Employment Elimination

EMPLOYMENT ELIMINATION

(ONE DAY IN THE LIFE OF THE UNEMPLOYED)

One day in my tireless surfing on the web through hundreds of job postings, I found a position at The County. Everyone wants to work for the county.  Once you are in the door, you are set for a life time of employment that included regular raises, vacations, and transfers, not to mention the best retirement program.  I applied with my resume and questionnaire.  I’ve learned from past experience that you answer yes to all the questions.  Yes, I will be your slave for the duration of my employment, working any day or hour I am needed, including Holidays, with a smile and the perfect attitude.

To my surprise I received an invitation to a physical test for the position.  The night before, I could hardly sleep.  My nerves were on edge from not knowing what to expect.  I set my alarm early so I would be ready to leave preciously at the time needed to get there fifteen minutes early.  The County Building is a very large facility with many buildings.  Given the location of the testing area, I tried to choose the closest parking lot.  Even so, I walked for what seemed like miles.  When I arrived, I did not see anyone on the green area indicated in the e-mail.  After inquiring with several employed personnel, I called the number for information. The man on the other end of the line informed me I was a day early.  I laughed, telling him, he had to give me credit for being the eager beaver.  I think he laughed with me.

The following morning, I awoke in anticipation, not anxiety as the day before.  After arriving, at the right time, the empty grounds now held at least a hundred people.  Two lines formed the check in at the long white tables. I observed all the young men and women, dressed comfortably for physical activity.  I thought about wearing my Capri pants but hesitated, feeling I should dress somewhat office casual, not really knowing what to expect.  Instead, I wore a pair of loose fitting jeans and tee shirt.

We learned the test involved running 25 yards in 18 seconds, dragging a 145 pound dummy for 20 seconds, and running through cones to grab a fire extinguisher and then carrying the fire extinguisher back through the cones.

It never dawned on me to consider my age or the fact that I haven’t had any physical, real physical activity for years. I watched the guys run like they were running with the wind.  Some of the girls were a little slower but they made it.  Progressing forward, my turn arrived to stand on the line waiting for the whistle. It blows. I’m running with all my might. The grounds many holes caused me to think, “I’m going to take a dive in front of all these young people”.  My feet were moving faster than my brain.  I’m getting tired but the cone seems so far away. My cheerleader at the end shouts, “You can make it.  Don’t’ slow down now.” I made it in 17.80 seconds.

I debated which test to take second, the cones with the fire extinguisher or the dummy. I went with the dummy.  I watched young, skinny girls drag it successfully.  I still felt pretty young on the inside, I thought, “You can do it.” You just lift with your legs, keep them bent and drag the dummy.  If they can do it, so can you.

My turn finally arrives. I bend down, lift with my legs and every part of my being acknowledges, this dummy is heavier than they made it look. My legs said, you just made us run 25 yards and now you want us to bear the weight of a145 pound dummy! My arms sneered, “you can’t even carry a 50 pound bag of potatoes”.  I think they both laughed at my mindset (thinking I could compete with 20 and 30 year olds physically) because the whistle blew and I wasn’t even half way across. ROTFLOL. No shame in it, I left with my head held high, and thinking, “Not bad for a 57 year old.”

I don’t think that job was for me, but I’m Looking forward to the assignment I did acquire, being a tech sub for Ventura County Unified School District.

Wake Up America

WAKE UP AMERICA

THE SMALLEST LIFE IS VIABLE

If I had the chance to speak in front of one million people I would take the opportunity to speak up for those who are not able to speak for themselves.  Now that I have your attention let me say that, I have struggled silently for forty years with a decision I made while still in my teens.  In the early 1970’s our country found itself in what seemed to be a crisis.  I remember the horror stories about women who died at the hands of unlicensed doctors who performed abortions.   In reality the thousands of women who died before legalization of abortion, pales in comparison to the millions of babies that have been aborted since then. 

Without the knowledge we have today from our advancement in medicine it was easy to believe the medical jargon in 1973 about the life in the womb being nothing more than protoplasm.  As science has advanced in technology regarding life in the womb shouldn’t we advance with it?  With the incredible picture from Vanderbilt University’s Medical Center of a surgical procedure performed on a baby while still in the womb as well as Ultra Sound technology proves that this is a live human being.

When I was a teenager in 1974, contraceptives were not as available as they are today.  So with resources accessible to prevent unwanted pregnancy, how is it possible that there are over a million babies aborted each year?  How have we come to the place where life is so easily expendable? 

I believe our society is suffering needlessly.  Who knows whether or not some of these babies could have engineers, health care workers, teachers, musicians, or those scientists who found the cure for cancer?

Our nation is moved to compassion to the point of putting in place laws to protect animals that are on the verge of extinction or treated inhumanely yet we allow our species to be suctioned apart, burned to death with saline solution or dismembered one limb at a time with no more thought for that life than how to dispose of it.

Wake up America! I implore you to take a look inside yourself as well as the undisputed facts and take a stand against abortion. Together we can make the change and reverse the wrong because even the smallest life is viable.

“Why Wait” Part 6

Why Wait?

 

THE JOURNEY OF THE HEALING PROCESS

I was just nineteen years old when I moved to California, venturing across the United States by Greyhound bus, stopping for a time in San Francisco to, eventually, end up in Hollywood.

My three years in Hollywood laid a solid foundation in Christ.  I couldn’t get enough of the Word of God.  I had great fellowship and teaching from my Uncle Chuck and Aunt Nancy as well as some of their pastor friends.  After three years, when I returned to West Virginia, God had given me such a desire to follow Him, which gave me the strength to face the trials that were yet to come. 

As a young woman of 24 years, I wanted to be a wife and mother.  In my mind, that was what a good Christian woman should be.  I liked a young, white boy in the church I…

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“Why Wait?” Part 5

Why Wait?

 

What happened to me in my young years stayed below the surface of my mind, in my subconscious, however, from this incident other characteristics began to surface—an awareness of sexuality, but without knowing what to do with it.  Each child is different so not everyone will have the same experiences.

Sheltered from the ways of the world, I never really knew all the details about sex until I hit mid teen years.  Most of that information came from friends, who were older than me, that had already begun to be sexually active.  I wasn’t interested.  I flirted, unreservedly with boys, but never went any further, nor did I want to.  

When my parents finally let me date, I was fourteen.  Of course it had to be at the house only, which I now see as a very wise decision.  I liked this very tall, nice looking black boy.  As…

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“Why Wait?” Part 4

Why Wait?

WHERE THE HURT BEGAN

This is a hard subject that most people don’t want to talk about.  I have to bring it up because it is part of my “Why Wait?”  Some scars are so deep that your mind has blocked them out.  These scars will make you think, act, and live in a certain way.  You sincerely believe that this is just who you are, and it may be, but it is not normal.  Your behavior was created by an event that has not been healed.  Even if you do remember it, you are still powerless to act differently until you are healed.  For me it took a very long time.  If it were not for Jesus, I probably would have never remembered it, let alone let Him heal me.

Remember I said earlier that I lived in Widen, West Virginia, till I turned eight.  Now that small…

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“Why Wait?” Part 3

Why Wait?

 

God has spoken to me on several occasions over the years telling me that He has someone for me and I was not to look.  Now, I don’t know if He really has someone for me or if I am to remain single and He is the one for me.  But, if He does have some man, He will bring him into my life at the right time.  He really didn’t want me to actively look for a companion.  I really didn’t listen.  I looked.  I wanted.  God said “No”, over and over.  I cried, a lot.   I know God intervened several times separating me from some man who I thought should be the one.  I can tell you in every one of those moments, I was not listening to God.

I believe that for some God chooses the one they should marry.  Other people are given the privilege…

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“Why Wait?” Part 2

Why Wait?

I have lived; I’m sure, more than half my life time being the ripe old age of 57.  I’ve never been married.  What?!!!  I get a few different reactions to this; most people just can’t believe that I have never been married. When I was younger, like in my 20’s, 30’s, and even early 40’s they responded with, “Oh, someone will come along.”  Or, some well-meaning friends tried to tell me, “You are too picky.”  Then the next question used to kill me, “Well, do you have any kids?”  To me, the question after you say “No, I am not married” sounds a lot like this, “Well, do you, at least, have any kids to show something for your life?”  When your answer is “No”, to this, most people look at you with pity or that look of, “What is wrong with you?”  I’ve even had children ask me if…

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“Why Wait?” Part 1

Why Wait?

 That’s an interesting question.  So you might ask in return wait for what?  I will be looking at this question and describing to you exactly what I mean by “Why Wait?”

I have wanted to write about this for over ten years. Finally being able to do it is amazing to me.  Blogging has been on my to-do list for the past three years.  I did try it once with the wrong approach and maybe the wrong timing at any rate I never came back to it.  I’m here now to share things of an intimate nature that in more than one way shaped my life.

First, before I divulge the reason for “Why Wait”, I just want to say since I’m new to blogging please, be patient with me.  I’m sure as things roll out, I will get better, or at least that is my…

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“Why Wait” Part 6

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THE JOURNEY OF THE HEALING PROCESS

I was just nineteen years old when I moved to California, venturing across the United States by Greyhound bus, stopping for a time in San Francisco to, eventually, end up in Hollywood.

My three years in Hollywood laid a solid foundation in Christ.  I couldn’t get enough of the Word of God.  I had great fellowship and teaching from my Uncle Chuck and Aunt Nancy as well as some of their pastor friends.  After three years, when I returned to West Virginia, God had given me such a desire to follow Him, which gave me the strength to face the trials that were yet to come. 

As a young woman of 24 years, I wanted to be a wife and mother.  In my mind, that was what a good Christian woman should be.  I liked a young, white boy in the church I had been attending.  Now granted, he was younger than I, by about 7 years, which made him 17 years old. But remember, my maturity level had stopped at seventeen.  I really wasn’t that much emotionally older than he was.  He was a musician, giving him additional favor in my eyes, and at the time, I thought he was pretty wonderful. 

To make a long story short, his parents didn’t agree with my “infatuation” with their son.  I was pretty vocal about it.  At one point I was taken aside and talked to by his mother and the pastor of the church.  I’m not faulting them for talking to me about it, just the way in which it was done. 

In this confrontation, I was accused of being prejudice against “my own kind”.  Their main grievance was not our age difference but because I was black and he was white.  You see, according to them, because I was black, I should have been married to the one black man in the church.  That’s what I was told.  My defenses came up immediately.  I was told, because of my reaction to her accusation, that there was something not right. 

In that statement, she was right.  There was something wrong; however I didn’t know what it was.  I still had a deep fear of black men, excluding relatives, which actually grew into an unnatural, strong dislike.  The thought that God might make me marry a black man, terrified me.  Others told me their stories of what they had perceived as God telling them to marry some guy they didn’t like.  I felt a lot of anxiety fearing that God would do that to me.

Before God could bring someone into my life, I needed to be healed of the past.  In order for God to use me, He had to help me remember and face the past hurts. 

One Sunday a woman visited our church whose ministry involved inner healing.  As she stood in the front of the church she began to say that God wanted to heal people who had been molested.  As she talked, my memory of that incident, so long ago, came to the forefront of my mind.  I thought, “That’s me.  I was molested.”   She talked about how we needed to forgive that person so God could heal us.  I remember thinking, “I’m pretty sure he is dead.  How could I forgive someone that is dead”?   The very next sentence that came out of her mouth was, “Even if that person is dead, you still need to forgive them.”  Well, that caught my attention.  I knew God was speaking directly to me.  Now, I wish I could tell you that that was the end, that God instantly took all the fear away, but that was not the way it happened.  The healing began, but it took years for God to complete it. 

I went on my merry way, filling my life with work and church activities.  I still liked that one boy for a couple of years, even when he started to date someone that he eventually married.  I remember feeling kind of elated though, because since I thought he was pretty special, if he wasn’t for me, then, wow, who did God have in mind for me? 

 I remember praying to God one day saying, “You can send me anywhere Lord.  I will go east, west, or north, but I will never go down south.”  I had it in my mind that the south was full of prejudice people, more than where I lived.  I’m here to tell you, never say, “Never”, to God!   From my experience, it will not stop God from doing what He wants, or needs to do in your life to make you more like Jesus.  Before you can even blink, that may be exactly what you will be doing, provided that it is not against His Word or plan for your life.

My church took “the youth”, including me, down to a mega church in Georgia.  After visiting several times for their Youth Conferences, I wanted to be involved in their work for the Kingdom of God.  Not only did the Pastor preach against being prejudice, the diversity of people groups within the church made a positive impression on me.  Also, in that church, there were married couples of different ethnicities. 

Seeing a pastor preach so freely on the subject drew me to that church.  I had never heard a preacher exhort his congregation on this subject.  When I heard about the new Bible College, I knew that I needed to go.  After praying about it, I was certain that God was leading me there.  Not feeling like my gifts and talents were being utilized fully, in my home church, also helped me make the decision to move.  I didn’t know it then, but moving to Georgia was a necessary step in the healing God had begun.

So, in 1986, I found myself headed to Georgia on a Greyhound bus.  I planned to live with a family, because the thought of living in a dorm with so many younger women didn’t sound appealing.  The family living situation didn’t work out, so I did move to the dorm.  Our dorm was an apartment rented for the college students; one for the boys, one for the girls.  The experience turned out to be the right one.  Those years will be forever emblazoned in my memory as a time of growing up.

In Georgia, I discovered a black culture up close and personal.  I noticed quite a number of influential black people.  The Mayor was a black man.  Our church had ordained black pastors.  For the first time in my life I observed rich black people.  I learned about the High Society Clubs and organizations for black people, which I didn’t know existed.

I made friends with mostly white girls in the college, mainly because I was the only black female in the dorm, but I did have a few black male friends that I hung around quite a bit.  Those years were so much fun.   I might have been the oldest person at the college, except for one woman, but I didn’t look it or act like it.  Most of them didn’t believe me when I told them my age, until they saw my driver’s license.  I participated in all the adventures afforded the college group.  We all sat together, in the same spot, at every church service.

I recall going out to lunch with one black guy on several occasions.  I thought him to be mature, because he was an enlisted man, in the army.  He exhibited an air of authority with his six foot, four inch frame.  I would have liked for our friendship to be more.  When lunch outings didn’t produce dating I gave up on him.  It was nice to finally be able to converse with men of the same race.  That unnatural fear was beginning to vanish, even though I still preferred white men. 

 I opened up to black men.  I’m not sure if I would have allowed things to progress had one of my black male friends wanted to date me.  I think deep down, in me, some fear of intimacy still lingered.  But now, at least, I wasn’t running away.  One man in particular came to church after I had been attending for a year.  He had a dynamic personality, full of charisma.    He sang on the worship team.  I sang in the choir.  I felt a slight attraction to him.  He would talk to me, in between services, while I worked at the food counter.  Several times during the week, he would stop by on his way to work, to eat his breakfast and chit-chat with me while I worked.  We became friends—church friends. However, I didn’t see much of him after church.  But, in those days we practically lived at the church.  As I observed his behavior in church with people, I thought I noticed some characteristics that I couldn’t live with, if our friendship went further.  So, I made up my mind that we could never be anything more than friends.  Besides, I still held, and continued to hold for years, an emotional attachment to another white guy, who, no doubt, thought that we would never be anything but friends.

I thought I would never leave Georgia.  Winter only stayed for a couple of weeks.  By mid-February, the weather could be in the seventies.  But as God would have it, my time in Georgia ended after six years.  After much prayer, I returned to my home town for the holidays and until I could find out which place would be better for me to start over.  I prayed about whether I should go to New York or go back to either Georgia or California.  I would have gone to either place, but I believe God directed me back to California. 

Life began to pick up quite a bit for me in California.   I moved to a small beach community on the coast where my Uncle and Aunt now lived and I fell in love with Ventura County.  Who could ask for more, with the beach on one side, and mountains on the opposite horizon?  I made plenty of friends at my place of employment that I am still friends with today, even though we have not worked together for years. 

During the course of my life in California, God continued to heal me.  I still preferred white men.  If I had a friend that wanted to fix me up with a black man, I just politely turned down the offer.  I must say part of the reason was that they were never Christian men.  This continued for years.  I even tried to go on a few ‘Singles’ websites, both Christian and Non-Christian to find someone.  I only wanted to start off as friends but most of the men on those sites seemed to want to get married faster than I wanted it to happen.  I only talked to a few.  

I can’t really say that God did something one day that eradicated all my fears, but I can tell you what happened that let me know for certain, God had healed me.  I had once again moved back to West Virginia, this time to help my sister care for our aging parents.  I had lived there for a year when I knew the time for that stay had ended.  I ran an errand to the neighborhood store one afternoon when I ran into a black man who was in my graduating class in high school.  He had grown up into a very handsome man.  We greeted each other warmly. 

He began to flirt with me.  He even said he would follow me back to California when I told him I planned to move back there soon.  I knew enough about him to know that he was not a Christian.  I accepted the compliments he paid with grace and responded that following me to California would be great but he would have to fall in love with Jesus before I would consider dating him.  He just smiled at my comment.  Now what I noticed next, about myself, is how I knew, that God had healed me.  While he was flirting with me, I didn’t want to run away.  My soul didn’t cringe or shrink at the thought of him wanting to pursue me.   All that fear had evaporated. 

I returned to Southern California in the spring of 2004.  One beautiful day while driving around, running my errands, I started to converse with God about the things that had happened in my life.  I remembered the way I felt about black men as a teen and as a young adult.  The connection between my fear of black men and how I thought about them, stemming from the time I had been molested, never occurred to me.   I asked God, “Why did I act that way?”  He said, “Because of when you were molested.”  All of my past began to make sense.  That incident shaped my life, my character, for many years.  Hurts can be buried so deep in us that it blinds us to our own behavior.  But, nothing is too deep for God, because as Corrie Ten Boon put it, “There is no pit so deep that He is not deeper still”.  I thank God for His deep love. 

One way to help you detect if something might go deeper than what appears on the surface, is to see if the subject causes some defensiveness when you talk about it.  Take a step back and examine your reactions.  I’ve learned, from experience, that if you feel defensive, there is usually something wrong, under the surface.  I didn’t seek professional help to guide me through the healing process from being molested or having an abortion.  I did rely on God to heal me by staying in His Word, prayer and fellowship with other believers. 

Now I walk in the completeness that He has given me through His healing power.  I have been healed enough to honestly comment, without fear, when I see someone black that I think is good looking.   I have not dated or seriously liked a black man since my early teens.  A couple of years ago, I ran into that one black man that I knew in Georgia.  I thought for a brief time that maybe he and I would get together this time.  I opened up to the idea but, it did not happen.  I know God has healed me.  I stopped looking, like God spoke to me earlier.  No matter what my age, I know He will bring the man He has for me, when the time is right.  I believe God draws hearts together.   

The message that I’ve wanted to convey in “Why Wait” is that we ought to pray and give God a chance to speak to us about relationships.  Rely on the Holy Spirit to give you some direction.  Instead of looking at just the external person, consider their character first, how they view God in their life, and what is their passion.  If a woman’s highest passion is centered on how she looks or a man’s passion is on his favorite sports team, you might want to keep looking.   Or maybe quit looking for someone and let God fill your life with Himself trusting that He will bring that person, when the time is right.

Not all people, that have had a traumatic experience like mine, will take so many years to be healed.  Everyone is different.  But, there may be something in your past which you are not even aware of, leaving you so scared that, if not healed, will help you make wrong decisions that could negatively affect the rest of your life.  Guard your heart; don’t give it away too quickly, wait until you are sure God is indeed leading you to that person.  God said no to me on so many occasions, when I thought for sure it should have been a yes, that I began to get discouraged. 

I know we are so prone to judge each other on the little bit of information we have.  I know I had been judged severely by my high school peers, as well as the people in church.  I also set myself in the seat as judge on someone who acted in a way not considered as normal.  Before you condemn a person because of the people they choose to love, or by their actions, that may be outrageous, take a step back and ask the question, “Why is that person acting like that?”  There may be a reason for their behavior that they are not aware of.  The best thing you can do is pray for them.

God does work in mysterious ways.  I’ve had to ask myself what might have happened to that boy that led him to assault me.  God allowed me to be molested for reasons unknown to me. He did not cause it to happen.  I don’t claim to know all there is to know about God.  Some things are just inexplicable.  I know nothing happens in this life that takes God by surprise.  He didn’t say, “Oh, no, Adrian is being assaulted.  Now, what will I do? That may interfere with my plan for her life”.  As a follower of Christ, I don’t believe in coincidences.  I think God knew all along what was going to happen and it just might have been His plan all along, to guide me into His perfect plan for my life.  If for nothing else, I know that He will use what I have experienced to reach out to other’s that have gone through the same thing. 

I can recommend some great resources for anyone who would like to grow in their Christian walk.  If you don’t know Jesus, but are curious about Him, I recommend these studies as well.  I am attaching a link for Joy of Living Bible Studies http://www.joyofliving.org/, and the New Living Translation Bible on line http://www.newlivingtranslation.com/ .  Reading God’s Word and talking to Him is the best healing medicine you will ever find.  It is important to have fellowship with other people that share your faith in Jesus.  If you are aware of the things that happened to you, find one or two people with whom you can share and connect with in prayer.  

I thank all those who have read this blog.  I know talking about being molested is a heavy subject that most people do not want to talk about, especially if it has happened to them.  Believe me, you are not alone.  There are so many other people who have shared the same experience.  I hope you will pass this on.  Please feel free to contact me through the “comments” if you would like me to pray with you.

“Why Wait?” Part 5

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What happened to me in my young years stayed below the surface of my mind, in my subconscious, however, from this incident other characteristics began to surface—an awareness of sexuality, but without knowing what to do with it.  Each child is different so not everyone will have the same experiences.

Sheltered from the ways of the world, I never really knew all the details about sex until I hit mid teen years.  Most of that information came from friends, who were older than me, that had already begun to be sexually active.  I wasn’t interested.  I flirted, unreservedly with boys, but never went any further, nor did I want to.  

When my parents finally let me date, I was fourteen.  Of course it had to be at the house only, which I now see as a very wise decision.  I liked this very tall, nice looking black boy.  As we sat in the living room talking we started to hold hands.  My Dad walked by the door, stopped and shook his head no, telling us we were not allowed to hold hands.  I was the baby of the family.  My Dad wanted to protect me from, well, ‘boys’.  Before that young man left, he did manage to give me a peck on the lips that jump started my heart with some fast palpitations.

It is so hard for me to write about this and to expose myself in this way. However, it is necessary if you are to understand what I am trying to say about how scars and wounds that have been blocked out of your memory, often manifest themselves in one way or another.  I am truly embarrassed now to say how I acted as a teen, even though I now know, that most of this behavior was connected to the time I was molested.  However, I still had a choice in doing right or doing wrong.  I realize it was my choices that left me scared for years, as you will read.

        I joined a club, in my freshman year of high school, called Upward Bound.  This government program gave underprivileged kids a chance to experience college, as in incentive to get a good education.  It was an excellent program.  During the summer you would live on campus, go to classes during the morning, and then have the rest of the day to do whatever you wanted.  They took us on one big trip for the summer, along with other planned activities during the summer vacation.  They, also, took us on one big trip during the school year, besides giving us a monthly allowance of twenty dollars that helped us buy clothes and shoes.  I loved being a part of Upward Bound.  The freedom, during the summer, from parental supervision helped me to grow up a little.  Being around college kids, whom I saw as so much wiser, did not prove to be the best thing for me.

During the regular school year, my friends and I would visit our new, older friends on campus, without or parents knowledge.  In the course of one visit I sat in a dorm lobby by myself, when some college jock came to tell me he was sent to “be with me”.  He asked me if I wanted to come back with him to his room.  Not knowing what else to do, I said yes.  I really don’t know why I said yes.  I think I felt sorry for him.  I let him kiss me when I really didn’t want to.  Any participation on my part was lacking enthusiasm.  But, when he started to do things that I didn’t like, I asked him to stop.  When he didn’t, I felt like he was going to force me.  I took my fist and started beating on him to make him stop.

Now, I’m going to make you laugh.  Imagine a very skinny, five foot, two inch girl, less than one hundred pounds, but very wiry, fighting a very broad shouldered, thick football player—because that’s just how it was.  I fought him off like I was fighting for my life.  I felt smothered with the fear.  Now, in my mind I thought, “If this is how black men are, I will never like a black man.”  So I determined that I would never date or like a black man, because of this guy’s aggressiveness.  My underlying fear attached itself to this young man and how he acted towards me because the real reason still lay very deep within my subconscious mind.

This decision pushed me to only date white guys.  This stilted my natural attraction to all types of other guys.  In fact an unnatural fear settled in my soul.  If I even thought a black guy was looking at me, I wanted to run in the opposite direction.  

I did become promiscuous during the last two years of high school.  I did start giving in to the boys because I wanted to be loved.  A black girl dating only white guys made me an easy target.  I wanted a boyfriend, like all the other girls.  I wanted to be able to bring a boy home to Mom and Dad.  At the time, I didn’t like boys my own age.  I went for the older young men.  But, like most girls, I wanted the fairy tale.  I looked for the love I thought I lacked, in the boys I slept with.  I thought if I gave them what they wanted, they would love me. 

This behavior produced a very confused young woman, about life and love.  I developed a wrong sense of what true love and affection should be.  As a result of my promiscuity, in my senior year, to my horror and shame, I found myself three months pregnant.  I just didn’t think it would ever happen to me.  I certainly didn’t want my Dad or Mom to find out.  So, the young man and I sought other ways of dealing with “the problem”.  We tried to get an abortion.  We probably would have pulled it off if I had not forgotten the month of my friend’s birthday, since I used her identification for proof of age.

When that failed, I had no alternative but to confess my condition to my parents.  I hated the grief I placed on them.  I told them I wanted an abortion.  There were so many fears looming in my brain about having a child, even though my sister said she would raise the baby.  All my family tried to persuade me to keep it.  I thought about it, but when I couldn’t persuade the guy into keeping it with me, I made my final decision.  I refused to raise a child without the dad and I being together.  I guess I had seen too many people in that same situation.  At the time, I felt this to be my only alternative.  Roe Versus Wade had just been passed into law in 1974, the year I graduated from high school.   I believed, or made myself think that I believed, what the abortion clinics were saying.  They advertised this was not a real baby but a blob of tissue.  Deep down inside my soul, I knew better.

So, at my fifth month of pregnancy, I approached my parents with my final decision.  I had still been going to school acting like nothing had changed.  I thought, if I acted normal, no one would notice this skinny girl’s stomach.  Really, I knew they noticed, I just tried to act like it didn’t exist.  So many things play into decisions you make about your life.  Things that you don’t realize are there at the moment.  Little did I know the ramifications that would ensue from this decision? 

Now, I not only had the deep scar of being molested, but compound that with having an abortion.  When you live outside the laws of God, you reap the consequences.  God ordained sex for marriage.  There is no such thing as “casual sex”.  Whether people want to admit it or not sex, binds you to that person.  That’s why when two people get married, they become one, not dissolving their own individuality, but working together as one unit.  Whoever you have sex with, whether in marriage or outside of it, physically you will be joined to that person (I Corinthians 6:16& 17).  That’s why our choices in all things, should be done wisely, with much prayer, including who you will marry.

I know so many people talk about abortion like it is some “health plan” for women.  A baby begins to grow from the time of conception.  A life is formed.  No, the beginning stage is not the same as when it first started.  Does that make it less of a human?  I don’t think so.  Deep down inside I knew this was a life that I willingly took.  How does one deal with that decision?  For me, once again, I put it in my closet of mistakes so no one would know what I had done.  If I never talked about it or acknowledged it, then it really didn’t happen.  This is how I lived for several decades. 

When God chooses you, He does not forget.  God had not forgotten me, nor did He plan to let me continue living in such a broken state.  He began to flood my life with people who had surrendered their life to Him, my loving brother being one.  He had moved to California.  After living with my Mother’s brother, Uncle Chuck, and my Aunt Nancy, who had made Jesus Lord of their lives, my brother also surrendered to the call of God. 

As I stated earlier, he came home with all this love from God flowing from himself to all who came around him.  God’s love and my sin did not mix.  Thinking I was getting away from all of that stuff, I ran to California, too, not really knowing that this was God’s plan all along.  As the doors closed from all other possible prospects to house me until I could get on my feet, I ran into the door God had opened, my uncle and aunt. 

Well, when God pursues you, you have no other alternative but to surrender.  When you do, you wonder what took you so long.  Nothing can compare to the Love of God.  Nothing can take the place of Jesus and all He has done for us.  My life turned completely around.  Jesus revealed Himself to me in those days in so many miraculous ways.  His presence saturated my soul. 

For God to heal me, I think, He had to bring me back to my home town.  In order for God to use me, He wanted to open the closet, reach down into my subconscious mind, where all the traumatic events were buried, and pull them out by the roots.  So, after missing my parents so much, in 1979, when I was twenty-one years old, I decided to go back home.

It has taken God quite a while to heal me of the traumatic events that have happened in my life.  In my next blog, I will be explaining how God reached into my life to help me face these events, so that He could give me the fullness that I have in Christ today.