My last blog post was pretty emotional and deep and if you know me you know I’m RARELY like that, at least openly. But when I write, I feel like it’s a safe space for those thoughts/feelings and I only share them because I know that if I feel it, there has to be at least one other person out there that can relate or someone that needs to read it. Sooo anyways, that’s just a little explanation of what inspires these little blog posts and I very much appreciate the love you’re all sending me in regards to them! ❤
I want to start this off with a little backstory. Nothing too deep (I’ll share it all with you guys one day) but I want you to see a bit of my childhood life so this post makes a little more sense. I was born on March 7th, 1998 in Allentown, Pennsylvania. I was 2 when my parents moved us back to Minnesota so I don’t remember anything and to this day I’m still not sure why we even lived there, considering both of my parents were from Minnesota/North Dakota. Anyways, my childhood is similar to most “broken home” stories so I’ll kind of skip over the details for now but just know that it was ROUGH. At about 11 years old, I was starting to fall into the pattern of what I was surrounded with. I started dying my hair weird colors, wearing clothes I never should’ve been wearing, and hanging out with crowds that probably would’ve been the death of me. I know right, 11 is SO young to be doing that, but when you have no supervision and that lifestyle is all you’ve ever known, it happens. By about age 14, it was starting to affect my grades dramatically and I think that’s when people started to realize it was not ok. Thankfully, when those people kept asking me what’s going on, I started asking myself that. Finally, I realized things actually weren’t ok and I started the process of getting myself the HELL out of it. I 100% believe that God gave me the courage to do the things I needed to do to get out.
I was put into foster care and I was blessed to be placed with the most incredible, loving, family. BUT at the time, I was still a 14 year old “rebel” who’d never even heard of “discipline” or “rules”. I thought it was hard for me to adapt but looking back I can’t imagine how hard it was to parent me or how hard it was for the other kids to understand me and get used to having a “new” sibling. I’m just going to call them my parents and siblings in this because they became that for me and it just doesn’t feel right to use the word “foster” anymore. My parents were SO kind and gave me soo much time to figure things out. They didn’t push anything on me or make me believe what they believe. Instead, they just lived it. Every single day I watched them. I watched them interact with each other. The way they talked, how they worked, and most importantly how they loved. Something was so different from anything I’d ever known and eventually I HAD to have it too. Jesus, guys. That was it. They had Jesus and I wanted Him. Sure, I knew about God and church and all that stuff before. I prayed all the time when I was a little girl that one day I’d live on a farm, that I’d have horses, and that my parents would love each other. As I got a little older though it seemed ridiculous to hope and pray for these things.
Can we just take a moment to look back at what I prayed for? I prayed for this when I was probably 5 or 6 years old. I came to God as a child not even realizing how powerful He really was and eventually not even believing that He would ever answer those prayers. Let me tell you what, God’s timing isn’t always what we want it to be but it’s always what we need it to be. It sounds crazy and I don’t think that God causes bad things to happen to us, but I am living proof that He can turn the worst situation into the most beautiful blessing. One of my favorite verses captures this perfectly- Psalm 118:13-14 “You pushed me violently, that I might fall, But the Lord helped me. The Lord is my strength and song, And He has become my salvation.” Before, I really thought that all odds were against me. People saying you’ll grow up to be just like your parents or “remember where you came from”. NO. You do not have to succumb to the environment you were raised in. Sadly though, in my case I probably would have if I hadn’t been saved from it.
In some strange way, I’m thankful for the things that happened to me. I saw a different side of life at a young age and had to grow up in certain ways that no kid should experience but it made me appreciate God and family and love more than I could’ve once imagined. I have seen the bad and the ugly and I know exactly where that would have led me so that gives me a DEEP understanding of the evils that I was saved from. I believe there is always a purpose to your pain, and I think mine was what I needed to finally cry out to God and give it all to Him. Without Him, I wouldn’t be here today and without my trials I wouldn’t be who I am today. I’m by no means perfect and God is still working on me everyday but now I understand that there is a purpose. Whether it’s writing these, relating to people, or something else, I don’t know. Whatever it is, the pain and the ugly have been turned into something beautiful and WILL be used for His purpose. I feel like this post was a lot about myself but if you take one thing away from it just know, you might not understand right now but there is a purpose for your pain.
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