Testimony - The Early Years

I came to accept Jesus in April of 2005. Coming to terms with my role as a slave to God took some time for me to believe and embrace. This is my story of Gods incredible love, and how He watched over me, even when I wasn’t anywhere near ready to believe that I wasn’t in control.

Growing up, my family and I never went to church on a regular basis. We would go on an occasional Christmas or Baptism or Wedding, but religion and God were not a focus in our house. Having a relationship with God was never talked about or encouraged. That being said, it wasn’t ever discouraged either. Living life for or against God just wasn’t anything that was ever discussed, thought about or attempted.

I grew up in the small town of Bellingham Massachusetts. The oldest of 3 children, I have one brother and one sister. My mother was a stay at home mom and my step-father worked in various warehouses. Growing up I knew my step-father as my only dad, as my mother had me out of wedlock and I had never known who my biological father was. Actually I still don't know to this day. I was always told one man was my father, but when my mother passed away, I was told by my grandmother that he probably wasn't. They had told me for 25 years that he was, because he was white and the other guy who could be my dad, he was a dark Italian or Portuguese or something like that. Beee-zare.

When I was younger, under 10 years old, I had a baby sitter (her name was Angel ironically), who would touch me inappropriately. I was her play toy for a few years. I didn't understand what it was all about, I enjoyed the attention I got from her, but hated the feelings. I don't know if I ever told my parents about that, but those are some interesting memories.

The man I grew up calling Dad, but in reality was my step-father, married my mom when I was 18 months old. My mom was a stay at home mom and my dad worked in various warehouses growing up. We didn't have a lot of money or space. By the time I was 11 or 12 we were living in a 1 bedroom house. There was 7 of us in that house and anywhere from 15-30 cats at any given time. When I was 16, the police came to my house and took my dad away. It was then I found out he was addicted to cocaine and alcohol. The police were taking him away to 30 day rehab center.

This explained alot of the fighting my parents did and the intense beatings my brother and I would receive with a large metal spoon. It used to be with the wooden spoons, but as my dad said, he was tired of breaking them on us. As I got older (teen years) the spoon beatings stopped, but my dad and I would get into large screaming and physical confrontations. My dads addiction also brought clarity to the bag I found in linen closets with mirrors and straws. It also made sense why he'd spend so much time in the shed we had. He'd stash his liquor and beer out there.

At the same time, my mother was always the one in the house to give in to us kids. She was my best friend for years. But at the same time, she had a crazy fascination with cats and as I mentioned before, we had anywhere from 15 to 30 in our house at a time. So many animals, and not the greatest work ethic in the house led to years of teasing and low self esteem from 7th to 11th grade. I was, simply put, the fat smelly kid who was teased by nearly everyone in school. Those 5 years were the hardest days of my entire life.

My parents got divorced when I was 16 or so. My dad cleaned up his act and realized that the living situation we were in wasn't right. He attempted to remove the cats and clean the house and bring some order to things. And for a small amount of time we actually had what some would consider the normal house situation. We were all cramped in there, but it was clean, organized and half way decent. My mother couldn't stand the living without her cats. There were so many other things between my parents that I'll never know, nor care to know, but in the end: They divorced.

I'm going to stop there for now. By no means is this either 1. fabricated or embellished or more importantly 2. being told for anything other than to bring glory to Our Father. See, as tough as those times were, they were there for a reason. Jesus came and died for us. Who am I to complain about some hardships? I'm alive, I have an amazing wife and family, I'm happy. God has blessed me a thousand times over.

As I continue my life story, I'm going to pick out the times I realized God was watching out for me and what I thank Him for in my life. I grew up with an alcoholic, and while there was physical hurts there, I wasn't killed like some families. I didn't fall into the traps of some alcoholic families, where I turn to booze. God granted me the strength and wisdom to turn my back from drinking, smoking and drugs my entire life...even though I wasn't hearing Him direct me.

One of the nights my babysitter was watching us, and I had had enough of the touching and games, I decided to get away from her. At the time we were living on the 3rd floor of 3 story house. I couldn't get to the door, so I climbed out the window, onto the ledge which was no more than 12 inches wide. I walked around 2 or 3 sides of the house to get to the porch so I could leave. God was with me then...making sure I didn't misstep or hit a weak section. He saved me from falling 3 stories.

God also pushed me through each day of high school. I didn't drop out or not try my hardest. I had a desire to go each day, and that desire was not of my own doing. God prodded me along. What a life lesson I have now, looking back on those days.
Sorry, this is so much longer than I anticipated!

God is so Good!