Adopted

Eph. 1: 4-6 According as he hath chosen us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and without blame before him in love: Having predestinated us unto the adoption of children by Jesus Christ to himself, according to the good pleasure of his will, To the praise of the glory of his grace, wherein he hath made us accepted in the beloved.

Adopted by Christ

I was not physically adopted. I was actually born into a big enough family and being the baby, my brothers and sister set out to insult me and belittle me and make me feel as if I was an unwanted adopted child. I looked for someone to love me and value me as a child and I only found unconditional love from God. That really set me apart from the family because they all were set in their ways and had their own beliefs so when I was in ninth grade and became a born again Christian my family of  (in name only) Catholics didn’t take to the announcement of my conversion too well.

They all deemed me brainwashed, that the school I was in was a sinister cult because they were teaching me about Jesus. They thought that the family of Christians in my school was teaching me of the dark places that I would be tempted to go when all they offered me was an outlet; the protection of a God who wanted nothing in return but me as His child. Wow, how sinister yes?

Adoption is a conscious choice to make someone a part of the family. I consciously was choosing God over my blood family. Did this decision keep me from going down a darkened path? No way, you have to remember I had a big family (aunts and uncles too) that were all alcoholics, it was the norm. No one stood outside the realm of the family circle to stand up and say ‘protect this child’ but I knew with every fiber of my being, that God was the one and only who was going to protect me.

I never realized the dark force had such an enormous pull on every being around me. When my old friend called last week and said, ‘you were never allowed to be a child.’ The flashbacks came flooding in like a dam bursting open unleashing the darkened waters that tried to drown me.

No one knew that I walked in fear for most of my life. They didn’t care to know, what they did want to know is what I could do for them on any given day. Whether it was babysitting, cleaning, or supplying them with what they needed. Yes, I was a Cinderella thrust into an entire family of ugly stepmothers.

People wonder how it is that I became so close to God and wanted to tell the world about Him. Well let me tell you, when you walk barefoot on coals of fire through the pits of hell and God is the only one that stretches out His hand and found you worthy of being saved, you’d want to tell the world too. 

I’m sure you’ve read stories about people donating hearts to save a life and the recipient wants to meet the family in person to thank them? Or a rescuer who pulled you out of a car sinking in floodwaters, you need to see that person again face to face to shout out a thank you and hug them for their unconditional act of kindness. That’s what God has been to me, a life preserver, literally. My rescuer whom I HAVE to meet face to face but in the meantime, I’ll tell the world about Him.

“The highest reward for man’s toil is not what he gets for it, but what he becomes by it.”

~ John Ruskin

After the expanse of my rebellious childhood, if that’s what you want to call it, where alcohol was on hand by eight, marijuana by age ten then a host of other drugs were scattered in my path and I could have become like the addicts you see wandering the streets today. It wasn’t until I overdosed at twenty-one on whiskey, (yeah, death and the whole out of body experience) was I able to open my eyes to a brighter Light that saved me and I would tell the world of this Man that reached into the depths of death and pulled me out, saved me and shaped me into the woman you see (or read) before you today. 

Some people had parents that guided them to the straight and narrow; some had mentors that piloted their route but me? I had an all-loving God who saw in me something I could not see myself. God made me feel chosen, accepted, valued and loved whereas my biological family made me feel – just here.

Sometimes life is like that, you are placed in a loving, caring, nurturing family while others get placed in the center of a tornado and made to fend for themselves. But I’ve found through very many of the years of my life that it was only through the storms that I was being groomed by an ever-loving God who turned this mess into able-bodied lover of Christ WILLING to spread a message of LOVE across the many channels within my grasp. He has never given up on me and I will NEVER give up on Him. I just gently await the day I get meet this Savior, face to face. I day I was adopted by Christ was the best day of my entire life. 

Deuteronomy 26:18 "The LORD has today declared you to be His people, a treasured possession, as He promised you, and that you should keep all His commandments;”

My life was never perfect

Nor did I claim it be

Maybe people will love me

When they read my history.

~ Joni ~

MTOC ~ Day Two: Laid To Rest

Job 22:29 “When men are cast down, then thou shalt say, There is lifting up; and he shall save the humble person.”

My Testimony of Christ

Okay, where was I? Read yesterday’s post.

My mother and sister had a disagreement this weekend and in dysfunctional familyesque form, my sister told my mother that she died when I was born. Mind you, my sister was three years old when I came along. I was the sixth child to be born and better yet, I was born on my mother’s birthday. I ruined my sister’s life by being born and paid for the anarchy that ensued in the following years.

My sister felt slighted from that day forward. She was no longer daddy’s little princess because this new baby came along with a shining smile and stole all of her limelight. I guess I was THAT cute from birth. That was sarcasm. 

I’m not here to tell my sister’s story. But I will say that when my mother told me what my sister said it hurt; another wound on my skin, another scar to add to the fold. I was angry, enraged, bitter and wanted to go on facebook and announce to the world that my sister was a total piece of …

I stopped, “Dear God help me!” It’s all I could do to calm down. I said yesterday how He took me in and saved me, so in my times of distress that is all I know to do, turn to Him. I sat and prayed and as I did memories came flooding back; memories I would have rather laid to rest but they resurface anytime my sister takes out her sword and stabs me with her jealous needles.

I have a friend who told me once, “You have to put the past behind you and leave your blood family behind. We’re your family now, your spiritual family!” No truer words were ever spoken. My family doesn’t know me anymore, I’m the kid (I was thirty-seven) who left home and left them to pick up the pieces of the family puzzle that I left lying on the floor. 

A twenty-year marriage shattered because I listened to God; not to the family or husband who wanted me bound to their whim. I catered to them and weaved them together so that we formed some form of semblance of a family but when I left, with two-weeks notice, the puzzle burnt in a flame of fire. No one spoke to me, no one reached out to see if their little sister who went almost fifteen-hundred miles away with a total stranger was okay. They were glad to be rid of me finally so they could get the attention they didn’t receive in their lives because of this baby who ruined life for them. 

They were then mad; mad because the family was left in pieces without me. They resented the fact that I was going on with my life, never to see them again. I tried the phone calls, I tried with blistered fingers to stay in touch but the calls became farther and fewer in between. I was now bitter with my family but on a road of healing. 

All of those years I was blind to the way I was treated. Not by my mother and father who yes, treated me with the utmost respect and loved my son and showered him and me in love. My brothers and sister didn’t receive that love. When my father was sick, he’d call my husband in the middle of the night for a ride to the hospital, we jumped. We took my mother food shopping weekly, we took care of her house when she went away, we respected one another and THAT is all that I miss now. I can’t say I miss my siblings because I have a lifetime of resentment built up inside of me of abuse: physically, sexually and mentally. 

Why am I telling you this when some things should remain private? I have to heal and God wants me to release this story to the world. Had I not found God, on my own mind you, had I just stayed in the dysfunctional life I was living and breathing, I would not be a writer, I would not have watched my son graduate high school, I would have never found a family that knows what love truly is.

I was a stone cold alcoholic by the age of sixteen, married at seventeen, and on a road of struggling to survive this thing we call life. At twenty-one, I found myself needing sobriety to continue living. As you can imagine going alone, I had only one resource and that was the very being who had been beside me all of my life guiding me.  

I took on a new role, I became a spiritual light for all who came in contact with me. As you can imagine this newly changed person was even LESS accepted by a dysfunctional family let alone the messed up world. I was illuminated by His Word and carried the torch out into the troubled world wherever I went.

I thanked God daily for my struggles, for my suffering because I knew through every step I was finding a place of healing for ME. God had handed me a flashlight to carry into the darkest of caverns in my life. The batteries never ran out as long as I kept my focus on God and the Light he instilled in me to carry.

The very core of my spirit was strengthened. I was clawing my way through skin and bones to find healing. You might say I was alone; no sugar-daddy to pay my way through the gravel, no medical intervention to drug me up and save me, I had nothing but God. Nothing, no one, just God and me on the journey!

Why did God reach down and save me from the pit I was obviously in; abuse, depression, anxiety, alcoholism and drug addiction? Why did He choose me to be a light to others who might be struggling with their path that is full of darkness? I often ask why but inside I know why. This world is covered in utter darkness and He needs people like me, just as Jesus needed the downtrodden of society to get His message across, God chose me because I am a humble servant giving all Glory to Him!

I have lain my past to rest. To be continued…

Matt. 11:29 “Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.”

Epiphany

Pss. 109:15 “Let them be before the LORD continually, that he may cut off the memory of them from the earth.”

An Epiphany

It has been an interesting ride into an epiphany or intuitive insight into the essential meaning of something. In this case, I know why I’m here in Nebraska!

As a kid growing up, my mother and I were the best of friends. We share a birthday so I was considered special from day one AND the fact that that I was the baby helped that position along.

Living in the city without a car left us shopping in the locality best known to unknowns as Light Street. No seriously, that was and still is the name of the street lined with shops and stores. As we would walk past the glass lined buildings with the picture window shops and apparel, my mother would always reminisce of what that store was many years ago; it was a quite nostalgic trip on weekends for my mother and I.

We’d often go into Epsteins, (locals pronounced it Ep-stines while non-locals called it Ep-steens). Epsteins was like an old day version (only smaller) of WalMart. They sold everything from clothes to curtains, carpets to furniture, vacuums to hardware; Epsteins was the weekend hubbub of Light Street. We’d pass jewelry stores, a fish store that sold bunnies in their front window, the more expensive clothes stores for men, shoe stores, café’s and diners.

We’d often (and I do mean often) go to George’s Lunch where they had orange padded booths and a few tables lining one side of the wall and the streaming aroma of the grilled onions and Coney Island hamburgers, steamers for buns and hot dogs along with fresh baked pies where slices sat perched in front of a mirrored shelf! Their specialty was a rice pudding with a cream on top with a dash of cinnamon that I would get every single visit!

I loved the old time look of the place with the individual spinning stools that separated the cooking being done, the waitresses and the small aisle where the booths sat always filled with hungry patrons. Often we’d have to wait for a seat because the place was the highlight of Light Street and everyone just loved the food.

In the summer months, I would always meet my mother for lunch and George’s is often where we’d dine. Sometimes we’d head to Polock Johnny’s or The White Coffee Pot but there we were off doing stuff together.

My sister and brothers resented my closeness with my mother always claiming that she gave me everything. I won’t deny it, she DID! She gave me anything and EVERYTHING I ever wanted. BUT, to clarify, I did everything FOR my mother. Whether it was cleaning, cooking, washing dishes, painting or hanging wallpaper, I was an actual participant not an observer feeling neglected like the rest of my siblings.

The way I see it, it went both ways. She didn’t give me everything because I asked for it, she gave everything to me as an appreciative act for all I did for her. There IS a difference.

As years would pass I was now dragging my (ex) husband into the mix and had him doing all sorts of handyman work for my mother and father. I lived next door to my mother in my grandfather’s rental house for thirteen years. When the rental house was sold, my parents sold THEIR house to move right around the corner from where I had moved.

They just wanted to be close to me and near to my son. I surely didn’t mind because they were basically my best friends at this point. We continued with taking mother shopping on weekends, I always cleaned her house, and she was always giving me soup, spaghetti and whatnot.

I was close to my siblings too, helping my sister out with her six kids; when she went away I would clean her house spic-n-span! My brother would invite me to his house, much to the chagrin of my sister who was now HIS neighbor.

My sister and brothers all longed for the relationship I had with my parents but none of them were willing to put any effort into the rapport. No, they just wanted my parents to show THEM attention but as always, I was the only one who received the attention they longed for.

Then I left Baltimore and all of my family behind. Quite suddenly I might add. A two-week notice and I was well on my way to happiness. My sister invited Steven and I to dinner the night before we left for Texas and she invited my brothers but no one showed up. My mother and father did!

With me gone, they could have my parents all to themselves but no, that wasn’t the case. Weeks would pass before my sister ever called my mother and often it was my father who called and told HER to call my mother sometime. The only time they showed ANY attention to my parents was when my mother would tell them over and over again how “Joni calls me every night and twice a day on weekends!” It irked them into caring!

Back to the epiphany I began with, the why I am here and not there? It was not meant for me to be there. My siblings had to step up and actually DO something for my mother and father. When my father was in the hospital I literally had to goad my one brother into going to see my dad before he died.

Had I been back there, they might have seen too much love for me and not enough attention focused on them, they needed that. My sister is now calling my mother every day, taking her out of the house, inviting her to dinner, taking her to the doctor, you name it; my sister is now sitting at a diner (not the same one that me and mother frequented) and is now being given the attention that she needed all those years; the attention that both of them needed.

My brothers are paying attention, my sister is paying attention and it sure is sad that it took my father to die for them to notice that time on this earth is not guaranteed it is precious! With me out of the way, they can now focus on what needs to be done and that is to give my mother the attention she so richly deserves!

Pss. 145:7 “They shall abundantly utter the memory of thy great goodness, and shall sing of thy righteousness.”

Poetry Sunday ~ A Moment in Time

Deut. 28:2 And all these blessings shall come on thee, and overtake thee, if thou shalt hearken unto the voice of the LORD thy God.
***
A Moment in Time
***
Miles of time has swept us away
I long to see them in every way.
To hear them laugh, see their smiles
a bridge is formed to span the miles.

Wrinkles shape faces defining age
time has taken them off the page;
placed them in their own domain
while I sit here, yet always remain.

Much has changed; I’m not the same
no longer play the family game.
But here I sit on the edge of time
a moment of love and truth sublime.

A windowed world will allow us to see
each others faces with joy and glee.
Though hugs won’t ensue, the love will flow
I’ll smile once again, with these people I know!

***
This is for Sara who, with the help of technology, will allow me to see my family once again. I’ve been away for eight years, only returned home once, about five years ago, and today, via webcam, I get to see Sara, Terri, Mother and Dad! Thank you Sara!