The Summer of 2017

This summer, I had all my family home in one place for a couple of weeks.  In the middle of that, my husband's family came in for a reunion and memorial of the passing of his mom.  What a great time!

When my girls and their family were here, we used every room in my house.  Now, my house isn't big - a tri level.  Do I wish for more rooms, more space?  You bet I do.  We made it work though.

Our family has not been together in one spot for four years.

The weeks prior to this gathering, I scheduled the cleaning of my house.  Since I have a tri-level, I cleaned one floor a day thoroughly.  I haven't cleaned like this in some time, since it's only my husband and I in the house now.  Needless to say, I was exhausted after all this cleaning.

"Wait!  I need to make freezer meals and prepare a menu for the first five days."  Why the first five days you might ask?  Because my oldest daughter was bringing a friend she had been seeing for the past year and a half to meet us - that's why.  I needed to be prepared and not look like I was wracking my brain for a meal to prepare.

Thus, I prepared freezer meals and a menu for Thursday to Monday when he was here.

We headed up to the lake cabin after this, and I didn't prepare one meal.  My daughter's and son-in-law cooked. My hubby and I watched and played with the grand babes.  I may have washed dishes one night.

Was I exhausted?  You bet!  I think this was a good kind of exhaustion: seeing family together, cooking, preparing, playing, watching, laughing, talking, eating together, cleaning up spills, comforting children, reading books, diffusing tantrums, hearing "again Yia-Yia, again PaPa" as we played the same game over and over.  This is truly living.  This is a good kind of exhaustion.

I'm very blessed with my family.  Has it all been rosy and easy?  No way!  We've had our fair share of troubles.  But I look back on those times and think "God got us through that.  Look what He has done."

Everyone has gone back to their own homes.  I still hear my four-year-old granddaughter Analiese say:  "I miss my house mommy."  As soon as she arrived home, my daughter said, she went into her bedroom, sat on her bed, looked around at her surroundings and promptly fell asleep.  She was content to be home, her safe place.

Good memories were made.  A lot of pictures taken.  I will never forget this wonderful summer when all my family were together for two weeks.

I hope it happens again.

Lisa’s Story

The Beginning

My experiences with sin and rebellion against God and my parents began in high school.  Being raised in a strict Christian home with many rules and restrictions, I began seeking independence and freedom away from following rules in my senior year - away from the “Christian girl” choices of obedience. 

Meeting a boy I liked very much, I became pregnant my last four months before graduation.  We stayed together for six years – working together and living together, until I became a very jealous and insecure person.

These infectious emotions stayed with me to haunt and destroy me as a person.  I was physically abused on several occasions only to find out he had cheated on me.  We were both very young and naïve.  I left the relationship and moved back home with my father and sister.

There, I would start over and begin my life as a single mom hoping to raise my son in a Christian environment.  I found myself back to the roots of Christianity.

Seeking For Love

After several years of growing in the Lord, I was still seeking a Christian man for love in all the wrong places.  I became naïve and gullible becoming interested in a Christian man, who was going to church, becoming friends with his mother and two sisters.  Little did I know I would fall back into temptation, and the thought of getting pregnant again never crossed my mind.

I repented every time we slept together.  He told me he was careful and not to worry.  Well, sure enough, after only a few months of dating, I was back at the doctor’s for regular checkups only to find out I was pregnant.

I stepped down from the choir, feeling shameful and embarrassed, but staying in church and continuing to serve the Lord.  Never did I imagine that he would leave me to take care of this child on my own.  He didn’t want to be a full-time dad.

Nine months later, I gave birth to a beautiful girl.  He did not want anything to do with her.  His words to me on the phone were “she’s not a boy”.  What?

At this point, I have faced both physical and emotional abuse. 

On My Own

Raising two children, working two jobs and going to college off and on, I’m thankful I had my parents who supported me and helped me every step of the way.

My mom was a rock.  She never judged me or looked down on me.  She was always giving and loving.  This encouraged me to fight harder and stand on my own feet.

As the years went by, I began to attend a church in downtown Flint where my mother and step-father attended.  I sang specials in my new-found church enjoying every moment.  Singing was where I felt close to Jesus.  I felt healing and deliverance.  When I sang, all my pain, guilt and shame would just vanish and melt away. 

After a year of attending my church, I was asked to be the praise and worship leader and begin a choir.  I accepted the position.  During this time, I had only a pianist, a guitarist and a drummer.  Needless to say, the drummer and I began seeing each other.

We began talking and hanging out.  I thought my life was coming to a completion thinking “could he be the one?” Deep down something didn’t feel right.  I ignored all the possible signs that the Holy Spirit was tugging on my “love strings”.  I went along with this man.  After finding out I was pregnant for the third time, he convinced me to leave this church and attend the church he was originally from.  I wanted to make things right and hopefully things would work out in my favor.

I left leading worship and directing the choir, which was God’s calling on my life, for a man I barely knew.  Once our son was born, we decided to move in together.  From then on my life was changed, and not for the better.

I decided to get on birth control to prevent another pregnancy.  What was I doing?  What was I thinking?  I was foolish and naïve.  Why does this word follow me with every decision I make?

Struggling Again

I struggled with jealously and insecurity with every relationship I was involved in.

During my pregnancy with our first, the physical abuse started.  This man that I only began to wish I could actually feel some form of love for thought he would handle my jealousy with abusive behavior.  I was choked to becoming unconscious on the kitchen floor, only to be coughing up blood.  At one visit to my brother and sister-in-law’s house, he pushed me down a flight of stairs while I was carrying his baby, but I stayed with him.

He repeatedly told me he was sorry and that it would never happen again.  There were nights he would leave and be gone for three days.  I had no clue what he was up to.  Jewelry, a microwave, and different items from the house were coming up missing. The neighbors were trying to tell me he was using drugs.  “No! Not him”, I thought.  I didn’t want to hear or believe this was going on.  He forced me to drive him into bad areas of Flint, only to tell me to stay in the car and wait for him.  I had my children in the car sitting in the roughest parts of Flint.  I was terrified; more terrified though if I left him there because of the beating I would receive.

We went together to counsel with our pastor.  Every time we met he was remorseful.  Later, I found out I was pregnant with our second child.  I thought “how could this happen? I was on birth control.” 

During this pregnancy, the lying, cheating, stealing, controlling, manipulative and physical abuse escalated.

One afternoon, I was in the bedroom with my oldest daughter.  Pregnant with my last child, he came walking into the room yelling at me, grabbed chunks of my hair, forcing my face into the floor making my face hit the floor repeatedly.  Pieces of my hair were being pulled from my scalp and into the air.

My daughter witnessed the abuse.  I remember one evening my oldest son, who was no more than 10, helped me move all the furniture in front of the door to block this man from coming in.  We bolted and boarded the back door.  After several attempts of him begging and pleading to come in and apologize, I let him in, only for more abuse.

He did not allow me to have a telephone.  On one occasion, after I confronted him about having three numbers of one woman, I came near to death.  In front of my three children, he beat me and took his open fist and thrust the palm of his hand into my nose.  The force led me to the ground where I laid hearing him screaming at me.  I literally looked like a piece of pulverized meat. 

After several of my family members, co-workers and his parents saw my face, they begged me to leave.  It was the doctor who told me if my nose would have shifted two more centimeters, I would not be alive.  I stayed.

Enough

What motivated me the most was the fact that my daughter was just born and I walked in on this man seeing him smoking crack.  He was, in fact, this whole time using drugs.

Enough!  No more abuse, no more lies, no more stealing, and no more defeat.  I was determined to get my four children and myself out of this dangerous, unhealthy and toxic stressful lifestyle.

With much humility and shame, I called my father, who was there for me.  He never stopped praying for me. It was only by the love and grace of God that today I am living and breathing. 

I never once looked back or turned back for what had almost ended my life:  self-absorbed, naïve, gullible and looking for love in all the wrong places.  The only true love is that of the Father in heaven.  He brought me through this.  My struggle, my shame, my sins, my selfishness, only by the blood of Jesus I have been saved.

Another Chance

God gave me another chance to be a loving, nurturing and caring mother.  He led me straight back to Him.  I was in the lowest and weakest times that Jesus was reaching for me the whole time and I was rejecting Him.

He never let go of me.  He loved me all the way back to victory.  I live with a red mark on my nose, but it reminds me every day that Jesus loved me enough to spare my life, to help others.

My heart’s desire is to tell Christian women in this situation that there is hope.  You can’t turn back your life but you can control it.  Please get help.

Sue Dobos-Paradise

Our life as we knew it forever changed one day and we found ourselves in an unexpected struggle – first just to survive and then to move forward.

When our son P.J. was in third grade, he let us know that he was going to be a Marine.  Being a patriotic family, we were thrilled yet filled with some apprehension thinking, “this is my child.” Keeping his promise, our son joined the Marines and trained here in Michigan with a group of guys all set to leave for boot camp in June of 2010.

PJ was incredibly smart.  When he tested for the Marines, he tested so high he was told, “you can do anything you want P.J.  You can go into the Air Force.”  His answer? “I want to go on the front lines.  I’m not coming in here just to push paper.”  He always wanted to be a hero.

 We had no idea the devastation that was to come.

Discharged

His first kidney stone incident occurred in December of 2009 followed by two more in the spring of 2010.  We had no clue this was a problem until a week before he was set to head out to boot camp.  The Marines requested his medical records and were given the hospital reports.  He was blindsided, as was his recruiter, when he was discharged from the Marines never entering boot camp.

At the age of 18, my son’s life-long dream was shattered.  

The discharge destroyed him.  He continued going to doctors asking for letters stating he no longer had kidney stones. PJ wanted to be a Marine more than anything, but to no avail.

Experimenting With Drugs

Prior to signing up for the Marines, as a teenager in high school, P.J. messed around with drugs some, like his friends. I received a call one day from the police station.  P.J. and his friends were stopped by the police for having marijuana in the truck.  “This can’t be P.J.’s”, I thought.  I was devastated when P.J. admitted that it was.

Life changed that day for us.  From this point on, we had him drug tested, worked with him and even got him counseling.  We took the initiative and worked with the police officer who had brought him in to the station.  This officer later became one of P.J.’s best friends.

Life After Discharge

Because of the prior experimenting with drugs in high school, setbacks began to happen after his discharge from the Marines. He was drinking, doing drugs and started using prescription Xanax.

PJ was a leader, had a ton of friends, never spoke back, but always seemed a little bit sad.  I think because of this sadness he began to self-medicate abusing Xanax within the year.

Downward Turn

Bigger issues arrived when P.J. turned 21.  He began to go to bars and even got a DUI.  Being a close family, working together in our concession business, we always kept an eye on him, but he now began to tell us only what he wanted us to hear.

Finishing up our summer concession business in October, we returned home from Indiana. At this time, P.J. was seeing a probation officer because of his DUI.  Coming back from checking in, he said, “everything’s good, everything went great.”  I got very angry with him because I knew he had been drinking.  I had hoped he would be honest with me, but he wasn’t. 

Sitting him down on the couch, I proceeded to read him the riot act.  I talked about his integrity, telling him that I loved him but I didn’t like him.  I didn’t like his attitude, his dishonesty, and his avoidance of the issues in his life.  I talked to him about not doing anything for his fellow man or his community.  We had a long talk. This conversation hurt him badly because he always wanted our praise.

The result of this: he packed up his belongings and left.  After spending time with his girlfriend that weekend, he went to his best friend’s house, whom he had grown up with, spending the night there.

The next morning, the friend’s mom called me and said, “PJ was supposed to work today, but he didn’t get up and go to work. I think you need to give him a call and tell him to go home”, she said. 

When my husband picked PJ up, he could tell something wasn’t right.  He was very tired, not able to get himself together and wake up.  He seemed confused.  My husband, Paul, called me and said, “meet me at the cop shop.”  Arriving at the cop shop, we met there with Archie, the aforementioned officer and friend, who counseled him.  Being a concerned mother, I said, “PJ do we need to go to the hospital?” PJ said “absolutely not. I’ve got a meeting tonight.”  We went home.

PJ showered and went to the meeting uptown at the Rock Church.  Coming home very excited, it looked like things might be on the verge of changing.  After doing a six-week rehab stay at Sacred Heart, PJ was going to work with Archie, the police officer, riding with him and getting his help to enter the Police Academy.

We had no idea that PJ had drugs on him.

The Devastating Loss

Seeing the effect Xanax had on PJ after his DUI, I called the doctor and said “take him off that Xanax.  Get him off that stuff”.  She took him off Xanax, but then he started buying it. 

Coming home from the NA meeting one evening, PJ was happy, even playing Nintendo with his dad downstairs.  We had gone to bed but PJ stayed up, not feeling tired.  Apparently he had been texting and talking to friends until 4:00 in the morning, according to his phone.

We had no idea, until later, that PJ had been looking to get more Xanax that day.  He had asked around finding a girl he knew whose mother had Klonopin.  “It’s just like Xanax”, she said.  PJ went to pick up the Klonopin and took it – not knowing the risk of mixing Xanax and Klonopin together.  Xanax stays in your system for three hours and is gone.  Klonopin, however, builds up and is time-released.

Not feeling tired at 4:00 a.m., PJ took more Klonopin.

It’s the craziest thing, I get up every morning at 9:00, but this particular morning, I woke up at 7:00.  I believe the Holy Spirit woke me up.

Getting my morning coffee, my husband came upstairs and said, “what are you doing up at this time?”  My reply, “I have no clue.”  “Well, you’ve got to see how PJ is sleeping.  It’s so cute”, he said.

Instantly, I felt a wave of panic sweep over me and knew something was wrong, even before I took the steps downstairs.

Sitting Indian-style on the floor was always the way PJ would sit, and this is how I found him.  Close by he had some things scattered on the floor that he had been looking at.  Coming up behind him, I said, “PJ wake up. You need to go lie down.  Wake up.”

Wiggling him a little bit, he didn’t wake up.

Coming around in front of him, I immediately spoke to my husband “call 911.”

He just fell asleep.  I’m very blessed that he fell asleep.  I never would have imagined that an accidental drug overdose would happen to one of my children.  We were devastated, of course, as a family.  PJ was the youngest out of four children.  He left behind a family grappling with the overwhelming loss of a beloved son and a brother who passed away at 21 years of age, November 5^th, just seven weeks before his 22^nd birthday.

Our Life After Death

The day after we lost PJ, our pastor from The Rock church came over to our home.  He read from the Bible the passage about there being no tears in heaven and no mourning.  This was one of the first things that saved me, helping me tremendously to know that he wasn’t suffering anymore. There was no crying, no pain in Heaven.

At PJ’s memorial service, mothers would come up to me and just hold me saying “I lost a child too.”  What a lifeline for me but also thinking “how are you still here?”  I was positive I was going to die or wind up in the hospital insane.  These comforting words spoken to me gave me hope because they went through it, survived and were now passing that hope back to me.

Through Facebook, more women contacted me telling me their stories of how they lived through the loss of a child.

Three weeks after PJ’s death, I was sitting in my home office wanting to do some banking on my computer.  I couldn’t remember my password.  My husband walked into the office and said “speaking of passwords, did you figure out PJ’s?  Maybe there’s something we need to read in his emails.”  Putting his password in, I proceeded to read his emails, mostly to girls.  “This is not my son”, I thought.  Having my first doubt, I said to my husband, “what if he’s not in heaven?”  I completely broke down.

I’ve always been strong, not crying a lot.  When I pulled myself together, I suddenly thought to look in the top drawer of my dresser for my password.  There was no reason I would have it there, but I searched anyway.  Reaching towards the back of my dresser, I found a letter folded up.  I don’t usually put letters in my dresser but in a cedar chest or my Bible, but here it was.  PJ had written a letter to himself in the eighth grade.  Within this letter, PJ writes “I go to church every Wednesday and Sunday.  God is my Savior and I am also saved, which means I’ve accepted Jesus as my personal Savior.”

Confirmation - strong and sure.  PJ was saved and knew what it meant.

Calling my younger sister, who is a strong believer, I asked her how this could happen that I found this letter.  She said “God works upstream” – meaning that all these things were done and put where they needed to go for me to find later and help me get through this.

Grieving is a good thing.  It’s the way we get through the many changes in life. 

Two days after I found this letter, these grieving thoughts continued – “what if PJ is all alone and he misses me?” Walking into my bedroom, I found a picture of my dad, my grandma and PJ together.  My dad and grandma are in heaven. “Why didn’t I see this picture before now?” I thought. “How could I have missed it?”  Again, I understood that this was God working upstream, assuring me that PJ was not alone but surrounded by love.

My Passion

I want to tell other women who have lost a child that God works upstream.  If they will look, they will find these little things as well to bring them hope.  Don’t doubt them when you see them.

Every time I found something of PJ’s, it gave me hope to keep going.  They were stepping stones for me.  It still is happening.

I started collecting these little things I would find – a card, a letter, just little miracles I found.  I am now journaling about it and maybe one day will put them together to help other people.

It is my hope that a grieving mother will read our story and find the courage to look for the signs left for her.  In allowing our God to work upstream, she will find much needed comfort and assurance. 

It is God's promise to help us in our time of grief, if we will but let Him into our grieving heart.

In memory of P.J.







Interviewed, written & edited by Sharon Garner

Colorado

My visit here in Minturn, Colorado will soon be coming to an end.  I leave November 14th to return to Michigan.

My arrival here was uneventful, thankfully.  It's usually an all day travel for this wanderer.  I leave Flint Bishop Airport and arrive at an appointed destination to again board another plane for Denver.

From DIA I wait to board the shuttle they provide to drive me across the mountains into Vail.  It's a two and a half hour trip with 10 other people and our luggage.

Once I arrive at the Vail Transit Center (VTC), I wait for Kelly and Ana to come pick me up.

I'm pretty tired after this long day of travel.

While I'm here, I take care of Ana Monday's and Friday's and do whatever I can to help Kelly and give her a much-needed break.

Minturn is a small community town where like Cheers "everybody knows your name".  Many people here have small businesses in town - some may work in Vail, Avon or Edwards as well.

Kelly's apartment building is older with six apartment units that face the mountains.  There is a river that runs through a quaint park across the street where I take Ana to play on the playground.  An amphitheater in the park is used throughout the summer for concerts.  It's a beautiful place with the mountains surrounding you on every side.

The mountains.

The centerpiece of this valley.

There are tons of mountain ranges to ski, hike, and bike.

I've been here so many times that I forget to enjoy the mountain scenery. When I drive or ride with Kelly, I forget to take it all in - the mountains.  You won't find this in Michigan.  So today.....

I'll take it in and enjoy the mass of mountains surrounding me, enjoy the winter wonderland and cold, enjoy God's beautiful creation.

Psalm 95:4 "In whose hands are the depths of the earth; the peaks of the mountains are His also."

Here in Colorado

I've been here in Colorado visiting my daughter Kelly and granddaughter Analiese now for almost two weeks.  My daughter is a single mom with a 2 1/2 year old daughter, soon to be 3 in January.

I'd forgotten how exhausting it is to handle the 2-year stage of life.  Kelly is doing this all by herself - that's exhausting in itself.  No one else to give her a break.  It's all on her every day.

Analiese is a strong-willed, determined, focused-on-her-wants toddler.  She resists getting dressed in the morning because "I don't want to mommy".  She gets up way too early for Kelly's sleep-deprived body and mind.  Every morning is a tension-filled struggle to get her clothes changed, socks and shoes put on and out the door to daycare and work in a timely manner - which most days doesn't occur.  This too shall pass....right?

There are lunches to pack as well.  What does a 2-year-old want in their lunch?  Who knows.  Every day is different.  One day they might like cheese and crackers with fruit - the next day it just might not be so.  

What does a 2-year told want for dinner?  That's a good question. You just cook something and hope they want to eat it too. Mostly, Analiese will refuse to eat something put on her plate but sees it on mommy's plate and wants to eat from mommy's plate.  Who knew.

Don't get me wrong though - it's not always this way - just most days for now.

Ana loves her mommy and Kelly loves Ana.  They have a special bond. The nighttime ritual can be exhausting for Kelly (since she's put in a full day at work), but when I hear them reading books together, laughing with Ana on her lap, it's a precious memory and cuts deep into my soul.

When I hear Ana say "I'm sorry mommy" when she's not cooperated or cried about mommy saying "no", it's a good feeling.

Ana loves the park and the cartoon "Justin Time".  She loves her friends at daycare and prays for them every night.  She loves frozen fruit bars and most recently her Halloween candy.  She loves it when her mommy comes home from work or picks her up from daycare.  As Analiese would say "mommy, you're my best friend."

Yia-Yia is secondary to mommy.  I'm here to give Kelly a much needed break.  She's making time while I'm here to take walks, hike with a friend, visit with friends, do her devotional at a coffee shop, learn how to make pies from Tracy down the street here in Minturn and whatever else she wants to do.  

I love to see her interacting with Analiese: playing with legos building towers, tickling, reading books, watching a cartoon snuggled up under a blanket on the couch and playing at the park. It does this mama's heart good.

I'm leaving in a few weeks for home.  I will miss them and I know they will miss me.  There will be some tears shed and sad good-byes given.

Kelly has much on her shoulders, but I know the strength of her God is greater than any struggle she may face.  There is a good community here for them both, a wonderful church family, and a good job.

God will always supply everything Kelly and Ana need.

Many moms have said to Kelly "this stage will pass.  The best stages are 3-7.  It will get better." Raising a strong-willed, determined-to-do-my-thing toddler is difficult, but as Kelly has said to me "mom, I'd rather have a feisty, lively, opinionated daughter who will stand up for herself than one who is not."  Well, this she does have.

Ana is well-liked by her friends and is a leader at daycare.  She speaks her mind and knows what she wants.

I'm looking forward to seeing how Analiese grows.  Kelly is doing a great job.  As all moms do, she wonders if she is making a difference or teaching Ana well.  I can say she is doing well. There are no perfect moms or ever will be.  Just keep on doing what is right, keep re-enforcing good behavior, keep praying at bedtime, keep attending church, say you're sorry when it's needed, give lots of hugs and kisses and just be you.

Each child is unique.  Go with it.  Don't try to make them like someone else.  Accept their personality. 

God is the one who wraps his arms around Kelly and Ana every day. He sees. He knows. He provides. I can be assured of this as I pray for them every day.

Jeremiah 29:11 "For I know the plans I have for you says the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope."

Laura Rodriguez

Sheer panic swept into every cell of my body. “I’m pregnant?” I never imagined this would happen.  

Visiting Planned Parenthood with a friend, I received a pregnancy test finding out I was six weeks pregnant.  

Walking out the door, a numbing feeling of dread crept slowly into my heart.  How was I going to face the reality of a positive pregnancy test at the immature age of 17?

Drowning in regret, panic and uncertainty, the weight of emotion was so heavy that I could scarcely draw a breath.

I had allowed myself to walk away from my Christian upbringing and put God on the back burner of my life - letting my guard down and now facing a decision that could impact the rest of my life.

Having relayed this news to my boyfriend Rudy, with knots in my stomach, I finally got the courage to break this news to my parents. The devastation they felt I will never forget.  The decision was placed on my shoulders.  I had a choice to make.

My Decision

Feeling overwhelmed and thinking “I’m a Junior in High School. How can I do this in front of everyone”? I made the decision to get an abortion.

The easiest option. 

The option that would make it all go away.

Receiving a list of abortion clinics from Planned Parenthood, when I had my pregnancy test, I made an appointment with a clinic in Detroit.  Planned Parenthood in Flint, at the time of my test, gave me absolutely no counseling or other options. 

I surrendered to the wrong notion that abortion was the only logical choice. I was afraid, young and ignorant and not in a right relationship with God.

Hesitantly believing the lies the enemy spoke through the voices of those employed at the clinic, I made the appointment with a clinic in Detroit to have my abortion.

When the dreaded day of the appointment arrived, my parents drove me to the Detroit clinic to end my child’s life.

Walking into the waiting room, I found it full of women and young girls waiting to abort their baby.  Women who were married and already had children, stating they didn’t want more.  It was a surreal feeling – waiting to end a life.

I was herded from the waiting room into another room, and yet another room, with no ultrasound, counseling or options afforded to me.

The young woman taking my blood pressure would not look me in the eyes, but kept up a light conversation with another employee. Noticing she was married and pregnant, I thought, “you don’t care about me at all”, and wondering how she could do this while being pregnant herself.

Once it was over, I had pain and discomfort but also thinking, “okay, it’s done.  It’s over.  I can now put this behind me.”  Relief came, but it would soon raise its ugly head again eight years later.

Leaving the clinic, the only words spoken to me were: “here are some birth control pills.  We’ll get you started so you don’t have to go through this again.”

From this point on, my parents made it very clear to me they did not want Rudy or I seeing each other for a time.  I was raised in a Christian home with Christian values.  Rudy was not a believer.  I knew what was right but chose to resist the tug of the Holy Spirit.

I had no idea how far down I had pushed the reality of my abortion.  It was never discussed.  No one wanted to remember that horrible event.

After a period of time, Rudy and I were able to see each other again.  But once promiscuity starts, it’s hard to stop.

We eventually married when I was 19 and Rudy was 24.  I would soon come to realize how my soul had been suffering for 8 years after my abortion.

When Rudy and I were thinking about starting a family, the issue of my abortion rose up inside me once again.  I became very angry - angry with a society that would feed the lie of abortion so blatantly to young girls and women.  I became very militant against abortion and had to find an outlet for this anger.  I spent one year counseling at the Answer Center for Women, confronting girls and women who were contemplating abortion or had already had one. I had not yet realized my own need for healing.

My Healing

My healing came one night when I was lying in bed praying a generic prayer over our extended families.  Rudy was working a late shift.

I felt a hand on my back so powerful, that I turned around and thought somebody was in the room.  God spoke to me “I want you to go back and remember everything.  I want you to remember from the time you found out to everything you experienced because I have a healing for you.” 

I thought I had dealt with my abortion by asking forgiveness, doing counseling and fighting abortion.  I needed healing?  Just look at the mercy of God that He would come to me and speak of my need for healing. I was forced to confront my past and healing came that night. God unearthed the deeply rooted shame hidden in the caverns of my soul.

Praise God for that day when His presence burst into my life so powerfully, so unexpectedly to bring healing and crush the lies of the enemy beneath His Sovereignty.

My Passion

                                               

I have no doubt now that God welcomed my precious unborn baby into His arms that day.  My passion is for the girls and women who think abortion is the answer because society says, “it’s okay.” It’s a devastation you cannot get over on your own.  You can heal and go on, but you will never forget.

In the many years that have passed since my abortion, I have become an advocate for the unborn child, an advocate to express to young girls and women that abortion is not the answer.

The Ending

God completed His work of healing in my life that night.

After I had my second child, Emily, I had a miscarriage.  I named my miscarried baby and also at that time, I named my aborted baby. 

I know there is a baby waiting for me in Heaven – the one I miscarried, but also the baby I aborted.  What a reunion that will be.

God healed and restored me.  I have two girls, Sara and Emily, who are such a blessing to me and my husband along with six grandchildren.

God is a God who forgives, a God who heals.  If you are living with the pain of an abortion, please allow God to help you and bring healing to your soul.

Verses For Reflection

Psalm 130:3-4             I John 1:9            

Psalm 32:5                  Psalm 103:12

Interviewed, written and edited by Sharon Garner

  

Erin's Story

My abusive marriage ended in 1989, after he filed for divorce.

Moving back into my mom’s house after this, I turned away from Christ.  Hanging out at the neighborhood bar on the west side of Flint, I began connecting with people that I knew from high school - people who were familiar. 

This led me down a path I never imagined.  

Eventually starting a relationship, I began to see him regularly.  This unfortunate connection soon brought an unexpected event – pregnancy. 

Absolute panic washed over me with a violent force.  I thought, “what do I do now?”  My mind whirled, drowning me in a sea of regret and landing me in an abortion clinic.

The father of the child I was carrying was already pursuing another relationship.  I knew I had to tell him. He was completely surprised, but agreed with my decision for an abortion and offered to pay half.

With the appointment made on the recommendation of Planned Parenthood, I entered the abortion clinic by myself to terminate the six-week pregnancy. My thought was “let’s just do this and get it over with.”

After the procedure, I walked out of the clinic relieved that it was over.  Not wanting to face the grief that entered my life that day, I kept this a secret buried deep within my heart.  I suffered in silence, wrapped in a cloak of shame. 

After this devastation in my life, I made the decision to return to college and finish the dental hygiene program, graduating and being licensed in 1992.  Grief and shame were still tucked away in my soul.

During this college program, I began a relationship which lasted six years.  Being in a relationship seemed to be my answer when I felt lonely, afraid or needy.

Still haunting me in the back of my mind was the knowledge that I needed to return to God, surrender my life completely and stop running.  My question was “how do I do this?” 

My journey back to God began one day as I watched a program by T.D. Jakes.  He talked about getting out of our comfort zone.  My comfort zone was being in relationships.  I knew this was for me, and I began my journey back to the Lord walking away from this man.  I returned to the One who had always loved me with the love I was seeking.

Upon my return to God, I started attending a church called New Community Church.  Still not aware that I needed some type of therapy from having the abortion several years later, I struggled in my Christian walk. 

Shame and grief not dealt with can paralyze us from moving forward to healing and purpose.  These feelings were so deeply rooted in the caverns of my soul, but I was still unaware and a mild depression began to set in.

I had no idea that these symptoms were related to my previous abortion.  Hadn’t I put that behind me and tried to forget? But this was the very thing that was holding me back from moving forward in my Christian walk.  Something had to be done.   I made the decision right then to stop living in the shadows of my past and start living in the light of my Savior.

I believe with all my heart that the Holy Spirit was prompting me to deal with this.  This confirmation came when I stumbled upon a ministry called Rachel’s Vineyard - a ministry for women who have had abortions.

 

My weekend retreat of healing was soon to begin.

A Catholic social worker began Rachel’s Vineyard.  Having counseled numerous women who had abortions, she noticed a common denominator: Most of the women she talked to had problems with depression.   Realizing this, the Lord led her to create the ministry Rachel’s Vineyard.

I had just started seeing Jim, who is my husband now, when I went to this weekend retreat in the mid 2000’s.

 

God’s Spirit was all over that weekend.  I was taken through steps of praying and had help processing what happened - processing my grief and mourning this loss, something that I had never done. 

Wave upon wave of emotion pounded onto the soft shore of my heart.

The Holy Spirit was bringing healing.

The weekend culminated in a memorial service where we received a birth certificate having had the opportunity to name our baby.  It was a way of making it tangible, helping me to unleash my bottled up grief and shame.  The symbolism of this service was powerful.

Freedom came

Through this retreat, God brought to me a soul-cleansing, spirit-led release.  I was able to release this child to God, and He healed the under currents of depression and my hidden grief and shame.  I prayed for forgiveness not only for what I had done but also forgiveness for myself - many times women cannot forgive themselves.

The guilt and shame that had paralyzed and overpowered my life was gone.

When I think about my abortion experience now, it is with hope:  The hope of seeing my little one again in heaven.

God is a God who forgives and a God who heals.

My Thoughts

If you are living with the pain of abortion, please let God help you.  He will heal.

Maybe some of the problems you are experiencing emotionally or even physically might have its root in having had an abortion.  God can heal.

If you are considering an abortion, think clearly about the consequences.  For those who have had abortions and never dealt with the trauma, or are still grieving the loss and shame, get some good Christian counseling.  There are services available.  Talk about it and relinquish the bottled up pain.

 

As we all know, life shows up in unexpected ways but God has a way of redeeming those situations in our life. 

I praise God that he opened the door and gave me the awareness that I needed help.  I praise God for the retreat that brought hope back into my life and healed my pain.

If you need healing from the pain of an abortion, please visit the link below:

Rachel’s Vineyard:    http://www.rachelsvineyard.org/

Erin Corbin

Interviewed, written & edited by Sharon Garner

Launching Out

I've been on the launch team for some weeks now to promote a book entitled "How to Love Your Neighbor Without Being Weird" by Amy Lively.

Before this book was ever put into my hands this year, the last two years a desire to reach out to my neighbors in some tangible way was being created in me, but I just didn't know where to start.

Drum roll please and enter: How to Love Your Neighbor Without Being Weird.

This book has given me incentive, started my creative juices flowing and even teaching me what a good neighbor looks like.

Amy talks about starting a Neighborhood Cafe, which is exactly what she did in her own neighborhood.  Inviting your female neighbors over for a cup of coffee and conversation, getting to know their name and something about them.  You never know what will happen.  She shares her mistakes and her successes.

I started this adventure last year, stepping out of my comfort zone to reach out to my neighbors. Ashley and Chris, our neighbors across the street, recently had a baby in the fall of 2014.  I thought, "okay, I'm going to do something for them."  I make a pretty good lasagna, so I decided that would be my gift to them.  What mom doesn't enjoy a meal being brought over?  I took it one step further and bought an outfit with a little toy and a card for Ashley.

Stepping out of my door and knocking on theirs, I found myself feeling like a good neighbor.  Ashley was very appreciative of the food and clothes and later sent me a beautiful thank you card.

Because of my youngest daughter and her husband's dog, when they were here on vacation last year, I was able to find out my neighbor's name behind me, Leanne. She was gracious enough to hunt Sadie down and return her home after she had escaped our yard. What can I do to get to know Leanne even better?  My thoughts are swirling.

Since spring has arrived, I've been thinking what else can I do for my neighbors.

My neighbor next door, Joyce, just had surgery.  "What can I do for her?" is my thought now. 

What about the neighbor on the other side of me?  Her husband yells constantly at her and her son, belittling them both and using foul language.  I'm not sure how I can help her.  Right now I just pray for their family. They need help in a big way.

Dawn, kitty-corner to us across the street, has three boys in high school, a husband and a brother living with her in their small home. I helped her find a job in the medical transcription arena.  Every year we buy a treat from her boys who are Boy Scouts.  They know my husband as Pastor Bruce.  How can I reach out to Dawn this year?  I'm praying for an opportunity.

Recently, I joined an online community where we pray for each of our neighbors.  The website is pray4everyhome.com.  I print off five neighbors every day to pray for.  The names are given to me on this website.  I only needed to register.  

I've also joined the IF: Gathering/Equip community.

You can find them at: ifgathering.com. They have something each month called the IF: Open Table that peaked my curiosity.  The second Sunday of each month you invite 5 people to come to your table at your home.  The table can be an outside picnic table, your dining room table, whatever you want your table to look like.  It can be decorated elegantly, picnic-style, vintage style anything is okay.  Your invite can include women in your neighborhood, church, co-workers - just people you want to get to know.

A simple meal is prepared.  After the meal four women pick a conversation card from the middle of the table and ask a question. Each women answers and a discussion is started with each women sharing her thoughts. The IF:Gathering website provides the four questions for you to download. This has been a God-send.

The next IF: Table is May 17th.  If that date doesn't work, you can chose your own date that month.  I'm already thinking of who I can invite.  A little scary?  You bet.  But I feel this is what God is calling me to do.  

I'm in the process of self-publishing stories of women who have gone through some difficulties in life and have seen the other side of it; women who have come through an abortion, marriage troubles, a child's suicide, a miracle of a birth, relationship struggles and divorce.  These stories, I am hoping, will bring hope and encouragement to other women to say "they got through it, and so can I."

I want to use this book to give to women I meet in my life's journey, in my neighborhood, around my table, to spread the gospel of hope and of Christ's intervention in women's lives.

Many ideas are stirring in me.  I'm not sure exactly how all this will workout, or even what it will look like.  One thing I know for sure is that God will be with me, leading me to women who just need a helping hand or a listening ear.

In my Wednesday night Bible study group for women, I get the opportunity to hear women share their stories, their pain, their joys, sorrows, trials.  Opportunities to pray with them, help them and mostly just listen.

I'm looking forward to seeing what lies ahead and the adventures God has waiting just around the corner. 

Forgiveness with Thanks

This true story is a contribution from my sister Denise Marks. The name of the woman has been withheld for privacy.

Riding the elevator to the 10th floor was surreal. The elevator doors opened to a reception desk.  It was only a few steps to the counter, but my feet felt like leaded weights and all I could do was shuffle.

"We will need your purse, shoes and any other personal items brought with you."  The receptionist handed me a hospital gown.

"Put this on once you are situated in your room; a nurse will visit with you shortly."

She placed my belongings in a locker and escorted me down a long corridor to my temporary home on the psych ward.

As I sat on the edge of the bed, I contemplated the circumstances that had brought me to this place.  I didn't feel like a crazy person, I had never attempted to take my life; I wasn't addicted to drugs and held a full-time job.  Yet, here I was in a hospital gown waiting for a nurse to talk to me.

The Marriage
When I first met Eric, it was a dream come true for a single, divorced mom.  He was good-looking, romantic, charismatic and financially stable.  We met at a local football game.  As we sat in the bleachers and chatted, it became apparent there was a mutual attraction.  We agreed to link up later that evening for dinner.  After a brief courtship with many "too-good-to-be-true" fairy tale moments, we married.

The Hospital
The psych nurse entered my hospital room and took all the usual vitals and then flipped to a new page on her clipboard.

"Let's talk about what brought you here."

After the assessment was completed, I was free to visit the common area where other patients congregated to visit, smoke and play games.

The Marriage
I was happy and content the first two years of marriage.  Apart from the usual marital arguments, life was good.  We purchased a home, enjoyed family vacations and lived a suburbia lifestyle most would envy.  It wasn't unusual for Eric to send flowers to my workplace or send a limo for a surprise lunch date.  There were exquisite gifts and romantic weekend getaways.

But in our third year of marriage, Eric lost his job and everything changed.  It was swift, harsh and the truths sited by his employer left little leave room for debate.  He had cheated the company out of time, money and failed to call on clients.  It wasn't long before the bar stool became Eric's companion of comfort.

The Hospital
I sat perched like a wounded bird on a chair in the common area. The cigarette smoke was suffocating, but I didn't care; my thoughts were focused on the future of my twelve-year-old daughter.  How would all this affect her?  My sadness and depression had left me hopeless and unable to function as a mother.

"Hi, I am Linda."  With tears in my eyes, I looked up to see a young woman standing by my side.  "Is this your first time here?"

She continued, "I cried too on my first visit to the psych ward; I felt so alone."

I wasn't sure what she meant by first visit and shuddered at the thought of being here more than once. Later I learned Linda had been abused as a child and was a frequent patient in the psych ward due to her suicidal tendencies.  It was the first of many interactions I would have with other patients during my hospital stay.

My own circumstances began to register as insignificant as others shared their stories of emotional, physical and mental pain.

My Marriage
After Eric lost his job, he descended into a secret world of drugs, women and alcohol.  Years later I would discover the depth of his abyss and just how close I came to being destroyed by it.  I had married a man that not only lacked integrity, but basic moral principles.

The Hospital
My first therapy session was with eight other patients.  I listened to strangers share the horrors of their physical and emotional abuse; unthinkable acts that I couldn't begin to image.  I have never forgotten how those in my group faced issues far greater than mine, yet reached out with compassion and friendship to help me find my buried hope.

After ten days in the hospital, I checked myself out and returned to work.  I continued with my prescribed meds, but knew all the meds in the world would not fix my broken marriage.

The Marriage
In the early morning hours, Eric crept into our bedroom and crawled beneath the covers.

      " I have something to tell you."

What he said next brought every suspicion to the surface.  I could no longer deny what my heart already knew:

      "Things didn't go well on my job today."  There was a long hesitation before he continued with, so I stopped for a few drinks.  I ended up in a hotel room with a woman I met at the bar....."

The betrayal of a spouse pierces the heart, soul and mind in ways never thought possible.  There are no answers to the questions of why, how could you, or what were you thinking, which only intensifies the heartache of the betrayal.

Eric's admission of infidelity opened Pandora's Box and it wasn't long before I learned his late work nights included prostitutes, strip clubs, alcohol and cocaine use.  I was on the verge of a breakdown as the layers of the man I married were peeled away.  It would eventually send me to the psych ward.

A letter from the IRS is what sent me over the edge.  It stated our home would be seized in 90 days if Eric's delinquent taxes were not paid.  I immediately called Eric and left a message.  He never returned my call and never returned home.

Three months later, I answered a knock at my door and a court officer served me with divorce papers. After closing the door, I phoned my attorney and then fell to the floor and cried.

The Ending
As I stood in the eye of the storm, I couldn't find hope or comprehend God had a plan in place to restore my brokenness; but He did.  With time, family and friends, I was able to rebuild my life, put my daughter through graduate school and eventually marry a man who has been my faithful partner for 17 years.

I haven't spoken to Eric since we divorced, but should we ever have a chance encounter, I would say this:

"I forgive you!  Your weaknesses uncovered my strengths. Your indifference taught me compassion.  Your betrayal of trust showed me I had everything to gain and that when moments in life break us, they can also define and shape us.

I thank you! Through you, I learned the integrity of a person is measured by the obstacles placed before them.  But most of all, I thank you for that visit to the psych ward.  It was there, among the most unlikely friends, I found hope, love and the encouragement to begin again."


Thank you Denise for contributing this story.

Toni Harris

For twenty-two years a high school sweetheart searched for me, and finally, through a mutual friend, he found me and called.

He drove up from Texas, where he now lived, and proceeded to sweep me off my feet. After all those years, like a knight in shining armor coming to rescue the princess and take her away on his valiant steed, he expressed his undying love for me.  He spoke of wanting to be my husband, the father of my children and everything else a single mom, living on her own would want to hear.  I felt adored, loved and wanted.

Within a couple of months, he flew me to Texas to see his home and how he lived.  With the anticipation of blending our families, and requiring more room, we went house shopping. We settled on a 2500 square foot modular home with four bedrooms, even picking out the cabinets and everything our new home would need.

My dream was finally coming true.  

As a single mom, I struggled to make ends meet, wanting a man to come into my life and say, “Toni, I’m going to take care of it all and give you everything you’ve ever wanted.” 

I returned home, and as I immersed myself in preparations to make this dream come true, a nagging feeling began to emerge deep inside of me, a feeling that something wasn’t right.

I knew in my heart-of-hearts that he wasn’t living for the Lord.

Part of me was convinced that if he was around me, I could persuade him.  He would see my love for the Lord and be drawn to God.  But God showed me the truth.  He revealed to me that I needed to search the scriptures to find all the marriages that were unevenly yoked, so I could see what the results of such a union would be.  To my surprise, every example ended in one mate turning away from God and worshiping other gods.  This was a heart-crushing moment for me.  As much as the relationship seemed like a dream come true, the thought of being pulled away from the Lord was unbearable. 

I knew it would be a nightmare for me to lose my relationship with Jesus.  I could not do that.  Right then I knew that there was only one thing I needed to do: cut this relationship off.  This was going to be difficult because I knew he was in the process of buying this house, property, and preparing for my arrival.  But I had to end this relationship and tell him "I’m sorry, but I just can’t do this”.

My emotions during this time were like a rollercoaster ride – up and down, twisting and turning, first feeling like a school girl who had fluttery feelings of “Look, I’m going to get married” and then thinking, “This isn’t real.”  My mind swirled, “This has to be nothing more than a lie from the devil himself.  This is not what God has for me”.  I had to come to terms with these overwhelming emotions and thoughts. 

I have to admit there was a part of me that said “I’ve been married twice before, and they were both outside of a relationship with the Lord”.  I felt God had done so much in me and changed me that now I could be a good wife, a godly wife.  Part of me thought, “Here’s my opportunity,” but another part of me realized that this is not it.  I struggled with the thought that I might never be married and wondered if this was just a test: a test of whether I was going to follow my own reasoning or be true to what I believed and trust God.

I knew I had to make the phone call. 

It would be a very difficult conversation for me, since he was not living for the Lord.  I had to say “You know I can’t marry you.  I can’t move down there because it’s not what the Lord wants me to do.”  It was, of course, not a sufficient answer for him.  His response was what I expected: “What do you mean? We decided on this.  We made these plans.  How can you just say ‘I’ve changed my mind’?”  He was very angry with me, and actually went ahead and purchased the house and has lived in it ever since.

In the natural it looked like everything that a single mom struggling to raise her children would want, a man who loved and adored her with a well-paying job, providing a nice stable home, but it was all founded on shifting sand. 

Through this, I’ve learned a very important lesson:  

I have to truly trust the Lord and know that Jesus is the only one who can provide true stability for me and my children, not a man.  I had to trust him through this whole process.   Everything in the natural was telling me, “Are you stupid?”  I had to know that He would always guide me and direct me, if I was willing and obedient in my heart to respond to what He would tell me.

This took me to a point where I received the Lord as my husband, saying “You are the one who is going to provide for me.  You are the one that I’m going to look to for all the things I need.”  It’s interesting that not long after this incident happened the Lord put it into my heart to purchase a home, which I had no idea I could do because of my credit history.  I always tell people when they come to my house that this is the house God gave me. 

I believe the Lord took me through this whole journey to show me He will provide.  I had miracle after miracle.  It was God’s hand in my life saying “I am your husband.  I will take care of you and your children”.  It changed the way I viewed God, making my relationship with Him more intimate.

In this journey, I've learned I am to pursue God alone.  Whether I ever become a wife or my children have a father is irrelevant.  I must love the Lord regardless of my circumstances, and He is faithful and just.  He loves me with a pure love that I can never find in this world.  My completion is in the Lord. 

The Lord has taken me to a place where I can have a relationship now and not look to a man to be my all-in-all.  It’s strengthened my commitment making be stronger in my faith.  I am able to recognize my weaknesses and be okay with being weak.  God will be my strength.  I am more aware and more on guard.

The childhood sweetheart? 

He has been in contact with me off and on since then.  Now that I am on the other side of this, and trusting God for everything, I have told him once again that I am looking for someone to be a spiritual leader in my life and you’re not there. I will be your friend, but I cannot be in this picture that you’ve envisioned. 

It’s been freeing for me to know that it’s okay to put boundaries up and say, “No I’m sorry, this goes against what I believe,” and to be able to live that out.  It’s helped me to come full circle.  I know in my heart that at the end of every day, I must remain true to what I believe. 

Interviewed & edited by Sharon Garner