Story number 18 submitted by Pearls4God
Here is her story.
Hello there, just wanted to let you know that I am not doing this to win but more to let others know how good God is and all that He has done for me in the past few years. Here's my story and the title is:
When I was Down God Lifted me up
by Pearls4God
by Pearls4God
My story begins when I was 15 years old. Due to abuse in my home I went off with what I believed was my first true love. He was 19 and I was 15 and if anybody had cared about me this never would've happened. Who knows where I would be today.
Anyway, I ran off with this man and he took me to another country where as soon as I got there I found out he was married in that country! I was devastated and lost and had nowhere to go. I didn't even know what city I was in. We stayed with his brother and his brother's wife. A few weeks later I found out I was pregnant. I was so scared and didn't know who to turn to. Only 15 years old and pregnant and far away from my family, not that anyone cared but at least they were family.
As the days went by my "true love" was turning into a monster before my eyes. He wouldn't let me out of the room. He would bring me my meals there and I was skin and bones from lack of proper nutrition. I worried about the baby and thought that I may never again see my family. How would I get there? I had no money, was in a foreign country and just a kid myself.
Everyone would ask me if Ricky had taken me to meet his parents yet and of course he hadn't. The all looked at each other because they knew he couldn't take me there, his wife lived there with his parents. I felt like a trapped animal. Five long months passed and I was getting more sick with each passing day. I finally was able to sneak a letter out to my family as all the letters my beloved Ricky was told to mail for me he had kept them stashed in the closet. When I found them I knew I had to ask his brother's wife to help me. I think she felt sorry for me and that's when I managed to get the letter mailed.
My family came to pick me up when I was 5 months pregnant with my son. Time passed and Ricky came looking for me at my home. My parents being from the old country did not want a daughter having a child out of wedlock. I was made to marry him after he divorced his wife. Here I was 15 yrs old, married and uneducated.
Ricky started drinking heavily, wouldn't hold a job down and started beating me when I asked him what we were going to do. He abused me verbally, emotionally and physically. Ricky raped me several times and I had nobody to turn to because he said I was his wife (my worst mistake) and he could do as he pleased. We moved to another state and as is usually the case in situations like these, I wound up pregnant a second time. I was so stupid. I felt so helpless and totally useless. We had a second son. This time Ricky was starting to abuse our first son. He was only a year and a half and Ricky would go off on him. He was also beating me and abusing the new baby. He would feed him and then push down hard on his stomach to watch the baby spit up all the milk he had just drank.
I would cower in the corner and cry. Ricky would pick me up and tell me I was stupid and worthless and that it was all my fault because I couldn't even keep myself from getting pregnant. As if I hadn't had any help from him.
One day when he was out looking for work, supposedly, I got up the courage to call a friend and tell her about the way Ricky was treating the baby. I was afraid he would eventually kill him. This friend called child protective services and baby #2 was removed from our home. I was so happy. I knew my baby would be so much better off with the foster parents. They would still allow me to see him but only while supervised.
The beatings and abuse continued until one night, I got tired of being a punching bag. I was only 16 years old. I should be in school at that age. Instead I was married to a lazy drunk and was responsible for raising a toddler on my own. Being that Ricky didn't want to work or anything, I figured I would kill him and the beatings would stop.
That night I took a knife and hid it under the mattress and waited for him to come home in a drunken stupor which was his usual nightly ritual. I put my baby in his bed and went to bed myself trying to stay awake so I could slit his throat. God, in His merciful power, put me in a sound sleep that I didn't even know what time Ricky came home. The next day he found the knife and beat the living daylights out of me. I was kicked and punched and thought he would surely kill me this time. My baby was screaming and crying and I was afraid for his life. I remember Ricky turning and looking at the baby as he was screaming and he yelled at him to be quiet. My heart was pounding in fear afraid that he would go after him. He told me to make the stupid brat shut up or he would get him too. I was bleeding from my face but I ran and scooped up my precious baby. I would die for him if I had to but I would protect him.
After Ricky left for his usual drinking binge that evening I decided I had enough. I prayed that if God was listening that He would take me away. I called a friend and packed what I could and left for another city. I asked God to take the pain away. I loved Ricky but hated the person he had become. I was in a vicious circle. That if God would give me a new life that I would change and go back to school and try to raise my son right.
I moved in with my mother and my youngest brother and went back to school. My mother helped me raise my son but unfortunately because of her spoiling him something awful he didn't turn out like I had wanted him to. I had to work and go to school so she was the only one that could watch him. Time went on and fast forward 12 years and I get a call from the police department that they have my son there for shoplifting. I felt like the bottom had fallen out of my world. I had tried so hard. His grandmother, however, was buying him things I could not afford to give him because of my limited income and having to pay bills and rent.
I kept pleading with my mother to not spoil him like that but she wouldn't hear it. I went to college and got an education and became a Legal Secretary. I was making decent money but my son continued to give me problems. Almost on a daily basis I was getting calls from his school about my son being absent or tardy or making trouble. Little did I know until I found out years later that my dear mother had been telling him all along that he had no reason to go to school if he didn't want to. That he didn't need a job when he got older...he didn't have to work because she would buy him anything he wanted. I could never give up on my son. I was his mother and I would do whatever it took. My mother, unfortunately, had already laid the foundation for his behavior.
One day when he was 17 years old I got a call from my mother at the law office I worked at. She was crying hysterically and telling me that my son was in jail. Apparently, he had stolen a vehicle and had gotten caught. She wanted $1500.00 to bail him out. I told her to please stop calling me at work or I was going to lose my job. She called me more times than I can count and out of fear of me losing my job, like an idiot, I gave in. I took the money and gave it to her. I also told her this would be the one and only time that I would help bail him out. He needed to learn his lesson and that was that.
My son continued to do really bad things and I prayed for him constantly. Two years later he got caught with firearms and was put in a state prison. He spent his 21st birthday in there. I sent him Christian books for him to read and he would write me and from his letters it seemed like he had turned to God. My world was crushed when he got out two years later and he blatantly told me he had lied. He didn't believe God was good and he didn't care.
He moved into my house when he got out because he had no place to go and needed an address for his parole officer. I gave him 30 days to get his act together. I told him, you will not live here for free. You either go to school and get an education and then you can stay here while you are going to school or you can get a job and pay your way. One day when he got really mad at me for stepping in when he was trying to hit his girlfriend, he yelled at me. My heart broke into a million pieces when he looked at me with a horrible look on his face and threatened me as he said, "Don't f--- with me or I will kill you b----tch." That day I knew God had listened to all my prayers and for whatever reason I had to let my son go.
I was afraid of my own son. The very one that I worked so hard for and protected for the past 20 years. The one I was willing to lay down my life for was now willing to take it from me. My son is now 28 years old and still running from the law. He will forever be in this mother's heart and prayers. You say but your story doesn't end in a good way. I say to you, my story has not ended yet. I am alive and God isn't through with me yet.
God bless you and yours. He has greatly blessed me and mine in all His sovereignty. Why do I praise Him when it seems that all I've had is heartache because we are supposed to worship Him even in the bad times. My treasures are in heaven.
Anyway, I ran off with this man and he took me to another country where as soon as I got there I found out he was married in that country! I was devastated and lost and had nowhere to go. I didn't even know what city I was in. We stayed with his brother and his brother's wife. A few weeks later I found out I was pregnant. I was so scared and didn't know who to turn to. Only 15 years old and pregnant and far away from my family, not that anyone cared but at least they were family.
As the days went by my "true love" was turning into a monster before my eyes. He wouldn't let me out of the room. He would bring me my meals there and I was skin and bones from lack of proper nutrition. I worried about the baby and thought that I may never again see my family. How would I get there? I had no money, was in a foreign country and just a kid myself.
Everyone would ask me if Ricky had taken me to meet his parents yet and of course he hadn't. The all looked at each other because they knew he couldn't take me there, his wife lived there with his parents. I felt like a trapped animal. Five long months passed and I was getting more sick with each passing day. I finally was able to sneak a letter out to my family as all the letters my beloved Ricky was told to mail for me he had kept them stashed in the closet. When I found them I knew I had to ask his brother's wife to help me. I think she felt sorry for me and that's when I managed to get the letter mailed.
My family came to pick me up when I was 5 months pregnant with my son. Time passed and Ricky came looking for me at my home. My parents being from the old country did not want a daughter having a child out of wedlock. I was made to marry him after he divorced his wife. Here I was 15 yrs old, married and uneducated.
Ricky started drinking heavily, wouldn't hold a job down and started beating me when I asked him what we were going to do. He abused me verbally, emotionally and physically. Ricky raped me several times and I had nobody to turn to because he said I was his wife (my worst mistake) and he could do as he pleased. We moved to another state and as is usually the case in situations like these, I wound up pregnant a second time. I was so stupid. I felt so helpless and totally useless. We had a second son. This time Ricky was starting to abuse our first son. He was only a year and a half and Ricky would go off on him. He was also beating me and abusing the new baby. He would feed him and then push down hard on his stomach to watch the baby spit up all the milk he had just drank.
I would cower in the corner and cry. Ricky would pick me up and tell me I was stupid and worthless and that it was all my fault because I couldn't even keep myself from getting pregnant. As if I hadn't had any help from him.
One day when he was out looking for work, supposedly, I got up the courage to call a friend and tell her about the way Ricky was treating the baby. I was afraid he would eventually kill him. This friend called child protective services and baby #2 was removed from our home. I was so happy. I knew my baby would be so much better off with the foster parents. They would still allow me to see him but only while supervised.
The beatings and abuse continued until one night, I got tired of being a punching bag. I was only 16 years old. I should be in school at that age. Instead I was married to a lazy drunk and was responsible for raising a toddler on my own. Being that Ricky didn't want to work or anything, I figured I would kill him and the beatings would stop.
That night I took a knife and hid it under the mattress and waited for him to come home in a drunken stupor which was his usual nightly ritual. I put my baby in his bed and went to bed myself trying to stay awake so I could slit his throat. God, in His merciful power, put me in a sound sleep that I didn't even know what time Ricky came home. The next day he found the knife and beat the living daylights out of me. I was kicked and punched and thought he would surely kill me this time. My baby was screaming and crying and I was afraid for his life. I remember Ricky turning and looking at the baby as he was screaming and he yelled at him to be quiet. My heart was pounding in fear afraid that he would go after him. He told me to make the stupid brat shut up or he would get him too. I was bleeding from my face but I ran and scooped up my precious baby. I would die for him if I had to but I would protect him.
After Ricky left for his usual drinking binge that evening I decided I had enough. I prayed that if God was listening that He would take me away. I called a friend and packed what I could and left for another city. I asked God to take the pain away. I loved Ricky but hated the person he had become. I was in a vicious circle. That if God would give me a new life that I would change and go back to school and try to raise my son right.
I moved in with my mother and my youngest brother and went back to school. My mother helped me raise my son but unfortunately because of her spoiling him something awful he didn't turn out like I had wanted him to. I had to work and go to school so she was the only one that could watch him. Time went on and fast forward 12 years and I get a call from the police department that they have my son there for shoplifting. I felt like the bottom had fallen out of my world. I had tried so hard. His grandmother, however, was buying him things I could not afford to give him because of my limited income and having to pay bills and rent.
I kept pleading with my mother to not spoil him like that but she wouldn't hear it. I went to college and got an education and became a Legal Secretary. I was making decent money but my son continued to give me problems. Almost on a daily basis I was getting calls from his school about my son being absent or tardy or making trouble. Little did I know until I found out years later that my dear mother had been telling him all along that he had no reason to go to school if he didn't want to. That he didn't need a job when he got older...he didn't have to work because she would buy him anything he wanted. I could never give up on my son. I was his mother and I would do whatever it took. My mother, unfortunately, had already laid the foundation for his behavior.
One day when he was 17 years old I got a call from my mother at the law office I worked at. She was crying hysterically and telling me that my son was in jail. Apparently, he had stolen a vehicle and had gotten caught. She wanted $1500.00 to bail him out. I told her to please stop calling me at work or I was going to lose my job. She called me more times than I can count and out of fear of me losing my job, like an idiot, I gave in. I took the money and gave it to her. I also told her this would be the one and only time that I would help bail him out. He needed to learn his lesson and that was that.
My son continued to do really bad things and I prayed for him constantly. Two years later he got caught with firearms and was put in a state prison. He spent his 21st birthday in there. I sent him Christian books for him to read and he would write me and from his letters it seemed like he had turned to God. My world was crushed when he got out two years later and he blatantly told me he had lied. He didn't believe God was good and he didn't care.
He moved into my house when he got out because he had no place to go and needed an address for his parole officer. I gave him 30 days to get his act together. I told him, you will not live here for free. You either go to school and get an education and then you can stay here while you are going to school or you can get a job and pay your way. One day when he got really mad at me for stepping in when he was trying to hit his girlfriend, he yelled at me. My heart broke into a million pieces when he looked at me with a horrible look on his face and threatened me as he said, "Don't f--- with me or I will kill you b----tch." That day I knew God had listened to all my prayers and for whatever reason I had to let my son go.
I was afraid of my own son. The very one that I worked so hard for and protected for the past 20 years. The one I was willing to lay down my life for was now willing to take it from me. My son is now 28 years old and still running from the law. He will forever be in this mother's heart and prayers. You say but your story doesn't end in a good way. I say to you, my story has not ended yet. I am alive and God isn't through with me yet.
God bless you and yours. He has greatly blessed me and mine in all His sovereignty. Why do I praise Him when it seems that all I've had is heartache because we are supposed to worship Him even in the bad times. My treasures are in heaven.
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