I remember sitting in the backseat of my mothers car crying, screaming and unable to catch my breath. I was young, confused and angry. My mom had just picked my siblings and I up from my biological father’s house, and I couldn't wrap my head around why my parents weren't together like all my friends parents. I have very few memories now of them together, the majority of the ones I do have are not good at all. So why such a fuss from my younger self, because I was told to. I was told that no one else could ever be my father regardless who my mom married. I was hearing things that no child should hear from their father. I was constantly compared to my sister and told I wasn't good enough or capable, all of which I came to believe. Then Kurt came along. My mother was a single parent of three kids and he also was a single parent of one. Thinking of all of the words that describe the gift that Kurt is moves me so. This man willingly walked into our crazy lives, never voiced one opinion of our biological father to us and came to all of our games, school programs...basically anything anything he was able to make it to, he did. He was there. He was a positive, imperfect but willing man whereas my biological dad was not. He was and is my real father to me. My mother was a very strong, complicated woman who had many demons from her childhood that she tried to drown out by self medicating with alcohol. Her first drink was when she was thirteen and her last was around age forty. I remember like it was just yesterday leaving a wedding where she had her own weight in "grown up jello" and tried driving the both of us home. She was this different person that night. She was like a child; scared but invincibly selfish. I was crying/she was laughing. I made her pull over at a gas station so that I could call Kurt. My twelfth birthday was at Red River Hospital which is a behavioral center. Every week I went with my mom to AA meetings where I heard and saw things I probably shouldn't but now am thankful for. I was exposed to a side of humanity that is shamed, degraded and corruptive...I was exposed to addiction in such a way that I didn't have to live it to learn it. I became very familiar with the twelve step program, what all it’s initials and saw what relapsing really looked like at a very young age. I saw Jesus' love and forgiveness for the first time in an old run down AA building full of broken, beaten down adults but I didn't realize that was Him at the time. August 28th, 2006 It was a Monday, my freshman year of high school, it had rained the night before. On my way into the building I dropped my brand new, first ever cell phone into a huge pile of mud. Life as I knew it was over. Shortly after that I got called to the principles office to find my mom the stillest I had ever seen her and the only thing she could say was "We need to go home." Immediately I started sweating, "How could she know about my phone? I am going to be grounded until I am thirty!" We lived about twenty minutes outside of town, the entire ride home my mom said nothing. I could tell something was wrong, I thought it was anger and my mind ran wild with the endless possible punishments she could choose from. I remember she sat me in my dads recliner, she said very calmly "your uncle's plane has been reported missing." Her hands were pressing down on my shoulders for a few seconds as if she were afraid I would fly away and then she turned around, turned the TV to the news, sat at the dining table to light a cigarette with the same stillness she displayed in the office. I don't remember much after that point but one of the things I remember so vividly is being so sure that they (my grandma, my aunt and uncle, and my four cousins) were all safe. We were waiting on a call to verify whether or not they were all safe. I honestly don't know how long we waited, but It felt like months. Somewhere amongst the crazy we went to my grandmothers house which was in town, we glued ourselves in front of the TV and waited, and waited, and waited. This entire time I held back the tears, that’s when I heard my mother scream. I remember being in a different room when I heard her and thinking something so innocent happened like she slipped and fell or accidentally cut herself in the kitchen, but that was so far from the truth. I ran into the room where everyone was and only saw the news, I couldn't hear anything but they were showing a plane that had crashed into the side of a mountain. I instantly became numb. Just like that, they were all gone. Still, I had to be strong. I refused to cry in front of my mom and tried my hardest to keep from crying at all. I remember my father and siblings being worried about my moms sobriety, she lost her mother, sister and her babies all at one time. The long rides home were filled with my mothers sobbing and my teenage self trying to comfort her. I wasn't raised in a very religious or bible savvy environment, in fact the only knowledge I had was rejection from the Catholic Church because my parents were divorced along with little glimpses of hope that I was blessed to see through my moms recovery. For the first time in my life I saw her asking for help, I saw her admit she wasn't in control and pray. She had never been more beautiful to me. I would wake up from sleeping days at a time to her on her knees by her bed praying with her rosary beads. Then anger came to me in full force.
I felt that if I turned off my faith and trusted only myself that I would have full control of my life. Everything was great, or so I thought, until the end of my Junior year of high school. I was raped by someone I knew the summer before my senior year. Something was taken from me and I could never get it back. The anger inside continued to grow. I think I tried to down play it in my own head for the first week or so but it only grew. A couple of days later my sister and I found my mom's purse hidden in the strangest place at our lake house. On her phone we found messages to another man. Messages that were not appropriate for a married woman to be sending or receiving. In that moment, my image of my strong, loving and amazing mother was shattered and my rape seemed so unimportant. My anger grew even more. "GOD, WHY? You have already taken so much from me, now this?" We have already gone through loss, we have already felt so much and all we had at that point was each other...but even that had to be taken from us. My sister and I contemplated how we should handle what we found and felt we should confront her, so we did.
That night was the first time I had ever truly prayed. I had nothing else and needed help, so I swallowed my pride and prayed. I felt something deep inside of my soul that at the time scared the heck out of me so much that I didn't pray again for about a year. I now know what I felt was the Lord calling my name, The Spirit wrapping around me and comforting me. Some time passed and my parents struggled. My dad made a list of things that my mom needed to do if she wanted him to stay. It took her a while, but she did everything that he wanted. October 9th, 2009. It was my senior year of high school. My parents were the happiest I had ever seen them, and for the first time I was actually enjoying school. I was walking out to my car with my friend when I got a call from my biological dad. He said, "Something has happened to your mom." I could tell by his tone something was really wrong. Before I could respond or freak out he reassured me that everything was okay and asked me to give the phone to my friend. He asked her to drive me to the hospital, she did. I walked into the ER, my family was sitting in a little side room. I will never forget the moment we were told she was gone. One of my sisters screamed the same exact scream my mom let out when we found out about the plane crash. I couldn't really process what was happening and all I wanted was to see my mom. So I went. What I found was not what I was expecting. There were a million wires and tubes connecting her body to the endless amount of machines around her. My warm, energetic mommy was now a cold, still body on a table. Some sort of heart aneurism had taken my mom away from me. She was only forty-five, she was finally at peace with her past, she was at peace with the present, she was truly able to enjoy her marriage and family, and she was going on six years clean and sober. For the first time things were easy and made sense. Why couldn't we have been able to live in the easy just a little bit longer? After everything you would think that we deserve that much. I fell into a very dark and exhausting place for some time. I have very few memories of the weeks that followed but the things that I do remember struck me so deeply that to this day I even remember the smallest details. My "Harley-Davidson," tough father was lost. We had MANY conversations about my mom, his anger and heart ache. He felt robbed, finally their relationship was on the rise and then it ended. Even more so, he felt us kids were robbed. To this day he still gets a little teary eyed when he says, "No one should have to deal with losing their mom at 18." My entire life I had this misconceived perception that I needed to be perfect, pray perfectly or be on this "all knowing bible verse" level in order to be a Christian, to declare my faith or have a relationship with Jesus Christ and that perception made me angry and bitter, how am I supposed to be perfect? I couldn't ever reach perfection, so why try...I was so hard headed and prideful. It was so easy to place blame on God instead of dealing with the true feelings I had and still have. For so long I was the one questioning things or forming negative opinions because of my lack of knowledge, fear, hypocrisy or whatever I wanted the excuse to be that day but my excuses were never challenged until I met Brendan who is almost as hard headed as me. I finally wasn't ridiculed or denied because of my thoughts towards church or even my anger with God. Instead, I was heard, appreciated and loved anyway. This person came from nowhere and his response to my idea of what Christianity looked like was so simple but it hit me like a bag of bricks. No one is perfect, not even a Christian. And then he went on to tell me about Jesus and how God knew we weren't perfect so he sacrificed his son. At that very moment every single one of my walls came crashing down. I was completely vulnerable, willing and fearless. Truth was spoken to me and accepted it. I was encouraged to be honest with myself, and not point blame or form an opinion on something out of fear of being hurt, misunderstood or unloved. I crave vulnerability and truth but it is still so easy for me to walk away from something if I feel it lacks either of those things. In my head if I walk away, I am in control, if I stick around and it all falls apart my heart is liable. Because I was finally honest with myself I was able to look back on things that had happened in my life in such a different way and notice how somethings just fell so perfectly in place that it seemed as if they were almost hand placed; I could question why I was given the biologic dad I was but I now know that he is such a blessing, if I didn't learn how to stand up for myself by him I would most likely still be in a horrible relationship or worse, dead. We were all blessed with one last day with each other right before the plane crash, my aunt and uncle had everyone get together at their lake house for the heck of it. Something even crazier is the fact that my mother was actually supposed to go with the rest of the family on the plane, but decided not to go last minute because my sister had a dream that the plane was going to crash. My mom was able to find peace and be really happy after living such a difficult life. All of these things and so much more were signs of God's unrelenting love for me, but still I was being held stagnant by my fear. Until Easter service of 2015, that very man who crashed down my walls and continued to pursue my heart was leading worship. Over and over again they sang the words "I am no longer a slave to fear, I am a child of God" and I could hear Jesus, so clearly, calling my name. It was so powerful and pure, yet I couldn't move. Randomly, someone from the congregation walked down, told the pastor they wanted to be baptized and accepted Jesus Christ as their savior. Just like that! Why couldn't I do that? I knew that He has always been by my side, through all of the pain and joy. But fear still had control over me. Then another person, randomly walked down. They too were baptized...and then another person walked down. I felt the holy spirit at work, the spirit was so powerful and beautiful. Why am I not moving!! What is wrong with me? At this point the service was over, I was shaking and crying uncontrollably. I walk back stage to find Brendan, he hugged me for a moment and then I whispered "I am ready." I was baptized, I declared my faith and accepted Jesus Christ as my savior! I was admitting that I wasn't in control of anything, and that is okay. I can't handle it all by myself and we weren't meant to. It took me finding a genuine man who saw me for who I truly was and fought for that truth for me to see Jesus in a way that wasn't blurred by bitterness. I now am married to that very man, that man that God led to me. To show me truth and speak truth, I am refined by fire. 1 Peter 1:6-7 "In this, you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials so that the tested genuineness of your faith - more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire - may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ." I am no longer burdened by my anger or bitterness because I now have a relationship with Jesus. The things that happened in my past aren't something to be ashamed of or things to wear as scars. They have refined me into the woman I am today, and I love that woman. A woman who is no longer a slave to fear, but a child of God.. He called me by my name, and He's calling you too.
Royal Quartz stone with "refined by fire" on the tag. Dear Heart Design's pieces are meant to provide opportunities to share your story or testimony with others. Each story shared in Unveiling Grace receives a piece to allow them to further share their story with others every single day. Have a story to share? www.dearheartdesigns.com
8 Comments
Carolyn Bell
9/11/2016 06:57:03 pm
I am so proud of Christina. She is an amazing strong beautiful and loving young woman. I am so very thankful that she is now my daughter in law.
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Carol Davis
9/11/2016 07:45:52 pm
What a beautiful young lady you are. What a beautiful testimony and what a beautiful family you are in. I will keep you in my prayers. You are amazing. Always remember that. You are amazing! Hugs
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Vickie Milam
9/11/2016 07:55:24 pm
You ARE Amazing Grace and a true friend and brave inspiration! I Love Your Courage and Strength!!!!
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Debbie Barker
9/11/2016 08:36:45 pm
What a beautiful picture of how God pursues us and loves us even when we're blind to it. That's what God's amazing grace is all about! Thanks for your courage and transparency in sharing your story, Christina!
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Cecille Daniel
9/12/2016 07:29:09 am
Thank you for posting this young woman's testimony to the redeeming love given by our Heavenly Father. I am glad she and Brendan found each other- I expect they will be very happy. God doesn't always make our paths smooth, but He is always with us
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Natasha Ross
9/12/2016 08:22:25 pm
I absolutely loved your testimony. So brave of you to share and allow God to use you as he defines your purpose. This story had a beautiful ending, but I can only imagine what he has in store for you sweet girl. Blessings among blessings because you have chosen Him. God is good and his work in your life is AMAZING and I love that your shared it! Thank you!
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Christina Bell
9/13/2016 08:09:44 am
Thank you everyone so, so much for all of the encouraging words and positive feed back! It means the world and more to me!
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Rebecca Churchwell
11/9/2018 10:24:35 am
Christina, I am so proud of the amazing woman you are! Thank you for being a great friend to me. :)
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