I Have Seen Jesus - Part 2
Thursday March 12th 2007
When I was sent away from this foster home
Children's Services came to get me. That social
worker was not happy and I was treated to a
verbal assault like none other. It was an hour
driving to get back to the city and the entire
way she told me how worthless, how useless, how
hopeless I was. Being 16 and having somewhat of
a very bad attitude my only thought was that I
wish she would shut up.
Even though I wasn't really paying that much
attention to this woman some of what she said
did hit the mark. My entire life all that I'd
ever heard about myself was what this woman was
saying. I can't say that it didn't have any
effect on me because it certainly did. Even to
this day I struggle with feelings of inadequacy
and very low self-value, self-esteem. It's a sad
thing when a child, even a young adult is beaten
down so viciously in every way there is, be it
physical, or mental, or emotional, or sexual,
and there are no words to describe the pain.
When we finally reached the city she took to the
children's shelter. All I could think was the
woman was dumber than she looked if she thought
that place could hold me. Within a couple of
days I had made my escape from there and was at
my brothers. There were always people around,
lots of drugs, alcohol, anything you could want.
For some reason I never got involved in those
things but set myself up as my infant nephews
protector, doing everything that I could to keep
the people that came and went away from him. I
have to say that how I was able to protect him
is a mystery to me and have to give the credit
to God's grace.
It seemed like I was always on the move, two
weeks here, two weeks there, no home to speak of
until I was just past 18. At that time the age
of majority was twenty - one so I was still
thought of as a minor. It was at this time that
I went to live with another family from the same
community as the first. I wanted to go to school
so I could finish high school and get my
diploma. But these people didn't allow their
kids to go past grade 9, once they had that all
the kids were expected to stay home and work on
the farm.
So that's what I did, worked on the farm, tried
to satisfy these people. But it seemed whatever
I did it was never good enough, and so I would
try harder. By this point I was so tired of
being homeless, of never belonging anywhere, of
never being loved, that I'd have done almost
anything just to have someone care even a little
bit. Yet no matter what I did, how hard I tried,
it never satisfied this mother, this woman, who
was suppose to be my maternal example. Believe
me I learned a lot from her but nothing I'd want
to teach my children.
There were five children in there family, three
boys and two girls. This woman would accuse me
of trying to lead her boys into temptation, that
I was flirting with them, leading them on. She
would ask me if I liked boys, and when I told
her no that I didn't she accused me of lying.
Yet it wasn't a lie, I had just escaped a life
four years earlier where I was abused in every
way possible and boys did not interest me at
all. She refused to accept my answer and I was
berated by this woman for a thing that I was not
guilty of, and no matter what I said she refused
to accept it as truth. Not only in this area but
in all things and in my opinion the bible was
used as a weapon to instill fear and maintain
control.
They taught that God was to be feared, that we
should tremble at the word of God. I was told
about the wrath of God and how I'd pay a
terrible price if I didn't repent and bow down
to Him. They were always talking about how God
would reach down and punish the children that
didn't obey their parents. Hell fire and
damnation was the order of the day. But if I
asked questions they couldn't answer. or
contradicted what they said with how I
understood something then I was accused of
trying to make trouble. I was accused of trying
to confuse things, because I had something bad
in me.
I worked from morning to night, doing things
over and over again because she was never
satisfied. If one of her kids came along behind
me and made a mess then she insisted I'd not
done the job in the first place. Or she would
come along and pick at what I'd done, finding
fault, making me do it over again. Well me being
me I finally stood up to her, it had reached a
point where I couldn't handle it anymore.
Constant criticism, never being given credit for
anything, just never being good enough.
All the bitterness, anger, and resentment came
pouring out of me like water from a tap. It was
as though I had separated from myself and there
were two of me, the weaker watching, saying no
don't do this, and the stronger refusing to
hear, and attacking this woman. There's only
one way to describe it and that is to say I
snapped, something inside just snapped and
unleashed all these negative emotions. Well, she
started to accuse me of being possessed, that
the devil had hold of me, she told her husband
there was a demon inside me.
Even being the age I was it was then that I was
subjected to these terrible beatings, and at
times found it difficult to move because of my
back hurting so bad. They used a very thick
leather belt and left bruises on me the size of
dinner plates, on my back, my legs, but always
where they didn't show. And their justification
for doing this was they loved me, they wanted me
to be 'saved' and it was necessary for them to
break my will for this to happen. At times the
pain actually made me feel like I was going to
be physically ill, but if I said that I didn't
feel well, once again I was accused of lying,
not wanting to work.
I was just past 19, and lived in fear day after
day wondering what would come next. how bad
would it be. Oh, the thing I wanted most was to
die, to finally be free, no more pain, no more
torture, and to me it was torture. I'd even
begun to doubt the existence of God, thinking
how could people serve a God that required such
cruelty, a God you had to tremble before. Why
would anyone want to serve a God so unloving, so
unkind, so cruel, as the one they described?
Fear was my constant companion, not a day passed
that it wasn't with me. No matter what I did the
fear was always there that it wouldn't be good
enough. No matter what I would say the fear that
it was going to be the wrong thing was there. I
learned to walk with my head down for fear of
being accused of trying to draw their sons into
temptation if I looked at them. Most of the time
I felt as though I was the only sane
person trapped inside a world of complete
insanity.
One night as I lay in bed thinking about the way
things were, thinking about the escape there was
in death, and fighting back the fear that was
always there, I began to whisper to myself. Now
this is going to sound very odd, because I was
not praying, I was talking to my dad. Telling
him how much I missed him, and loved him, and
that I wanted to be with him, and as I spoke a
childhood memory of my dad reading the bible
came to my mind. And it made me stop and think,
daddy would never serve a God like these people
described, God couldn't be like that.
Then I began to pray, calling out to God, asking
Jesus to help me. I begged God to help me, to
set me free from this all consuming fear. Asking
Jesus to please help me, telling Him that I
couldn't stand anymore, the fear was killing me.
Then as before a very soft, warm light slowly
filled the room, and the fear that had consumed
me, that was my constant companion began to fade
away. When I turned over in the bed much to my
surprise Jesus was standing beside me, and He
had a warm gentle smile, and everything about
Him gave me a feeling of being loved, a feeling
of peace. He told me to no longer fear, that He
was with me, that He had always been with me as
He had promised before. And that I would soon be
delivered from that place.
Oh, to live free of fear, to know that God was
not a cruel God, but a God of love. To live
knowing that Jesus walked with me, that I was
never alone, what a wonderful, spectacular
feeling. I had never been so uplifted in my
life, I had never felt so free, and knowing that
I'd soon be set free from that place put a smile
on my face and a song in my heart. And shortly
after that, late one night, for no reason that I
can explain, I got up, dressed, and walked away
from there. I never went back, things began to
change and I managed to get work at a nursing
home with the help of a friends father, I lived
in the nurses residence during my time working
there, truly independent for the first time in
my life.
And I knew in my heart that Jesus had been
walking away from that place with me the night I
left, He had guided my foot steps to the people
that helped me. Just as He had promised, He set
me free, delivered me from the misery and hell
that I was living in. I was not only blessed to
see our Savior one time but twice before the age
of twenty, and it was not to be the last time.
