This is my story, which has never been told to anyone before. I feel compelled to share, and hope that it may be of interest to somebody else. This is a long story, but it never fails to help me see how blessed I am to be alive and well today. Closer to the end, it talks a little bit about Catholicism, but I do not want to offend anybody by anything I say, it is just the way I saw things as a 12 or 13 year old when I went to Church. So, I apologize ahead of time. 
Here goes
My mother, try as she might, could never get a grade above a C during high school. She never really had much support at home, especially after her older brother had died from leukemia at the early age of fifteen. The blame was put upon her, since her mother, father, and older sister had nowhere else to place the sorrows, so my mother got into sports, which was the one thing she found joy in. She was raised Catholic, and her mother did the best she could to always get her children to Church. Although she did attend Church, religion was never really prevalent in her life. When she was about twenty-one, she met and married the man who was to be my father.
My father also never got good grades in high school, in fact, he was completely illiterate. He had no religious background whatsoever, and had some mental issues. He was however, good looking, seemed to care deeply for my mother, and always talked about the dreams and aspirations he had hoped would come to a reality for the couple.
In May (when my mother was 22), I was born in Florida. During birth, the umbilical cord somehow got wrapped around my neck. I was suffocating, turning blue, so the doctors had to do an emergency C-section, and I was okay.
Things went well for about the first month after my birth, and both my mother and my father cared for me deeply.
However, my father wanted me all for himself, and not only began to abuse my mother, but me as well. My mother finally got everything together, and fled to her parents house (with me) in Arizona, to get a divorce. Since her best friend lived in Michigan at the time, my father moved there to try to find us.
When getting a divorce, all three of us were united again, but the divorce did not go as planned. By this time, I was about one year old, and my father was given full custody of me.
Well, during this time, my mothers older sister had introduced my mom to one of her male co-workers. Their relationship grew and grew, and during the first year of my life, they became very close.
After the judge ordered that my father take custody of me, my mother took to me to this new friend of hers house, and we hid. A warrant was then put out for my mothers arrest.
This friend went out and got a lawyer. During this next court battle, my father was only given some custody rights, so my mother agreed. I went up to visit my father on occasion. These were not good times, for, due to his mental problems and drinking problems, I was neglected and even abused.
The next court battle only gave my father rights to talk to me on the phone with supervision, and at this time, I was about 4 ½ years old. He was better on the phone, almost like we were friends, and I can still remember how we used to kid around and call each other Bozo.
Finally, my mother, her newfound best friend and I, moved to New Mexico and found a better lawyer. At this time, I was 5. I can still remember that court hearing, and my father was no longer allowed to see or speak to me, and for abuse, a warrant was put out for his arrest. He fled to somewhere in New York, and I have never heard a word about him since.
That year, my mothers good friend proposed, and they got married at a small church in New Mexico. I had a dad, a dad that loved me.
When I was 6, my mother got pregnant. I was happy, since I had always wanted a little sister. She was due in mid-February of 1994. During a check-up in late December, however, there were complications with her pregnancy, and the doctor needed to go in and do an emergency C-Section. My sister was 2 months early, and was not expected to live. She was put on life-support and remained hospitalized until March.
Well, although she may frustrate me sometimes, I am happy to say that she is alive and well today, and is actually big for her age.
All of these stresses in my life, combined with mental issues, which were genetically passed down to me, had led to severe depression, and at a time I was even diagnosed with ADD. (Just a side note: although my mother never got good grades, and my father was illiterate, I am happy to say that I beat the genes and was put in advanced classes during school). I went through about seven years total of therapy. During my first year, I was placed on three medications (pills, mind you, at the age of 6) for mental illnesses. At the age of ten, I was even placed in a mental institution. Whether the pills worsened the illnesses or decreased the effects, we will never know. But during this time, I even got in horrible fights with my dad.
Well, when I was twelve, we talked to a psychiatrist who immediately took me off of all the medications I was on (which varied over the years), and told us that he would never put a child under the age of fourteen on any medication of any sort. The effects of depression, however, did not leave.
When I was 13, my dad was laid off of his job, so we moved back to Arizona where he could get a similar job working for the same company. We moved to a town, which was about an hour away from everything, and we also found a beautiful house (which was even in our price range), and had it built in that same town. We didnt really like the fact that it was so far away from everything, so the day before we moved in; we randomly went looking out in the Northern part of the city, which was conveniently closer to everything. We found a spec home, which we absolutely loved, so we moved there instead. When we drove the U-Haul van up to our house, there was a structure, which looked exactly like a casino tent just around the corner. The weekend that we finally settled in our new house was this tent- Christs Churchs- grand opening.
Now before I go any further into my story, I must go back in retrospect once more back to when we first lived with my moms parents in Arizona. My grandparents made/make porcelain Indian dolls. I had always helped them with making dolls, and when I was seven or so, I was allowed to travel with them around the southwest, going from craft show to craft show, during my summer break. Well, since my grandparents were raised Catholic, they raised their kids (including my mom) Catholic, so I had Catholic beliefs impressed on me when I was growing. My dad, now, was raised Baptist, so I also knew about that belief system. None of it really took prevalence in my life, and I never really gave any of it any care at all.
Before we would leave to go to a craft show, my grandparents would always pray in the van for protection as we traveled. My grandmother would also take me to the local Catholic Churches when we stopped in any town.
I knew about all of these beliefs and traditions, but Catholic Mass was just so boring for me! None of it really took prevalence in my life, and I never really cared at all about it-until I stepped into that casino-like tent.
I have always been a skeptic when it came to religion, and I knew about all of the problems and issues that the Church had had through all of the years. There were different practices, and many different traditions, and I always doubted the authenticity of it all. But it was just something different here.
The first thing that caught me was the worship- they didnt sing the boring hymns like in Mass; instead, they had very contemporary and upbeat songs. And the people in the Church were completely into it! All of the churches I had been to had the hymns written in a book, and you would recite them as sold old guy blandly sang to the beat of an organ or piano. If you werent following those words closely, you knew youd get lost!
But, at this Church, they had the electric guitar, the drums, the whole nine yards, and they used PowerPoint! The Worship Pastor was also not just some old guy; he was a young man, late 20s, who could be a professional vocalist! And the people all knew the words to these songs, and sung them from the heart! I had never seen any of these things before, especially worshipping in spirit.
Then came the sermon. To my surprise, there was no complete schedule of every last word the Pastor would say, and you didnt teach him, but instead, he gave you practical ways to apply Biblical principles in your life. He also told jokes during the sermon! He did not, however, compromise the Word of God. He also, didnt go and say, this is the way it is, just because it is, do it this way, because I said so. He told us what the Bible said, taught us application skills, and even said: Dont just believe me, I am simply human, and I can and will make mistakes See for yourself!
I was drawn to this Church, and eventually I got my mother to come. Of course, since she came, my little sister came as well.
My father, however, was more skeptical than I was. Of course, they did have all of my questions answered in the first service.
CCV later held a class, and I urged my dad to come, for I knew he could ask any question he wanted. I prayed about it, for I knew it was no longer in my hands.
Well, God answered my prayers, and He also answered my dads questions. My dad who was raised Baptist, grew away, and had even turned to drugs and alcohol (back in his teen years), had recommitted his life to the Lord.
Since it was the worship that mainly got me coming back to the Church, I was scheduled to be baptized by my Worship Pastor on the 26th of April 2001. The day before my baptism, my mother, who was Catholic all of her life, came to me and asked if she could be baptized with me. On April 26th, 2001, my mother and I were baptized in the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit by our Worship Pastor in the freezing cold waters of our backyard pool. It was a day I will never forget. Not only was it one of the most unique memories that I have made, but it was a day that completely changed my life. All of the previous illnesses, quarrels, and horrid memories just disappeared, and it was just a miraculous change.
If you ask any of my old friends (who have stood by me since the beginning), or any of my new ones, they would say what a happy person I am today. And I can truly say that all that has happened in my past has conformed and disciplined me into the person that I am today, and I am glad that it all happened the way it did. If you look at things from my perspective, and hopefully you see it through your own, you can see God through every bit of it. And I know He was there. There is no way any human can make it on their own through times like those, and it has greatly increased my faith, knowing that God helped me through all that-I dont worry about the future anymore. I focus on making the best of every moment, and humbling my heart so that God may work His will in my life. I know that if He allowed me to survive, He must have a purpose for me. I also do not think any of that is coincidence; how it all worked out nicely in the end. It just proves to me the power of a Mighty God who is still alive today, and I am truly happy to say that I am so very *Blessed!*
Here goes
My mother, try as she might, could never get a grade above a C during high school. She never really had much support at home, especially after her older brother had died from leukemia at the early age of fifteen. The blame was put upon her, since her mother, father, and older sister had nowhere else to place the sorrows, so my mother got into sports, which was the one thing she found joy in. She was raised Catholic, and her mother did the best she could to always get her children to Church. Although she did attend Church, religion was never really prevalent in her life. When she was about twenty-one, she met and married the man who was to be my father.
My father also never got good grades in high school, in fact, he was completely illiterate. He had no religious background whatsoever, and had some mental issues. He was however, good looking, seemed to care deeply for my mother, and always talked about the dreams and aspirations he had hoped would come to a reality for the couple.
In May (when my mother was 22), I was born in Florida. During birth, the umbilical cord somehow got wrapped around my neck. I was suffocating, turning blue, so the doctors had to do an emergency C-section, and I was okay.
Things went well for about the first month after my birth, and both my mother and my father cared for me deeply.
However, my father wanted me all for himself, and not only began to abuse my mother, but me as well. My mother finally got everything together, and fled to her parents house (with me) in Arizona, to get a divorce. Since her best friend lived in Michigan at the time, my father moved there to try to find us.
When getting a divorce, all three of us were united again, but the divorce did not go as planned. By this time, I was about one year old, and my father was given full custody of me.
Well, during this time, my mothers older sister had introduced my mom to one of her male co-workers. Their relationship grew and grew, and during the first year of my life, they became very close.
After the judge ordered that my father take custody of me, my mother took to me to this new friend of hers house, and we hid. A warrant was then put out for my mothers arrest.
This friend went out and got a lawyer. During this next court battle, my father was only given some custody rights, so my mother agreed. I went up to visit my father on occasion. These were not good times, for, due to his mental problems and drinking problems, I was neglected and even abused.
The next court battle only gave my father rights to talk to me on the phone with supervision, and at this time, I was about 4 ½ years old. He was better on the phone, almost like we were friends, and I can still remember how we used to kid around and call each other Bozo.
Finally, my mother, her newfound best friend and I, moved to New Mexico and found a better lawyer. At this time, I was 5. I can still remember that court hearing, and my father was no longer allowed to see or speak to me, and for abuse, a warrant was put out for his arrest. He fled to somewhere in New York, and I have never heard a word about him since.
That year, my mothers good friend proposed, and they got married at a small church in New Mexico. I had a dad, a dad that loved me.
When I was 6, my mother got pregnant. I was happy, since I had always wanted a little sister. She was due in mid-February of 1994. During a check-up in late December, however, there were complications with her pregnancy, and the doctor needed to go in and do an emergency C-Section. My sister was 2 months early, and was not expected to live. She was put on life-support and remained hospitalized until March.
Well, although she may frustrate me sometimes, I am happy to say that she is alive and well today, and is actually big for her age.
All of these stresses in my life, combined with mental issues, which were genetically passed down to me, had led to severe depression, and at a time I was even diagnosed with ADD. (Just a side note: although my mother never got good grades, and my father was illiterate, I am happy to say that I beat the genes and was put in advanced classes during school). I went through about seven years total of therapy. During my first year, I was placed on three medications (pills, mind you, at the age of 6) for mental illnesses. At the age of ten, I was even placed in a mental institution. Whether the pills worsened the illnesses or decreased the effects, we will never know. But during this time, I even got in horrible fights with my dad.
Well, when I was twelve, we talked to a psychiatrist who immediately took me off of all the medications I was on (which varied over the years), and told us that he would never put a child under the age of fourteen on any medication of any sort. The effects of depression, however, did not leave.
When I was 13, my dad was laid off of his job, so we moved back to Arizona where he could get a similar job working for the same company. We moved to a town, which was about an hour away from everything, and we also found a beautiful house (which was even in our price range), and had it built in that same town. We didnt really like the fact that it was so far away from everything, so the day before we moved in; we randomly went looking out in the Northern part of the city, which was conveniently closer to everything. We found a spec home, which we absolutely loved, so we moved there instead. When we drove the U-Haul van up to our house, there was a structure, which looked exactly like a casino tent just around the corner. The weekend that we finally settled in our new house was this tent- Christs Churchs- grand opening.
Now before I go any further into my story, I must go back in retrospect once more back to when we first lived with my moms parents in Arizona. My grandparents made/make porcelain Indian dolls. I had always helped them with making dolls, and when I was seven or so, I was allowed to travel with them around the southwest, going from craft show to craft show, during my summer break. Well, since my grandparents were raised Catholic, they raised their kids (including my mom) Catholic, so I had Catholic beliefs impressed on me when I was growing. My dad, now, was raised Baptist, so I also knew about that belief system. None of it really took prevalence in my life, and I never really gave any of it any care at all.
Before we would leave to go to a craft show, my grandparents would always pray in the van for protection as we traveled. My grandmother would also take me to the local Catholic Churches when we stopped in any town.
I knew about all of these beliefs and traditions, but Catholic Mass was just so boring for me! None of it really took prevalence in my life, and I never really cared at all about it-until I stepped into that casino-like tent.
I have always been a skeptic when it came to religion, and I knew about all of the problems and issues that the Church had had through all of the years. There were different practices, and many different traditions, and I always doubted the authenticity of it all. But it was just something different here.
The first thing that caught me was the worship- they didnt sing the boring hymns like in Mass; instead, they had very contemporary and upbeat songs. And the people in the Church were completely into it! All of the churches I had been to had the hymns written in a book, and you would recite them as sold old guy blandly sang to the beat of an organ or piano. If you werent following those words closely, you knew youd get lost!
But, at this Church, they had the electric guitar, the drums, the whole nine yards, and they used PowerPoint! The Worship Pastor was also not just some old guy; he was a young man, late 20s, who could be a professional vocalist! And the people all knew the words to these songs, and sung them from the heart! I had never seen any of these things before, especially worshipping in spirit.
Then came the sermon. To my surprise, there was no complete schedule of every last word the Pastor would say, and you didnt teach him, but instead, he gave you practical ways to apply Biblical principles in your life. He also told jokes during the sermon! He did not, however, compromise the Word of God. He also, didnt go and say, this is the way it is, just because it is, do it this way, because I said so. He told us what the Bible said, taught us application skills, and even said: Dont just believe me, I am simply human, and I can and will make mistakes See for yourself!
I was drawn to this Church, and eventually I got my mother to come. Of course, since she came, my little sister came as well.
My father, however, was more skeptical than I was. Of course, they did have all of my questions answered in the first service.
CCV later held a class, and I urged my dad to come, for I knew he could ask any question he wanted. I prayed about it, for I knew it was no longer in my hands.
Well, God answered my prayers, and He also answered my dads questions. My dad who was raised Baptist, grew away, and had even turned to drugs and alcohol (back in his teen years), had recommitted his life to the Lord.
Since it was the worship that mainly got me coming back to the Church, I was scheduled to be baptized by my Worship Pastor on the 26th of April 2001. The day before my baptism, my mother, who was Catholic all of her life, came to me and asked if she could be baptized with me. On April 26th, 2001, my mother and I were baptized in the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit by our Worship Pastor in the freezing cold waters of our backyard pool. It was a day I will never forget. Not only was it one of the most unique memories that I have made, but it was a day that completely changed my life. All of the previous illnesses, quarrels, and horrid memories just disappeared, and it was just a miraculous change.
If you ask any of my old friends (who have stood by me since the beginning), or any of my new ones, they would say what a happy person I am today. And I can truly say that all that has happened in my past has conformed and disciplined me into the person that I am today, and I am glad that it all happened the way it did. If you look at things from my perspective, and hopefully you see it through your own, you can see God through every bit of it. And I know He was there. There is no way any human can make it on their own through times like those, and it has greatly increased my faith, knowing that God helped me through all that-I dont worry about the future anymore. I focus on making the best of every moment, and humbling my heart so that God may work His will in my life. I know that if He allowed me to survive, He must have a purpose for me. I also do not think any of that is coincidence; how it all worked out nicely in the end. It just proves to me the power of a Mighty God who is still alive today, and I am truly happy to say that I am so very *Blessed!*
