The power of ONE decent adult

As a young girl and teen I was in trouble a LOT during my schooling years.
I was a walking time bomb. 
Very rarely did I fight with my peers but every adult I encountered I fought with. And THEY FOUGHT BACK.
These adults that were "supposedly" trained to handle kids... couldn't handle me. (And, honestly, as I look back I don't think I was that bad a kid.)

The more detentions, suspensions, and expulsions I received the more I fought, the angrier I got, the more violent I became and guess what??? The angrier the adults got, the more vicious their words were, the rougher they physically handled me and the LESS they were able to teach me anything of value.

With every punishment I received I was also being beaten with meaningless words. All the words that could have been good for me to hear were made WORTHLESS with every syllable uttered by their hypocritical mouth's.
I trusted and listened to NO ONE.
I pulled them down to my level of communication and they stayed there. These "adults" were no better nor wiser than me but should've been. I grew more cynical from those experiences and laughed at their lack of composure and maturity as the "adults".
As the authority figures they would try to use their "power" but always succumbed to my anger, rendering them the title of a "bully". They eventually disappeared and were replaced with more bullying adults.

Between private schools and public schools almost every nun, priest, teacher, counselor and principle couldn't stand me. They didn't know what to say to me other than to resort to being mad which made it even harder for me to control my anger. 
My ability to feel, hear, and see humane emotions were numbed. 

All my young life I was told how worthless I was and so I saw no need to get better nor did I want to because I didn't see a reason. I had NO HOPE of seeing a better future for myself.

I had nothing to lose in living recklessly while hurting others....... until Mr. Mitchell.
 

IT ONLY TAKES ONE PERSON TO CHANGE A WHOLE LIFE. You don't need to be "perfect" just decent.

 Mr. Mitchell was my first ever "black" teacher. This was a big deal for me because I was raised in a home where blacks were spoken of in a very derogatory manner. My dad preferred that his kids didn't associate with blacks. He eventually grew out of it in his elder years but as a young girl blacks were off limits and I learned that the hard way.

Anyways, Mr. Mitchell was an older gentleman who was one of my teachers at an alternative school that I had been sent to due to my ever growing destructively, distractive manners. The school was specifically made to house "troubled students".

When I first met him he shared that some students called him "teddy bear" because he was kinda "fluffy" and liked giving out hugs. I thought it was because he looked like a teddy bear since he was always wearing a brown sweater and had brown skin. I was not receptive to his hugs.
I did, however, notice his proactive willingness to help me stay academically on course.

For ninth grade alone I attended four (or five) different high schools in four different states and I was considerably behind.
My family didn't know what to do but shuffle me around until I could stay out of trouble.  

It was the beginning of my sophomore year and I had been caught smoking again on campus by the security guards. I was with a group of other students but, for some odd reason, I was the only one who got picked on. I won't say that it was because I was the only minority within that group but I was and I decided to mention it to this guard. He ignored me and handed me a detention slip.
In exchange I threw my lit cigarette butt into his vehicle. He then said something about suspension and I upped the ante by not just getting myself expelled but getting my own personal guides off the property in cuffs.

Nothing was new and nothing surprised me, I was in trouble again and I, honestly, didn't care. I would just end up somewhere else with different faces and names. I didn't care.

I had nothing to lose... except for ONE thing.

Before I got cuffed, Mr. Mitchell asked my uniformed escorts if he could have a minute to say something to me and they allowed him a short moment and that moment changed something in me.      

He took me out of the room I was being interrogated in and sat me down on a bench. He looked at me and tears welt up and ran down his chubby brown face. He could barely speak but eventually asked if I had acted alone for what I was being accused of because it was impossible for one person to do it alone. I said nothing then stared forward into the courtyard. But at the corner of my eye I saw him remove his glasses, hang his head and heave a sob.

To this day I remember that moment very clearly because it was the first time that I had seen anyone cry for me for getting in trouble. I was use to adults giving me the cold angry stare while I'm being removed. But this was different and new. 

His tears made me question if I had some sort of value. 

To me, tears always cost someone something and it was NEVER insignificant. It always had a value attached to it. 
As a young girl, I had a very emotionally hard mother that I had only seen cry twice and it was so rare to see her show any emotion that I took a mental note of it.

The greater the heartbreak, the greater the tears, the greater the value.

Who cried for this kid? Who showed him that he had value enough that he didn't have to steal tears and souls?

There are so many of us "trouble-makers" out there who society has thrown by the wayside and all we need is ONE DECENT ADULT TO GIVE US HOPE THAT THERE IS A BETTER FUTURE IN STORE FOR US.

But, of course, this is gonna be a political upheaval on gun control or lack there of.

Here is where I stand with gun control:

• I will always protect the 2nd amendment. If a person really wants to kill someone they will kill someone whether the gun is legally owned or not. They don't need a gun to kill groups of people anyways. They can use a semi-truck to bowl people over. They can stand on a bridge over a freeway and drop large rocks on cars causing multiple crashes. They can use small box-cutters to high-jack planes and crash them into buildings. They can collect groups of people in a building, lock them in and set it on fire. There are so many ways to kill people, how far are we going to go into legislating it??
• Gun control education and regulations on how guns are propagated for entertainment value should be highly legislated. Kids should not be made to think that pulling a trigger on a video game to kill innocent bystanders is normal and that violent movies where guns are recklessly utilized is normal. In other word, normalizing reckless gun use in entertainment should be heavily regulated.
• I don't own a gun and I don't believe I ever will because I don't want to ever have to choose that as an option over walking away from a fight. Maybe one day I will own one but not today.

Happy birthday baby girl!

Lord, let the story that you have entrusted me with be a showcase of Your love for us. Let my survival display Your sovereign care. Let no enemy on earth or hell steal what you have given me to share with Your children. May You be glorified with every word that is written.
In the mighty name of Jesus Christ, Amen. 

One of the lessons that I've had to learn when I came to grow in my knowledge and relationship with Jesus was that I needed to EMBRACE my past for what it was and push forward towards the future with the knowledge of what I had been given, all while being obedient to surrender to His call on my life to share my journey with Him.
It's a tall order but God has been faithful to light up the path He has ordained for me to walk and He has been very present.

In the beginning...
 

My birth parents named me Natalia. Today my name is Surina. 

The journey between those two names is 5 other names and exactly 39 years of struggling to discover:

• who I was
• where I came from
• who I belonged to
• why was I born

 I have discovered throughout my journey that sometimes the truth is, unfortunately, more painful than the lie I was told about my beginning.
However, I choose to except that pain because I know that God's got a reason for it.

In 2006, I met my biological mother and she gave me this picture of me. I want to love this baby girl well.

When I was almost twelve my mother sat me down at the kitchen table to tell me that we were going to be moving again and that before our next move she needed to share with me her version of my adoption.
She felt that it was important for me to know since we were moving to a place where my presence would stir up gossip. She wanted me to be prepared.
Well, she was right to warn me. Unfortunately, her version was not all truthful.

At that kitchen table my mother delivered to me a story so incredible that it's no wonder that I worshiped her for many years. To this day I love my mother dearly but the story I was told robbed me of any worth that I could have had as a twelve year-old girl. It has taken a lot of years to restore in me a sense of TRUE worth.

Story #1: The version I heard as a child.
Once upon a time there was a teenage girl skipping school and she came across a baby sitting near a pile of garbage. That baby was me. 
I was found with scabs covering my body and only wearing a diaper and I was holding a bottle of rotten milk. I was old enough to sit up but not move.
The girl didn't see anyone around and decided to stand from afar to see if anyone would come for me. As the day was closing towards night, the girl decided to take the abandoned baby home with her. When she brought the baby home to her parents the parents decided to call the police to see if someone had reported a missing baby. There was no report of a missing baby.
The girl's parents then asked the police if they could keep me until they found my real parents.
A week went by and they finally found my biological mother. When they tried to return me to her she did not want me back. My mother was a prostitute who could not care for me.
When the girl's parents were told that she had declined my return, they decided that they wanted to adopt me.
When my biological mother heard that this couple wanted to keep me she became greedy and decided to make a deal with them. She would make the adoption process easy for them if they bought her a travel ticket and a carton of cigarettes.
The couple made the deal with her but then they found out that I had a "very loving" biological father who would refuse to sign the papers but they gave him money too and that was it... the adoption was made.   
However, when my biological mother saw that I was growing healthy and beautiful she decided to kidnap me to sell me to a different family. She was found and beaten and I was returned back to my new family. 

In conclusion, I was rescued from a life of poverty and my hero was my new mother.
The End.

For two decades I lived believing this story and it always became the justification for why I didn't fight when I was repeatedly abused. I was made to believe that I deserved everything evil that came my way because of who my parents were and the conditions of how I was found. I was garbage and no one wanted me. The daughter of a prostitute who traded me for a carton of cigarettes and a ticket to leave town.

I was a curse.

It has taken a decade for God to slowly reveal to me the TRUTH of what really happened and who He intended me to be.

I strive to be a better human being. :)

Story #2: The version I've discovered thus far...
 Once upon a time there was a baby born to a couple who were having marital problems. That baby was me. I was their second child of three girls.
One day the wife was so overwhelmed by the stress of motherhood and her cheating husband that she gave his favorite child away without his permission.
The father became so distraught that he threatened to divorce her if she didn't get me back.
When she tried to get me back her request was denied. In her desperation she resorted to kidnapping. She was found and beaten and I was returned back to my adopted family.   
The defeated mother went on to divorce her husband and abandon her other two daughters. 
THE END.

Isn't it amazing what ONE HUMAN BABY can do before their first birthday??

1.      Yes, I was found but not in a pile of garbage. I was left on a bench near a stop sign at a farmer's market.

2.      No, my mother was NEVER a prostitute. She was a lesbian, which was worse to my Catholic mother.

3.      Yes, there was a trade of material and monetary value but it's inconclusive what that was. Cigarettes was definitely a part of the trade.

4.      No, my biological father was not "loving". He was a womanizer.

5.      And.... my biggest discovery was that both my mothers were childhood friends. They've know each other all their lives. They are very distant relatives.

The reason it was difficult for my biological mother to regain custody of me was because I was adopted into the most affluent group in our culture and when they wanted something (baby or not) they got it. Power took priority. 

When I look back at my life and the people who had a hand at molding me into the person I am today I can not help but look at both of my mothers and their journeys. Their story and pain weighs heavy on my heart. 

Sometimes I ask myself "Lord, was there no other way for them?"
I can't help but wonder how different their lives would have been had they both had husbands who loved them. Instead they were abused by the men who promised to love them and whose children they carried. 

They were made to fight battles for their children that they should never have fought.
 

I have been BLESSED.
 

I don't look back at my story anymore and see an abandoned baby or a young life riddled with abuse.

I look back and ask myself:

• How can I make sure that what happened to me never happens again?

• How do I make sure that a woman is NEVER so overwhelmed by motherhood that she throws that baby away??

• How do I make sure that abandoned children understand their value as a human being when their own parents tell them that they're a worthless mistake??

The ONLY answer I got is JESUS CHRIST.

He showed me that I was born for a purpose and with a plan that ONLY HE can unveil.

He is my Hope and why I share my story. 

"For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope. Then you will call upon Me and go and pray to Me, and I will listen to you. And you will seek Me and find Me, when you search for Me with all your heart. I will be found by you, says the Lord, and I will bring you back from your captivity" ~ Jeremiah 29:11-14

Healing a Hitler heart

Have you ever hated a specific group of people so much that if they were set on fire and you had the ability to put it out but you hesitated because you had to think about whether or not they deserved to live??

It's sad that I would ever admit to having this much hate in my heart for a specific group but as a follower of Jesus Christ I need to shed His light on it or I can NEVER truly FOLLOW HIM.
The purpose and plans of God for my life will be (and has been) stalled and no matter how much I try to manipulate my journey to move forward I will always fall short and go around the same damn mountain again because the root of my hate was never plucked out.

BUT... it's time.

For 2018, I do NOT want to continue the year with this much anger, bitterness, and hate inside of me because I've been called to walk alongside these same people. These people that I now call my brothers and sisters in Christ. My spiritual siblings.

Lets address my journey with religious leaders and how God brought me to a place where I can see them as human beings able to do more good than harm.

It's not enough to "tolerate" people. YOU MUST LOVE THEM!!!

Before my dad died we had three conversations and the first conversation that we had (after 18 years of not talking to each other) I shared with him my choice to be a Christian. 

He, of course, was displeased and concerned for me. He then said to me "Rina, remember how I raised you."

Of course I remember.
He was the reason I questioned every religion and spiritual person who came into my path. Whether a person was nice or not didn't matter because I had a very thick filter to screen out religious bullshit. Oh, yeah, his voice was heard loud and clear.

As a young girl being forced to conform into my mother's Catholic religion or be beaten to a pulp; I hungered for the god he said didn't exist. I wanted the "no god" he had because the "god" being represented to me was one of hate, lust, and pure evil. 

But at the same time my dad was an alcoholic who held little hope for human kind.

So, the question for me as a young girl was:

What is the purpose of being alive when the "god" being represented is one so hateful that I hated life and why fight to stay alive when there is nothing better than death? 

Why not just kill myself and end a journey that should've never begun?

This has been my decade long journey with the God I thought I knew. And at every turn He would reveal to me His truths and would not let go of me no matter how much I ran away from Him and clawed at His kids.

Every time I tried to escape His sight, even in the most lewd of places, He would put one of His kids in my path to remind me of His presence. Unfortunately, so did satan.
Spiritual warfare is no joke. 

So began my lessons to learn the difference between good and evil, right and wrong, love and hate, God and no god.
And my teachers all along the way... religious leaders. Some good and some not so good but all appointed to guide me along my journey.

Each leader flawed in a very specific way to remind me that my eyes are to stay on Jesus.
Each leader showcasing a weakness or strength that I am to learn from. Each leader extended grace sufficient enough for their own path set before them. A path that would momentarily cross my path to teach me of the God that loved me so much that He came to give me a heart of flesh for His people and His Spirit to guide my feet Home.

I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you; I will take the heart of stone out of your flesh and give you a heart of flesh"~ Ezekiel 36:26