Find
Hope
I was moving around twenty, thirty, sometimes forty pounds of marijuana a month. I was eighteen years old. I had money. I had friends.
She later told that she was thinking about suicide, and that it was my simple hello that had let her know that she was alive.
I didn’t know if God loved me. I was just so desperate. I started to try to find my identity in relationships with guys.
We tried everything possible to make his life normal. He studied in a very good school. He tried to study hard and behave very well. Nevertheless, society had a hard time accepting him.
When I was sick and by myself at home I would think, “What exactly is the purpose in this. What are you doing? You’re still alone. You still have nobody in your life. You still have that void. So what you’re searching for is ...
“You’re going to end up like your father, a bum on the street, a loser, an alcoholic.” As a kid, growing up hearing those things hurt me. I thought, “Man, after everything I do for you, this is how you love me.”
... when I would come into the group everyone would stop laughing, and leave. I’m not saying that for pity. It’s just the way it was.
I could tell him things I couldn’t tell my friends. I later learned that’s what women who are abused do. They keep it a secret. Well, everything in my life was a secret anyway.
"But God had to teach me that none of that matters, that He was going to be my Father and that He was going to teach me and help me."