Trusting God
I want to post something different from anything I've ever posted before. It has nothing to do with my sick story, but everything to do with my story.
Please bare with me...
Around 2 1/2 years ago my family went through one of the most pivotal moments in our lives. Things were really really bad. My step dad, who is an alcoholic, had been drinking nearly every chance he got. He was a mean drunk. I feared the nights because that was always when he was at his worst. Often times things would become physical and he would hurt my mom, myself, or sometimes my brothers. My mother took the worst of every confrontation and I would find myself coming to her aide much of the time.
I hated him, but I always held off on calling the police at my mom's request. I was the protector in the house. I took it as my responsibility to break up fights and make sure my mom and little brothers were safe. This earned me a few bruises, but mainly emotional battering from my step dad.
One night in mid November of 2012 everything changed. It had to be the worst that I had ever seen my step dad be. He was beating her. He locked the bedroom door and he was going to kill her. I remember running through the house and down the stairs screaming for my then 14 year old brothers help.
Keaton ran up the stairs, meeting me in the middle, and we made our way back to our parent's bedroom. Keaton kicked the door open where we found our step dad strangling our mom on the floor. He looked up and proceeded to come after Keaton and I fists swinging leaving our mom on the floor. I ran to her and she told me to call the police.
I had been waiting for the go ahead for the last couple of years and didn't hesitate when I finally got it. As I spoke with the operator I described the scene playing out before me. My 14 year old baby brother had somehow managed to get my step dad on the floor. He had his arms around his neck, and I have no doubt in my mind that he would have killed him had my mom not stopped him.
The operator directed us to sit in a room away from my step dad until help arrived. We did as we were told and soon enough police were questioning is, taking pictures of our bruises, and hauling my step dad away.
What happens next is the miraculous part.
The justice system tried their best. My dad wasn't allowed back I'm our home for 2 1/2 months. My dad wasn't allowed any contact with us. The justice system prompted my mom to divorce him. God gave her the strength to refuse.
As the months went by, God was making a change in my dad's heart. God told him that he needed to choose. He told him that he could not be both a dad and a drunk. My dad chose us.
Once allowed back into the house, my dad was a different man. He apologized for everything he put my mom, brothers, and I through.
That change didn't stop there. My dad started paying more attention to us and less to other things. Where my mom was both parents before, we now had two functioning parents.
God's grace is the only explanation for the change that has occurred behind the walls of our home in the last 2 1/2 years.
What's even more astounding is that the justice system said this wasn't possible. How is it better that my parents would divorce than to have the family we have today that is stronger than ever?
The justice system doesn’t give these men the chance they need to redeem themselves. My dad has done a complete 180. He went through every program and jumped through every hoop to be with us, but his name will never be cleared. He will always have a blemish on his record for domestic violence.
The justice system is wrong. What God can do surpasses any statistic on the books. What my mom did through God is by far the most admirable thing a woman in her situation could have done. She chose to trust God and stick to her vows. In good and bad times she stuck with her husband.
Just look at us now.
Please bare with me...
Around 2 1/2 years ago my family went through one of the most pivotal moments in our lives. Things were really really bad. My step dad, who is an alcoholic, had been drinking nearly every chance he got. He was a mean drunk. I feared the nights because that was always when he was at his worst. Often times things would become physical and he would hurt my mom, myself, or sometimes my brothers. My mother took the worst of every confrontation and I would find myself coming to her aide much of the time.
I hated him, but I always held off on calling the police at my mom's request. I was the protector in the house. I took it as my responsibility to break up fights and make sure my mom and little brothers were safe. This earned me a few bruises, but mainly emotional battering from my step dad.
One night in mid November of 2012 everything changed. It had to be the worst that I had ever seen my step dad be. He was beating her. He locked the bedroom door and he was going to kill her. I remember running through the house and down the stairs screaming for my then 14 year old brothers help.
Keaton ran up the stairs, meeting me in the middle, and we made our way back to our parent's bedroom. Keaton kicked the door open where we found our step dad strangling our mom on the floor. He looked up and proceeded to come after Keaton and I fists swinging leaving our mom on the floor. I ran to her and she told me to call the police.
I had been waiting for the go ahead for the last couple of years and didn't hesitate when I finally got it. As I spoke with the operator I described the scene playing out before me. My 14 year old baby brother had somehow managed to get my step dad on the floor. He had his arms around his neck, and I have no doubt in my mind that he would have killed him had my mom not stopped him.
The operator directed us to sit in a room away from my step dad until help arrived. We did as we were told and soon enough police were questioning is, taking pictures of our bruises, and hauling my step dad away.
What happens next is the miraculous part.
The justice system tried their best. My dad wasn't allowed back I'm our home for 2 1/2 months. My dad wasn't allowed any contact with us. The justice system prompted my mom to divorce him. God gave her the strength to refuse.
As the months went by, God was making a change in my dad's heart. God told him that he needed to choose. He told him that he could not be both a dad and a drunk. My dad chose us.
Once allowed back into the house, my dad was a different man. He apologized for everything he put my mom, brothers, and I through.
That change didn't stop there. My dad started paying more attention to us and less to other things. Where my mom was both parents before, we now had two functioning parents.
God's grace is the only explanation for the change that has occurred behind the walls of our home in the last 2 1/2 years.
What's even more astounding is that the justice system said this wasn't possible. How is it better that my parents would divorce than to have the family we have today that is stronger than ever?
The justice system doesn’t give these men the chance they need to redeem themselves. My dad has done a complete 180. He went through every program and jumped through every hoop to be with us, but his name will never be cleared. He will always have a blemish on his record for domestic violence.
The justice system is wrong. What God can do surpasses any statistic on the books. What my mom did through God is by far the most admirable thing a woman in her situation could have done. She chose to trust God and stick to her vows. In good and bad times she stuck with her husband.
Just look at us now.
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