My Testimony

My Testimony

  What has God done in my life? Everything, of course. I know. That answer is as cliche as it gets, but so what? All that does is prove that His promises are true and that His love is everlasting. He can take care of us even through the worst of storms, and that's the best part, he's steady, and true, and takes care of us better than we can take care of ourselves. I could tell you about many moments, the good, and the bad, many times that I got chills from his presence. Goosebumps, covering my arms, the impossible happening right before my eyes as I bear witness to my prayers being answered. Even the silly ones. Or those moments where you feel pure love, joy, and peace fill your body. When you have those moments, it's impossible to turn your back on Him after that. The point is, I could write a book about all these times, but this is to focus on one moment. One night, very few people know about, when I 100% gave every part of myself to Jesus.

  It was a vulnerable time, and telling it isn't easy for me, but it's been pressing on my mind for a while now, and well, if God wants me to tell it, I will. That's the reality, isn't it? We are all broken, messy humans. Life is hard. It's raw and real. And that's exactly why we all need Him.

  When I was 16, I struggled with a lot of depression. I struggled with my relationship with my Mom. I still do. I want to stress that when I tell my story, it's not to make my Mom look bad. I've forgiven her, and just like all of us, she is a messy imperfect person too, but she has conquered a lot of her own trauma, and she will continue to do so.

  This night was during my junior year in high school. I was struggling a lot. You see, the biggest reason I was depressed was because my Mom abused me. It started when I was 12. We were living in Anaconda, and on top of the abuse, I endured a lot of bullying. From kids calling me names to being followed by gangs of girls who threatened to hurt me, and even parents cussing me out and threatening to get their kids to hurt me. And from that year moving on, it got worse and worse. More abuse, more moving, more bullying, the foster care system, etc. 

  Eventually, I was with my Mom again, so I'd assumed that since she worked so hard to get me back , things would be different. I went back at 15, and it was sophomore year. Unfortunately, the abuse continued. I never knew knew my Mom's specific triggers, maybe a couple of them, but I actively paid attention to her moods, always doing things to try to keep her happy. But when she would snap, nothing could stop it. It was like a switch inside her. 

  She would do things like call me names, pin me down, bite me, choke me, spit on me, and more. I dreaded being at home most of the time. I would use books, art, school, as an escape. Always had an escape.

  I remember one night, we were sitting in the living room, watching some kind of show. She had asked me to soft her. Softing was what she called it anyway, where you lightly trace your fingers along the skin. She used to do it for me to help me fall asleep when I was little. I actually had a lot of fond memories with her, despite the bad ones, and before the abuse, but over the years, she didn't really soft me much anymore. She was always asking me to do it for her, though.

  Honestly, I hated doing it for her, only because she constantly had me do it. It helped her sleep, though, but if I stopped, she would usually wake up, so I would do it for hours, even if my arms hurt. See, when she was sleeping, she was nice… And I could get some peace and quiet for myself. Eventually, I did stop, though, when I thought she was for sure asleep. 

  I continued to watch the computer screen. I was watching some random Christian comedian videos that night that I'd randomly found. Laughing was good. Sometimes, it could help with the overwhelming sadness and emptiness I seemed to always feel. For some reason, the sadness was too much that night, completely taking over every cell in my body. We had another fight earlier that night before she calmed down, and I was able to help her fall asleep. 

  I remember feeling so hopeless, like I was doomed to feel this way forever, and that no one would ever love me, and everyone I loved would hurt me. 

  I ended up getting off the couch slowly. I went and searched for my Mom's gun. I had these thoughts of wanting to die a lot. I had felt this way often for a couple of years already, but the fear of pain and going to hell for suicide always scared me. But for some reason I wanted to see how it felt, just to hold it to my head… I still don't know why I did it… For years after that night, I always told myself I only did it for attention, but how could that be? I never told anyone about that night, and it's only been a couple of people that I told years later. 

  I was on my knees in the middle of the living room, silently crying while my Mom slept inches away. I slowly raised the black heavy pistol up, pressing the cold barrel to my temple. And I sat there a couple seconds, just feeling the weight of it in my hand, trembling and crying. Then my fear stepped in, and I lowered it, feeling stupid and embarrassed. I knew it was wrong, and God was reminding me that it's not the answer. I quickly put the gun away.

  When I went back to the living room, I kept crying. Feeling empty as I cried on my knees, frustrated and angry, wanting to pull all of my hair out. I was just wishing somehow I could die and be free from all this pain and misery. I looked back up at the computer screen, and there was a new comedian talking now. Suddenly, he pauses to get serious, taking a step back from the jokes. He starts describing a picture of a house. The house is a representation of you, your body. And he says to imagine Jesus is right outside, knocking on the door, and the door is our hearts. And all we had to do was unlock that door and just let him in. It was that easy. And then he began to pray, telling us to unlock that door. And so I did.

  With my arms, resting on my knees, palms up, I imagined Him knocking, and I imagined me opening the door. I was sobbing, quietly still as to not wake my Mom.. She still doesn't know about this night… but I let Him in. I felt all that emptiness, sadness, and loneliness be washed away as he filled me with hope, joy, faith, and strength. I knew that moving forward, even through all my struggles. I would be okay. He was there, and he would take care of everything and fix my broken heart. See, I had always believed in God since I was little, I loved church, and I'd been baptized by water earlier that year, always feeling close to God since I was a young child. But that night was different, I was baptized by the Spirt and born again. My soul was saved during one of my darkest moments. 

  Were things perfect after that night? No, I still suffered through so many storms, and there will always be trials, but during those battles, I know without a doubt that God is always with me and things would get better from that night. I'm at a point in life that I never imagined myself reaching. Being a mother, a wife, and finding the perfect husband that God sent me to help me and stand by my side. Being a business woman. God has been making my goals and dreams come true, and he will continue to do so even through any storms. I know with Him everything will be okay and that He loves me, and just know that He has the same love for you, and all of us, in His heart. 

Romans 5:8- But God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.