For His Glory

The night was dark, and we were in bed for school the next day. Why I awoke I’ll never know why. This is the beginning of my shattered innocence.

(Trigger warning, some descriptions may be heavy for the human heart to hold).

6 years old, and still a baby, sharing a bedroom with my big sister, in what I thought was a normal world, in a normal home. Something woke me up, was it God? If it was God, Why did he allow me to see the events that quickly unfolded before my eyes?

“Hold still, let me get it in”- Those words still pierce my heart, was I really seeing this, and what if he knows I’m watching, will he do the same to me? I woke up to a nightmare, every little girl’s worst fear. My stepdad who I loved dearly, and looked up to was sitting perched on my sister’s bed, with his hand over her mouth, and the other one over her body. His body was sideways as he kept a glance on me to see if I was awake.

With my hair hanging over my face, I watched through the strands, shutting my eyes tight when I’d see his head begin to turn towards me. Please don’t let him touch me, God please don’t. Why is he doing that, and why isn’t she making a scene? I don’t understand, that’s my dad, or so I’ve lead to believe he is since, my daddy doesn’t live with us. Daddy’s don’t do that, I may be young, but I’m pretty sure that’s not supposed to happen, who can I tell? Should I tell her I know, and what will be her reaction. Maybe if I shut my eyes hard enough and go back to sleep all this will go back away. Yeah, maybe that’s the answer to it.— NOPE Absolutely NOT!!

What I witnessed that night forever changed my child hood. My eyes we’re opened and my innocence was lost. I knew something funny was up, and I knew I wasn’t living in a perfect world. I began to watch and observe for more things that were out of place, some day’s I’d be a kid, others I’d be on guard.

I noticed my sister always going everywhere he went, and I didn’t understand why, I was too scared to tell anyone for a long time, then one day when I had actually gotten to spend the night at my cousin’s house, she told me she had a secret to tell me, my stepdad had been raping my sister. Apparently, she had talked to a few people but never me. I’m guessing because I was so young. That was a whistle blower for me, I had to do something to get help, and I had to help her. I was young, but I knew right from wrong, and that wasn’t right. It was beyond wrong. I mentioned it to my mother first, — Buddy was that the dumbest thing I had ever done. – Not only did it cause a scene, but she didn’t believe it, it only got us girls in more trouble, and the few people that were supposed to stand by me and my sister, played the comfort to us, talking a big game of helping us get help, but in all actuality, they bailed out the next day, and didn’t come around for a few days. I’m assuming the allowed the drama to settle, and they picked friends over doing the right thing.

Years, went on, I was almost 12, what I saw only got worse and worse, and worst of all he knew I knew too. Between the age of 6-12, I often layed in bed, wondering and talking to a man named God that I never knew. Asking him why my parents done the things that they done. Often thinking about getting revenge myself, (relax, I didn’t do it, but you can’t tell me you wouldn’t have thought crazy thoughts too.) I believe what kept me going all those nights was my prayers to God. How I communicated with him.

I noticed a change in my sisters behavior over the years too, she was rebellious, (most girls get this way as they age, but this was a little different too) she was allowed to do things I wasn’t, they turned her loose, to hang out and party with her friends. I really remember her 8th grade prom, how supposably she left to go hang out with her boyfriend and lost her virginity, pathedic people, my stepdad took that. They were all ignorant, and in denial, she was lost in a world of pain, (I cannot blame her, nor resent her, but I just didn’t understand her at the time).. I was left to defend myself with only a prayer.

There was several times he’d talk about my body even in front of my mother, and she just allowed it happen, one occasion was when the power was off in the winter and we all had to sleep in the living room where the gas was. My mom slept on the couch, us girls on a mattress in the living room floor and my stepdad slept in his chair. He tried saying I was playing with my “titties” in the middle of the night. What was he even doing looking, and why did my mom allow him to talk that way about her babies in front of her. Talk about red flags going up.

By the time my sister was 16 she was an alcoholic, and on other drugs too when occasion permitted, I’m pretty sure my step-dad fed her those drugs, as part of a plea deal to keep her mouth shut and her legs opened.

When my sister was 16, and me 12 years old, she run away from home. She ran away to Florida. And she never had to come back. She left me and I was all alone to defend for myself. Thats when another stage of Hell broke out. I was always on guard. I began to sleep with knives, forks, scissors, tweezers, and anything else I could get my hands on that was sharp, and able to pierce the body. Id often fight my sleep to the point of me laying there above my body watching over my own body as it slept but my mind was awake. I suffered lucid dreams, and hit depression, and went on my own downward spiral. I started getting into medicine cabinets, and picked up cigerates. I just wanted to feel something other than being human, because the human in me hurt. She was miserable, she was confused, and she was broken.

I remember my friends coming over to stay the night, ( I was never allowed to go to their house because my parents always thought I’d get into something, and they didn’t have the gas to run after me, they kept me doped up on that kiddy crack from an early age, always trying to cheat the system out of a check for me; nothing was wrong with me except impaired healing and PTSD from watching the nonsense I had to witness.– but to tell them that, is to hear them say what a liar and I was seeking attention. – My friends would come to me and say “Man something is wrong with your stepdad, he touched my arm or he looked at me funny, luckily some of these girls were holler girls so they understood, when I told them to stay away from him, but please don’t leave me alone with him.

My sister moved back to Kentucky after I was 16, and her closer to 20, only for me to watch her and my stepdad go in private at towards the end of the driveway, in exchange for drugs and moonshine. I wasn’t ignorant. I grew to be discusted with her, and often told her I saw it, as she denied it. Still it wasn’t her fault, she was was lost in that world, and far too gone to come out of it, drugs were her therapy, her antidote, and he was her familiar, even though he was also her predator.

At the age of 16, I followed my sister’s footsteps, I ran away to only to be made come back home because my family depended on the SSI check I had coming in for my ears. I’ll never forget it, I ran away with my stepdad’s nephew, and made it to Florida just like my sister, and the high times began. and I didn’t have a care in the world except not returning home. If someone was going to touch me at least it wasn’t someone who was supposed to be a role model / dad-figure to me. Child protective services quickly got involved with me, and I was made come home, but not before me spending my 16th Christmas in Detention in Florida. I still praise God for the experience of being in Detention. It taught me I never wanted to end up behind bars. — knock on wood I’ve not gone back.

When I was just a few days shy of turning 18, I met my first husband, and we started dating, — After I turned 18, he started coming over and staying the night with me. For a long time, my mom wouldn’t let us sleep together but they would give us “alone time to do the nasty”, which made no sense at all. On one morning while sleeping on the couch, I remember feeling someone touch my breast. I was asleep, but instantly started fighting to get up, As I began to move, whoever it was moved fast back across the room, making one big mistake, they stepped on the furnace, (it wasn’t in use, but it made a distinct noise, meaning whoever it was went across it and not behind it). I got up within a few minutes, and as I got up I checked the sounds the floor made, as I stepped in certain spots. Behind the furnace didn’t do anything, but in front of the furnace where my stepdads chair was made the squeaking, weakened floor noise. I immediately ask my boyfriend at the time, if it was him, (I knew better he was dead asleep), when he said no, it was confirmed to me. From then on out I slept with my boyfriend at night and rebelled. I was 18, and wasn’t going to have it any other way or chance it. Within a few weeks my mom got over it.

Over the years my stepdad would ask my boyfriend about me and say the most awful stuff in front of my mom ever. He knew he could get away with it, and he knew she wouldn’t say nothing, it bothered me but what could I do? I remember having my first son also, I was about 21, and he was tongue tied, and had to have his tongue clipped. My sister was holding him and my stepdad made said stupid crap again right in front of my mother, this time he was referring to what he would do if he were my kid up against my sister’s breast and how he would sucky, sucky on them, and my mom just acted like it was normal and ok. It was then I got my kid out of her arms and almost blew up. I said something to her too, and had to fight to not lose all respect for her. I wasn’t raising my kids to think that was ok.

Fast forward to November 2008, my stepdad got sick, real sick. He had to have surgery on his lungs. I had moved out by then with my son and was pregant with my daughter, and wasn’t on the best of terms with them. That call I’ll never forget.

“He’s dying, if you want to see him you better get to the hospital”

I went to that hospital, 7 months pregnant, the nurses tried to stop me from going in there, and I told them I had to go see him,

With life support on him, seeing him fight for his breath, his eyes opened, he knew I was there, I sat and talked with him for the last time.

My last words to my stepdad- the man who I watched molest my sister, and the one mentally, verbally, abused me, not to mentioned tried to get a cheap feel of me, and lastly but not least, the one who shattered my innocence, was: “I love you, and I forgive you, I’ll take care of my mother.”

I left that hospital with a burden off my chest I had carried for years. I was free, not becasue he was dying but because I had forgave him, and I meant it.

He died the next day, that was the day after my mother’s birthday. I was 22 years old.

To this day, I can tell you a thousand good things the man done as compared to the bad things he done, beginning with, he really loved her, my mother. he may not have shown it, but he took care of her, and I didn’t worry about her like I do now.

Nowadays she’s taken up with someone who’s mean to her and all I can do is avoid her and pray for her. She’s still in denial about life, and I’ve grown to overlook it, and pray and go on.

One day while on the way back home from running errands, Jesus spoke to me and told me ‘no one is to lost to be saved,” I asked him who and he told me Joey. Joey is my moms boyfriend.. I now pray for him too.

❤ Revelation 12:11- And they overcame him by the blood of the lamb, and by the word of their testimony, and they loved not their lives unto death. ❤

❤ Christie