My testimony
I was practically born in a church baby bed. I even remember being in the nursery as a toddler. I go to church with a couple who even kept me in the nursery at Abney Street Church of God those many years ago.
I remember when I got saved. We were good little Methodists in my youth group and the local Baptists were showing a movie about the Rapture. Our minister, who had two young sons in youth group urged us not to go to the Baptist to see it.
Perhaps this was reverse psychology. At any rate all of us, including ones who seldom attended youth group made a bee line for the evening Baptist service.
I don't remember the walk down the aisle, more of a float, I do remember the euphoria, the feeling of cleanness. My friends cried in happiness and Steve Wilson - our church naughty boy - walked me home.
I didn't become perfect - far from it. I did become serious about Bible Study and prayer. Largely thanks to Carol Young, our youth leader.
This was roughly about the same time I started suffering from major depression. It has been nearly fifty years and I am still dealing with that.
When I was just barely 17, it was 17 and 19 days , I experienced a traumatic event. It stole everything from me. It stole the little bit of confidence and self esteem I had. My dream of marrying a preacher or missionary dashed. No worthy man would ever marry me after this filthy thing happened.
I began to fail. My grades at school plummeted, graduating with straight Ds. I didn't just backslide in my Christian life - I took the Big Dipper Roller Coaster - backwards.
Alcohol and self injury (we didn't know about cutting back then) became my pain relievers. I was worthless - any man who would have me would have to be good enough for me. Of course if they thought I was good enough, there must be something wrong with them, so I would end up dumping them quick enough.
Alcohol dogged me - many nights were spent on the bathroom floor, waking with a rug or tile print on my ace, a sour mouth and a headache. I struggled to quit. Once I quit for five years but the bottle and I found each other again and what a reunion! Alcohol poisoning followed by days of illness. True love or at least true anesthesia.
If you had everyone in your congregation put a list of their sins in a bucket it would not come close to my lifestyle. Combine all this with depression, then post partum depression and you have a disaster that walks on two feet.
Now keep in mind, I am attending church, taking my children and putting a good face on it. No one could guess that I was in an extremely abusive marriage and praying for an out. Then about 13 years ago I had to make a choice. Risk losing custody of my children or remain the lovable bad karaoke singing, aging party girl.
I didn't stop drinking. I just made rules for myself. Two drinks only no matter what. I stuck to it pretty well, except that one time the police brought me home while my kids watched out the window. Fiftieth Birthday disaster. My kids were about 10 and 11 at that time.
Then about six years ago I looked at my life I had had ENOUGH! I threw all the men out of my life, including husband number three who turned out to be a truck driving transvestite! (No I did not know that at the beginning,.) I started working with a couple of homeless programs, found a church and joined a small women's Bible Study Group. The Group was small, not the women!
I met my husband at the hospital I worked at and our first date was the Christmas chorale at church. Our second date was watching football. He realized I was struggling. As a police officer he had seen plenty of mental illness. He insisted I get some help. I did, and I am better than I ever have been.
I am continuing to grow in my journey. Feeling the Holy Spirit speaking to me gives me goose bumps and I am so grateful for that loving guidance.
Now I know that every time the nails were pounded into Jesus he was saying
"I love you Patty." "This is for you Patty."
Go ahead and say it. Put your own name in there and say it out loud. And then go ahead and cry for what he did for YOU.
Jesus chose me from the moment my father kissed my mother in the front seat of a station wagon in 1959. When I gave up on myself he never gave up on me. He knew I was trying to find the path back to him. I am pretty sure that many times he was jumping up and down and waving and calling "Over here, over here!" It took me a long time to use the Compass I had on my nightstand for many years. I finally found my way.
Don't ever give up on yourself. God created you. He knows your worth much better than you do.
I remember when I got saved. We were good little Methodists in my youth group and the local Baptists were showing a movie about the Rapture. Our minister, who had two young sons in youth group urged us not to go to the Baptist to see it.
Perhaps this was reverse psychology. At any rate all of us, including ones who seldom attended youth group made a bee line for the evening Baptist service.
I don't remember the walk down the aisle, more of a float, I do remember the euphoria, the feeling of cleanness. My friends cried in happiness and Steve Wilson - our church naughty boy - walked me home.
I didn't become perfect - far from it. I did become serious about Bible Study and prayer. Largely thanks to Carol Young, our youth leader.
This was roughly about the same time I started suffering from major depression. It has been nearly fifty years and I am still dealing with that.
When I was just barely 17, it was 17 and 19 days , I experienced a traumatic event. It stole everything from me. It stole the little bit of confidence and self esteem I had. My dream of marrying a preacher or missionary dashed. No worthy man would ever marry me after this filthy thing happened.
I began to fail. My grades at school plummeted, graduating with straight Ds. I didn't just backslide in my Christian life - I took the Big Dipper Roller Coaster - backwards.
Alcohol and self injury (we didn't know about cutting back then) became my pain relievers. I was worthless - any man who would have me would have to be good enough for me. Of course if they thought I was good enough, there must be something wrong with them, so I would end up dumping them quick enough.
Alcohol dogged me - many nights were spent on the bathroom floor, waking with a rug or tile print on my ace, a sour mouth and a headache. I struggled to quit. Once I quit for five years but the bottle and I found each other again and what a reunion! Alcohol poisoning followed by days of illness. True love or at least true anesthesia.
If you had everyone in your congregation put a list of their sins in a bucket it would not come close to my lifestyle. Combine all this with depression, then post partum depression and you have a disaster that walks on two feet.
Now keep in mind, I am attending church, taking my children and putting a good face on it. No one could guess that I was in an extremely abusive marriage and praying for an out. Then about 13 years ago I had to make a choice. Risk losing custody of my children or remain the lovable bad karaoke singing, aging party girl.
I didn't stop drinking. I just made rules for myself. Two drinks only no matter what. I stuck to it pretty well, except that one time the police brought me home while my kids watched out the window. Fiftieth Birthday disaster. My kids were about 10 and 11 at that time.
Then about six years ago I looked at my life I had had ENOUGH! I threw all the men out of my life, including husband number three who turned out to be a truck driving transvestite! (No I did not know that at the beginning,.) I started working with a couple of homeless programs, found a church and joined a small women's Bible Study Group. The Group was small, not the women!
I met my husband at the hospital I worked at and our first date was the Christmas chorale at church. Our second date was watching football. He realized I was struggling. As a police officer he had seen plenty of mental illness. He insisted I get some help. I did, and I am better than I ever have been.
I am continuing to grow in my journey. Feeling the Holy Spirit speaking to me gives me goose bumps and I am so grateful for that loving guidance.
Now I know that every time the nails were pounded into Jesus he was saying
"I love you Patty." "This is for you Patty."
Go ahead and say it. Put your own name in there and say it out loud. And then go ahead and cry for what he did for YOU.
Jesus chose me from the moment my father kissed my mother in the front seat of a station wagon in 1959. When I gave up on myself he never gave up on me. He knew I was trying to find the path back to him. I am pretty sure that many times he was jumping up and down and waving and calling "Over here, over here!" It took me a long time to use the Compass I had on my nightstand for many years. I finally found my way.
Don't ever give up on yourself. God created you. He knows your worth much better than you do.
Patty, I had no idea you had been through so much in your life. For you to be able to tell others in the hope of helping them is wonderful. To know you've come through so much and found someone that will be there for you, and shares your faith is truly a blessing.
ReplyDeleteI am also sorry you went through this I don't know you well but didn't know either. I praise God for you finding your way. I would say God Bless you but he already has!
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