through the telling of it. May my heart be open and my words be wise so that my story may help a soul, and heal the final wounds on my heart.

Stay tuned.

Just a little Rantin' and Ravin'...

UGHH. UGHH X 5000.

I am having a bad day. A really stinky day. I cannot tell you how many things have gone wrong today. Do you have an hour? Or two? Three maybe? That is how long it would take me to spill my guts about how UGHH today has been. And it ain't even over. Did I say UGHH? Cause UGHH!

Isn't it funny though how I wrote my "positive thinking" post only two days ago and already I am being challenged? Huh. Funny how that stuff ends up working out.

I have not given up or given in to hysterics or anything, I am just simply venting in a way. Cause one ho hum day I will look back on this and say to my self "At least you aren't having a day like THAT one! Remember how UGHH that was?!"

I wanna keep blogger as a journal for me in that way, just to see how I am growing and changing as time goes on. Hopefully growing and changing I should say. Here's to no steps backwards! Woo hoo!

You ever have one of those days where even the tiniest little thing your child does makes you wanna slam your head through some drywall? Cause that's kinda how I'm feeling today. And I feel bad, because Little Richie (my 22 mo old) isn't really doing anything that bad that should make me want to do such things. But he kept playing this song on one of his toys over and over and it made me wanna hypervenilate. It's just one of those days.

And Matthew! MATTHEW! I love you my son, I love you tons and tons, but today your little five month old self is too much for me. All the incessant crying for no apparent reason must stop my love. Or mommy will crawl into a fetal position and cry with you. Just sayin'.

Anywho, I know all of this isn't very encouraging, which is discouraging to me because I had wanted to post something encouraging but I am too discouraged to try. I hope that makes sense. Maybe later things will turn around, but right now I think I have to talk to God and ask for help on my heart and mind so I can calm myelf down enough to attack the mess that is quickly taking over my home. Sigh. Big sigh.

But I do have to say again that I find it so funny when God challenges us to not only talk the talk but walk the walk so to speak. After my post from the other day, He is truely challenging me to be thankful in all things. Obviously I am not doing that good of a job today, but I am trying Lord! Thanks for not giving up on me!

Thank you Father!

Lately I've been trying to stress manners to my 22 month old son. Mostly his please and thanks yous. For a one year old, I'd venture to say he's pretty darn polite. He definitely knows that please is the magic word when he wants something, and sometimes he'll even top of a "please mama!" with a kiss on the cheek. What a kid I tell ya. It's the thank you's that have been the hardest part, mostly because once he has what he wants, he's no longer interested in any directions I've been giving him.

Well I don't know what happened, but over the past two weeks, this kid has been saying "Dank-ooo mama!" (translated "Thank you mama!") for just about everything. And I mean EVERYTHING. He says thank you when I bring him food or get him his cup, but he'll also say it when I take care of his brother and do the laundry. (isn't that nice?!) I even got a thank you after I disciplined him for spilling his yogurt this afternoon. If only it would stay that way! The point is, he says thank you for every little thing I do. And although it is nice to be appreciated, some of the things I'm doing don't seem to warrant a thank you. Like when I change his brothers diaper. I do that all day everyday and its what I should be doing because I am his mother. I don't necessarily need to hear thank you every time. Or when I put him to bed at night. Normally one would expect to hear a "Goodnight mama!" (or if your children are anything like mine, crying and whining) instead of a thank you. But to each his own I guess :)

The point is, I've been thinking a lot lately about how nice it must be to be so thankful for everything, even the things you wouldn't normally think to give thanks for. Right now my son thinks everything is a gift and although I don't expect it to last through to his teenage years, (sigh) I do find I have a smile on my face every time he gives one of his enthusiastic "Dank-ooo!'s."

It made me think a lot about the Lord, and how often I fail to thank Him for the things that aren't as "obviously" worth giving thanks. It's always easy to thank God when things are going right, but how often are we thankful when things are going wrong? I don't know how many of your brains work like mine, but I always try to look at bad situations and put them in a tunnel so to speak. A tunnel that's kinda like a car wash. (Have I lost you yet? :] ) This tunnel can be long or short, but all through out it I am being washed and pruned and molded. So even though the situation may stink, I know that it is for a purpose. And that God is allowing it to happen so I may come out sparkling and new. Now that may not be true for every single bad thing that happens to you, but that brings me to my next point.

Ever running late for an appointment, throw your kids in the car, slide into the front seat, shove the key in the ignition, and the car won't start? THE CAR WILL NOT START. Drives me insane. I'm sure that or something similar has happened to each and every one of us. What could God possibly be teaching me at this very moment, unless its the proper technique on hair pulling in a crisis situation? There may be no real lesson to learn here, but did you ever drive by an accident that just happened a few seconds before? Did you ever think that could have been you? What if God kept your car from starting to save your life? I try and always keep that in mind when things through out the day aren't going exactly as I planned. And I am not claiming to be perfect! In no way does the thought "Thank you Jesus for saving my life!" cross through my mind when my stinkin' car won't start in the morning. But I'm trying to make train my thoughts so that it may.

All that brings me back to my central point, being thankful. If God has provided you with a home, healthy kids, an awesome church, those are all things to be thankful for. But so are leaky faucets and unexpected bills. (Now I've really lost ya haven't I!) Why be thankful for that? Who knows, maybe that leaky faucet will give you an opportunity to witness Christ's love to a lost plumber and that bill may keep you from making a purchase that could end up costing you more than you think. You just never know. And this may not be true for everything; I'm not telling you to fall to your knees praising the Lord as your house is burning down...but who knows where your life will be a year later because of that? I like to call it positive thinking :)


Anyway, I would just like to throw this out as a challenge to any readers I may have and to myself to always be thankful, no matter what life throws our way. If I am a follower of God, and I trust that He has my best interests at heart, than all my comings and goings aren't without His watchful eye. And I should take comfort in that. Next time an unexpected situation arises, I want my prayers to be "Lord, I don't know what exactly You have in store for me here, but I trust You. Thank You for whatever may come my way because of this situation." It will take a lot of work to think that way! But it's something to strive for.

And next time my son says "Dank-ooo mama!" it can give me an extra dose of comfort to know that the Lord may feel as I do at that moment when I thank Him for the small stuff...happy to have a thankful child that thinks every little thing is a gift.

Editing

So since I'm going to try and make blogger a more permanent part of my life, I'm going to attempt to make it a nicer and prettier place to be. This may take a while because I am in no way a design wiz and I have no intention of paying anyone to do it for me. So bear with me, because it will probably take a while!

Anyway, since I am in the "editing" mood, I thought I would discuss a few other areas in my life I am trying to clean up as well.

I am trying to re-adjust the Fenon family schedule around here. My husband works second shift and doesn't usually get home until at least one AM. Sometimes he won't come home until three or four if he works a few hours of overtime. And I hate falling asleep without knowing he's home safe. My worry for him mixed with my natural habit of being a night owl = disaster. For my sleep schedule at least. I can stay up until two or three and not even let it phase me. At least not until morning. Did I mention I am not a morning person? Cause I'm not. At all. Not in the slightest. And I have two kids under two my friend. Not a good combination. I have gotten into the nasty habit of putting my kids to bed later and later so that they will sleep longer in the morning for my husband and I, and I feel so guilty. You know you have a problem when you and your 22 month old are up til almost 3 Am watching a Disney movie. (Although to be fair, he was asleep but woke up when Daddy came home, so I let him cuddle for a little.) Anyway point is, I am letting my horrid sleeping habits master me and my family. And I am hoping to change this as quickly as possible!

Also, I shudder to think of all the nasty things my family is eating in an effort to be more economical. We are in the process of saving up for a house, and my husband just recently got a new job and we are still trying to get in the swing of things. I would very much like to study the pros and cons of eating organically. I know it is healthier for you and has less pesticides and all that, but I haven't read up on it enough to make the switch just yet. I've heard from a surprising amount of people though that some of the products labeled "organic" aren't really any better for you at all. You just pay more for them. So we shall see what we happens in the end. Once we get our own house, wouldn't it be wonderful to start a garden?

The Lord has also been laying a lot of things on my heart lately about the company I keep and the things I let influence my heart and mind. I'll save the details for a later post, but I am thinking of making some pretty serious changes in the coming weeks. I have a not-so-small problem with control and always having to be in it, so hopefully I can learn the easy way about letting the Lord take the lead and humbly following after Him. I'm a work in progress. Did I mention that either?

Anyway, I know this blogging thing is sort of new for me, so I hope those of you who are following or those of you who read this from time to time kindly give me some growing room. I have a lot of things I want to share in the next few weeks and I hope you will stick with me and maybe even help me sort it out! I am being open and honest in the hopes that you will not judge me, but rather maybe share some tips so that I can get myself on the right track. The Lord is doing a mighty work in me, and that will hopefully continue for as long as I live. I don't ever want God to stop molding and shaping me to be more like Him. So like I said stick with me! I have much editing left to do!