I was born and raised in the church.
My family probably couldn't have been more picture-perfect, except for the occasional accidents, mess-ups, fights and hard times; my Mother was part of the music in my church, she played the piano, and held the music section together. My Father didn't really do anything in our church, but he was a member. My brothers and sister always occupied the first pew on the right side of the church, closest to the pastor, who was my Grandfather. All of my family went to that church, my aunt and uncle and my grandmother and grandfather. I had other aunts and uncles, but they all lived too far. I grew up in that church and knew everything about it, everyone in it, and all the history of it.
When I was a wee child (age 4), I accepted Jesus Christ as my savior. I allowed him into my soul, and I gave him my life.
When my grandfather died, it was hard to keep going to that church, though we found a new pastor and everything, the church was broken, and it would never be the same.
Then my parents divorced, and my mother was called a sinner for divorcing my father, and was shunned at my church, by the elders, by her friends, even by the pastor. My parents had a peaceful divorce, until my father decided to take my family back to court for abusing him by not feeding him and not taking care of him (remember, he had MS, so he was using a walker and occasionally a wheelchair). This hit me hard because I was always there when I was homeschooled, or as soon as I got out of school, it was time to make him dinner, breakfast, lunch, get him the remote, get him a pillow, pick him up when he fell... The work never ended, but I silently obeyed, I didn't know any better, and I thought that I was supposed to do all of this stuff because God wanted me to. Anyways, the judge finally decided to forget about the accusations because he knew they weren't real. After that, he moved out, leaving me (10-11 years old) my brothers, my sister and my mother with a huge mortage and lots of bills to pay, all my siblings got jobs, we cut the land line, and my cell phone and almost had to cut the cable. We weren't going to church for awhile, but my faith that God would take care of everything stayed rock solid. When we resumed attending a church that my mother and father attended years ago, Coastal Community Church, we found a great pastor, incredible music, a kind environment, but most importantly hope.
A lot of people think that you can just find hope anywhere, like when something goes right in your life, or when you meet someone who can take your troubles away. But it's fiction, the only way you can find hope is through the Holy Spirit. And trust me, you'll know when you find hope.
As I attended that church, we went through times where we didn't even have bread in our cupboard, milk in our fridge or dignity in ourselves. But we always managed to escape the clutches of something awful, like losing our house, just before we did. In February 2012, my mom was out of a job because the doctor that she was workin for retired. She was receiving unemployment benefits, and was cleaning summer houses for billionaires in her spare time. She was applying everywhere she possibly could, and finally got a job at Maine Medical Center registering patients as they come to the hospital.
I'll never forget how during the time that various people just helped us out, our pastor's wife delivered a letter to us from an anonymous sender who wanted the pastor and his wife to give it to someone "in need". The letter held enough Wal-Mart gift cards to buy us food for the next month. We never found out who the sender was, but we prayed for her, and gave thanks that God told her to give, and gave thanks that D and M (the pastor and his wife, I'm protecting their identities because I did not ask them if I could write their names) chose us.
Back before we moved into Southern Maine, we attended a church out in the middle of nowhere, it was probably the best church we had ever been to before Coastal. We reluctantly left it because we needed to move, but this year, while my mom was out of a job and we didn't have a whole lot of food and everything, a woman from that church decided to help us out because she knew us for a long time, and heard the situation from another miracle in our lives (I'll mention them later). The 'miracle in our lives' came to our house bearing over six huge cloth bags full of things like canned goods, bread, noodles, vegetables, meat, fruit, crackers, cereal... It was amazing, she also sent a letter explaining, and no more that two weeks after that, we found time to visit our old church and give her our thanks.
Other people like my Mom's friends, and the 'miracle in our life' chipped in sneakily, sending amounts of money in cards for birthdays, or sneaking it into our pockets, and sometimes even down our shirts for a laugh.
It was an outpouring of aloha, a beautiful thing that we had never expected.
The miracle in our life is a older couple that has been in our camp and by our side for my whole lifetime. They've always been friends with my mom and family, and they've always been there for us. They are considered family now, and we see them at least once a week. Me especially, I go out to lunch with H (the husband, and one of my best friends) sometimes, and my mom and I go out to dinner sometimes with H and J (the wife and probably the most kind woman I've ever met).
All of these people who've helped us have God in their hearts. And I truly believe that God had given them a vision to help those in need, and they thought of us. I am eternally thankful for all of them, and for God coming into my life.
Well, if you finished this, (probably not a lot of people) then thank you for reading it, and I hope that my story inspires you to do something great in your life.
See you later KPeers!
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