Not all Godly women are born and raised; sometimes they have to find their way!
This is my heart & my story:
I grew up in a home where the relationship of a mom and dad
was not always a biblical example.
My mother, bless her heart suffered from a very low self
esteem from being overweight as a child which followed her into her adult
hood. She suffered many, many cruel
words and actions at the hands of others.
Her mother, my grandmother was from a generation of “sweep all your pain
under the rug and don’t talk about it”, and my natural grandfather abandoned my
mother and grandmother when my mother was just a small child. She grew up with deep abandonment issues as
well as a low self esteem like I currently stated. She and my father married after she got
pregnant with my older brother. My
father was eight years older & ironically was her step cousin. It was a very hush, hush situation. My father was my mother’s first intimate
relationship; and he was never the most gentle of gentle men. He was an alcoholic and verbally abusive to
her and my older brother. When I was
three months old they separated and divorced for the first time due to his
addictions.
They reunited, and conceived my younger brother, and at two
years old my little brother was diagnosed with Leukemia. At this time, our family began attending
church and my parents gave both of their hearts and lives to the Lord. They had grown up in church but never had a
real connection to the cross until this point.
My father wrote the most breath taking letter to Christ around his
thirty third year on this earth, in the front of his bible. I wish I still had it. It was so awesome, and he really bared his
soul in it. He talked openly about the
sins of his addictions and the Lord’s hand on him that led him into healing and
freedom from them.
My family began foster care at this time so I always
remember having tons and tons of children of all ages around me. I think this is where my love of and need for
a large family comes from. Those times are
some of my fondest memories of my child hood.
By the time I was nine and my little brother was five; my father had
slipped back into his addictions and added gambling to the list as my brother
had gone into remission. My mother
became distant and depressed. My father
began to sell our toys and bicycles and even spent our grocery money to support
his new habits.
This same year I was sexually abused for the first time by
my cousin who I believe was fifteen at the time. My memories are still a little foggy of the
incident, but my mind is clear enough to know some facts. My mother also moved us out of our home and
into my grandparents (her parents) home.
This year of my life, my parents divorced and my grandfather passed away,
these two major events happened within months of each other.
I had begun to develop fear of men, abandonment issues and a
very low self esteem. I remember crying
in my grandmother’s lap because I thought I was the ugliest thing that walked
the planet. At the age of twelve my
family, including my grandmother moved about twenty minutes east of our home
into a new town. During this next year my mother experimented with
relationships that were very much outside of covenant, and even though she
thought it was kept secret from us, we knew what she was doing. Later that year,
she met my step father.
I should have known early on, he was bad for our
family. Bad? No, really a nightmare. They met at a bar and quickly were inseparable. I remember my mother telling the Lord the
night they met...”God if he is the one, he will call by midnight.” He called at 12:04. She should have seen it then. It was not God’s hand in this one at all. But my mother was so very lonely and tired of
doing this thing called life alone, she took the four minute delay to mean it
was God anyway. But is God ever
late? Hmmmm…I don’t think so. They dated for a few short months and there
was discussion of engagement. He
demanded every free second of her time, even if it meant, pushing us off on
anyone who would take us for the weekend.
This man took us to a new church.
The one where I gave my heart to the Lord, was filled by the presence of
God, and began a relationship with the Most High, that was soon challenged.
His family decided my mother only wanted his money, and
broke them up. I watched my mother weep
and beg God for this man to return to her.
She poured over her word finding scripture after scripture and used them
to tell God He had promised her these things and this man was these
things. Ever heard the saying, “if you
pray for something long enough God will let you have it, even if it isn’t His
will? What happens is your consequences.” Well this was the perfect example of
this. For six months she begged and
pleaded, cried and begged. Then he came
back. They were married a few weeks
later.
I was thirteen, and four days after their wedding, he began
to sexually abuse me. It went on for
years. I became suicidal, and lost
everything that made me- me. At church
he was a tithing man of God, at home he was a pot smoker who molested me and my
sister and physically abused my younger brother. Emotionally he abused us all. He sexually abused my mother. He was what I began to view as what a man of
God was. The enemy was sly and his evil
tactics crept into our lives.
I was not allowed to date not because of Biblical reason, but
I believe out of my step father’s jealousy, he treated me as more of a
girlfriend then a daughter. But at the
age of eighteen, when my step father no longer had control; I quickly married
my first “love”. I say love in
quotations because I loved him as much as I could with the heart of a very
broken and damaged eighteen year old. Neither
one of us knew what love was or even how to love. One month before my nineteenth birthday, I gave
birth; six weeks early, to my first precious baby girl- Samantha Renae. Nicholas Bryce came soon after. One year and fifteen days later to be exact. These two precious kids went through so much
at the hands of my step father. Samantha
was sexually abused by him and is finally healing from the damage. The guilt that I felt, the anger and the
grief I felt from this almost consumed me.
But God had other plans.
My husband and I walked in the footsteps of our
examples. His family had abuse running
rampant in it, so he tried to save me because he couldn’t save his family. I wanted
someone to save me and stop my pain. He cheated,
and it destroyed me. After four years of
marriage I divorced him. I went crazy. I
began to have a relationship outside of covenant with a man I met in a bar
(sound familiar?) just to prove I could do it to. I could hurt him by being with someone
else. So truthfully even though we were separated,
I cheated too.
Two months later we were back together and soon
remarried. That’s when Madison Skye was conceived
and born. From time to time I tried to
go back to God, but I was so angry with Him.
I felt He had let me suffer all those years. I just couldn’t let go and let Him in.
Eventually, two years later actually, the pain of my abuse, my
child’s abuse, my marital problems, my abandonment issues and my lack of love
for myself led me back into a divorce and quickly into a rebound
relationship. This rebound was physically
and mentally abusive and sexually abusive also.
The sexual abuse led to my next pregnancy. But through that pain came my beautiful precious
girl-Kylie Danielle. Getting pregnant
with Kylie gave me the strength to walk away from her father. A few more mistakes later (the men and
relationships), I found myself pregnant yet again with Morgan Alexandra
Yvonne. Now the mother of five, terror
had set in. How was I going to ever
raise them alone? I was struggling
financially, my ex husband left his great paying job for a much lower paying
job and I lost my child support.
Desperate for an answer, anyway to breathe, I let him take the three
older kids for a while. Even though it
probably was the best for all of us involved; it was by far the hardest call I
ever had to make. To this day, I still
cry over those two brief years they were not in my home.
During those two years I dated a few guys. And during an eleven month relationship with
an alcoholic cop (see any patterns here?) I met my husband Cole. He was younger than me, a lot younger. He was a goofy kid that made googly eyes at
me. I am not kidding you can ask him
about it.
Cole and I met through my younger brother and Cole played
guitar for a local WELL known band everyone and their brother followed. He was cute, but so very young compared to
me. Oddly, we hit it off well; he was
sweet, kind, respectful and so full of knowledge for someone so young. I have always said he has an old soul. My kids loved him. They even encouraged me to date him. I always laughed at them for saying
that. I always hid my dating from
them. Soon enough, I began to enjoy my
time with Cole, and our friendship was growing.
I found myself breaking dates with my police officer boyfriend to spend
time with Cole.
Cole truly won my heart.
Bit by bit. He never seemed intimidated
by the kids though I am sure he was. He
respected me, and cherished me in a way I was not used to. But again, I messed up, like I always did by
complicating a perfectly great thing with intimacy out of God’s covenant. I found myself pregnant yet again. This time, I was even on birth control
(gahhh, how I hate that stuff now). I
was terrified; I practiced breaking up with him. Even though I knew it would break his heart,
I thought he was way too young to be “strapped” with a child (how I have had to
repent for that one!)
When I told Cole, he went in the bathroom and hyperventilated.
He then returned to hold me and say he was not going anywhere. He moved in and got a fulltime job with
benefits. He knew for me to get married
again I wanted three things: respect, security and my older three home with
me. He didn’t rest until he had provided
me with a home and security. He
respected me, and in time the kids came home to us. When I was seven months pregnant, and on my
son’s eleventh birthday, we were married before a judge with our families and
all the kids. What a funny day it was. What a perfect groom he was. But I was still broken. Deeply broken.
God began to call my heart back to His, wooing me sometimes
so sweetly, sometimes so strongly it was crippling. But never giving up on me no matter how often
I pushed him away. Soon we found
ourselves back in church. But my real
healing began a few years after as I began to really let God heal my brokenness.
Today I am proud to say, I have healed from my abuse. My father, and step father have both passed
away. My father made his peace with God
and was restored back to His arms before he passed away. I will never know about my step father, rumor
has it he asked for prayer before his death, I do not know. But I hope he did. I hope he asked for the forgiveness he so desperately
needed.
Cole and I have been married eight years now. Even though our union started after
pregnancy, and I do NOT condone such beginnings, I truly believe God had His hand
on us. We have been in ministry for seven of those eight years. Ironically, one night I was angry at God and
said I would never marry again unless he brought me a few specific qualities in
a man it is funny how Cole, so unexpectedly had them all. Cole has given me, three gorgeous children,
and adopted the two girls in the middle (Kylie and Morgan) their fathers have
had no part of their lives and since they were five and three when Cole and I
met, he raised them. He has been their
daddy from the first day he knew he loved me.
He was such a wonderful, unexpected surprise. Now the age difference means nothing. After all, he does have an old soul. He is a man after God’s heart, so much so, he
should have been named David. He tries
everyday to be a Godly husband and father, Pastor and leader. He is a servant to all he knows and leads his
family in the ways the Word teaches us.
It was because of his amazing heart and spirit, that the
Lord was finally able to heal mine, and open me up to the importance of a Godly
wife and mother. I have always been a
good mother. ALWAYS. I am perfectly imperfect. But I have always been a great mom. Yet through repentance and healing I know I
need to be and I want to be a Godly mom, and a Godly wife. I want to rear my girls to understand and
implement Godly submission. I want them
to be the best Godly examples to their children and husbands. I want them to be eager to be submissive in
the way God intended. The world has
taught us submission is unflattering and not for our times. But the submission they teach is the “door
mat” mentality. That is not what God intended
to be submission. I want my girls to be
the best neck to come up under their heads (husbands) covering them in prayer,
speaking wisely and kindly of their mates.
I want to see them become and teach their children the importance of the
Proverbs 31 and the Titus 2 woman.
I want to raise our sons to love their wives as Christ loves
the church. I want to teach them to
respect, protect and provide for their wives and children. Setting standards for their daughters to find
in their future mates; as well as Godly patterns of behavior for their sons to
meet.
I long to be the wife Cole deserves, the mother my children
deserve, the daughter of the King that
my Savior deserves, the Pastor my flock deserves, and the friend my friends deserve. The daughter and sister, my mother and siblings
deserve. This is my journey. This is proof that not all Godly women, women
who strive to fulfill the description in the Word of God are born and raised
that way. I am living proof, that they
can find their way home; back to the good grace of our Savior, and our loving
Father. It has not been easy. But it is and has been worth it. Will you join me, will you follow my journey
and pray for me? Because I will pray for
you my friend!
God Bless you on this journey!!!
Kris
My breath taking beauty Samantha
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