|
by Mary Everett*, USA
My teenage mother was quite upset when she found out that she was pregnant with me. She wasn’t able to cope with her life in the midst of domestic violence, so she did not want a second child. She actually tried to commit suicide because it was illegal at that time to have an abortion. If she could have, she would have aborted me.
My mother left the home several times to escape the beatings, but managed to come back to us. I was just a toddler when she had a third child, another son. When my father would beat her, Mother would beat us children. She didn’t have the energy to nurture and mother us. My older brother cared for us as much as he could. (My younger brother was not yet six months old, I was two and my older brother taking care of us was four.) Mother finally left for good. Then my father left as well. We three children were left with our grandparents who raised us for several years.
My grandparents were Christians, so they taught us about the Lord. Every morning we had Bible reading and prayer. One morning during our devotional time, I realized I was a sinner. It was easy to know because I upset the people around me. My grandmother explained how Jesus Christ died to be my Savior. She said Jesus died to pay for all the wrong things that I had done. He died and then rose again and since He was now alive, I could accept the work He did on the cross. The blood He shed would clean my heart and I would know Him. I knew I wanted to know Jesus. She led me in prayer to invite Jesus Christ into my heart. I knew from that time that I was a Christian. I was five years old.
When I was almost seven, my brothers and I went to live with an unmarried aunt. After she married, she and my new uncle were persuaded to adopt us three children. They were not ready to have three children right after their honeymoon, but they were talked into it. It was hard for them; they felt they had to sacrifice so much for us. When their own children were born, it was even harder for my adopted father to think of us as his children. There was always a difference between how we were treated and how their biological children were treated.
A couple of years later I wondered if I were really a Christian. I could not remember the date nor time I had accepted Jesus. I remember saying to the Lord, “I’m pretty sure I invited you into my heart when I was five, but I can’t remember for sure, so I am going to do it one more time. If I already did it, please ignore this because I know You are with me.”
Life was hard for me. My adoptive parents were overly strict. I recall one time my mom asked me to do something, but I wanted to finish wiping the table first. While I was trying to explain to her why I wasn’t immediately moving to do what she asked, she knocked me across the room.
Mom and Dad were Christians, but sometimes they did not act like it. That made me doubt God a little bit. However, each time I struggled with His reality, God just met me and showed me He was real. He always gave me peace, joy and assurance that He was with me. Knowing Him really made a difference in my young life. He enabled me to go on even when I was misunderstood or ridiculed at school for wearing my dresses longer than was the fashion.
I am thankful that I attended church throughout my growing years. In our area there were a lot of immigrants with children. Many of them attended our church. We had a shortage of teachers, so at the age of twelve I was asked to teach the two-year-olds. Knowing how Christ made a difference in my childhood, I was soon involved in child evangelism. Because the Lord was with me, I didn’t get into drugs or a lot of the other things that people with my background do.
After high school I went to college. I majored in Sociology and Spanish. Right before graduation I met my husband. He wasn’t like the other fellows I had dated, so I felt our love was genuine. We married after I graduated from college. I was 21.
My husband did certain questionable things right from the beginning, but I just ignored them. I thought that as the years went by things would improve. I thought if I would keep loving him, eventually he would change and love me back. But it was difficult. He would even get jealous of the young boys I worked with on my job at the juvenile placement center. However, I always tried to make him happy and make things go smoothly. I had to be very careful what I told him and when I told him.
The day I began my new job, I found out that I was pregnant. Besides having our first child to care for, we began to take in foster children. We raised one of the foster boys and finally adopted him. I later gave birth to two other boys, so I had four boys to raise.
When a family crisis arose involving his father, my husband reacted very emotionally. He began to be physically abusive toward me and the children. Once when I intervened, he almost killed me. I called the police. I thought that would scare him so he would stop the abuse. For a while all went well.
Six months after we had moved to another state, he went after our oldest son. He tried to choke him and ordered him and me out of the house. I had been reading a book entitled Bold Love. It said that sometimes a person has to do what the abuser is not expecting. I looked at my husband and said, “This is my house, so I am not going to leave and I am not asking my son to leave.” I had not stood up to my husband before, so he didn’t know what to do. He actually left the house.
I knew he would be very angry when he returned, so I took the younger children and went to stay in a hotel. (My oldest son had gone to stay with a friend.) I had to file a protection order with the police to get back into the house. My husband said, “No woman is going to control me,” and he filed for divorce. The Lord had been preparing me for this trial by drawing me closer to Himself. Had it happened a few years before, I would not have been able to cope. I knew in my heart that God was with me, but I remember saying, “Father, I am so scared.”
That day, I had music playing in the background. Just then a song came on about how God is our Father and how He will walk through situations with us. And that’s how He was through the whole divorce process. I could sense His presence. It seemed to me that He was saying, “I don’t like what is happening, but I am protecting you and bringing you to safety. I am allowing this marriage to end for your protection and your children’s.”
After the divorce I needed financial help for a while until I found a job. Oddly enough, I found a job at a shelter (home) for abused women. I did not tell them that I had been abused for fear that they would not hire me. Because of the atmosphere and the information that was available there, I could see this was God’s provision for me in the process of healing.
After a year, my sons and I moved back to our home state to be near their friends. With God’s help and His faithfulness, my children are now grown. They are all walking with the Lord, so my work of child rearing is done.
I now feel the Lord leading me to share Christ with the neglected and abused women of this world. I know from experience that only His presence in a woman’s life can save, heal and restore her. Whatever doors He opens, I will gladly enter in His Name.
*not her real name.
Top of page >
|
