Hey, Believers, the heading of this forum caught my attention. Testimony. We all have a first love. Naturally speaking, that first love was to be the end all ... it ended. No other attractions had the fervor as the first love.
I married a man, not a local man, and moved so far away from family and friends. That was okay with me. I loved this man with all my being. Couldn't bear the thought of his leaving me. So, against parents' concerns, I married and moved. His folks were wealthy, prominent folks in his hometown. I was met with disdain. His mother even told me she had hoped her son would do so much better. I wasn't fazed.
I had been raised in a strict, religious household. God was always lurking, a monster in my perception, just waiting for me to screw up and he would exact punishment. I wasn't a fan of that God. When I moved away, I wanted to be just as far away from organized religion as I could possibly get. So, I did. Who NEEDED that! Not me.
My husband went to college, his father paying his way. His father paid our rent. I worked as a nurse's aide just for 'grocery' monies and cigarettes.
He spent too much time in the pool hall; not in class. After the first semester, he flunked out. His father refused to pay any more so we came home. He went to work for his father in the family business. The year was 1966. Within 2 weeks after his leaving college, Uncle Sam wrote him and he was off to basic training, heading Vietnam Way.
I stayed with my parents. We had a baby girl. She was 3 months old when he deployed. Horrible time. I watched the 6 o'clock news faithfully, hoping to catch a glimpse of him or hearing the progress of that war.
He came home when our daughter was 15 months. We were stationed at Ft. Benning. After discharge, we moved to his hometown and he went back to work with his dad. When he returned from Vietnam, he brought some bad habits with him. Drugs. Alcohol. He was a violent drunk and drunk was always his goal when he drank. He raged. By now, we had 3 more children. We were in trouble. He was brought home, so many nights, by law enforcement ... but, because of who he was, his prominent family, he was never kept in jail. I wished so many times they would because the children and I were so afraid of him. He wasn't remotely familiar when he was inebriated.
You know, at this point in our marriage, I missed my family. I wanted so badly to go home. There was no way he would let me and assured me he would take my life or if I did leave, I wouldn't take the children. So, we stayed.
One evening, he was out at the bars, I had put the children to bed for the night, was making my son a birthday cake. I began to have this horrible, awake nightmare of violence to my children. I paced the floor, for hours. Not knowing what was happening. Not knowing what to do. At one point, I was led to my bible ... my mother sent it to me ... I was using it as a booster seat for my children. I picked it up, flipped open the pages, tried to read, the text was swimming, blurred. I threw it down. Paced some more. Went outside. Taking deep breaths of fresh air ... hoping my head would clear. This continued ALL NIGHT long. My husband came home, passed out on the bed. I kept feeling compelled to read the bible. I had no idea WHY! I wasn't a bible reader. I continued to pick it up, grow dizzy with the swimming words. Put it down. Dawn was breaking soon. Soon I'd need to get the children up and ready for school. The sun began to rise, I was still in a state. I went back, picked up my bible once again, it fell open to a chapter in Matthew. I could SEE! I could read ... I had never read before. And, I drank it in. I felt to be starving.
I had an overpowering urge to join a church. The following Sunday night my children and myself walked to a church near our home. My daughter and I joined that night. Were baptized the following week. Do you realize there is ONE God but there are many ways to worship Him? I was in this church but I didn't feel it was for me. Unfulfilled.
Began researching. Found that STRICT sect I grew up in, and wept as I was re-baptized into that religion. I won't say ... and I lived happily ever after. I've had terrible times. I made it back to my own hometown, divorcing the children's father. Couldn't find work right away. It was scary. Hard. But, the difference was ... I had 'the Comforter' to buoy me through. My oldest son took his life during this time. I had the Comforter or I would've gone with him. I am at peace today. I know a God who is a forgiving Being, a loving Figure, who isn't, anymore, lurking ... waiting for me to mess up but guiding me, teaching me, loving me.
I married a man, not a local man, and moved so far away from family and friends. That was okay with me. I loved this man with all my being. Couldn't bear the thought of his leaving me. So, against parents' concerns, I married and moved. His folks were wealthy, prominent folks in his hometown. I was met with disdain. His mother even told me she had hoped her son would do so much better. I wasn't fazed.
I had been raised in a strict, religious household. God was always lurking, a monster in my perception, just waiting for me to screw up and he would exact punishment. I wasn't a fan of that God. When I moved away, I wanted to be just as far away from organized religion as I could possibly get. So, I did. Who NEEDED that! Not me.
My husband went to college, his father paying his way. His father paid our rent. I worked as a nurse's aide just for 'grocery' monies and cigarettes.
He spent too much time in the pool hall; not in class. After the first semester, he flunked out. His father refused to pay any more so we came home. He went to work for his father in the family business. The year was 1966. Within 2 weeks after his leaving college, Uncle Sam wrote him and he was off to basic training, heading Vietnam Way.
I stayed with my parents. We had a baby girl. She was 3 months old when he deployed. Horrible time. I watched the 6 o'clock news faithfully, hoping to catch a glimpse of him or hearing the progress of that war.
He came home when our daughter was 15 months. We were stationed at Ft. Benning. After discharge, we moved to his hometown and he went back to work with his dad. When he returned from Vietnam, he brought some bad habits with him. Drugs. Alcohol. He was a violent drunk and drunk was always his goal when he drank. He raged. By now, we had 3 more children. We were in trouble. He was brought home, so many nights, by law enforcement ... but, because of who he was, his prominent family, he was never kept in jail. I wished so many times they would because the children and I were so afraid of him. He wasn't remotely familiar when he was inebriated.
You know, at this point in our marriage, I missed my family. I wanted so badly to go home. There was no way he would let me and assured me he would take my life or if I did leave, I wouldn't take the children. So, we stayed.
One evening, he was out at the bars, I had put the children to bed for the night, was making my son a birthday cake. I began to have this horrible, awake nightmare of violence to my children. I paced the floor, for hours. Not knowing what was happening. Not knowing what to do. At one point, I was led to my bible ... my mother sent it to me ... I was using it as a booster seat for my children. I picked it up, flipped open the pages, tried to read, the text was swimming, blurred. I threw it down. Paced some more. Went outside. Taking deep breaths of fresh air ... hoping my head would clear. This continued ALL NIGHT long. My husband came home, passed out on the bed. I kept feeling compelled to read the bible. I had no idea WHY! I wasn't a bible reader. I continued to pick it up, grow dizzy with the swimming words. Put it down. Dawn was breaking soon. Soon I'd need to get the children up and ready for school. The sun began to rise, I was still in a state. I went back, picked up my bible once again, it fell open to a chapter in Matthew. I could SEE! I could read ... I had never read before. And, I drank it in. I felt to be starving.
I had an overpowering urge to join a church. The following Sunday night my children and myself walked to a church near our home. My daughter and I joined that night. Were baptized the following week. Do you realize there is ONE God but there are many ways to worship Him? I was in this church but I didn't feel it was for me. Unfulfilled.
Began researching. Found that STRICT sect I grew up in, and wept as I was re-baptized into that religion. I won't say ... and I lived happily ever after. I've had terrible times. I made it back to my own hometown, divorcing the children's father. Couldn't find work right away. It was scary. Hard. But, the difference was ... I had 'the Comforter' to buoy me through. My oldest son took his life during this time. I had the Comforter or I would've gone with him. I am at peace today. I know a God who is a forgiving Being, a loving Figure, who isn't, anymore, lurking ... waiting for me to mess up but guiding me, teaching me, loving me.
