Pieces of sand in an oyster shell Part 1

My childhood was mostly carefree and seemingly happy. We attended church every week and not just on Sunday mornings, but on Sunday nights and Wednesday nights as well. Me and my brother did AWANAS, my mother sang in the choir, and we seemed like a model Christian family. However, on the inside something was not quite right. I remember my dad getting home later and later-always telling us he was working. Many times I went to sleep to my mom and dad arguing and shouting at each other...that is, if sleep would come. And if my mom and my dad weren't arguing, my mom and my brother usually were. Everywhere I turned there was tension and shouting. I would hold my hands over my ears to try and shut it out. I'd be as silent as possible and try to be good for fear of getting screamed at or getting the belt. I was not abused, but when my dad punished me for something I had done wrong (like not eating my green beans) I would get spanked with the belt- sometimes on the back of my legs and sometimes with the buckle...depending on how angry he was. For the most part, I tried to go unnoticeable. I loved my dad, but I was beginning to just be afraid of him.

And then I was 8 years old and the nights my dad were late become more and more. Always we got the messages that he had to stay late at work. And then he came home one day, smelling awful. I could tell my mom was worried and she hurriedly told me we were going to the movies. My dad acted disoriented. He was to come out the front door and go with us, so I heard my mom say to him. My mom and I got in the car, but she started backing out without my dad. And when my dad came out the front door, we just drove away...leaving him standing there by the door. We didn't even go to the movies. Instead we went to some one's house- they lived on the bay- and we stayed the night. Thus began many nights when my mom and I would sleep somewhere else other than our home. My brother mostly went to his friend's houses and well who could blame him? When my friend asked me why I wasn't at the bus stop in the morning, I didn't know what to say. And then she wasn't allowed to sleep over at my house anymore. I couldn't have anyone over for the night. When we went to some one's house and the kids asked me why my mom was crying, what was I supposed to say? "Oh my dad came home drunk and my mom is worried and scared, so we came here."? I don't think so...who says that?

I seemed put together at school and around my friends, but I started to withdraw. I became quieter and mostly let no one see my pain. I was ashamed and I didn't want anyone to know what was happening. And I was upset with God. I was a new Christian and I felt like I was being abandoned. I didn't realize that God could use even the broken pieces of my life- the sand- for His glory. I was confused, upset, and hurt. I turned to an escape- I turned to books. I'd read about Concentration Camp victims...trying to console myself that hey, at least I didn't have it as bad as them. But when the book went down, the pain would still be there. I become a little obsessed with the Holocaust and I dug up anything I could find about it. I started to become numb to the pain, to the horror and for some reason I thought that was helping me cope. Little did I know, I was merely putting up a wall of defense. And so an 8 year old girl started to grow up too fast.

Pieces of sand in an oyster shell- Intro.

Ready to hear my lifelong secret? Something very few, if any know? Here it is.....I love orange Popsicle's. I'm sure you are going, what that's it? That's lame! haha but no that's not it- just felt like throwing that in there. I don't even know why I'm doing this, just had a sudden urge to write and this is what came to mind. What I am about to tell you (in more than one blog post) is just a story- it just happens to be my life story. For so long I kept it all inside, for once I really have learned to not care what people think. Take this story as you want. I'm not asking for pity- that's not why I'm writing. I simply just felt like letting it out...who knows maybe somehow somebody can learn from it.

So many times I hear people tell me "you are wise beyond your years" or "what great wisdom you have for such a young age." Beyond my years, in some aspects, perhaps. But me, wise? Me who is so clumsy I hit my head with the vacuum cleaner today when I bent down to try and fix the cord? The one who deep down is afraid that no matter how someone may say they love her- they will only end up abandoning her, leaving her alone? The one who can seem so tough on the outside, but crumbles on the inside? Wise? I certainly don't think so. But perhaps the reason why people tell me I am "wise beyond my years" is because in my 19 years I've seen a lot of life. More than most perhaps in their 30's. No I am not some Concentration Camp victim, I wasn't physically assaulted....I've just seen a lot of life- the good, the bad, the ugly. I am not trying to say I have had the worst life possible. I am just telling the story how it happened...I'll let the story do it's work.

I can't tell everything...there is just too many memories to account for. It would take a lifetime. Only one person one day will perhaps hear me tell all these stories over the course of time. Not that he would really want to hear all the stories I would have to tell, but they did make me who I am today. Despite what has happened in my life I have learned to move on, look up, and always keep moving forward. The memories come back to haunt me sometimes, but I always remember my God who carries my burdens so I don't have to, and I no longer try to carry them on my own. I did that for too long and in the end, it did nothing but drag me down.

My story starts at a girl who was just learning to embrace childhood, before it was so quickly snatched away. So I don't really think I am wise, but perhaps I am "beyond my years"- for one day quickly changed everything in my life and I grew up, what most tell me, too fast. It's not like my childhood was all that bad. I had friends, a nice home, clothes, food, toys to play with, a Mom who loved me and took care of me, a big Brother, and a Dad I somehow adored. I never really knew how I came about to be a Daddy's girl, because he wasn't ever home that much. Most of the time he was on TDY with the Air Force. I barely remember him in my early years, but somehow I was just attached to my Dad or at least I wished to be. This was the man I loved yet was scared of. He would bring me presents from overseas and when I accidentally broke the bracelet with the painted glass from Italy- I remember hiding it so he wouldn't find out. I was so scared of getting the belt. And yet I loved the gifts he got me. I still keep some of them in a box and take them out from time to time, yet the box is filled with some painful memories too so it's not very often I dig them up- because with the good comes the bad. That's just how the story of my life played out.

And so as the days follow, I will be spilling out the story of me. Follow along if you'd like. I am merely going to write as the words come and as others have said before, "let the story tell itself."

The Greatest Role Model of History

Have you ever looked up to someone who in your sense was just the greatest, like that person was God's gift to man? They were one of your absolutely favorite people and you just knew when you grew up you wanted to be just like them. Then all of a sudden they do something that seems totally out of their character-like they are way less than perfect and you are distraught. Your heart feels like it's ripped in two and no longer can you look at this person as the person you want to model your life after. You are disappointed and even you have to admit to yourself, disgusted. How could you want to grow up to be like that person when they could do something in your eyes that is so horrible, something you would never do? Not only do you feel disgusted and disappointed, you feel cheated. Cheated out of an opportunity of fellowship with this person. For you can no longer be as close to this person as you once were. The mention of their name, while it once brought a smile to your face, it now brings a cringe to your heart as you remember the moment when somehow they failed you.

Many times in life we look up to people as role models. Just as the term suggests, people we want to model our lives after. We know we can't be them, but boy we sure wish we turn out a lot like them. But since we live in a fallen world, even those people who you perceived to be almost flawless have their flaws and their failures. To put it bluntly, in this life people disappoint you.

However, if your eyes are focused on the True Role Model for the Christian Life, Jesus Christ, you will never be disappointed. For He will never disappoint you. You can always look up to Him as the One you want to model your life after (as well you should, hence why we have the Bible). For Christ doesn't just seem perfect like those people you may look up to and let you down, He is perfect and because of that He will never let you down. In Hebrews 13:8 it says "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever." He is perfect, without sin and He will always remain perfect. You don't have to worry about Him changing and disappointing you. He won't do things that contradict what He once said like people can do- No. Christ is true to His word.

So next time you are looking for a role model- while it is lovely to look up to another Christian, remember that we are all sinners and we all fail- no matter how great we seem. People can greatly wound you, but Christ was wounded for you- took your place and your sin when He had none. Next time you are looking for a role model you don't have to go far- just open up the Word of God...He's everywhere in it and if you are listening, He will speak.