A few days ago I was chatting with my best friend and I found out that she did not know my testimony, and I wondered how that happened. Jesus Christ saved my life in a powerful way, and that story is meant to be shared. The more I thought about it the more I realized that very few people actually knew how I cam to know the Lord and why He is so important in my life that I would sacrifice everything for my faith. As I was pondering this Jimmy mentioned that we might need to turn in out testimony at the mission meeting this week. So I figured it is time to tell my story. That is why Jesus gave it to me in the first place. I do not want to hide His light under a basket. So here goes:
The picture above is of my sister and I shortly before we were adopted. From what I understand my birth father died in the military about a month before I was born, and my birth mother found herself saddled with two very young children and grieving. From what I gather she had a mental break down and could no longer care for us, so we went into foster care. When I was four and my sister six we were adopted and were moved form Oak Harbor Washington to San Diego California. My sister and I were fortunate enough to be adopted together.
The home we moved into was an upper middle class one where image was everything and God did not exist. Our adoptive parents fed us, clothed us, and loved us to the best of their ability. But as we grew up and became teenagers things changed.
Now I do not want to use this space to bash my adoptive parents, because it is not all their fault. I will be the first one to admit I was not the ideal child. I was independent, opinionated, and a fighter. I was always picked on in school because I was hyper active (ADHD is what I was diagnosed with). I desperately wanted friends and I would do anything to be liked. That unfortunately included lying and making up stories so people would like me. It in a way had become my defense mechanism.
It was through this lying that I had problems with my parents. My Dad was a quiet one who almost never stepped in and my Mom was a fighter, very much like me. We would spend hours fighting and neither of us would give in, and during those fights my Mom would say horrible things. Things that made me feel not good enough. Growing up I felt like I could never add up to what my Mom wanted from me. I think in a way she struggled with not being able to have children and then she got me. I did not admit it at the time but I was also struggling with my own understanding and feelings about being adopted. I wanted to be different so I hid how hurt and confused I was about being adopted. Deep inside I felt that I truly was no good and defective because I was not good enough for both sets of parents. I felt that neither of them wanted me.
So I continued to fight and lie to my Mom, I did not know what else to do. During High School I was sent to therapy and it was determined that I had problems with depression, and I was put on antidepressants. When I graduated High School I got to go away to college in Indiana. Now growing up Mom and Dad were very strict. I was grounded almost the whole time I was in High School, so I never really had the opportunity to have much of a social life, or a life unsupervised by my parents. Needless to say when I got to school I went a little crazy, I skipped classes, I stayed up all hours, I could not manage money, and I mismanaged my medication for depression. It is important to note that I had been on some sort of psychological medication since I was a child, first for ADHD and second for depression, so when I ran out of meds I crashed hard.
My life began to spin so much out of control that I ended up un the suicide hospital. I had begun hitting myself. All of the emotions about feeling not good enough, and feeling abandoned came rushing at me, because I no longer had a drug to numb how I felt. I had no idea how to numb the pain so I took a belt and hit myself with it. My RA in my dorm herd it and called 911. I stayed in the hospital for a few days and when I got out my Mom came and brought me home. I was placed back on my meds and added a sleeping pill, and anti anxiety medicine. I had to be retaught how to live, how to eat and care for myself.
A few months after I came home my sister and cousin graduated from college and we had a big party at out home for them. At that party my Aunts new husband was talking about Alcoholics Anonymous and how it had helped him find a better life. I was desperate for help, therapy had not worked. So I lied and told him I had a drinking problem, and he took my to my first meeting that day. When I walked in the room I was instantly welcomed warmly. I thought maybe I had found the answer. So I made up a story and started to work the program. I met my husband there and got a sponsor. Our sponsors were even married to each other.
But the problem was it was all a lie, and I still found no peace in my life. My sponsor was very strict, and I think also new the truth and would not give me a break, and to be honest for that I am grateful because that is what brought me to my knees. I can tell you that my sponsor was just as tough and harsh with me as my mother was and that brought out fresh all the pain of rejection and abandonment that I had tucked away and numbed with meds. My sponsor encouraged me to get off the meds.
About 4 years into AA I was feeling more alone then ever. My marriage was rocky, and whose wouldn't if it was based on a lie, and I had no friends. My mother did not approve of my husband and my sponsor, so she was not talking to me either. So I found myself once again pulling the belt out to numb the pain. Now AA encourages you to have a relationship with a higher power and I had chosen God, but I did not take Him seriously. But after a few days of hitting myself I told God that if I did it again I was going to give up and turn myself into the hospital and go back on my meds. That night I pulled the belt out again and begged God to stop me. That was when I felt something grasp my wrists and stop me. God had answered my prayer. He reached out and stopped me. Then He told me that He loved me and had always been there with me, and that He was my true father. I have never hit myself again, nor have I needed any psychological medications.
I wish I could say that after that encounter I immediately stopped lying and my life was fantastic. It took another year for me to truly seek Jesus and what He wanted for me. I was still broken, stubborn, independent, and afraid to trust; after all was I not the master of lying? So I found my self on my knees once more. The song "Broken and Beautiful" was popular at the time, and I finally saw that I was broken. God showed me in a vision this wonderful place and told me that I could not go there. So I hit my knees and begged God to break me completely I wanted to be Broken and Beautiful in His eyes, and I told Him I would do whatever it took. It was then that I saw that I had to tell the truth, even if it meant loosing the only people I felt loved me.
So I called everyone and told them the truth, that I was not an alcoholic, that I just wanted attention. And you know God is so merciful, everyone was so kind and understanding, even when I deserved their anger and hatred. It was after I came clean that God really began to work in my life. I discovered this amazing and loving God that loves me no matter what, and that it is not about what I do or don't do, it is about His love. That's it, nothing more nothing less. Jesus Died on the cross for me, and rose again on the third day so that I could spend eternity with Him.
But He did more that that. He showed me how He only wants good things for me, and that He will restore the years the locust have taken from me. A couple of years ago Jimmy and I left AA for good. We began to go to church and meet fellow Christians who taught me how to be a wife and a friend. I still have so much to learn and I am far from perfect. But God changed me and healed me. I no longer lie to be liked, and the few occasions that I lied God convicted me and I repented and made amends.
I do still struggle with abandonment fears, but I also know that I have Jesus. About a year ago God showed me that He could not take me into that beautiful place, that happier life because I would not put Him first in my life. I needed to let Him break me and make me new for me to have that new life. He then showed me a beautiful mosaic. There were dozens of pieces of broken pick glass that were put back together in the shape of a heart and God had tied a ribbon around it. It was then that I saw that this broken and abandoned child was indeed beautiful to God!
Here is a link to the song I mentioned: Broken and Beautiful by Mark Shultz
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