My Story

Jennifer recently posted a challenge on her blog. A challenge to tell our stories.

So here it is. My story. I will warn you, though. It is a heavy one. It is a choppy one (it's hard for me to put all these thoughts into an easy to read format). It is, at times, ugly. But the good news, the great news, is that there is a happy ending.

When I was born, my parents were involved in a cult. I'm sure my mom wouldn't call it a cult, but she has actually used the word 'deprogramming' when talking about her time in the Divine Light Mission. My mom used to do some work with computers (not sure what, exactly) for them, and my dad was in security. We traveled around with the Guru Maharaj Ji (he's still around, I think) and his entourage. They treated him like a god (I think they believed that he was an incarnation of God, or a prophet).

My dad left my mom when I was 10 months old. On Mother's Day, to hear her tell it. He didn't want to be married, didn't want the responsibility of a kid.

My mom moved back to Michigan (she was living in Denver at the time), to be near her family. She put herself through keypunch school, and worked full time. That's what she had to do. She was alone, without a degree, and without a job.

For me, this meant that I spent my days (and most of my nights) with other people. I was moved from one daycare provider to another. I found out from my mom later that one of them hit me, one of them used to lock me outside, and another was just flat out mean to me.

I grew up wondering where I fit in. My mom was always gone, and even if I was with a good daycare person, I still wasn't part of their family. I always went to bed before all the other kids, so that they could have 'family' time. I remember waking up in the middle of the night one time because I was scared, and I went downstairs. The daughter of the woman who was watching me was downstairs with her mom. The woman said "Renee, go back to bed. I'm comforting Jenny right now. This isn't your house."

I tried to be as good as I could, to earn people's approval. I found out that if I was quiet and pleasant, then life was easy for me.

My mom was very into marijuana while I was growing up. She had a bong, and used it every day, every night. I remember going places with her, and watching her and her friends sit around and smoke. I also remember reading about it in my Weekly Reader one day at school. I confronted her with the magazine, and told her that I knew what she was doing was illegal. She just laughed, and said "It isn't that bad."

She also dated married men. Sometimes they spent the night. I remember one time, when I was 4, helping my mom clean up a bloody knee. She was chasing after her boyfriend, because he left her. She ran after his car, and scraped her knee. I decided at that moment that I wanted to take care of her. Protect her.

Once I was old enough for her to feel comfortable with my staying home, I was allowed to come home after school and entertain myself until she came home. I was 10. And very lonely.

I remember a policeman knocking on our door one time. I didn't answer, because I thought he was coming to take her away for using drugs.

My dad was an alcoholic. He was involved in several drunk driving accidents, and had has license taken away several times. He served jail time.

My mom wanted him to be in my life though, so she fought hard to make that happen. We visited him, and talked on the phone. He loved me. I know that without a doubt. He may not have wanted the responsibility that came with me, but he loved me.

I grew up very insecure and scared.

I was sexually molested when I was 12, and had nightmares for a long time. It happened in a parking lot, and only lasted a few seconds, but I remember it clearly.

When I was younger, I used to spend my summers at my grandma's house. I looked forward to these times, because I always had company- I wasn't alone. Some of my fondest memories were made during those summers.

One of the women who used to babysit me was married to a pastor. Occasionally, if my mom was gone for a weekend, I would go to church with them. I only went to Sunday School a few times, but I heard the gospel. I learned that Jesus lived in my heart. I thought that was pretty neat. I even ate crayons and paper one time, so that he would have something to do (I was worried that he might be bored).

I found a little plastic nativity at my grandma's. I hung it on my wall, and would hold it in my hand at night and pray. I would pray that God wouldn't put my parents in jail. That I would have someone that loved me, and accepted me.

In high school, I had some really great friends. They were a lifesaver for me when I found out that my serious boyfriend of two years had been cheating on me with one of my good friends for a whole year of our dating. (Was I clueless, or what?)

When I was in 7th grade my grandma passed away. This made my mom an orphan at the age of 38. With an almost teenage daughter who lied all the time. So she called my dad, and told him that she needed help.

He moved to MI, and lived in our basement. For five years. And I loved it.

I got to know him pretty well in those years. We shared a lot of laughs, and just got to know each other. He also shared the gospel with me. He was a bit fanatical though, and it scared me. I heard the same message in the Campus Life activities I was involved in, and eventually found out that my good friends believed the same thing. I became a Christian when I was 14. I was baptized at the same time as my boyfriend.

My dad was still an alcoholic though, and my boyfriend was still a cheater. Watching them made it hard for me to let my new faith take root in my life. I didn't think that it made a difference, so I didn't let it make a difference.

After high school, we moved to Colorado. My parents lived out there when they were married, and my mom had always wanted to move back. My dad lived in the basement (he preferred the basement, because he could have his space) with us for about 6 months. Then he moved back to his hometown of New Orleans, where he married an old girlfriend of his.

Meanwhile, I was loving that I lived in a new place. I felt free to make my a new identity for myself. And I did just that. Gone was the good Christian girl with the solid friends. Gone was the girl who acted pleasantly so that people would like her. I sought out popularity, love, and a good time.

And I found all of the above, or so I thought. I went to all the parties, tried to find love in many different places, and had some good times. But my life was empty.

I also found out during this time that my dad's new wife wasn't what she seemed. She had told him that she was a Christian, but it ended up that she was a witch. An actual, practicing occult, casting spells kind of witch. She cursed him, wouldn't let him sleep in her bed, put animals that he was allergic to in his bed, and let her daughter threaten him. I guess it finally got to be too much for him when she started talking about me one time, so he left her. He eventually moved to Houston, to live with his brother.

I wanted to try to get back to my faith, so I went to a small Christian college in Indiana for 2 years. I was pretty involved while I was there, and made some good friends. I even made steps forward in my faith.

One night during my 2nd year, I was talking with one of my new friends. She wanted to know my story, so I told her. I told it like I was talking about someone else. Straight faced, and without emotion. When I finished, she just looked at me and said 'Wow. This happened to you, you know.' Then it hit me. This stuff did happen to me, and I had just pushed it all away, so that it wouldn't bother me. Once I realized that this was my life I was talking about, the dam broke. All of the emotions that had been bottled up inside of me came bursting forth. I couldn't stop crying for a full week.

I wasn't functional, and with the help of some friends, was enrolled in a New Life program in Naperville, Illinois. It was an outpatient facility, and I was there for a few weeks. I lived in a hotel (yay, Excel Inn!), and it was a huge learning experience for me.

While my time there was good, I needed several more months of therapy like that. I had all these emotions that had boiled over lying all around me, and wasn't sure how to pick them all back up again.

I went back to school, and realized that I wasn't in the right frame of mind to keep on. People were whispering about me, wondering why I was gone. I couldn't handle it, so I left.

After coming back to CO, I resumed my party girl lifestyle. Only, it was worse than before because I wasn't just looking for acceptance this time, I was trying to cover up the pain that I felt from having let all these emotions loose.

It was a wild few years. I put myself in more dangerous situations than I'd like to admit, and made my guardian angel put in an incredible number of hours. I was also date raped, and will forever be grateful to Tara, because I firmly believe that she saved my life that night. (Long story.)

There were times during those years that I would really start to try to live my faith. But I never changed my friends, so I never changed my lifestyle. I had nothing outside of them, and didn't stand up for my faith like I should have.

On September 6, 2000, my dad was killed in a motorcycle accident in Houston, TX. It was ugly, and he didn't feel a thing. A truck didn't look, and turned right into him. My mom and I went down there to take care of the details, and plan a memorial service for him. I had to be the one to pick up his things from the coroner's office, and take care of his stuff.

It was sad for me. Sad that I didn't get to know him more. But there was also relief involved. Relief in knowing that he was in heaven. For all his pain, for all his mistakes, he did, at one time really love the Lord. He accepted Jesus as his Lord and Savior, and I know that I will see him again in heaven one day. Except that he won't be burdened by the pain that this life brought him. He'll be dancing in heaven with the Lord, free of his shackles.

I remember a dream that I had repeatedly after his death. I was a little girl again, crying over my dad's body, lying on the side of the road. I was weeping, and then I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Jesus. He motioned for me, and I ran into His arms. And then I felt a peace like I had never experienced. This was the start of a big change in my life. A change in my lifestyle, and a giving over of myself to God.

In June of 2001, I decided to move back to MI by myself to try out a career in youth ministry. I was fed up with my lifestyle, and felt like I needed to get away from everything in order to get my life turned around.

High school youth ministry ended up not being a fit for me. I'm too shy, too insecure, and not very good at talking to people I don't know. BUT, I did learn a lot, I do believe in the ministry very strongly, and I met my husband while working there.

The first few years of my husband and I being together were very painful. I still had all these wounds that I just wouldn't let heal, or didn't know how to heal. He helped me through a lot of them, through prayer, support, and counseling. He is in so many ways, just what I need. He is patient, understanding, and loving. An incredible example to me of how much God loves us.

So today, my life is different. My mom has apologized for the things she did while I was growing up, and I have forgiven her. She has also forgiven me for things that I did, too. I have a husband who loves me, two little girls who are healthy and beautiful, friends who would lay down their lives (and their Starbucks) for me, and a God who has saved my life more times than I can count.

When I look back on my life, I am humbled. My life could have turned out so differently. There are many paths I could have chosen which would have brought me even more pain (believe it or not). I am brought to my knees in awe of a God who reached down and grabbed a girl who was lost. A girl who was hurt. A girl without direction. He grabbed her, and made her His own. A new creation.

I still make mistakes. I still mess up. I still fall short. That's life. But I know God is graceful, merciful, and patient. I wouldn't be where I am today, if it weren't for that good news. That great news.