Post by Leeza on Mar 23, 2015 12:04:44 GMT
I was born during a time in the fifties to an unwed mother. As a result, my mom's family disowned her, so she and my dad moved a couple of hundred miles away to live with his mother, who died when I was around 2 years old.
Not long after I was born, my dad had a nervous breakdown. I remember when I was around 4 years old, he would bring groceries home, and pour the milk down the sink, screaming that it was "poison". He would not allow me or my mother to leave the house. His behavior started to get more and more bizarre, sometimes sitting on the roof and laughing and talking to himself. He eventually got to the point where he didn't pay his bills, causing us to lose our home. Eventually, he had to be placed into a mental hospital when I was five years old. But there was a good side to him, too. He doted on me, and he would play games with me and bought me a tricycle. There was an empty hole in my heart when my father was committed into the mental hospital. He was good to me, and I missed him terribly. My mother used to tell me how much my dad loved me. That was a great loss for both of us.
My dad's family was quite angry at my mother, blaming her for not telling them how far down my dad had gone. They also blamed her for us losing the family home that his brothers had built for their mother. One of my aunts moved us into a cockroach infested apartment and my mom applied for welfare. That was the last time that aunt came to our house. The rest of the family avoided my mom like the plague. But when they abandoned her, they abandoned me, too.
We lived in poverty. When I went to school, I only had 2 outfits, and they were held up by safety pins. My mother didn't know how to manage money, so by the middle of the month, we had no money for food. I missed a lot of school because I was too weak because of lack of food. My mother fell apart without my dad, and started drinking. It was quite frightening for me to watch, because she would get out of control. I had no family to turn to, no brothers or sisters, and I saw things that I shouldn't have seen, and experienced things that no child should have experienced. I felt frightened, and very much alone. However, I always had compassion on my mother, because I knew that she did the best she could with the little strength that she had, with no family to help her raise me or give her any kind of support. I tried my best to please her and make her happy.
My mother was not a Christian, so we never went to church. But yet, for some reason, I believed that there was a God.
I found my father's Bible, and tried to read the places in the Old Testament that he underlined. I couldn't understand what I was reading. I was only 7 at the time, but yet there was a hunger inside of me to know God. I remember going into the back of his Bible, drawing a heart, and writing on the inside of the heart, "Eileen + God = True Love." I also remember there were some Jehovah's Witnesses who came over to our apartment a couple of times, talking about "Jehovah". No mention of Jesus or the Holy Spirit, just "Jehovah". I listened to them intensely, talking about this Jehovah, and going to a place called "paradise" when we die. I wanted to go to this paradise. I wanted to know this Jehovah.
One day my mother and I went to the park. On this particular day, my mother and I were very hungry, being in the middle of the month and running out of money to buy food. I decided right then and there to pray to Jehovah, and ask Him to please send our welfare check early so my mother could go to the store and buy some food. We walked home, and when we were a few yards away from our apartment, I saw that familiar brown envelope sticking out of the mailbox. It was our welfare check! It came 3 days early! God heard the prayer of a hungry child and gave her a miracle that day.
Thank You, Jehovah.
Fast forward 5 years when I was 12 years old. My mother and I moved out of the cockroach infested apartment and moved next door to a Catholic family. They were Hispanic, and the parents only spoke Spanish, and they had 7 children. One of them became my friend, and that was the first friend I ever had. I was bullied in elementary school, so I had no friends there. This girl talked about Jesus and the Holy Spirit to me. That was the first time I ever heard of Jesus or the Holy Spirit! But I wanted to get to know Him, so when she invited me to go to Mass with her family, I would go, even though the service was in Spanish. Eventually she and I would go to an English Mass when we got older, and she taught me all about the sacraments, including giving the Lord sacrifices during Lent. I embraced the religion, and learned out to pray the rosary, and would give up things during Lent because I wanted to please the Lord so much.
One day my friend and I were talking outside. I was 18 years old. It was just an ordinary day, (or so I thought), when all of a sudden, I felt convicted of every sin that I had ever committed.....every bad word that I ever said, every time I disobeyed my mother, every time that I told a lie, and so on. I felt a weight of guilt on my heart that felt like it would never go away. I burst into tears, which was unusual for me, because all during my painful childhood I never complained or cried once, no matter how hungry or frightened I felt. I told my friend, "I don't think that Jesus will ever forgive me for all the things I've done in my life." She said to me, "Oh, of course He will! Just ask him to forgive you." I bowed my head and asked Jesus to forgive me for all my sins, and I asked Him into my heart that day. That was June 13, 1972.
My life had never been the same since. The Lord has walked with me through many long valleys, and through a great deal of pain, both physical and emotional, and has been there for me through each and every time. I almost lost my life several times through various illnesses, including 2 cancer surgeries, but He saved me every single time by having someone take me to the hospital just in the nick of time. He has shown me miracle after miracle, even having an angel appear to me a couple of times. I was diagnosed with terminal cancer several months ago, but I am still here. For some reason He has a purpose for my life.
He is my life, my breath, and my heartbeat. I am who I am because of Him. I have said it before, and I will say it again, there is always hope in God. Never give up. Never be discouraged because of who you were, how you were raised, your background, or what you have done. God can make beauty out of ashes, and He will restore the years that the canker worm has eaten.
Not long after I was born, my dad had a nervous breakdown. I remember when I was around 4 years old, he would bring groceries home, and pour the milk down the sink, screaming that it was "poison". He would not allow me or my mother to leave the house. His behavior started to get more and more bizarre, sometimes sitting on the roof and laughing and talking to himself. He eventually got to the point where he didn't pay his bills, causing us to lose our home. Eventually, he had to be placed into a mental hospital when I was five years old. But there was a good side to him, too. He doted on me, and he would play games with me and bought me a tricycle. There was an empty hole in my heart when my father was committed into the mental hospital. He was good to me, and I missed him terribly. My mother used to tell me how much my dad loved me. That was a great loss for both of us.
My dad's family was quite angry at my mother, blaming her for not telling them how far down my dad had gone. They also blamed her for us losing the family home that his brothers had built for their mother. One of my aunts moved us into a cockroach infested apartment and my mom applied for welfare. That was the last time that aunt came to our house. The rest of the family avoided my mom like the plague. But when they abandoned her, they abandoned me, too.
We lived in poverty. When I went to school, I only had 2 outfits, and they were held up by safety pins. My mother didn't know how to manage money, so by the middle of the month, we had no money for food. I missed a lot of school because I was too weak because of lack of food. My mother fell apart without my dad, and started drinking. It was quite frightening for me to watch, because she would get out of control. I had no family to turn to, no brothers or sisters, and I saw things that I shouldn't have seen, and experienced things that no child should have experienced. I felt frightened, and very much alone. However, I always had compassion on my mother, because I knew that she did the best she could with the little strength that she had, with no family to help her raise me or give her any kind of support. I tried my best to please her and make her happy.
My mother was not a Christian, so we never went to church. But yet, for some reason, I believed that there was a God.
I found my father's Bible, and tried to read the places in the Old Testament that he underlined. I couldn't understand what I was reading. I was only 7 at the time, but yet there was a hunger inside of me to know God. I remember going into the back of his Bible, drawing a heart, and writing on the inside of the heart, "Eileen + God = True Love." I also remember there were some Jehovah's Witnesses who came over to our apartment a couple of times, talking about "Jehovah". No mention of Jesus or the Holy Spirit, just "Jehovah". I listened to them intensely, talking about this Jehovah, and going to a place called "paradise" when we die. I wanted to go to this paradise. I wanted to know this Jehovah.
One day my mother and I went to the park. On this particular day, my mother and I were very hungry, being in the middle of the month and running out of money to buy food. I decided right then and there to pray to Jehovah, and ask Him to please send our welfare check early so my mother could go to the store and buy some food. We walked home, and when we were a few yards away from our apartment, I saw that familiar brown envelope sticking out of the mailbox. It was our welfare check! It came 3 days early! God heard the prayer of a hungry child and gave her a miracle that day.
Thank You, Jehovah.
Fast forward 5 years when I was 12 years old. My mother and I moved out of the cockroach infested apartment and moved next door to a Catholic family. They were Hispanic, and the parents only spoke Spanish, and they had 7 children. One of them became my friend, and that was the first friend I ever had. I was bullied in elementary school, so I had no friends there. This girl talked about Jesus and the Holy Spirit to me. That was the first time I ever heard of Jesus or the Holy Spirit! But I wanted to get to know Him, so when she invited me to go to Mass with her family, I would go, even though the service was in Spanish. Eventually she and I would go to an English Mass when we got older, and she taught me all about the sacraments, including giving the Lord sacrifices during Lent. I embraced the religion, and learned out to pray the rosary, and would give up things during Lent because I wanted to please the Lord so much.
One day my friend and I were talking outside. I was 18 years old. It was just an ordinary day, (or so I thought), when all of a sudden, I felt convicted of every sin that I had ever committed.....every bad word that I ever said, every time I disobeyed my mother, every time that I told a lie, and so on. I felt a weight of guilt on my heart that felt like it would never go away. I burst into tears, which was unusual for me, because all during my painful childhood I never complained or cried once, no matter how hungry or frightened I felt. I told my friend, "I don't think that Jesus will ever forgive me for all the things I've done in my life." She said to me, "Oh, of course He will! Just ask him to forgive you." I bowed my head and asked Jesus to forgive me for all my sins, and I asked Him into my heart that day. That was June 13, 1972.
My life had never been the same since. The Lord has walked with me through many long valleys, and through a great deal of pain, both physical and emotional, and has been there for me through each and every time. I almost lost my life several times through various illnesses, including 2 cancer surgeries, but He saved me every single time by having someone take me to the hospital just in the nick of time. He has shown me miracle after miracle, even having an angel appear to me a couple of times. I was diagnosed with terminal cancer several months ago, but I am still here. For some reason He has a purpose for my life.
He is my life, my breath, and my heartbeat. I am who I am because of Him. I have said it before, and I will say it again, there is always hope in God. Never give up. Never be discouraged because of who you were, how you were raised, your background, or what you have done. God can make beauty out of ashes, and He will restore the years that the canker worm has eaten.