I grew up in a loving home surrounded by “God-fearing” parents, grandparents, friends and neighbors. My mom says that I prayed to receive Christ at age two. Though she was unable to decipher my words, she’s certain that’s what I did.
I distinctly remember at age seven, sitting at the kitchen counter, across from my mom, when my dad called to say that my grandfather’s long and painful battle with cancer was over. And just like that I learned of mortality…
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Even A Girl Like Me 
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Joy, I’ve been waiting for some time to comment here and… well… not sure that even now after re-reading the post, that there are words to be said. You have lived a couple lives and have come back home to the robe and the ring and the sandals. So many don’t make it this far. So many don’t come home. The Father is always there to redeem, but many never feel capable of coming back. Praise and glory to God for each and every learning experience, each and every teachable moment, each and every broken prayer that He has redeemed you and restored you and most of all that He keeps restoring you every moment of every day. Thank God that He is faithful when we are not, that He is capable when we are not, and that He is with the humble and contrite. Bless you this day as you travel the road, sometimes skipping and sometimes crawling. Thank you for sharing a glimpse of your story!
I appreciate your comments.
I appreciate you reading.
It’s difficult to respond to something as raw as the life experience in this post. For years I hoped for a better past, now I know that’s not possible. But God will use the brokenness for healing.
Blessings to you!
Joy…amazing story! Bless your heart for sharing this story of God changed life.
God bless you in your ministry to others that are hurting.
Greg
Thank you, Greg.
I appreciate so much your encouragement.
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Joy, just read a beautiful passage from George MacDonald that resonated with your story here. In referring to Jesus’ words on the cross “My God, my God,why has thou forsaken me,” MacDonald says: “It was a cry in desolation, but it came out of faith. It was the last voice of truth, speaking when it could only cry. The divine horror of that moment is unfathomable to the human soul. It was the blackness of darkness. Any yet he believed. Yet he held fast. God was still his God…and in the cry came forth the victory, and all was over soon.” For you, too, the cry came from faith, the faith of that 7 year old child. And the victory has been yours. Congratulations! And thank you for continuing to help others through your experience with your own personal cross.
I love this, Pam.
Thank you!
I appreciate your encouragement more than you know!