In Search of Faith01:51 Feb 06 2006
Times Read: 890
“What you think of Jesus, Jayme?” asked the Sunday school teacher. My friend had brought me as a guest. “I don’t know, I have never met him”. Giggles. She smiled and said, “You don't have to meet someone to believe them”. Then I dropped the bomb. “How can you believe in something, you can't feel or touch?” She gasped and the room went silent. “You don't believe?” she asked in an astonished voice. I repeated my question, with sinking feeling I done something wrong. She frowned and immediately grabbed my arm and half dragged, half pulled me over to the minister. She proceeded to tell him the conversation we had and he looked at me furiously. He grabbed my arm and marched me to the first pew, directly in front of the crucifix. Telling me to sit quietly until my ride came. Crying, I asked what I had done wrong. He simply stated, “If you don't believe, you don't belong with the other children.” He left me in the empty church, crying, being stared at by Jesus on the cross. His eyes condemning me.
My mother was Protestant, my father Methodist. They gave my brother and I the freedom to choose whether or not we wanted to attend church. They felt when we were old enough, we could make our own decisions about faith. My brother eventually returned to the church, I'm still undecided.
We were brought up on the beliefs of the Bible, not necessarily the stories. The joke in my house that we only know the Bible by what Bill Cosby tells us. I couldn't name the Ten Commandments but I don't believe I've ever broken one. Respect everyone until they show they didn't deserve my respect. I think of people’s feelings before I speak, I treat people the way I wish to be treated. I don't lie, cheat, steal or do drugs. I always a true friend no matter the consequences. I always try to help someone in need. I try to be a good person. I was brought up believing if you accomplish asserting these beliefs into your life, you be happy. You'd be rewarded. I found out the hard way that there's more to it than that.
Then growing up, I was an extremely sensitive, extremely emotional child. Sensitive to the point of being able to read peoples so well, I could almost tell what they were thinking, what they were feeling. Unfortunately, I would take everything that was said or done personally. Because of this, teasing was extremely hard for me. I took everything to heart. This of course caused a lot of heartache.
I grew up knowing my mother suffered from multiple sclerosis and my father was a volunteer fire fighter. I learned early about people and responsibilities. Unfortunately, I matured a lot faster than my peers did. I learned first-aid and CPR at 13 and enjoy the ability to help people.
I first job was babysitting for a family of eight children. I was only six months older than the oldest but as I said before I matured early. Somehow I managed to keep these kids ranging from the 8 months to 13 years from wrecking havoc. One night, while driving me home, the mother asked me if I had been saved. “From what?” I asked. “You are such a good role model to my kids. You respect your elders and are a mature responsible person. I can't believe you haven't found the lord.” I asked her, “If I’m such good person why do I need to be saved?” Again, I felt like no matter how good I was, it was still unacceptable. I wouldn't be “accepted” without the Lord.
As I began high school, I realized I was still unacceptable. My peers seemed immature to me, the teasing I endured was on going, I became part of a group of people who were misfit in one way or another. Most my days are spent, helping people with their problems. From boyfriend /girlfriend problems, abusive alcoholic parents, supporting a friend from her mother's breast cancer, to teenage pregnancy. I help everyone understand different points of view and gave them several options to help them make their own decisions. All the time feeling good about helping people but also feeling like everyone's mother.
During this time, things of my life were tense. I was sinking deeper and deeper into depression. Thinking suicidal thoughts, unable to answer the question of “Who would miss me?” My father's behavior was becoming more and more erratic and unpredictable. Pushing, shoving and hitting me, was becoming common. Most of this was unpredictable. You never know what would set off. Now I knew what the phrase, walking around on eggshells that meant. I was becoming more and more confused of what was good and what was bad. If I was abused for my whole life, I probably wouldn't question it but I hadn't been. So, I assumed that I was being punished. That I had done something wrong. For what, I don't know. I sank deeper into depression, cursing God for my horrible existence. Hadn’t I been true to his rules? Then why was I unhappy?
My only true friend at the time that I felt I could trust at the time, was named Casey. Casey was a lovable hundred twenty pound AKC yellow lab. He had long legs, large expressive brown eyes and a big barrel chest, that I could cry on. When my depression cause me to have insomnia. I would go out into the living room and sit with Casey. If I cried, and he would sit as close as he could, stick his chest out and turned his head. He was the first shoulder I ever cried on. When I was on crying, Casey would lick my tears away and then lay down in front of me. More than once I have woken up, on the floor, with my arm draped over him
Some people believe I’m giving Casey human traits. He was a very sensitive, empathetic, and caring dog. The first friend that I trusted my heart with and didn't make judgments. He understood when no one else did.
My father and I were finally diagnosed with chemical imbalance that caused us to be depressed. With medication, things improved. Received associate degree and was hired as a counselor at a Catholic summer camp. I was homesick was eventually asked believe for several reasons. The main one being, that was hard to explain to the kids, why I didn't get communion. Again, unacceptable.
Eventually, I felt something positive happened in my life. I met John. John was a volunteer fire fighter with my father and a mechanic. He came from extremely religious family. In the two years of dating, Christmas was the worst. What if they found out I didn't believe? Every time I stepped into the church, I waited for someone to yell out, “she is the non-believer.” I'd sit with tears falling silently down my face, ready to hide when everybody went for communion because I'd be the only one left in the pew, then they would know..
But after our marriage, our lives began crumbling. John lost his job and nearly his life, when the lift gave away from under the ambulance he was working on. Thankfully, he was un-injured but now unemployed. We ended up living in my parent’s basement for the first two years of her marriage. John gave up trying to get ahead in life because we always seem to be slammed with another problem, just as we're getting ahead. What finely made me give up hope of was the untimely death of Casey, due to a vets indiscretion.
Why me? Was I cursed for life? Why didn't I deserve to have something other people had? John was eventually was hired at another job that paid better, with a better benefit. Yet I was still employed.
One day, I was shopping at a craft store, came across the calendar that had no weekday but every date had a prayer to the Lord. I read a couple and left the store. But I kept being drawn back to these mini prayers. Finally, I bought it. Every morning the first thing I do is read this little prayer. It's a simple seven-dollar calendar, everything is changed.
I was hired and in answering service, where I've excelled even as my own expectations. My eventual goal is to be a 911 dispatcher, I believe I can do it. My husband and I bought our first home, we've caught up on bills and only had minor problems on our minds.
Did all this happen because I began reading those prayers out loud? Or did our luck just change? I find myself believing in angels and becoming more spiritual. I believe God sent me Casey, when I thought no one cared and then John was there when Casey was taken away.
For several years, I continued to read those prayers but things kept going wrong in my life. My husband began drinking after the loss of his grandfather to Cancer. With the
Drinking came harsh words, uncontrollable anger and the abuse began. I was so desperate to be loved and not to loose my marriage that I did anything that he said.
I gave up volunteering in the community as a Firefighter and EMT because he made me
Feel guilty for not being there for him when he got home. I became anal about having all my chores done, to avoid the critisim and ridicule. After years of John treating me badly,
I began chatting online. It was so liberating to be able to tell someone, knowing that it wouldn’t get back to him and getting counseling from perfect strangers. Two strangers
Stand out in my mind as guiding angels. First was Huntsman. He was a firefighter somewhere in Arkansas and we became fast friends. Second was Smokeater630. A volunteer firefighter in West Virginia. Both these men, were having troubles in their own marriages but were attempting to save them, same as me. After chatting for over a year, I believed these men were my best friends. They urged me to get counseling and to get out of the situation. They promised me, that real men don’t hurt their women like that. Real men, cherish and protect their women. It took several years of them telling me that for me to begin to believe that I didn’t deserve the abuse for a minor thing like not having dinner ready for when he came home. When I began thinking about having an affair, I realized that I could no longer be married. I wanted out of the relationship and I wanted closeness. I was lonely. One night I came to bed, thinking that I had to save this marriage somehow. I initiated the lovemaking but it turned violent. He held my arms down, kissing and biting me as ..well raped me. I yelled no, told him to stop. But he was relentless and made sure I came in spite of myself. I was so embarrassed, so ashamed and felt that I had deserved to be treated that way…..after all, that’s what he told me. I left him a week later. The reason I waited a week, was I didn’t want my parents to see the bruises. Silly reason, I know.
John didn’t handle it well. He began stalking me. Waiting for my parents to leave the
House to try to get to me. One night he sat outside of the house, on the back porch.
He had pulled a chair over to the doorbell and just sat there pushing it, for about 2 hours straight. I was home alone but online with my friends. They told me to call the police but I didn’t want to go offline to do it. Apparently John took his anger out on our 6 month old Yellow lab puppy. Lady Harlequinn, or Harley, didn’t understand why I left and since she was technically his dog, I left her. I kick myself every day for that decision. Every day, I would go by the house and see her looking out the window for me. When several neighbors told me of his hitting of Harley, I stepped in. I told him give me the dog or I will take you for everything. So, I got Harley back but the damage was done. She had never fully trusted anyone again and is a meek quivering dog that breaks my heart, every time she thinks I’m going to hit her. Basically, I started having panic attacks and lost about 40lbs in 4 weeks. My doctor told me to get out of dodge. So, I did the most dangerous thing in the world, I went on vacation and visited all the people I met online. Including Smokeater630. I can’t say it was love at first sight, but I had fallen in love with the image he projected online. He was solid, was definite in his feelings of right and wrong, dependable and loyal. Pat (smokeater) was about 6 feet tall, with red hair and green eyes. He always had a smile on his lips and a laugh in his eyes.
The second time I came down to see Pat, was during Christmas. He had kicked his
wife out for cheating and numerous other things. Apparently, John had began smoking cigars like his father. I saw him several times attempt to put out the cigar on Harley’s nose while we were together. So, when Pat lit a cigarette, Harley started giving him attitude. She wouldn’t totally bark at him, But she would stand in front of him, half barking at him. When the cigarette went out. She was fine. I finally realized her problem and told Pat. He got down on the floor with Harley and took her paw in his hands. I told her that he wasn’t a mean man and wouldn’t hurt her or her mommy ever. He also promised that nobody would ever be allowed to hurt either one of us again. After that, she never gave him attitude again. And I was in Love.
When I lost my job, Pat came up from West Virginia to get me. We married about 2 years ago, surrounded by our family and friends. It was outside, performed by a minister, one of the patients that I had transported numerous times. His family were jewels and
made me feel welcome and I never felt the stress I felt with John’s family. I now know that no marriage will work, if you don’t get along with the in-laws. Everyone I spoke to,
who divorced, had trouble with the in-laws. Mine are jewels.
When I first moved in with Pat, I had a difficult time adjusting. Simply, I had been trained and brainwashed by John, thinking that every little thing had to be done before he got home. The first day that Pat arrived home, I was in tears, crouched in a corner of the kitchen because dinner wasn’t ready and I didn’t get all the laundry done. That led to a long discussion and an even longer deprogramming that has lasted until even now. I still have trouble at times but
Pat doesn’t let me sweat it.
I’ve recently been diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis, like my mother and Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. I can no longer work in the medical field like I have all my life but
I know I will find some way to continue to be involved. My life is going right again. I think to myself, does God love me now? I realize now that he's always loved me, just tested me with depression, disease, disappointments and death. I also realize that I can’t find a religion that I fit into, but if I can find a religion that fits my beliefs, I’m there. I’m not a church going person. In fact I refuse to go because I found that you don’t need a temple to talk to Lord. I believe the lord is anywhere and everywhere. If I want to have a conversation with him, I do at night in my head or I sit out on the porch, looking at all the trees, animals and creek that he made. I feel calmer that I ever had in my life, Pat’s love is unconditional and I feel that I am in a good place in my life. And in a good Place with God.
COMMENTS
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shadowofmystry
19:07 May 13 2008
you are great at welcoming people