God's Precious Gift

I have kinda avoided a subject in my writing thus far. I guess it's a subject that's hard to share openly with just anyone. You see my memories that I spoke of back to age 2 are of a sexual nature. I have never gotten all of the pieces to fall in place even with therapy. My Therapist said I may not ever remember it all. I remember watching inappropriate movies with a cousin and playing school when I was 2 years of age. Staying up all night while the adults slept. Sneaking inappropriate magazines when I was 5. I was exposed to sexual relations as a baby. I know this because family members told me that it happened. By this I mean sleeping in the bed with my mom and her boyfriends.

Children are God's precious gifts. They aren't meant to be exposed to adult things. Unfortunately, my mother drinked to deal with the sad circumstances of her life. But by doing this, my mom exposed me to things that have affected me my entire life. I did seek professional therapy when I was 27. I know that my mom had no idea how her actions would effect me. As I continue to share my life story with you, I will do my best to be open and honest about all the things that happened to me or that I did. My prayer is that you as the reader of my life story will take the things that happened to me and not make these kinds of mistakes with your children. Nurture, protect, and guide them. If you have a substance abuse problem seek help.

Becoming Me…

Let's get back to that cute third grader that lived in the pink garage apartment. You know God always put special people in my life that ministered to me. Our landlady, Mrs. Oh gracious I know I will remember her name eventually. She was a sweet lady. She reminded me of my Aunt Laura. She was of short and round statue with a angelic presence. She would see me wondering around outside and invite me in for a snack. I recall she had a wonderfully decorated home with all kinds of neat figurines sitting around. Expensive things, I am sure, but she would let me look at them and tell me where she got that item and their story. My visits at her home were some of my best memories of this time in my life. Even today, 46 years later, if I am near this house in Cartersville, I will ride by. It no longer has the pretty pink paint color but it does hold a special place in my memories.