Story Time from before, when I gave my life to Jesus.
“I’m tired of you treating me like this! If you’re going to hit me, just do it already!!”
“I’m tired of not being respected in my own house!“
Nearly every night my parents fight. They yell, I hide in the basement, the neighbors can hear, it’s embarrassing. The DHS gets involved.
Sometimes it’s scary because it gets out of control. They throw things.
I put my headphones on my little brother and try to distract him with his favorite show. Tumble Leaf. He’s so little. It’s not fare.
“I want a divorce! This is no way to live. I won’t be putting up with this another two years…I’ll find someone else who will make me happy.”
“You think leaving is going to fix all your problems? What about the kids? You think you’ll get half custody with your record?! What about the trial?” Mom said in return.
I heard a cup shatter and mom scream crying at him. Dad’s voice when he’s mad is really scary. It echoed through the whole house. Every time he’d raise his voice a dish would slip through mom’s hand into the sink.
We’re running out of cups.
My little brother fell asleep in my bedroom. Just laying there in complete peace like he should be. I’m sure he notices they hate each other but I do my best to make it seem like we’re a happy family.
When I was his age, they loved each other.
I laid next to him, filled with anxiety. Scared mom is going to get hurt. Scared dad will get so angry he’ll have a heart attack. Scared of myself for wanting him to.
Guilty.
A heart full of hate.
Turning me into the things I hate the most.
Finally the house became calm. 2:00 a.m.
Mom locked herself in the guest bedroom and dad fell asleep on the couch with the TV on. Pawn stars playing.
This isn’t a life for us either…
I tiptoed up the basement stairs. I’ve memorized where to step on each stair so they don’t creek. Eighteen steps.
I grabbed the car keys out of the dish and slowly opened the door to the garage. Dad’s snoring in the living room is so loud it covered the sound.
I stood on the step, looking at the massive army green Hummer that barely fit in our two car garage. I felt a blanket of peace fall on me. The feeling that taking my life in my own hands is safer than trusting them with it. The feeling of leaving because I wanted to, and not asking.
Wearing pj shorts and slippers, I climbed in, literally, it’s so tall. I opened the garage and backed out.
I turned 14 and got my permit a month ago. I barely remembered which peddle did what. Sitting as tall as I could, trying to see over the steering wheel, I flew down 46th street.
It felt great…
…until I realized I just stole my dad’s car and if he found out he’d never let me drive again. Or worse, he’d yell.
I heard rain drops start to hit the roof of the car.
I kept driving.
My mind flooded with everything but the things I learned in order to pass the driving test.
I hated dad, I was bitter.
I made many turns and ended up in the middle of nowhere on a muddy road. The rain became so heavy I couldn’t see. I pulled over, almost rolling into the ditch.
I sat there. Listening to the rain. Wanting to pray but not sure what to say. Would God even listen after I just stole a car? Stealing and not honoring my parents in one swing. Not a really great time to chat with the Lord.
I like being alone but I don’t like feeling lonely.
I felt so alone.
The car started to lean, sinking into the mud, tipping towards the ditch. I put it in drive and floored the go peddle. The weight of the Hummer only sank deeper.
I got out, instantly ruining my bunny slippers I just got for my birthday and tried pushing. Tried is the key word.
The rain continued, I was completely drenched. My pushing was doing nothing.
I kicked the bumper and screamed.
I started digging out the mud from around the tires with my hands. Pushing with all of my might…
…still nothing budged. It continued to sink deeper and poured even harder.
I stood with my arms crossed, dripping wet, crying now. It’s around 3:00 a.m. at this point. The closest house was a few miles away. I stood on the leaning side of the car, hoping that if I stood there propping it up, it wouldn’t tumble down into the ditch.
“Lord, can you help me move this stupid car?”
I put both hands on the bumper. “Dad is going to kill you if you get his car stuck in the ditch.” I kicked off the bun slips and pushed with everything in me.
I’m telling you, it felt like someone stood next to me and pushed the car! It rolled out of the mud and back onto the road. I looked to my right expecting to see someone there. A neighbor or prince charming, somebody… but nobody was there. I was all alone.
I just stood there in absolute unbelief. My chaw almost dislocating. I looked up in the pouring rain, “no way.” I know I did not do that.
I got on my knees and cried out to God. I didn’t feel alone anymore. I gave Him my life.
God is real. -E
thx for reading the repost. 🙂
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