What’s Your Story?

We all have a story. Yep, our story. If you were asked by a new friend on a quiet evening to tell them about yourself, what would you tell them? Would you start off with your childhood, who your parents were, etc.?

My story begins as a young child, which in a myriad of ways has determined who I am today. My parents did not raise us in a God fearing home. Actually the closest we came to a Godly home was hearing one of them exclaiming “g&%damn” this or that in everyday conversations. My siblings and I weren’t taken to church to learn about God, we didn’t own a Bible. Although I specifically recall as a young child a church bus picking me up a few times to attend children’s church. Always on my own. I recall waiting for the church bus to arrive and wearing a pretty dress with lace trim and summer sandals to match. I will admit I don’t remember anything about the church, nor what I learned from attending. I do remember my pretty dress that I wore though.

During this time though I had daily conversations with God. Conversations that pertained to the life of a young girl. I would lie in my pale blue canopy bed with Holly Hobby sheets telling God about my day and all of the silly child-like things I wanted or was concerned about. What I remember most vividly is that God spoke back to me, He would whisper inaudible words to me and speak to me just as If he was right there in the room with me. Just lying back and talking as anyone would with a small child going through their day. I never told my parents about these conversations, for no particular reason except that God was not spoken of in our home. I would make up songs to sing to Jesus, because I also knew that He was the Son of God, although my conversations were with God Himself.

As an adult I often think about those nights spent talking with God as a child. He revealed himself to me so long ago, and I wonder if He had not would I believe as an adult? Is it possible to know God without a personal experience? Surely just knowledge alone of His word could not be enough to satisfy our souls. We have to have a relationship with Him. That is merely just the beginning of “my story”, but was brought to the forefront after hearing our pastor speak so vividly of heaven and how God has each of “us” in mind. Yes, that’s you and me.

How I perceive God after Growing up without a Father in the Home

I didn’t grow up in a Christian home. Although I vividly recall attending a local church, wearing my pretty pink dress and knee-high white socks. The church bus would pick me up at my home. I don’t recall how this came to pass, how my parents came to find this church or why they allowed me, but I remember attending by myself.  You see when I was a child I regularly spoke to God. I would make up songs to sing to Jesus while being outside boiling in the Louisiana summers. I can’t recall my parents speaking to us about spiritual things, but to this day I recall lying in my white canopy bed talking to God just as I was lying next to my best friend, talking about all the things that happened that day.

I can recall one of the saddest days of my childhood when I was apologizing to God outside on the back patio of a great sin I had committed that day. I was wearing my favorite light blue pen striped shirt and white shorts. Why I remember such things I don’t have an answer for.

My parents divorced when I was 11, although they frequently were separated and he worked off shore so we didn’t spend a lot of time with our dad. He was a good dad, as far as Dad’s are concerned. He was good to us, always had a good sense humor and was never hard on me or my sisters. He was kind and never raised his voice. His treatment of our mom has been disputed by our mother, but like I told my mother when I got older, it was irrelevant to him being our father. Looking back as an adult, my mom and dad didn’t get along very well. My mother had personal issues of her own that were not dealt with and with our dad being on the road so often, it only magnified her insecurities. With that being said, she was not a good mother, even if applying those words liberally.

The fact that he wasn’t around when we were growing up, partially because of what he did for a living, and their subsequent divorce, how I see God has been affected by this. I have always believed in God. I always felt God’s presence in my life. However, how I have seen God throughout my life as an adult has been affected by how earthly men in my life have portrayed themselves.

God is all-knowing, and powerful. There is nothing that God cannot touch. I have met only a few good men throughout my life and while I know that no depth is too deep for God, no height out of reach, I can’t see how God intentionally looks at me as a child of His. I have spent countless hours reading scripture and can tell someone how much God loves each of us and why Jesus willingly gave His life, even when we were yet sinners. But the truth is, when it comes down to the nuts and bolts, I can’t fathom God caring one way or another if I am blessed or not. I’ve never said this out loud, much less in writing, but I feel as though God has only blessed me because of my children. I love my children and since their birth have pondered how much He loves us because I know he loves my children more than I am capable of, which I find mind-boggling. I would give my life and take lives for my children, and to really think about how much He loves them, it’s difficult to really put into words.

I have come to the conclusion that a fathers role in the life of his children is immeasurable. It affects the way they will choose their future husbands and how they will perceive one of the greatest relationships in their life….their relationship with God!

The breakdown of the family is the worst thing I have seen of my generation. My hope is that there will be a renewal of the way women perceive the role of the father in the family and that men will step up and be men!

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