The "Madonna Room"

This Mother's Day I got up early and was preparing to get ready for church as always and for some odd reason something didn't "feel" right. I was doing my usual routine of prepping and I noticed that I had gotten into a habit. My habit (although, not a bad thing) had become -- church.

I was then reminded of my dad and the concern he had for me when I told him that I had converted to Christianity.
His concern was that I would try to fit into what ever church environment that I was a part of and not think for myself on "why" I was there. That I would forget Who I was following instead follow whatever pastor I was listening to. He never wanted me to follow someone or something without thinking about my why. As a professing atheist, he even encouraged me to question his beliefs. And I did.

So today, as a mother and a follower of Jesus Christ, I took my kids on a journey to rediscover my WHY and to teach them to think about their own "WHY" of faith.
Like my dad, I want my kids to think for themselves and have a belief of God that is their own. Not manipulated by me, their father, or their surroundings.

Today I took them to a place where I spent a lot of time at as a teenager trying to understand why I was still alive. I call it the Madonna Room.

There is no longer a sculpture of Madonna and child. It's been removed but I still remember it.

 

 

The last time I was here it was when I had just met Paul in 2000 and I wanted him to see the Madonna Room because it was a place where I would go to do my homework or just think. I don't know if I ever prayed in there as a teen because I didn't know who God was but I just loved the view. 

It had been almost 18 years since I had last been in the Madonna Room and it has changed a lot. 

It has been modernized and the statue of Madonna with child is now gone having been replaced by Mary and Jesus. The seating has also been changed from benches to plush chairs. However, no matter what changes they've done, I have always loved the view. It's absolutely beautiful.

If people could only see in this one photo all that I see. It's a view of my life.

As I stood in the Madonna Room looking out into the beauty of all that I had seen before, I couldn't help but see all that God had done in my life and all that He had brought me through. My children rarely ever see me get emotional to the point of tears but as I stood in that room, I was reminded of all the times I would come to that room to do my homework because it was dry and it gave me a safe place to work and think... I couldn't help but cry. The LORD has brought me a LONG WAY.

As I saw my children enjoy the view and take in all that I had seen years earlier as a teenager I could not help but be brought to tears. He has been so faithful to me and I know that He will be faithful to my children because He loves them more than I do. What more does a mother need? 

I don't think I have ever prayed in this Madonna Room but today I did. I thanked God.

 "In the fear of the Lord there is strong confidence,and His children will have a place of refuge." ~Proverbs 14:26

Dad, are you still an atheist?

Growing up I always knew that my dad didn't like clergy. His references towards them were always negative. I really didn't know why but I do believe that it had something to do with his upbringing and training.

My dad comes from a family line of Navy SEALs and I was told that back in the first days of SEALs they were taught NOT to believe in a god so that it would be easier for them to do their job which usually consisted of killing men, women, and children - no matter their age. 
Without a belief in a god there would be NO conscience moral accountability and their #1 focus would be to complete their mission. Their full allegiance was to the United States.
America was their queen and she was to be fully protected - no matter what.

Now, I don't know if that's what caused him to not believe in a god but at any rate, my dad was very vocal about his atheist belief and his disgust with church leaders.

So, how did he end up with my mom who was a devout catholic committed to her religion??
He rescued her from my first dad who was literally beating her close to death. I've heard stories about how he literally went in and brought her out. Yep, like a badass.

He was her "knight and shining armor"...well almost. More like her boss turned bodyguard husband. Their partnership and marriage was beautifully unique. 
He took it upon himself to protect her and, in exchange, she cared for him and his son. He was a single dad.
And when I was seven years-old he became the man who would raise me in my most formative years (7-14) before leaving home.

"Rina, remember how I raised you! Don't force your god on people!" - Dad

My relationship with my mom's second husband (looking back as I write this) was satirical and to some, unique. My dad was a complex man and I, unknowingly, challenged that complexity.
I was the typical step-daughter that tested his boundaries to see how much this man loved me, yet, hungry for as much approval as I could get to match the approval from my first dad.

As I sit to write this, I can honestly say, he couldn't approve of my ways because he didn't understand me but he absolutely loved me.
He didn't love me in the ways my first dad did but he did love me in his own way and because of that I wanted to share the gospel of Jesus with him. No matter what.

In Janurary of 2015 I got my chance.

As I was scrolling through Facebook I saw that one of my siblings had shared that he was in the hospital and was asking for prayers. I quickly texted her to inquire details and to get their contact information. When I left home, I left everything. So, I didn't have any information about my parents or their whereabouts.
However, that day something deep inside my gut said "Surina, it's time."

Before calling him I asked a team of prayer warriors to pray for me to have an opportunity to share the gospel of Jesus. It was my hope that he had changed his mind about a belief in a possible god and that maybe he could consider Jesus Christ from the Bible.

When I was a young girl I asked him why he didn't go to church and he told me that "there is no god" and if there was one he wouldn't want him because he had done "too many bad things". And if he did go into a church "the walls would crumble."
Now, as a little kid I believed him because he was a man of war...BUT... as I grew up and got to learn more about WHO Jesus was and WHY He came, I knew MY DAD WAS WRONG!
I wanted to let him know that Jesus came for stubborn wayward asses just like him.  
He was the perfect example of WHY Jesus came.

I was really nervous to call my parents because I hadn't spoken to my mom in almost a decade and my dad in almost two decades.
My relationship with my mom was always strained and I was use to it but I expected more from my dad and he failed miserably. He knew it, I told him. He hurt my heart and at eighteen years-old I stopped talking to him.

Over the years I would hear of him being sick, losing body parts or having surgeries and I still wouldn't call him.

One Christmas (a decade into our separation) I sent him a very personal gift and I was told that he cried upon opening it which made me cry and, yet, I still wouldn't call him and he wouldn't call me.
This was our uniquely personal relationship.

I honestly believe that because our relationship was so uniquely personal God was giving me an opportunity to share the gospel with him.

So, with all that was in me... I made the call.

Facebook is like a time capsule of your daily life. Somewhat like a journal. I'm grateful for it.

On my first call my dad was asleep and so I caught up with my mother about his health. It was definitely time for me to call home. He was very sick. I told her that I would try again the next day.

The next day I called and had a conversation with my dad that I will never forget. It was definitely time for me to speak to him. He was refusing all treatments and was willing to suffer the consequences including death.

For 18 years there was silence between us and now we were trying to play catch up. He had so many questions for me.
He didn't know that I had given birth to a daughter and that I had married the father of both my kids.  He asked me if my husband treated me well and I told him that I was safe and was being treated very well. I made him laugh when I emphasized that my husband was "a white man" because as a young angry teen I promised him that I would marry a black man and have black children just to piss him off.
Our relationship was always so sarcastic and hearing him laugh brought back so many memories.

After we stopped laughing I finally got to ask him the one question I had been waiting to ask:

Dad, are you still an atheist?

After a long pause he said,

"Rina, it's complicated but I can't say that a god doesn't exist."

I then shared with him that my family goes to church every week. He asked me if it was Catholic and I told him no, it's nondenominational Christian and that my husband was a Christian and that we were attending his church.

There was a longer pause, so much so that I said "dad?"
And then it came:

"Rina, you can't listen to those preachers. We've talked about this. They lie. All of them........."

As I sat and listened to his list of concerns for my choice and trying to think of a way to defend it, I felt the need to ask him: Dad, have you ever read the Bible?

"Yes, Rina. I've read the whole thing."

Of course, I already assumed he did because my dad was sort of a history buff and so I felt stupid asking the question. But I continued on anyways: So, then you know about Jesus Christ?

"of course."

Dad, who do you think he is?

  "he's one of the great prophets."

So, if you've read the Bible and it says that he is god then what makes you not believe that?

"Rina, the Bible is a book written by men. Moses would be more likely to be god."

Why do you say that?

"You know I've been all over the world. I've lived in both Israel and Egypt. During my operations I saw everything that Moses wrote about up close. I've walked through all the biblical ruins and I've been into areas where the common public doesn't ever get to go. That's why I believe in the Old Testament. I've seen it. What did Jesus ever write about to be seen? Nothing!" 

Dad, Jesus didn't have to write anything because all the writings penned by the Old Testament prophets, including Moses, were about Him. His job was to fulfill ALL that was written about Him. He didn't have to write about all the miraculous healings he performed -- He just did it. And there were witnesses. They all saw His work. The New Testament was the fulfillment of the Old Testament. That's why you can't separate them. If you believe the first portion of the Bible because you saw the writings to be true, then how can you question the validity of the second portion when it's all in one book? It makes no sense.

There was another long pause...

 "I don't know, Rina, I'll have to think about it. But just remember how I raised you. Don't believe anything that anyone says, not even me, but if you end up believing something... you better know WHY."

Dad, that's why I believe that Jesus is God. I know my why. I've read the book from cover to cover and I don't understand it all but I do believe it all.

 "Okay, Rina, he's your God but just remember how I raised you. Don't force your god on other people. Let them choose for themselves." 

As he was talking I heard my mom in the background (who must've been listening to our conversation) say:

"Daddy, it's okay. You know Rina has always done her own thing. So, she's not Catholic. Let her learn."

 And with that a sigh of relief came over us both as we ended our conversation chuckling over the priest that just entered the room and my dad saying:

"love you kiddo but I gotta go. Your mother just brought me a priest."

 So much for choice. LOL!!! 

Acknowledgement of a god is better than denying that any such god exists. Jesus can work with that and in the life of my dad, I believe He did. He had the faith of a mustard seed.

 
Growing up my dad always told me to question everyone especially religious authority. I don't know if he was even aware that he was actually teaching me one of the most important scripture warnings in the Bible. 1 John 4:1 states:

"Beloved, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits, whether they are of God; because many false prophets have gone out into the world."

That day I learned something very important -- my dad understood the POWER of a belief system. He knew that whatever a person believed would MOVE them in that direction.

For me, I believe in Jesus and the POWER of His Spirit to MOVE me into His direction.

Thanks for the warning dad! I heard you loud and clear!

 

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.

Dear son, mommy was wrong...

Baby boy, I treated you unfairly! I'm so sorry!!

In the beginning...

I brought you into this world for all the wrong reasons. I worked hard to get you here only to despise the day you were born.
When I had to keep you I punished you for that decision and when I had to keep your father around, I blamed you for ruining my life.
For over a decade I told you to grow up and leave because you were never mine to begin with.
You heard me loud and clear. I hurt you...

Son, mommy was WRONG!!! I am very SORRY!!!

You did not deserve to enter the world in that way.

But God had a plan...

The day you were born I refused to hold you. I was so cold and distant.
There will be no pictures of me holding you and loving on you in the hospital because there are none. I felt nothing towards you. 

But...
your daddy did what I wasn't willing to do.

He was willing to hold you.

I wasn't willing to hold you until a nurse came into our room and asked if you were to be bottle fed or breast fed.
Before I could give an answer I had to call the person you were going to go to and ask her what she preferred. She said "breast" and I answered "breast". She wanted you as healthy as possible.

I was like a robot. Completely programmed to remember that -- you're not mine.
You were just a package being prepared for delivery. 

a "gift"

 

As they placed you in my arms and taught me how to hold you for a feeding, I still felt nothing. As you latched on to my breast, I still felt nothing. Nothing in me latched on to you.
All my doctors knew my plan for you from the day I was told that I was pregnant but, for some odd reason, they thought that I would change my mind after seeing you and bond in some way. They were wrong.

However...
your daddy was in love with you the moment he laid his eyes on you.

Love at first sight.

Son, your daddy put up with so much of my hate just so he could hold you in his arms. Even when he knew that I had plans for you that excluded him.

But, he didn't care. That short time with you, to him, was worth it.

Your first bed.

Because I knew that you weren't staying with me, I didn't buy you anything other than what was necessary to get you from the hospital and onto a plane to your final destination.

That's okay though. You had no need for a crib because your daddy's chest was where you slept best. He wanted to hold you as much as he could.
The countdown to your departure was nearing.

God, I put that man through hell and oh, how he tried to change my mind BUT...

when the doctors gave me the okay for you to go on a plane, we were off within the week.

Son, your daddy hated me. As I write this, I really can't blame him but he later understood my deep desperation.


Into the sky...

As we boarded the plane, people who sat near us got immediately irritated because they thought you would cry throughout the flight but you amazed them by sleeping comfortably from the gate of departure to the gate of arrival.
They didn't know that you were a flight baby. Being in the sky was your second home.
They felt guilty for being rude to us and so they offered to carry all our stuff to the baggage claim.

Son, people judged you at a month old. Welcome to the world. Get use to it. 
 
It will serve you well to learn to persevere through worldly judgements. Don't ignore it, discern it.
Not all criticism should be ignored. It can grow you tremendously.

Well, son, obviously something happened and you never reached the "final destination" I set out and planned for you.
I won't go into it since I already wrote about it in a different blog.

So let's move forward and touch on how I handled my new role as "mom".


In keeping you...

Well son, as you know, mommy did not handle my new role very well.
I was clueless on what to do with you so, I left you with your dad and went back to work.

I flew in to see you once a week for less than 24 hours. Each time I saw you you looked different. I hardly knew you. 
One day I placed you on a couch not realizing that you were able to turn over and you fell off. Your daddy got mad at me and I did what I did best -- I went back to work. I wasn't a mom. I was more like an out-of-town visitor.

Holding you felt awkward but I still tried.

Son, on that trip back to work I sat in first class with an older gentleman that saw me looking at your picture that I had placed in with my name badge and he asked me if you were my son and I said "yes."
He decided to pry a little more by asking me how old you were and why I was at work and not at home with you since you were still a bitty baby. For five hours I sat next to this man as he poked holes in all my answers.
Son, you know mommy must've been too worn out to tell him to mind his own damned business but, obviously, God was at work because he told me something I needed to hear and it changed the whole direction of my life. He said:

"...if your son becomes a total success you can never lay claim to him because you weren't there to help BUT if he becomes a total menace to society it will be your fault because you weren't there to guide him. Being a parent is that important."

Son, you know mommy was a societal nightmare and out of that whole five hours conversation the thought of you not being guided to do well in your life due to my absence placed a VERY STRONG FEAR IN ME.

I never wanted you to be treated or seen as a criminal. Less than worthy of human treatment.
 
That was my last flight. I, immediately, came home and your future became my new focus.
 
That decision ultimately became the end of me and... the beginning of us.

Our first unintended pro-photo together. You screamed the whole time and refused to let anyone else hold you and  I didn't know what else to do but get you naked and be in the picture. It worked.

Immersing into motherhood...

When I told your daddy that I was going to try to be a mom he was in full agreement but, unfortunately, no one was ready for the Pandora's box of "crazy" that was about to be opened. Not even I was aware of the depth of my own mental instability.

As you already know, I hated my role as mom.

I didn't know what a "mom" was suppose to do or be like. I struggled to cope. I became the version of the only mom I saw and knew. I became the person I feared. I was so scared and at a loss of any hope for the both of us.

If the state did not enter our picture and threaten to take you away from me I don't believe that I would have changed.

It's only by the grace of God that you stayed in my care.

As suggested by your teacher, I put mirrors around the house so you'd know who you were and smile. :)

Son, due to the court orders, mental health doctors, social workers and other community resources I was given the help I needed to become a better mother for you (and eventually your sister).
 
I failed in my first attempts at trying to be your mom but I learned and became stronger through trial and error.

Son, failure is okay but DO NOT lay down in it, GROW from it. Failure is great fuel for growth.

I know that I still have a ways to go in raising you and your sister. I know that I will continue to fail in areas that I have yet to trek in my parenting journey. But I also know that you have been so gracious with me especially since Jesus has entered our picture.

Intergrading Jesus...

Son, do you remember when I first told you we were going to start going to church? You were almost 7 and Inara was almost 3. You cried and were confused to my sudden change of heart. 

Trust me... it wasn't intentional on my part.  

When I think back to how it all started it was almost like I got tricked and the treat was a Savior named Jesus Christ.

Your first Vacation Bible School experience. You, eventually, got use to it.

I don't blame you for fighting me when we first started. The first years of your life I told you awful stories about church folk and I used "church" entertainment to punish you when you were being bad. 

 I thought I was being funny and protective but I guess the joke was on me because God was working hard on all of us in spite of my madness. 

Even with all my warnings to keep you two safe of religion and it's abuse God saw to it that we grew to know Him better. And for five years that church pumped the love of Jesus into our little family. They loved us to life.

2017 Mission Trip

 Son, when you went on your first mission trip I prayed that God would meet with you in some special way to show Himself. I was not disappointed. The Lord was faithful to meet you... through a little native boy. 
I'm not the least bit surprised with how He met you. You've always had a love and tenderness for children.

Do you remember when you wanted to get baptized at 8 and I told you to fight me for it and you lost? Son, you weren't ready. You were following the people so I had a solid NO to stand on. 

But, I bet if you fought me now, you'd probably win. I see so much of Jesus in you. 

So when you're ready to take the plunge I'd love to see you get baptized before I die. If not, I'm fine with that.  

Just keep your eyes on Jesus. I want that most for you.

Well, son, it's been almost a decade and you have seen that mommy was wrong with almost all of my assessments of the church and it's people. Humans are flawed. 

I still want you to be careful with the leaders though because they stand in a place of great authority. Be especially discerning with them just like you are with your daddy and I. 

We are authoritative voices but make sure to...

Grow and learn from us... DO NOT follow us!! FOLLOW JESUS!!!

Humans will disappoint you but Jesus is your very solid Appointment towards your intended purpose in life.

 Stay close to Him and follow Him hard!!!

And last but not least...


Investing in your future "Bride"...

You treat your sister with so much love and care, thank you! Your bride will be blessed indeed.

Saulomon, watching how you handled the breakdown of your relationship this past month was nothing short of Godly love and wisdom. 

It became the reason I chose to write this apology in such a public format.
It is my hope that whoever reads this can see our journey and see Jesus as their Hope and Guide forever. 

Son, the way you handled that whole situation with so much love amazed me. 
Most adults couldn't handle that much pain and function properly (like I did) but you did it with so much care and dignity for the other person that I couldn't understand what you were doing. Or, in actuality, what God was doing through you.
I was so mad but, obviously, God needed to show me something.

Son, do you remember this day? I thought you were accepting Christ as your Savior but you were just helping someone not feel alone going forward. When I met his mom, that is how she remembers you. Her son's friend that walked forward with him. I'm so proud of you!

Son, most parents, if they're honest will admit that even though God will tell them that He's got their kids, parents will still have their doubts.

Worry is a human condition that worsens once you become a parent because kids are an extension of us. You and Inara both have pieces of my heart and certain things cause me to lash out for your protection and care.

So, when I tried to "remove" the cuckoo-religious crap from your mouth because I couldn't understand your sudden "spiritual awakening" and you got up and wrapped your arms around me to reassure me of your love and understanding for my position as a "mom", I was hit with the stark reality that God did His part exactly as He had promised to me the day I stepped into the waters of baptism as a new Christian believer.

He promised me that He would never give you and your sister a life where you two felt alone in your pain IF I came to Him for guidance and obeyed His teachings and taught them to you both.

Son, until that day, I had forgotten that He is more powerful than anything that I may try to do.

I can speak life into you all day and all night and if you decided to throw it all away in spite of everything you heard and know ONLY GOD can redirect your feet onto the path of life and Only He can be your Peace and Anchor amid your storm. Only He can be your Healer and Comforter for your broken heart.

And I... can do nothing but pray and watch Him walk with you and bring others to walk beside you.

Son, to see God use your leaders to cup your hurting heart and hold you tenderly as your daddy did when you were first born has been quite an experience for me. Their investment in you could only have been of God Himself. As a mom, I'm blessed. God kept His promise to NEVER leave you nor forsake you.

Son, I was wrong to get angry for you and at you. I was wrong to speak words of hate over someone that God created in His own image. My wrath and judgement was uncalled for no matter the case.

Son, thank you for not heeding to my level of pure evil.
I called her all sorts of foul names and you called her a child of God.
I wanted to see her burned into the ground and you wanted me to see the good of God in her.

In my anger, I sinned. I am sincerely sorry.

If this is you at the tender age of 15 then I wonder how you will be ten years from now as a 25 year-old man???

Honestly, son, this is one of the main reasons why I want you to grow up and go live your own life.

I have always been curious as to why God would give me two kids to raise.

Do you remember all the years, when you were angry with me, you would ask me why God gave you to me and I would tell you to go ask Him and you'd reply with "I hate Him and you." Those were turbulent times for us.

Oh, son, how amazing it is to see God at work in your life. How awesome is God to show your dad and I the fruition of our guided parenting.
I know that it has built our faith more seeing God hold you together.

In conclusion... 

Saulomon Paul Nash, I love you!!!

You were always God's gift to me. I just didn't see it till now.

There is so much to love about you and here are my top 3:

 1. I love your heart for our family. It helps me to see the importance of being together.

Son, I'll never forget the day I decided to come back to your daddy. We had left the U.S. and we were living far away where he wouldn't be able to find us. You were 3 years-old and I was pregnant with Inara. And, yes, I was running away again.

Our family pillow fights.

I didn't know how you would feel by us leaving him behind but you were devastated. I had trained you to hold all your emotions inside so much that I didn't know how you really felt. But when you hid from me and I found you clutching his picture and crying behind a door, I knew right then and there that I had to return and try to give you a family unit. I had to start thinking about your feelings. I was still learning to be a mom.

Now look at us all. It's been almost 12 years since that decision and we've become an amazing family unit. We're not perfect but we sure do laugh a lot under this roof. Even when we're all fighting, which is even funnier. :)

Our first family comedian night.

Our family game nights.

Our family after dinner walks...or

 ...run to push each other into the water walk.

We're always in one room together...

...usually with your dad playing his guitars.

Our first and best Christmas Day getaway weekend...

...with a Jacuzzi next to our beds that we filled with bubbles.

 Yeah, son. I think coming back and making our family unit work together was the best decision for all of us. Even me.

2. I love your heart for people. It helps me to be mindful of them.

Remember when you got mad at me for calling a kid you were playing with "black" and you corrected me by telling me to call him "African American" because I was being politically incorrect and (in your 10 year-old estimation) "racist"??? LOL!!

And you fought me for a week about it? LOL!!
You were so relentless and annoying but I finally just gave in. Good grief!

Just a side note but I think we were both wrong on this. I think he would be classified as "black American". Just saying...

You didn't know I took this pic but I needed to remember this day for some odd reason. Maybe it was for this blog. :)

3. Saulomon Nash, I love how you have helped me grow to be a better human being (a.k.a. more like Jesus Christ).

I love it when you correct my speech and yell at me for cussing. Very few people know the amount of profanity that exits my mouth on a daily basis but you have, even to your own detriment, wrestled with me to stop dropping the "F"-bomb. Especially around your sister.

Son, did you notice I didn't use it in this blog?? You're welcome! :)

I also love it when you fight for what you believe in. I have seen you lose friends and, obviously, a girlfriend because you were not willing to compromise your faith or value.
I love how you argue with me about your political views. Although, we don't agree on several issues we still agree that you and I are some how very much a like.




 
There's so much to love about you son. Thank you for forgiving me every time I mess up. 

It is an honor to be your mom. 
I thank God for the opportunity He has given me to steward you to Him.

Son, on this day of your 1st math competition, I couldn't help but realize that God had brought real redemption for me because the grounds we were standing on had a restraining order against me over 20 years ago. The last time I was there I was a teenage nightmare in cuffs for fighting with security but not anymore... I was now there rooting for you to win a math award. God is so GOOD!!! Thank you  Jesus!

 
   

My husband and the beginning of our journey together.

I remember when Paul first proposed to me. We had been together for a little over two months. We were walking past a DIY car wash very late in the evening. I was talking to him about something while he was holding my hand and all the sudden, midway through my spiel, I felt him stop. When I turned to look at him he proceeded to get down on one knee.

Honestly, I thought he was bending over to tie his shoe but instead he took my hand with both of his and asked me to marry him as he slipped a silver smiley face kiddie ring on my finger. We both busted up laughing. I told him why not, I was leaving soon anyways.

I met Paul in mid-September on the exact same day that I got hired by a major airline company and I was scheduled to leave for Texas at the end of November.   

The day I met Paul I knew, immediately before I even set two eyes on him, that he was "THE ONE". 

Now "the one" to most people (especially women) would mean "the one" whom you are to marry or "the one" whom you believe is your soulmate to spend your life with and have all the dreamy-imaginary feel-good goo-goo blah, blah, blahs of life. You know, all that "romance" stuff. 
That was NEVER the case for me. 

I didn't believe in romance and I didn't believe in marriage. Especially happy ones.

"The one" to me meant that he was THE ONE TO GIVE ME MY PROMISED SON.

If you have not read my blog on choosing-to-be-a-mom then you won't understand this blog because this is the very beginning of my journey, not just as a mom, as it was the day God revealed to me that He had been speaking to me my whole life. 
All the times, as a child, that I thought I was talking to myself ... it was ALWAYS HIM at the other end.

Paul and I met the night my friends wanted to take me out to celebrate my new career. 
As I sat outside the club alone smoking my cigarette I felt like I was being watched (something I was use to but this set of eyes felt heavy and different) and before I could look to see the person, in glowing white at the furthest part of my left peripheral vision, I heard a voice speak so clearly that I couldn't ignore it. It was a very familiar voice.

It said "he's the one".

In my mind I asked this voice "what one?" and it answered "the one who will give you your son" and I, immediately, was reminded of my 13 year-old self crying out for someone to help me and I heard the same voice say "I will give you a son." 

Now, if you're reading this and saying to yourself ... "oh, give me a freak'n break", trust me IT GETS WEIRDER.

After hearing this I, immediately, looked to my left to see who "the one" was. Unfortunately, I was NOT impressed.

Paul looked away the moment I looked at him, He looked like he belonged in a church. He was wearing a white button up shirt and light blue jeans. 

I then, immediately, told the voice in my head "nope, he's not my type" then finished my cigarette and walked back into the club to dance with my friends.

As I was dancing, THE VOICE said "go outside, sit at the last table and he will come to you."  
It spoke to me so LOUDLY that I couldn't hear the music. I was so irritated that I just obeyed it because I wanted it to leave me alone. 

I looked at one of my friends and asked him if he could go outside to have a cigarette with me and the moment we sat down Paul walked up and asked if he could join us. 

We talked and I asked him if he would meet me again in the same club a couple days later. I did not give him my number. I decided that if he was really "the one" then he would show up. And he did.

The next day I contacted everyone I was “seeing” and cut them off. Now that I found “the one” I needed to focus. 
My friends thought I was crazy but I knew what I knew and knew what I heard. 
I still didn’t know whose voice I heard but I was POSITIVE that I was now heading in the right direction.

Being with Paul was so NEW. There was nothing that we had in common. He was not like any man I had ever contemplated as a possibility for my "type".
  

He was kind, thoughtful, shy, quite and lacked in confidence. I was a cold hearted, in your face, self-centered bitch and, unfortunately, proud of it. He was my opposite.  
(on our first date I scared the crap out of our waitress and Paul never lets me forget how cruel I was. I don't think I want to forget. It keeps me kind.)

Paul was far from the type A, workaholic, arrogant jackasses that I usually found myself being with. I attracted men as arrogant as I was. Paul was different.

What really drew me the most into Paul was his objections to my way of life. I was intrigued.
As a “girlfriend” I was wild and my "ways" were reckless and he REFUSED to have any of it.

  

The beginning of our journey literally started on a boat. Why is Paul not smiling? Because he was trying to jump ship.

Now, you would think that once I met Paul and stood in front of the man butt-naked he would give me the sperm I needed, right?? Ooh... NO! 

Paul had this thing called "morals" and "convictions" and he refused to give me sex.  
He equated sex with meaning. My internal voice was screaming -- what in the hell is going on?!

At that time he never told me why he refused me, he just admired my nakedness and then turned me down and turned away. He was the weirdest man I had ever met. 

I was 21 years-old, accomplished in everything I was doing and in the BEST shape of my life and he REFUSED to do anything sexual with me. I had never been through such a situation. I've dated gay men before and I knew he wasn't gay. 
Trying to understand how come I couldn't seduce this man was frustrating. Especially knowing that he was "the one" that was suppose to give me my son.

I started to doubt the voice I heard because I couldn't understand what was blocking my advances.

Paul would only hold my hand and kiss my face. He REFUSED to touch me sexually. I would place his hands on my bare breasts and he’d remove them and step away from me. The more I pursued sex the more he withdrew.  

He finally told me (during our boat cruise pictured above) that he needed to get away from me. Honestly, I was shocked. I had never met a man like that before. He was so weird. 

On January 13, 2013 I finally asked Paul about how he met Jesus and what he remembered about our courtship. Mind you, I’m asking this after 13 years together and two kids. Yes, I was extremely self-consumed when it came to my relationship with him. How he put up with me is a freak’n miracle.  

 

There's a reason why God tells us to journal your journey with Him. #ToRememberHisFaithfulness

What Paul shared  that night was that everything in him wanted to disobey BUT he was told TWO THINGS by the God he served:

1.      Do not talk to me about Jesus. He was not to mention ANYTHING about his Christian faith and to wait for His timing.

And then…

2.      He was warned NOT to have sex with me and was told to wait for an appointed time or else he'd lose me.

When he shared this I was in awe because I couldn’t believe the DETAILED CRAFTSMANSHIP OF GOD’S HANDIWORK.

He knew the sexual abuse I grew up with and how I had learned to utilize it's destruction and He also knew the hate-filled words spoken over me by the first “Christian” person I had ever met as well as the hate I carried for religion and it's leaders.  He was there in every moment and He did NOT forget me.

Because I was usually trying to get pregnant (and yes most of the guys knew) I would have sex with men and if I didn't get pregnant within a certain amount of time (usually a month) I would leave. My womb and body was not mine. Nothing in me emotionally was invested. Everything was disposable. 
 I was trained as a young girl that men were ONLY for breeding. Other than that, they were useless. There was no such thing as “love”.

With Paul, I was FORCED to get to know him as a person, as a human, and as a child of The Living God. 
I was FORCED to invest in him and allow him to invest in me.

He was the first person I ever spoke to about my past. He was the first person to be angry for me. We were becoming friends.

Our little family EXACTLY eleven year to the day of when I convinced Paul to take this journey with me.

Our little family EXACTLY eleven year to the day of when I convinced Paul to take this journey with me.

In God’s mercy He prepared a husband for me. I don’t know why. 

Perhaps it’s more that He prepared a father for the kids he has given us to steward together because if there’s anything Paul and I fight about more than anything it is -- the best possible future for our kids. 

We want to remove as many generational curses off our kids as humanly possible and trust God to remove the rest.

 

Our marriage journey has not been easy and there was so much darkness but as I sit today to write this… I would NOT change a thing.

The LORD has done an AMAZING work in our lives and we are so glad that we said “YES” to His invitation to go on this journey with Him.   

"I would have despaired unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.  Wait for the Lord;
Be strong and let your heart take courage;
Yes, wait for the Lord."~ Psalm 27:13,14

#ThankYouJesus