Wednesday, August 19, 2015

God is my family

God has been my steadfast; my whole life. 

When I lay in my crib, neglected, filthy, and starving, He was there.  When my Dad remarried, He was there.  When my knight in shining armor turned out to be a cheating alcoholic, God was there (Ron cheated, more than once, in the years we lived together before our marriage). 

My family has been a disappointment: I wanted my Dad to be more cuddly and sensitive, but I have my own theories on that I will share after he dies.  I do my best to accept Dad where he is, as a result. 

My birthmother maimed me for life, neglected me to a criminal extent, and ran off when she found out I was disabled.  Oddly enough, though, the best thing she ever did was get the hell out of my life.  From what I have seen of those who had more time with her, she left a lot of scars. 

My sister, at a very vulnerable moment, was sucked into a cult.  After that, her primary focus was proselytizing, because, by her own words "It's my fondest dream that you join my church".

Dad was a lot more Biblical: "I want you to find a good, Bible-teaching church".  

I don't care what church you attend, as long as you read the Bible I gave you, and hopefully get saved.  

Why do I believe in the Holy Spirit?  That it's inside me?  One reason, anything to do with that cult has put my hackles on full alert, and sparked an intense desire to flee.

Regardless, I was dragged to one "meeting" after another, forced to sit through hours of droning sermons and bizarre behavior, even after I told her I was born again.  I was given a cult "Bible" because I "couldn't understand" my own.

No, I told her I didn't like the King James and preferred my Good News Version.  I still have my Good News Version, by the way.  I got rid of the cult Bible after talking to a pastor about it. 

My brother's a fine man, but he's a city-averse survivalist living off in the middle of nowhere.  Pretty hard to get there on the bus!  He's made it clear he will never come to Houston, and he doesn't have a phone.

All in all, when I'm falling and need someone to catch me, I've pretty much fallen on God.

God got me through my hellish early years without me becoming a serial killer.
God got me through 14 more, extremely difficult years I will not detail.
God got  me through 10 years of a difficult relationship, with a cheater.
God got me through the accident and the aftermath, when I spent many a night crying by myself in the waiting room, wishing, begging, God would send me a human shoulder to cry on.

A few months later God allowed me to be that shoulder, which I still consider a very high honor.

God got me through decades of hellish depression, delusions, paranoia, and other hell-moods; and then led me to a proper diagnosis, fantastic doctor, and medication that suits all my needs.

God's getting me through what I guess I'd term "The caregiver years" - taking care of Ron, and the business, him drinking.  I never know if he'll wake me up, needing to go to the hospital.

God also led me to a unique ministry: street corner evangelism, in notorious ghettoes.  I'm glad He can use me.

However, when He's ready to take me (rapture or death) I am certainly ready to go!   

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