"When My Father and My Mother Forsake Me"
by Kimberly Lucas
(Why I Tell My Testimony)
Joseph was a man with a past. He had all his years in Egypt to forget what was done to him by his brothers. He had a new life, a family, and an important political position to keep him busy. He could not escape or ignore his past forever, and as soon as he was face to face with his siblings he had a really tough, emotional reaction. It took him awhile, but he had to allow GOD to deal with his heart before his past could be turned for GOD's glory.
Joseph experienced such emotions as rejection, sadness, grief, anger, resentment and unforgiveness. When first confronted with his past, he tried to hide from it, but his past was still with him. Though he tried to hide it, the pain was very real. He could not move on to healing, forgiveness, and reconciliation until he was face to face with the reminders of his painful past.
A person's past is a part of who they are. We cannot lie to ourselves and pretend things in our past never happened. When there are deep hurts in our past, it is not helpful or wise to build a wall around it and put up a "NO TRESPASSING" sign. Instead, we have to give the keys over to the Lord Jesus and allow Him to walk in with us and shine His light. Only then can we be free to heal and move forward. Knowing the truth makes us free! "And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free." (John 8:32)
It is like the 3 Hebrew children who were thrown into the fire. Sometimes it feels like facing the past is like walking into the fire, and we can either run and hide ......or we can trust that the LORD will be right there with us! And when we come out of the fire, we will not even be tainted with the smell of the smoke!
The Samaritan woman at the well was well-known for her sinful past. She made it a point to come to the well to draw water at the time of day when the other women of the city would not be there because she didn't want to face the shame of her past. On that day when she was met by JESUS at the well, He went right to the most sensitive issues of her past .....and she was made free. She ran into the city (the same city where she was so well-known for her sinful lifestyle) and told everyone she met...... "Come, see a man Who told me all I ever did!" And many people were influenced by her testimony, because they could see what GOD did for her.(John 4:6-30)
This is why I tell my testimony. I overcome the devil by the blood of the Lamb .......and by the word of my testimony! Rev. 12:11 says, "And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb, and by the word of their testimony; and they loved not their lives unto the death." It takes a kind of dying to open up to others about where God has brought me from, but I want people to see Christ and not myself. My life is not my own, and all that I am, I give to Him - Christ! One of my favorite scriptures so beautifully states, "For ye are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in God." (Colossians 3:3)
I am a real person, with a real past. There are many hurting people who have built walls around their wounds and the wounds have not been allowed to heal. If my telling what Father GOD has done for me and brought me through can help those people, it is worth it! John 3:30 says, "He must increase, but I must decrease!" To GOD be the glory!
"Thou hast turned for me my mourning into dancing: thou hast put off my sackcloth, and girded me with gladness;
To the end that my glory may sing praise to thee, and not be silent. O Lord my GOD, I will give thanks unto thee for ever." Psalm 30:11,12
06/10/2004
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"When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up." Psalm 27:10
I was born, Kimberly Marie Crain in Houston, Texas on June 30, 1972. I was sexually abused by my dad from about age 1 or 2 (or as early as I can remember) until around my 14th birthday, shortly after I gave my heart to the LORD.
My family was not a Christian family, and the first time I remember going to church was at age 6 when the pastor and his wife from a church in our town (Central, Texas) started coming to pick us up (my mom, older sister, younger brother, and I) for Sunday School. Over the course of a few months, they would come almost every Sunday to take us to church. That is where I learned my first scripture. My sister had a memory verse which she repeated over and over so many times that I learned it by heart. It was Revelation 3:20, "Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come into him, and will sup with him, and he with me."
While living there, at the ages of 5 and 6, I was also being molested on a regular basis by an elderly neighbor man who was trusted by most in our neighborhood. This was a man trusted so much that the neighborhood parents would allow him to take us kids on frequent trips to the local city dump to retrieve other people's rejects and bring them to his house to turn into treasures..... wagons, bicycles, toys, gocarts, you name it! One evening after thunderstorms knocked out our electricity, my dad handed me a paper sack and told me I should go next door and ask him for a bag of electricity. I refused, so he told my sister to go - and she did! She returned with an empty sack because he was playing poker with some other men and she did not want to disturb their game.
The secrecy I lived with was enormous. Although he was married, his sweet wife lived in the house, while he took up residence in a sort of "lean-to" or shack off the back of the main house. I would go to this man's house because he showed me attention, which I starved for - and perhaps also, what went on there was not as bad as what I had already experienced. I always left his house with a treasure of some sort (loose change, candy, or a trinket) .....and I always left with a load of guilt!
At one point after some of his grandchildren accused him of sexual abuse, my mom asked my sister and I if he'd touched us..... I denied it, because I was afraid and ashamed. I didn't want my mom to be disappointed in me, yet deep inside, I truly wanted to just tell somebody. And I had tried to do just that once when I was about 5 years old. I was at a relative's home - a person I felt truly loved me . And while she held me as a mother would a daughter whom she loved, I cried as I struggled to get the words out..... but they were a jumbled mess and she did not understand. To be free of the tremendous pain and guilt would have been wonderful.
I often found ways to escape my pain. Sometimes, I escaped in my dreams. I often dreamed that I could fly. I would dream that I could run so fast that I would just begin to fly away. Often, what would begin as a good dream turned bad because in it, I would start floating away without notice and I would try to hide the fact that I could "fly" like it was a shameful thing I had done. These dreams usually turned into nightmares because of the feeling of being out of control. I vividly remember at about the age of 3 being in a bedroom and floating out of my bed through different rooms in the house..... I saw my mom and my aunt sitting at the dining room table playing cards - I do not remember seeing my dad or my uncle. My mom and my aunt did not see me, but I saw them. I floated past them, out the front door and into the yard, over the trees and into the night sky. Whether GOD actually allowed me to escape some painful event, or if it was only a dream - I am not sure. Sometimes, I escaped by pretending to be another person - Kelly. When I was Kelly, I could forget what was going on in my life and become someone else. I often imagined that I had an older brother who was my protector. And also in this fantasy family, I had younger sisters that I took care of and a beautiful twin sister - which also meant that I was beautiful and loveable too!
Often, I would escape into a fantasy world where I was a caring mother who loved and cared for all her babies. I always surrounded myself with my babies. Once, I found a baby doll who was apparently thrown away. She was dirty and unclothed. I took her home and cleaned her the best I could, and clothed her. I loved her because she was rejected and I showed her special attention. My mom hated seeing me with that doll because she was dirty. But I loved her - she was my baby! One day, to my horror, I saw my baby in the front yard in the burn pile - put there by my mother. She felt my baby was a health risk because she was too dirty. But my heart went out to her as I saw her in that fire seemingly looking at me as if to ask for help.
I did briefly have a friend or two around age 6. I can remember spending nights at one friend's house. Mostly all I remember about her is wondering if her daddy was like mine. I pretty much was under the impression that every daddy was like mine since just about every man in my life was (my dad, uncles, cousins, and neighbors). I wasn't allowed to spend many nights away from home since nightmares were frequent and not dependent upon where I was. And also, I had frequent high fevers and kidney infections - among other things - since age 2.
Shortly after that, just before my 8th birthday, we moved to the town of Huntington, Texas. We didn't attend church, but that scripture I learned was a seed planted in my heart which was instrumental in my salvation. I can remember as a child, around 10 years old, God talking to me and asking me to serve him. But I kept saying no to him. Daily, over the period of about 3 years, JESUS knocked on my heart's door ......and I continued to turn Him away. He was so kind and patient, and loving.
We didn't have alot of money so we stayed close to home most of the time. For fun, we would all load up and go visit our aunts and uncles. There would always be a houseful of family members... my parents, us kids, aunts, uncles, and cousins. Heavy drinking and smoking marijuana was the norm - they even grew their own (marijuana). When I felt like getting away from everyone, I used to sneak off and go to sleep in the back seat of a car with the sun hitting me in the face.... I loved that! It didn't matter if it was 100 degrees outside, just something about the warmth of the sun shining on my face was a comfort to me and helped me to sleep.
When we visited family, alot of the time the women would leave for town and us kids had to stay with the men. I remember running after the car, begging my mother ....Please, let me go with you! On the occasion we did get to go to town with them, we would be left for long periods of time in hot vehicles.... and we never wore shoes! There would be several of us kids in the back of a car and I hated for anyone to touch my dirty bare feet! Sometimes they took us into the grocery stores, and sometimes we would be left out in the car. All that hot, cold, hot, cold, hot.... left me with heat exhaustion one summer day in 1980. By the time I was 10 years old, I had taken on the role of babysitter to about 6, sometimes more, kids including my little brother and younger cousins.
Our aunts would sometimes get a kick out of loading us kids up in a car after dark and going to Lufkin, a town about 20 minutes away, and robbing the Goodwill Box. We would then, bring the bags of clothes to their house and parcel them out to whoever needed them! We even took regular trips with them "across the river" ...Angelina River, that is. Angelina county was a dry county, and to cross the river meant crossing over into a wet county to purchase alcohol.
Once, when I was about 10 years old, I attended a local church. The Sunday School teacher asked us if there was anyone there who wasn't "saved" .......well, whatever "saved" was, I KNEW I wasn't! So I raised my hand, and she (very sincerely) prayed with me ......yet I had no idea what it meant, nor did I feel one bit different! Later in the main service, she stood and with tears in her eyes, told the whole congregation how that one of her Sunday School students had gotten "saved." I felt flush and sank down a bit in my seat thinking to myself, "Lady ......whatever you do, please don't mention my name!" I was so embarrassed. Yet, the LORD lovingly and continually called to me and I'd tell Him, "No! Just wait till I get out of school, and then I will serve you. I don't want to lose my friends." I didn't know alot, but somehow I knew that giving my life to GOD meant giving up some things.
Up until my early teen years, I don't recall ever knowing that certain holidays were in honor of JESUS CHRIST - the Son of GOD. I did not know that Christmas was supposed to be about JESUS' birth, and I did not know that Easter was supposed to be about HIS ressurrection. Sadly, the only thing I remember being taught about GOD was when my maternal grandmother told me that a certain race of people could not go to Heaven because they were not like us and their blood was not the same color as ours..... in my heart, I knew this could not be true!
One thing my mom taught us when I was about 6 years old that stayed with me was the habit of praying the little child's prayer, "Now I lay me down to sleep....." It was something I did out of habit even though I didn't understand what I was saying. I had very little knowledge of God, yet I knew that He was real because He talked to me, and my heart knew Him.
I was very extremely shy and didn't have friends for the most part for a very long time. I never spoke unless I was spoken to and then still, I didn't speak much to anyone. While in school, I'd walk with my head down so as not to make eye contact with anyone. And at lunch and recess, I sat alone on the sidewalk with my head down or stood against the wall, facing the wall, and blocked out everything and everyone around me until it was time to return to class. In class I excelled, making straight A's for the
most part. I loved the school work, but not the school part. I hated school from day one. I remember my very first day of kindergarten because it was so stressful for me. I cried because I could not take my baby doll with me... I just knew she could not survive that long without me!
When I was in the 6th grade, there was a group of popular girls who began asking me to "hang around" with them. I was so shy that when the group's leader would ask me to walk around with them, I didn't even answer her..... I thought, Surely they aren't talking to me, a nobody. But after a few weeks, I began hanging around with them and became best friends with the most popular member of the group. We did everything together and it was wonderful to finally have a real friend!
She and her family attended church regularly and she would often inform me of my need to be in church..... my response being, "Why should I? ...it doesn't do you any good!" To which, she would leave me alone about the subject for a little while. We were like sisters, and had plenty in common.... she often suffered beatings at the hands of her mother for some over-exaggerated cause while her younger sister was treated like a little angel. I remember crying as I heard her screaming and her mother yelling, as I walked the road home to my own personal "hell" on earth.
She and her family lived less than a half mile from me. If I was at her house when my dad passed by on his way home from work, he would be furious ......shaking his fist at me and yelling out , "Get home right now!" I spent as much time as possible at my friend's home. But it wasn't to last .....she had grown up all her life in Huntington, and during 7th grade, she and her family moved to Alaska!
I received very harsh discipline when I did not please my dad. Most of the "discipline" I received took place in the hallway with either his hand or a belt..... lashes, upon lashes, upon lashes. I never understood the reason for the lashing - I am sure there were plenty of legitimate reasons for discipline, as I was very strong-willed. I do remember being often rebuked for "back-talking." What is "back-talking" anyways? I just thought I was pleading my case! Mostly, I was just inquiring what I had done wrong. Many times, I was too strong-willed and hard-headed for my own good! Most people who knew us thought I was so sweet and quiet... never talked, or even looked their way. When company came over or we visited somewhere, I hid behind my mother and kept my head down. But our homelife - as they did not see - was a very different story. Something inside me wanted to scream! I was very quiet most of the time until the anger inside would build up like a huge volcano, and when it errupted.... I paid the price. I could not keep my mouth shut and just take it..... I wanted justice! Or at least... Please, tell me what I did so I won't do it any more. Why do you hate me?!
After my sister was born, my mother was not supposed to have any more children. One day, she happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. She was visiting her mother's house, sitting on the couch next to her brother who was cleaning his gun. When the phone rang, my uncle jumped up to answer the phone and the trigger caught on the couch cover. The gun went off and my mother was shot straight through the pelvis, the bullet lodging into her hip bone on the opposite side. She was told by the doctors not to have any more children. But my dad insisted on trying again because he wanted a son. Then when I turned out a girl, he was resentful. The night I was born, he spent drunk. I was a girl instead of a boy and therefore I was resented and my dad took his anger out on me anytime things did not go according to his liking.
My mom prayed for a strong-willed child after my older sister was born. My sister would just sit and take what others did to her and not fight back. So then I came along, as strong-willed as can be! And that got me into more trouble than I care to mention. Well, my mom got what she asked for! But when I acted the part, she would say..... I hope you grow up and have one ten times worse! (And, that's another story all together!) So when the discipline was handed out, mother would always tell me to just keep my mouth shut and take my punishment. My dad would always be ranting about something I had done wrong, but it went in one ear and out the other because somewhere around the 20th lash, I went into survival mode until it was over! It seemed the lashing would never end! Some would call what I got beating.... to me, it was just a normal part of life (for me, not my sister or brother).
I appeared as the "unloved" child in the family, as my sister received plenty of attention, and our brother received almost NO attention at all. But those were only the outward appearances, meant to put wedges between us children - I don't know what private torment my sister must have gone through. Publicly, and in front of company my sister was showered attention and hugs - she was so pretty and talented and had the gift of making people laugh. I admired her! I wanted so much to be like her, if only to win the attention of my dad! I always had the memory of a certain incident which involved my dad and both my sister and I, and was often plagued by flashbacks of this incident. This served to feed the conflict going on in my mind.... How could it be true about these pictures that invade my mind when she (my sister) and dad clearly love each other and get along so well? So, I constantly pushed the pictures out of my mind and went on living my double-life as a normal person. I knew something was going on, but I lived in daily denial as a way to cope. I wanted so desperately to feel loved, yet I pushed away the One who wanted to shower His love on me.
Finally, at the age of 13 in an Assembly of God church in our town (the same one where I had attended that time when I was 10), I felt the love of God so strong that I could no longer say NO to him! On January 12, 1986 I was saved and filled with the Holy Spirit! I'd never felt so loved before! God instantly removed all the hatred I had in my heart toward my dad, and gave me a burden for his salvation that I still carry to this day.
Some things God does instantly, but other things for some reason take longer, or come by process .....such as emotional healing. Growing up, my life was filled with fears of all kinds. Loud noises and dark rooms made me afraid. I could not be anywhere near a television or radio speaker because the loudness terrified me. If I was in class at school where a film was being shown I would lay my head on my desk, cover my ears, and shut my eyes until the movie was over - I was very sensitive to noises. Drive-in movies had the same effect on me - the speakers just terified me!
I believe that children have more discernment than most adults! I can remember being called into the living room by my parents to watch certain television programs.... I always dreaded that! But my worst fear was the fear of bathrooms which began around age three. Bathrooms were so terrifying to me that if I awoke in the middle of the night needing to go to the bathroom, it would throw me into a horrible nightmare where I'd shoot straight up out of the bed and run through the house screaming for fear of someone getting me. Sometimes, I would bolt out of my bed and run around my dark bedroom frantically looking for the door and could not find it. I remember the feeling of being trapped and the sheer terror I felt as I traced the walls with my hands in search of the door! During some of these episodes I took refuge under my bed.... I don't remember how I got out. Most of the time, I would come to sitting on the commode with my mom holding a wet rag on my forehead. I would black out sometime between the frantic running and my mom catching hold of me. She eventually figured out that I should use the restroom before I went to bed so as not to wake up during the night. I avoided the bathroom as much and as long as possible.
(A picture goes here)
This picture was taken in a house we lived in belonging to my paternal grandmother. It had no plumbing. For a bathroom we had a bucket in a closet where the only privacy was provided by a red curtain draped over the doorway. We had an outhouse and a water well out behind the house and baths were taken in a metal washtub on the back porch. We had an old wringer washer outside on the porch where we washed our clothes. (I once threw an innocent kitty into the tub of the washer.... it survived just fine!) We did, however, have electricity.
My fondest memories of this time of my life include sneaking out into the garden and picking tomatoes off the vines and hiding in the garden while I ate the whole thing! I loved playing with the geese, chickens, and ducks. I remember my sister climbing atop the kitchen counters and fixing us catsup and sugar sandwiches..... Yum, yum!! I can remember us being made to sit for hours into the night at the supper table because we would not eat our food, yet we ate these? When we lived in Central, our landlord's teenage daughter would put on puppet shows and play cartoon films outside or in a livestock barn and all the neighborhood kids would be invited to attend for a small fee. I can remember my sister and I sitting at the kitchen table longing to be out there with the rest of the kids, but we hadn't eaten our supper, so we were not allowed to leave the table. I had a repulsion for foods with a certain consistency and would become nautious at the thought of eating things like mashed potatoes, macaroni, pudding, jello, oatmeal, and marshmallows to name a few.
By age 9, the nightmares had slowly diminished, yet the fears stayed with me. Any time I went into a bathroom, I had to check the shower stall, the linen closets, and even the medicine cabinets ......several times ......to make sure there wasn't someone hiding in them, but still I was afraid and felt I was being watched, or someone was in there. Taking baths and showers was a fearful task..... I was always checking to make sure someone hadn't stepped into the room while my eyes were closed and was constantly afraid that someone would attack me from behind. I could just feel someone behind me, ready to get me! Fear was a constant part of my life -- a physical feeling of vulnerability I felt in the middle of my back. I became paranoid to the point that anytime I was alone - especially in a bathroom - I thought people were watching me, whispering and taunting me..... and I had no privacy. I do remember as a small child (about 2 years old) while I was still potty-training, needing to go to the potty. I ran down the hall in our mobile home in Tyler, Texas to the bathroom, and just as I sat down, my dad jumped out from the linen closet and scared me ......I had an accident on the floor. It seemed that he took great pleasure in my distress. Once, the lights had gone out when I was in the bathroom and I became frantic and started screaming.... I could hear him laughing and taunting me. I just knew he had caused those lights to go out!
My fear of bathrooms was also fed by other incidents such as when an older cousin - about 10 years my senior - locked my sister and I into a dark bathroom on more than one occasion and chased water bugs under the door to crawl on us. And at about the age of 4 I remember being taken to an old empty house, where was discovered a man's corpse in the bathtub. Why they would bring us children in to see such a hiddeous sight, I do not know. Couple that with the fear tactics I had already experienced..... no picnic! Our family was just lovely!
Often in order to get sleep, I had to fight fear. I hated sleeping on my side because it left my back exposed. I was always afraid of someone attacking me from behind. Either my sister and I would sleep back-to-back, or I surrounded myself with covers and pillows to protect my back. Often I slept in fetal postion, huddled way beneath the covers.
I had frequent flashbacks throughout a lot of my childhood. I lived a double-life. Most of the time, I was Kim Crain ......a normal girl with a normal family, and no conscious knowledge of the abuse. But in the evening or whenever an abusive situation occurred, I'd endure it/space out, until it was over and then block it out, mostly ......except for when the pictures of the abuse popped into my mind and I would tell myself, "NO, that's not true! That's not happening to me!" Looking back, it was like I had different levels of consciousness.... Kim #3 was the surface Kim. That is where I lived most of the time. She was sad and depressed but lived a mostly normal life. Kim #1 knew about both Kim #2 and Kim #3.... when I was there, I knew.... this was the core identity of me. And Kim # 2 only knew abuse.... she ceased to exist after the incident of abuse was over only to reappear again when my dad or someone else made advances toward me. After surrendering my life to the Lord JESUS, I can truly understand the meaning of the word wholeness...... for I have been made WHOLE in JESUS' name!!!
Especially disturbing to me were the flashbacks of my dad, laying on my parents' bed exposed, teaching my sister and I oral sex. He made it seem like a game as he instructed what we should do to him. I was 3 years old and my sister was 6 ......our little brother was just born. I always felt dirty and was a compulsive hand-washer. I washed my hands so much that my hands became dry and my skin would crack and bleed. As a result of some of the abuse I suffered chronic bowel problems, and so I have memories of my mother holding me down to administer soap enemas. I can remember screaming in protest and the feeling of shame, humiliation, and violation..... Why is mommy doing this to me?!
My mom, sister, brother and I started attending church when I was about 13 years old. I could feel the love of GOD coming from the people there. I was saved at the age of 13 1/2. My sister also received salvation at the same time. What drew me and broke my heart toward GOD that day was that I saw our mom at the altar weeping before GOD - my heart was broken when I saw that, and I began to open my heart to the LORD and His love flooded over my soul. My little brother received salvation about one week later. The first thing we did when we arrived home was to tell dad what GOD had done for us that night! He seemed alright with it.... but there was some opposition on his part to us spending too much time at church. My brother and sister soon strayed away from GOD, and my mom's church attendance became sporradic after several months. If I was to receive punishment for anything, I would be forbidden to attend church services. Some years later, I found out that the reason my mom's church attendance waivered was because my dad put up an ultimatum to her..... "Either you stay home, or she stays home."
After my chores were done, most of my spare time was spent in the sanctuary of my bedroom. There, I prayed. There, I read GOD's Holy Word. There, I played my gospel music so that I could not hear what was going on elsewhere in the house. This was something I received criticism over from both parents.... "Why can't you come out and be a part of the family? Are you too good for us?" "Why do you stay locked up in your bedroom all day?" But I was safe when I was in my room spending time with GOD - safe from abuse and safe from the evil that filled our home. There, I received strength to stand against the mental and spiritual battles I would face in the world.
The abuse stopped after I gave my life to Christ, except for quite a few mostly futile attempts by my dad. There was some abuse still, but there were periods of weeks where there were no incidents of abuse, just a sort of mental stalking and staring. At one point, after the abuse had seemingly stopped for a period of time, I gave in to the urge to do as I had before and I walked up to my dad in hopes of receiving a hug and as before, he grabbed me and held on to me to do as he had before. I was repulsed by his words! He would not let me go, all the while saying how much he loved me and wished he could hold me in his arms forever (he was speaking to me as a man would speak to his wife) ....but the LORD made a way of escape. When I was 14 years old, I confided in an older friend in my church about the abuse.
My friend, Cathy and her husband Arthur were in their 20's and they had a sweet daughter who was a toddler at the time. Their daughter Ginger was like a little sister to me. Once Cathy and her daughter had come to our home for a visit. We had been outside doing yard work and my dad had invited Ginger to sit with him on the riding lawnmower while he mowed..... this made me cringe inside! I guess my friend felt something wasn't right because Ginger didn't ride for long and they soon left. Maybe she discerned the look of concern on my face. Looking back, I believe Cathy was checking things out, trying to see if her suspicions were correct.
It was extremely difficult to gather the courage to tell Cathy about the abuse..... there had been a mental battle going on inside me and I was in denial for a long time. I had spent alot of time in their home and they treated me as part of the family. I'd walk over a mile to their house because it was safe. Sometimes...... alot of times, when things were especially difficult at home, I would determine I would walk to my friend's house and tell her what was happening .....often walking to their house late in the night and then, losing courage before I knocked on their door. Sometimes I would stand at the edge of their yard late in the night and watch - wishing I could go inside, yet had not the strength to do so. Usually it was too late, and the lights in their home were out . So crying, I'd turn around and walk back home. There were several times when I fled to their home and without actually saying it, almost begged them to let me stay. My parents didn't know where I was or that I was even gone. Usually, it was during school hours.... and instead of stopping at the bus stop to be picked up by the bus, I would continue walking all the way to Cathy's house. I knew she wanted to let me stay but she had to take me home, or make me go to school. Only a few times did she allow me to stay because I was pretty much "out of it" ....I had come to see their home as a sort of refuge.
Most of the time, when I went there, I would go to sleep on their living room couch out of mental exhaustion more than physical. Cathy and her husband knew something was up with me..... I was extremely underweight (5' 4" and about 90 pounds), almost never ate, and in the beginning I would mainly come over to their house and fall asleep. Sometimes they would pose questions pertaining to bruises and such..... I had no idea where those bruises were from, unless by the force of my dad's actions upon me. But usually when they would point out a bruise, it was as much a surprise to me as it was to them. I remember one particular time when Cathy asked me about some bruising on my leg and how it got there.... I just sat there blankly, because I honestly didn't "know." They often would request me to spend the night at their home after church services..... which I was very thankful for. During this time of my life, I had developed heart palpitations and stomach problems. I was taken to the doctor and was hooked up to machines but they found nothing - of course. But I was as I recall, diagnosed with ulcers and a hiatal hernia.
The night I told my secret, I had been invited to spend the night at their home. Cathy and I (she had become like a mother and big sister all in one person) were at the dining room table playing cards as we often did. My insides were churning and I was in deep thought. She made a statement, "You sure are quiet, Kimberly." I forced a smile but could not form a reply. A little farther into our game, she asked me, "Is there something bothering you? ......what's wrong, Kimberly?" Oh, how my heart ached as sharp pains rushed through me at the sound of her questions - my face became flush and I became very nautious! I only replied, "I'm not feeling well, I think I need to go to bed." And with that I quickly left the table and went to bed. As she passed by my bed she said, "Good night..... see you in the morning." I replied, "Goodnight." "I really wish you would talk to me," Cathy said. My desperate words came like an involuntary reaction.... "I wish I could," ....the tears trying to escape the corners of my eyes. With that, she rushed over to my side.... "But you can tell me, Kim.... is there something going on at home?" "I can't tell.... " was my reply. "Is someone hurting you? You can tell me... " My weak reply was the same, "I can't tell, I can't tell, I can't.... " My body began to shake and my breathing quickened as I fought against the pictures flashing in my mind. "Kim, is there someone hurting you?" she asked. I was losing strength to fight and all I could do was whisper, " ....yes." "Who? Is it... " She began naming several people, and I answered to the affirmative when she mentioned my dad.... a weak, " Yes."
After I confided to her about the abuse, the next thing I knew I was taken (during school) by CPS and put into a foster home, which at my request, was Cathy and Arthur's home because I wanted to be able to still attend church and quite honestly, I was afraid to go into the home of a stranger and risk another home-like situation. They had me in a room for what seemed like hours, writing out pages and pages describing what went on at home.
I was also required to attend weekly counseling so they could tell me how much I hated my dad (and try to convince me that deep down, I really hated my mom .....I just didn't realize it yet.) I just kept telling them that I gave my heart to JESUS and He took all the hatred away that I had toward my dad, but I never hated my mom. She made plenty of mistakes, and there were times when I needed to feel safe and comforted and didn't get that from her .....but somehow, I knew she loved us kids.
My mom said I was a quiet baby, and seldom cried. So, she would leave me to myself and rarely held me. Perhaps this is why as a child, I always yearned and actually ached to be held and hugged in a loving way. I absolutely craved hugs... a safe hug does more than one can imagine for a love-starved child! There was always a hunger for physical touch in a nurturing way, and yet a certain timidity and fear (and guilt because I thought touch was bad) when someone actually showed their love in a physical way. "Love" was not a word I fully understood because it was associated with bad things for me. Certainly, closeness was never enjoyable. And though I craved closeness, I also avoided it.
I always seemed to get closeness from all the wrong sources. The word "Father" goes with words like "love" and "security." I think it is a desire that was built in by our Creator to want to be close to one's father. That is a wonderful thing, but in a sinful and perverted world it can be exploited, and as a result many find pain in their search of this closeness.
My mom had grown up with physical abuse at the hands of her mother and oldest sister, and she did the best with what she knew. She made it a point to tell us every day that she loved us. But often, when she was upset at us kids for some misbehavior, she would yell hurtful words.... "I hate you! I wish you were never born!" I knew she didn't mean to say those words, because she would always run to her bedroom, shut the door, and weep uncontrollably. The guilt would finally get the best of me and I would always go in an appologize for my wrongs and she too would appologize, and things between us were smoothed over. I believe she really tried, in her own way, to do right by us although she hadn't been shown love by her own mother as a child.
While in foster care, and by way of notes from my dad delivered to me by my sister at school, I learned that he wanted me to come back home and for us to be a family again (like we ever were a family). In the notes he said he was going to church and that he loved me and wanted me to come home so we could go to church as a family. So, I talked it over with one of the counselors at MHMR (who was a Christian) and I decided to drop the claims against my dad. I was able to go back home, but my dad never went to church after that. I never saw my dad set foot into a church service.
Things were quite different when I came back home. My mom turned on Cathy and my family took great joy in starting and repeating terrible rumors about Cathy. I was forbidden from going to her home and my attending church was even more greatly resented. My dad didn't have much opportunity to try anything with me, but his cold stares were enough. I tried running away from home on a few occaisions. I would just set out walking -- I didn't care where I went, just as long as I could get away from everything. The only thing that kept me from going through with it was the fact that Cathy would most likely have been blamed and that would have been too much to bear.
Within a few months, my dad left us and my parents divorced. I was glad and relieved to have him out of the house. But my little brother was only 11 years old and he never had a real father/son relationship with our dad (he was verbally and emotionally abusive towards my brother and neglected him for the most part) ...... yet, the thing I remember most is the pain my brother went through wanting his dad. I could hear sobbing coming from his room on several occaisions. I would often go in and try to comfort him. I felt bad for him, and I hoped he did not know the details of what happened between my dad and I. Silence was still a huge part of our lives.
My brother would get on his bicycle and ride across town looking for our dad. But he didn't give my brother the time of day except to come over occaisionally to show off his new clothes and new boots that he could afford since he wasn't supporting a family anymore. Meanwhile, my mom struggled to buy school supplies and clothing for him.
My sister had been taught to drive and actually had her own vehicle for a short time. Our dad gave her a car for her 16th birthday, only to take it away when he left us a few months later. She worked part time at our uncle's small convenience store for a good while. This was a relief to the family finances. She would either drive herself, or rode with her soon-to-be husband to and from work. They were married in September of 1988.
My mom ended up going back to school to get her GED, and then received training to become a nurse's aid. At this time, we mainly lived off of AFDC and food stamps. Soon, she took a job working at a nursing home to support us, and I earned money by babysitting and a couple of other odd jobs. When I was 15, I would get a ride with someone or walk to a local plant where fishing lures were assembled by hand. I would take home boxes of supplies to make fishing lures and made an average of 7 cents for each finished item. I gave to my church, bought for my own needs if there were any, and gave the rest to my mom. We had a little money ......enough to put food on the table, but we couldn't afford to buy food for our cats, dogs, chickens, rabbits, birds..... we tried to give them away but no one wanted them and sadly, most of them died of starvation.
We didn't have a legal vehicle. We had a blue station wagon that my brother and some of his older friends worked on and got it running. My mom never drove and I was never really taught. I had to drop out of Driver's Ed because of lack of money. My brother was driving by the age of about 13. He was taught by his older friends how to do mechanic work and how to drive. The police in our little town would see us in our illegal car and with our underaged driver and wave at us! They knew our situation and we were never pulled over by them.
Although my parents were divorced, my dad would always somehow sweet-talk his way back into the home, and he would spend a few weeks at a time in the home with us and leave, and back and forth. It may sound terrible that my mom would allow him to come and go like that, but I don't know what her state of emotions were at that time and I never hated her for it. Deep down I had hopes that my dad would appologize to all of us and give his heart to JESUS and we'd be a real family.
Yes, I did wonder how she could stand to see him - let alone allow him to touch her, knowing what he did. I still felt a little guilty for my mom's unhappiness. I knew I didn't choose to be an object of my dad's perverted intentions, yet I couldn't help feeling I had somehow stolen something from her. I wanted her to be happy, and that was one major reason for my years of silence. Most of the time I lived in a state of denial, and though I always felt sadness I lived a normal life as much as possible. But during certain times when I was faced with knowing what was going on, I truly wished I could tell ......but I also knew my mom would be hurt and I did not want to take what little happiness she had, for I knew she loved my dad and her happiness depended greatly upon pleasing him.
When I first told my secret my mom refused to acknowledge the truth and accused me of lying. She knew I was telling the truth. Years later, she confided in me that she almost left my dad after my brother was born and she caught him with my sister. She packed us kids up and was about to leave him, but he pleaded with her and said it would never happen again. And she believed him. She kept that incident to herself all those years.
My mom said she always wondered why I seemed to hate my dad. I wanted to love him. I wanted him to love me....... but neither of us knew what love was supposed to be. My dad and his siblings also had grown up neglected, physically and sexually abused, and pushed from foster home to foster home to children's homes.
My relationship with my dad was love/hate. On a daily basis, I would walk up to my dad (as he stared at the TV), reach out for a hug and say, "I love you, daddy." His response was always either..... shrugged shoulders and "I love me too" (not even eye contact) or, instead of a hug, he'd grab me and do as he pleased. So there's where the guilt came in.
My dad made it known that the ironing board had to stay in their bedroom. I wondered if maybe I deserved what I got, since I did go into my parents' bedroom to iron my clothes. I walked into their bedroom like a robot, trying to look and act normal.... knowing what would probably happen. There were times he would hold his arms out to me in a gesture to give me a hug, and I fell for it every time..... It must've been my fault! And even after the secret was out, my dad's response was that "she liked it." In actuality, my heart was more crushed with each incident. Once, at about age 10, I went into their bedroom to put clothes away and I slipped a hate note into his sock drawer! When he found it he took it to my mom and showed it to her, and I was the "bad guy."
Besides the incidents that occurred in the bathroom and in the bedrooms, the abuses could occur anywhere.... any place we were alone for more than a few minutes (the living room, kitchen, or hallway). If I walked past him too closely, he would grab me.... almost no place was a safe place. I was always nervous and afraid that my mom would walk in at any moment... what would that do to her?! I was always very tense around him. Sometimes I'd go to bed crying, and would've cried myself to sleep, except my sister (as if she knew without me telling her) would make me laugh by tickling me or making up silly games and songs. On some occasions I recall her saying, "Don't pay any attention to him!" She'd say, "I love to hear you laugh!" She'd make me laugh, until our dad would get on to us for playing when we should've been sleeping. Before I came to know the LORD, there were countless times when I absolutely wanted to die... but I knew my sister would miss me if no one else did.
My sister had nightmares too, and oddly enough when we were quite small, alot of the time we'd both have nightmares on the same night. Sometimes we would both be standing in the dark outside our parents' bedroom door, crying for momma. I can vividly remember the intense fear I felt. Part of me knew it was my father I was afraid of, yet that part of me was "numbed" as I stood outside my parents' bedroom door crying for momma. She wasn't allowed to come to us to comfort us on those nights. Rarely, if dad was good and asleep, she'd sneak us in, turn over on her side toward the edge of the bed, and put us in the bed beside her with covers over us or she would let us lie down on the floor next to her side of the bed until we calmed down. She usually would make sure we were back in our beds before dad woke up, but if we fell asleep there and dad found out, we'd get woke up by a hard pinch and was made to go back to our room. This was no ordinary "pinch." This was a -grab a hunk of flesh, squeeze, and twist- kind of pinch that lasted from the bed to the door!
By the age of 16, life for me was mainly focussed on surviving emotionally. I wasn't doing well in school .....I only attended school about once a week. My grades went from all A's to failing. I skipped school on a regular basis and once my mom caught me, she beat me with a plastic coat hanger until it broke and then ran to her bedroom and wept.... one of the very few times I remember my mom actually physically disciplining me. After I became an adult, she confided to me that she didn't physically discipline us kids much for fear that she would go overboard out of anger - as she had experienced as a child. She had gone overboard a few times when I was a toddler and decided it was best to curb physical discipline. (As I stated before, I was a very strong-willed child to say the least..... quiet, but strong-willed.) I knew it was wrong to skip school and deserved what I received.... my mom only wanted more for me than she had received education-wise.
When I did go to school I was usually late. The kids in school would laugh at me and ask me .... "Hey Kim, how's your dad?" "Where've you been .....with your dad?" "....NO!" So I quit school in the 11th grade. I later found out that my mom's oldest sister bragged about paying my cousin (who was like my sister/best friend) to go to school and spread rumors about my dad and I. My aunts were angry at me because I didn't cut off my friendship with a good friend (who was also sexually abused). My friend had gone to school one day with intentions of killing herself. She went around asking kids for some of their prescription drugs, until she had enough to overdose on. My cousin gave her some of her asthma pills and my friend took them along with some other pills. Her family was called to the school to get emergency care for her - which she did not receive. They just took her home and let her sleep. She had gone unconscious and could have died.
Later over the phone (in a calm manner) I told my cousin that she should never give her medicines to another person to take. That was all it took ....they all turned against me, told me that I better not be friends with "that girl" anymore, and the rumors were started. They thought it funny and relished the opportunity to make snide remarks about my dad and I in front of my little brother - something I wanted to protect him from hearing. They made a special visit to our home when they found out my friend was spending the night at our home so that they could try to intimidate us into sending her out. During that visit some of them made their way to my bedroom to try out a rock and roll cassette tape they had brought. This they knew, that no one was allowed to play anything but purely Gospel music on my radio and cassette player. I had "JESUS" written across my speaker! GOD showed His power to them in a humorous way.... soon after the tape began playing, my cassette player began chewing up their tape! I began getting threats from members of my family, but GOD protected me .....to the point that one of my older cousins, after having threatened me physically, called me on the phone a few days later to appologize because she could not sleep for three nights! This was the same cousin that had locked my sister and I into the bathroom when we were younger, and from whom I received many a beating when we used to spend the night with her. She was a brawler and had dabbled into things of the occult.
When I was 17 years old, my dad was out of the home for good. My mom had a restraining order against him for his stalking behaviors. She didn't want him around anymore, especially after she had re-married him...... and then found out that he was also married to another woman. He went to jail for bigamy.
I finally learned to drive at age 17..... one evening, I just got into the car, prayed, backed the car out, and drove like I had known all along -- taught by my Father, GOD! One day, while my mom was at work, my dad came over and sat in his car in front of our house. Although he was not allowed to set a foot on our property because of the restraining order, there was nothing stopping him from driving up and sitting in front of the house in his vehicle...... we lived on a narrow, dead-end, dirt road. This day, he was very drunk. I don't remember alot of what he said, but as he was about to leave I asked him to hand me the keys to his car - and he did! I did not want him to drive being so intoxicated and get into an accident, and die and go to Hell. He let me into the driver's seat and I drove him down winding back roads hopefully giving him time to sober.
During this time, my dad began crying and mumbling words too jumbled to understand. But after awhile, I heard him say, "Kim, look at me!" I didn't want to look at him. "....look in my eyes, Kim." And when I did, he made a confession the best way he knew how.... "I know I haven't been a good daddy to you kids. I did some bad things to you and your sister, and I am sorry!" I broke in, "Dad! I forgive you.... and GOD will forgive you too ...if you'll just ask him!" He said, "I know.... but I can't forgive myself. But maybe, someday..... " "Don't wait too long, Dad - I want to see you in Heaven!" He replied again, " ...maybe someday, I will."
After my dad was out of the home, I had been seeing counselors mostly at the request of my mother. Each time I went I became more depressed and oppressed because the focus was on myself and what had been done to me. I hated being looked upon as a poor victim but it is easy to fall into self pity. The attention, whether positive or negative, appeases the flesh. Talking to a friend in and of itself is not wrong and can be a great tool in the process of healing - as long as the motive is right. Sometimes no matter how "spiritual" we think we are, what we really need is the hug of a friend and a safe place to cry. I once heard a well-known christian woman speak about what the LORD told her in a time of great trial.... It is alright to cry, as long as you cry to GOD! I LOVE that! Counseling in and of itself is not wrong..... just that the focus needs to be in the right place - on CHRIST. CHRIST offers a better way..... He is the way, the truth, and the life! (John 14:6) Isaiah 9:6 says, "For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace." Wow, what a promise! One night while crying to out GOD in the altar at my church, I heard Him speak to me.... "Don't you trust me? Just give it to me, and I will take care of it!" That settled it in my heart. I told my mom I would not be going to counseling any more except to go one last time to tell them what GOD had told me. And so, I did!
After that life was somewhat normal. I stayed in church, served GOD, and began praying for a husband. I never really dated anyone up till I was 19 years old. I didn't have a legal car (or a driver's license for that matter). The only place I ever went was church. People would ask me, "When are you gonna start dating?" "When are you gonna get married?" But I was determined not to date a non-Christian .....and they had to be "husband-material" before I would even consider dating them. Up to that point, I hadn't met anyone meeting those standards.
While talking on the phone with an older lady in my church one day, she gave me some advice ...."Pray specifically when you ask GOD for a husband, then leave it in his hands, and go on serving the LORD. Don't worry about what people say or think about you not being married or dating someone." So that's what I did. I asked GOD for a husband who loved Him(GOD) first, me second, loved kids (and wanted plenty of them) .....and since I never went anywhere, He'd have to bring him right to my door!
Less than a year later, I met Kevin at a church I was visiting (and he was only visiting) a couple of towns away .....WOW! Upon entering the small church, my friend who drove me there said, "Kim, there's a good looking guy.... you should go introduce yourself!" I replied, "No way, that's not what I came here for!" It so happened that I sat almost directly across the aisle from him. I kept my focus on the LORD, but I did notice that he was not ashamed to worship GOD and I could see his sincerity. After the service we had fellowship and refreshments. Kevin was sitting directly across the room from me ......next to Fonda, a girl from my church. I thought... Oh, well I guess she found herself a nice guy. But I noticed that he didn't seem much interested in what she had to say as she went on and on about her "plans" for her life and carreer. I noticed that he was great with the kids, and soon there were several children sitting around him and playing with him like he was one of them. He would glance across the room at me and catch me watching attentively, and I just smiled and blushed.
After having talked with him very briefly after the service I told him where I attended church. On the way home my friend said to me, "I saw you talking to that guy." Jokingly, I replied, "Yeah, maybe GOD will have him contact me and then he will show up on my doorstep!" A few months later he contacted me through my pastor's wife, and I just knew he was the one GOD had for me. Our first "date" was a watch-night service at my church on New Year's Eve, 1991. He proposed to me on my 20th birthday ....."Will you be the mother of my Carrie Michelle?" "YES!" He'd wanted a little girl for a long time since he saw a man in a restaurant with his little girl. And as the man turned to give his little daughter an ice cream cone, she hugged him and said, "I love you, daddy!" How ironic ......and so much like my Heavenly Father! He had her name picked out before she was born and before he found me, his wife.
Kevin and I were married Saturday, October 3, 1992. Carrie Michelle was born October 10, 1993. Then came Christen Marie (March 18, 1995), Mark Evin - named after daddy .....you'll find "Kevin" hidden in his name (December 22, 1996), Clarissa Miranda (July 8, 1999), and Matthew Jordan (June 18, 2002) ......5 blessings of GOD in 8 years!
We have both had some faults, and failures too, but our journey together with GOD has been a wonderful blessing! I thank GOD for my husband. He has been good "medicine" for me. Kevin is genuine no matter who he is with. He is quick-witted and has a great sense of humor. I am a person who shuns the limelight, and at times the attention is more than I am comfortable with. We can be in church or in a public place and he is just as much at ease being himself as he is at home, and enjoying it all the way! I could take some lessons from him. His genuine, unconditional love has been a great comfort to me. He tells me I am beautiful, and I believe he means it.... and that is all that matters.
Kevin was with me through the births of all five of our children ....one hospital birth and four homebirths - two of those delivered by him! (Although if you ask him, he would say, "She delivered - I caught!") It is amazing to me how GOD has given me so much and brought me such joy in giving us our precious family. Oh, our children are just like any other children - no angels..... but about as close to it as any child could be! GOD has granted me my life-long desire to be a mommy.... to have someone to love and give them what children are meant to have and what I didn't have. I take this seriously and count it a privilege!
Now, to take it back a little, the memories of abuse had their effects on my married life. I've come a long way with GOD's help and strength. I face obstacles almost daily, but GOD is good and gracious and kind. To put it plainly, I couldn't even kiss my husband without shuddering in fear and couldn't really understand why. Over time GOD has revealed to me it was in connection to the memories of oral sex ......I was dirty .....I might contaminate him ......the thought of it sickened me!
GOD has done a lot of healing in my life and as more things (in His time) come to the light, He is always with me to see me through each stage of healing. While talking to a friend recently about how my dad and "uncle" (friend of the family) used to give us cans of beer to drink when I was 5, 6, and 7 years old ......and about their adoptive teenage son's loud rock music ....... a wave of panic and emotions came over me like a flood and I began remembering bits of things I didn't remember before. The LORD only allowed me a glimpse, and as soon as I remembered, it left me. These things happen from time to time, yet the Holy Spirit is always there for strength and comfort.
On December 4, 2001, while I was carrying Matthew, I went to visit a good friend in West Virginia. That evening during normal conversation with my friend Rita, telling her a humorous story that happened when I was a little girl living in Tyler, Texas, I began to feel afraid .....like I was a little girl again. I felt like I went into a time warp and couldn't even finish my sentence. It only lasted a few minutes and I told Rita, "I hate it when that happens!" "What?" she asked. "......lose my train of thought," I said. Jokingly, she replied, "You're standing on it (your train of thought)."
I still felt out of sorts for the rest of the evening, and when we were all about to say our good-nights, I felt the overwhelming need to be hugged. So I asked Rita for a hug (I felt silly). She did, and I felt safe. And in that safety I was able to face the memories of my past. I began to cry and tremble. The emotions were so overwhelming. I had never been able to face them before. As Rita was hugging me still, she began to pray in the Holy Spirit. After a while I began to pray in the Spirit also. During this time, GOD took me from one point to another in my childhood. I didn't see many pictures, although I felt the feelings and intense emotions of them (maybe I wasn't ready). It was like GOD was showing me, letting me revisit the dark rooms of my past where the abuse took place. What I did see was comforting to me .....while revisiting one of these rooms, I saw light in the corner ......and in that light was JESUS! He was there! How could that be? .....that while I was a child being sexually and physically abused, JESUS was there, and He knew? He saw, and it grieved Him! This may sound strange, but I know that we are all born into a world of sin. And wicked men and women do terrible things. But GOD knew my address! And He preserved me until the day of my salvation ......and for that I am so thankful!
As a child, I had very poor self esteem and often punished myself when I felt I was being bad by punching myself and pulling my own hair. By the young age of 10, I had already acquired plenty of sinful habits. Any sinful habit one could think of that goes along with sexual abuse, I had probably experienced - and then some.... some too terrible to mention except in confession to GOD. I have been a chief of sinners! How a holy GOD could love a dirty little girl such as I was - to me - is beyond AMAZING! So amazing is his love that he sent his only Son, JESUS, to die in my stead! Romans 5: 6-8 says, "For when we were yet without strength, in due time Christ died for the ungodly. For scarcely for a righteous man will one die: yet peradventure for a good man some would even dare to die. But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." And not only did JESUS CHRIST die in my stead, He now has bestowed upon me the free gift of salvation and has cleansed me from my sinful nature! This passage goes on to say, "Much more then, being now justified by his blood, we shall be saved from wrath through him. For if, when we were enemies, we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, being reconciled, we shall be saved by his life. And not only so, but we also joy in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom we have now received the atonement." (ch. 5, vs. 9-11) Because JESUS paid the price for my atonement, I am free from sin and death and in their place, I am now filled with joy and a peace that passes understanding!
If satan had his way, I'd have died as a child. I had wanted to die so many times as a child. Several times at the ages of 5 and 6, I tried to suffocate myself by going to sleep in my brother's toy box with the lid shut, or on my bed with a pillow on my face. And indeed, several times after my salvation, messengers of satan were sent to try to take my life.
The spirit of suicide was at work in our home from early on. Often our dad would go off and get drunk and we would get a call from one of his brothers informing us he was on his way home. We immediately searched through the house as quickly as we could removing and hiding any sharp objects and then we children were sent to our rooms to hide. My uncles would bring him home and we could hear him sobbing and ranting about wanting to kill himself - sometimes threatening violence, and needing to be physically restrained by my uncles.
At the time I was carrying Matthew, I had found a lump and had been having abnormal pain. A few weeks later in December, 2001 while still visiting in Rita's home, she and I and another friend of hers went to the church next door to her home to have a prayer meeting. Rita and her friend prayed for my healing and the birth of the baby. And afterward, Rita was telling us....... "I just kept hearing the words in my spirit, 'I speak life to the birth! .....life to the birth!' " And when I heard those words, the Spirit of GOD fell on me gloriously! While the LORD ministered to me, I heard these words in my spirit, "the Water and the Blood." Immediately after GOD spoke this to me, Rita began reading scripture out of John chapter 15 and verses 1 through 5 and verse 16, and chapter 16, verses 27 and 28....... "I am the true vine, and my Father is the husbandman. Every branch in me that beareth not fruit he taketh away: and every branch that beareth fruit, he purgeth it, that it may bring forth more fruit. Now ye are clean through the word which I have spoken unto you. Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abide in the vine; no more can ye, except ye abide in me. I am the vine, and ye are the branches. He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit: for without me ye can do nothing. Ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen you, and ordained you, that ye should go and bring forth fruit, and that your fruit should remain; that whatsoever ye shall ask of the Father in my name, he may give it you. For the Father himself loveth you, because ye have loved me, and have believed that I came out from God. I came forth from the Father, and am come into the world...." He revealed to me that those words 'life to the birth' had a two-fold meaning, for my physical healing and the baby's birth ......but also, for my emotional healing - this began the birth process of my emotional healing! That was Saturday, December 8, 2001.
Recently, in allowing the LORD to work healing in my heart, I have experienced what I would call "spiritual surgery." In one of the church services during Family Camp in August of 2004 in our home church, Anna Turman came over and laid her hands on me and began praying in the Spirit. The automatic reaction I had was to close up - which is what I had always done when anyone touched me in any way.... just something I always had to press through. But all of the sudden, I felt light as a feather as a wave of GOD's power flowed over me - and I went down! As I laid there on the floor, I was in the lap of my Heavenly Father and I was not afraid. He spoke to my heart and told me he loves me and I am a princess..... he filled me with joy and peace.
All that night and through half of the following day, that joy bubbled inside of me..... it was wonderful! But about halfway through the next day, I began feeling a heaviness in my heart. I felt things I did not understand.... I felt like crying at the drop of a hat. I told the LORD, "I don't understand.... it feels like you did surgery in me but you forgot to close me back up." I heard Him speak to my heart in a loving voice, "That was my intentions.... you have been closed up for too long. And now it is time to allow yourself to feel love." Oh my! That was a very exciting, and yet a very hard thing for me to hear. Even those closest to me do not understand the struggle it is sometimes for me to allow them close - physically, and emotionally. And the LORD has been walking me through some difficult places. At times it has been very tempting to close myself back up, to put back the bricks on the walls the LORD has brought down. But I keep hearing a still small voice telling me ....You know, that is not the best way. And so, I keep going forward on this healing journey.
At times it seems too hard a journey. Sometimes the emotions come so strongly, it physically hurts and I feel I might faint! I have felt like my heart would burst after a friend gives a hug, a smile, a kind word. A brother in the LORD offered to pay for the kids' food at the concession stand after church and I had to find a place to weep. GOD's love is pure and good. These expressions of GOD's love through His people, I now cherish .....I will never forget and they will always be recorded in my heart and mind. They are new to me and I pray the newness never goes away!
GOD preserved me through my childhood and saved me, and delivered me, and blessed me with a wonderful husband who loves the LORD and 5 beautiful children! I would have never known the joys of salvation, of being a wife and a mother, had it not been for GOD's mercy and preservation. GOD is good! To GOD be the glory!
It is my prayer, in the name of JESUS CHRIST the Son of GOD, that all who read or hear this testimony will know that .....no matter your situation, or your past - GOD knows your address! And he has preserved you until now to hear his message ......that he loves you immensely and wants you to be free from your pain. TODAY is the day of your salvation!
"For he saith, I have heard thee in a time accepted, and in the day of salvation have I succoured thee: behold, now is the accepted time: behold, now is the day of salvation." II Corinthians 6:2
"I love you, Daddy!"
"Thou hast turned for me my mourning into dancing: thou hast put off my saccloth, and girded me with gladness. To the end that my glory may sing praise to thee, and not be silent. O LORD my GOD, I will give thanks unto thee for ever!" Psalm 30:11, 12
Closing Thoughts....
I have written this, my testimony, by the leading of the LORD. The initial purpose was for me personally, for by writing it He has allowed me to glimpse into my own heart with the light of GOD's love to go where I would not go before - to see where He has brought me from and where He wants to bring me. And, it seems that the LORD had me to write out my feelings and experiences in such detail so that others could see and hear the silent pain that an abused child lives with every moment of every day.... to be a "voice" for those who are still living with their pain, who search for true love and feel so alone..... and to be a voice to those - the hurting - that there truly is hope through JESUS CHRIST!!! Praise be to GOD!!!
"I am free to love and to receive love, because the One Who is Love lives in me - JESUS! JESUS! JESUS!"
"I am the healed of the LORD!"
Kimberly Lucas
kimmie0630@yahoo.com
by Kimberly Lucas
(Why I Tell My Testimony)
Joseph was a man with a past. He had all his years in Egypt to forget what was done to him by his brothers. He had a new life, a family, and an important political position to keep him busy. He could not escape or ignore his past forever, and as soon as he was face to face with his siblings he had a really tough, emotional reaction. It took him awhile, but he had to allow GOD to deal with his heart before his past could be turned for GOD's glory.
Joseph experienced such emotions as rejection, sadness, grief, anger, resentment and unforgiveness. When first confronted with his past, he tried to hide from it, but his past was still with him. Though he tried to hide it, the pain was very real. He could not move on to healing, forgiveness, and reconciliation until he was face to face with the reminders of his painful past.
A person's past is a part of who they are. We cannot lie to ourselves and pretend things in our past never happened. When there are deep hurts in our past, it is not helpful or wise to build a wall around it and put up a "NO TRESPASSING" sign. Instead, we have to give the keys over to the Lord Jesus and allow Him to walk in with us and shine His light. Only then can we be free to heal and move forward. Knowing the truth makes us free! "And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free." (John 8:32)
It is like the 3 Hebrew children who were thrown into the fire. Sometimes it feels like facing the past is like walking into the fire, and we can either run and hide ......or we can trust that the LORD will be right there with us! And when we come out of the fire, we will not even be tainted with the smell of the smoke!
The Samaritan woman at the well was well-known for her sinful past. She made it a point to come to the well to draw water at the time of day when the other women of the city would not be there because she didn't want to face the shame of her past. On that day when she was met by JESUS at the well, He went right to the most sensitive issues of her past .....and she was made free. She ran into the city (the same city where she was so well-known for her sinful lifestyle) and told everyone she met...... "Come, see a man Who told me all I ever did!" And many people were influenced by her testimony, because they could see what GOD did for her.(John 4:6-30)
This is why I tell my testimony. I overcome the devil by the blood of the Lamb .......and by the word of my testimony! Rev. 12:11 says, "And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb, and by the word of their testimony; and they loved not their lives unto the death." It takes a kind of dying to open up to others about where God has brought me from, but I want people to see Christ and not myself. My life is not my own, and all that I am, I give to Him - Christ! One of my favorite scriptures so beautifully states, "For ye are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in God." (Colossians 3:3)
I am a real person, with a real past. There are many hurting people who have built walls around their wounds and the wounds have not been allowed to heal. If my telling what Father GOD has done for me and brought me through can help those people, it is worth it! John 3:30 says, "He must increase, but I must decrease!" To GOD be the glory!
"Thou hast turned for me my mourning into dancing: thou hast put off my sackcloth, and girded me with gladness;
To the end that my glory may sing praise to thee, and not be silent. O Lord my GOD, I will give thanks unto thee for ever." Psalm 30:11,12
06/10/2004
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"When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up." Psalm 27:10
I was born, Kimberly Marie Crain in Houston, Texas on June 30, 1972. I was sexually abused by my dad from about age 1 or 2 (or as early as I can remember) until around my 14th birthday, shortly after I gave my heart to the LORD.
My family was not a Christian family, and the first time I remember going to church was at age 6 when the pastor and his wife from a church in our town (Central, Texas) started coming to pick us up (my mom, older sister, younger brother, and I) for Sunday School. Over the course of a few months, they would come almost every Sunday to take us to church. That is where I learned my first scripture. My sister had a memory verse which she repeated over and over so many times that I learned it by heart. It was Revelation 3:20, "Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come into him, and will sup with him, and he with me."
While living there, at the ages of 5 and 6, I was also being molested on a regular basis by an elderly neighbor man who was trusted by most in our neighborhood. This was a man trusted so much that the neighborhood parents would allow him to take us kids on frequent trips to the local city dump to retrieve other people's rejects and bring them to his house to turn into treasures..... wagons, bicycles, toys, gocarts, you name it! One evening after thunderstorms knocked out our electricity, my dad handed me a paper sack and told me I should go next door and ask him for a bag of electricity. I refused, so he told my sister to go - and she did! She returned with an empty sack because he was playing poker with some other men and she did not want to disturb their game.
The secrecy I lived with was enormous. Although he was married, his sweet wife lived in the house, while he took up residence in a sort of "lean-to" or shack off the back of the main house. I would go to this man's house because he showed me attention, which I starved for - and perhaps also, what went on there was not as bad as what I had already experienced. I always left his house with a treasure of some sort (loose change, candy, or a trinket) .....and I always left with a load of guilt!
At one point after some of his grandchildren accused him of sexual abuse, my mom asked my sister and I if he'd touched us..... I denied it, because I was afraid and ashamed. I didn't want my mom to be disappointed in me, yet deep inside, I truly wanted to just tell somebody. And I had tried to do just that once when I was about 5 years old. I was at a relative's home - a person I felt truly loved me . And while she held me as a mother would a daughter whom she loved, I cried as I struggled to get the words out..... but they were a jumbled mess and she did not understand. To be free of the tremendous pain and guilt would have been wonderful.
I often found ways to escape my pain. Sometimes, I escaped in my dreams. I often dreamed that I could fly. I would dream that I could run so fast that I would just begin to fly away. Often, what would begin as a good dream turned bad because in it, I would start floating away without notice and I would try to hide the fact that I could "fly" like it was a shameful thing I had done. These dreams usually turned into nightmares because of the feeling of being out of control. I vividly remember at about the age of 3 being in a bedroom and floating out of my bed through different rooms in the house..... I saw my mom and my aunt sitting at the dining room table playing cards - I do not remember seeing my dad or my uncle. My mom and my aunt did not see me, but I saw them. I floated past them, out the front door and into the yard, over the trees and into the night sky. Whether GOD actually allowed me to escape some painful event, or if it was only a dream - I am not sure. Sometimes, I escaped by pretending to be another person - Kelly. When I was Kelly, I could forget what was going on in my life and become someone else. I often imagined that I had an older brother who was my protector. And also in this fantasy family, I had younger sisters that I took care of and a beautiful twin sister - which also meant that I was beautiful and loveable too!
Often, I would escape into a fantasy world where I was a caring mother who loved and cared for all her babies. I always surrounded myself with my babies. Once, I found a baby doll who was apparently thrown away. She was dirty and unclothed. I took her home and cleaned her the best I could, and clothed her. I loved her because she was rejected and I showed her special attention. My mom hated seeing me with that doll because she was dirty. But I loved her - she was my baby! One day, to my horror, I saw my baby in the front yard in the burn pile - put there by my mother. She felt my baby was a health risk because she was too dirty. But my heart went out to her as I saw her in that fire seemingly looking at me as if to ask for help.
I did briefly have a friend or two around age 6. I can remember spending nights at one friend's house. Mostly all I remember about her is wondering if her daddy was like mine. I pretty much was under the impression that every daddy was like mine since just about every man in my life was (my dad, uncles, cousins, and neighbors). I wasn't allowed to spend many nights away from home since nightmares were frequent and not dependent upon where I was. And also, I had frequent high fevers and kidney infections - among other things - since age 2.
Shortly after that, just before my 8th birthday, we moved to the town of Huntington, Texas. We didn't attend church, but that scripture I learned was a seed planted in my heart which was instrumental in my salvation. I can remember as a child, around 10 years old, God talking to me and asking me to serve him. But I kept saying no to him. Daily, over the period of about 3 years, JESUS knocked on my heart's door ......and I continued to turn Him away. He was so kind and patient, and loving.
We didn't have alot of money so we stayed close to home most of the time. For fun, we would all load up and go visit our aunts and uncles. There would always be a houseful of family members... my parents, us kids, aunts, uncles, and cousins. Heavy drinking and smoking marijuana was the norm - they even grew their own (marijuana). When I felt like getting away from everyone, I used to sneak off and go to sleep in the back seat of a car with the sun hitting me in the face.... I loved that! It didn't matter if it was 100 degrees outside, just something about the warmth of the sun shining on my face was a comfort to me and helped me to sleep.
When we visited family, alot of the time the women would leave for town and us kids had to stay with the men. I remember running after the car, begging my mother ....Please, let me go with you! On the occasion we did get to go to town with them, we would be left for long periods of time in hot vehicles.... and we never wore shoes! There would be several of us kids in the back of a car and I hated for anyone to touch my dirty bare feet! Sometimes they took us into the grocery stores, and sometimes we would be left out in the car. All that hot, cold, hot, cold, hot.... left me with heat exhaustion one summer day in 1980. By the time I was 10 years old, I had taken on the role of babysitter to about 6, sometimes more, kids including my little brother and younger cousins.
Our aunts would sometimes get a kick out of loading us kids up in a car after dark and going to Lufkin, a town about 20 minutes away, and robbing the Goodwill Box. We would then, bring the bags of clothes to their house and parcel them out to whoever needed them! We even took regular trips with them "across the river" ...Angelina River, that is. Angelina county was a dry county, and to cross the river meant crossing over into a wet county to purchase alcohol.
Once, when I was about 10 years old, I attended a local church. The Sunday School teacher asked us if there was anyone there who wasn't "saved" .......well, whatever "saved" was, I KNEW I wasn't! So I raised my hand, and she (very sincerely) prayed with me ......yet I had no idea what it meant, nor did I feel one bit different! Later in the main service, she stood and with tears in her eyes, told the whole congregation how that one of her Sunday School students had gotten "saved." I felt flush and sank down a bit in my seat thinking to myself, "Lady ......whatever you do, please don't mention my name!" I was so embarrassed. Yet, the LORD lovingly and continually called to me and I'd tell Him, "No! Just wait till I get out of school, and then I will serve you. I don't want to lose my friends." I didn't know alot, but somehow I knew that giving my life to GOD meant giving up some things.
Up until my early teen years, I don't recall ever knowing that certain holidays were in honor of JESUS CHRIST - the Son of GOD. I did not know that Christmas was supposed to be about JESUS' birth, and I did not know that Easter was supposed to be about HIS ressurrection. Sadly, the only thing I remember being taught about GOD was when my maternal grandmother told me that a certain race of people could not go to Heaven because they were not like us and their blood was not the same color as ours..... in my heart, I knew this could not be true!
One thing my mom taught us when I was about 6 years old that stayed with me was the habit of praying the little child's prayer, "Now I lay me down to sleep....." It was something I did out of habit even though I didn't understand what I was saying. I had very little knowledge of God, yet I knew that He was real because He talked to me, and my heart knew Him.
I was very extremely shy and didn't have friends for the most part for a very long time. I never spoke unless I was spoken to and then still, I didn't speak much to anyone. While in school, I'd walk with my head down so as not to make eye contact with anyone. And at lunch and recess, I sat alone on the sidewalk with my head down or stood against the wall, facing the wall, and blocked out everything and everyone around me until it was time to return to class. In class I excelled, making straight A's for the
most part. I loved the school work, but not the school part. I hated school from day one. I remember my very first day of kindergarten because it was so stressful for me. I cried because I could not take my baby doll with me... I just knew she could not survive that long without me!
When I was in the 6th grade, there was a group of popular girls who began asking me to "hang around" with them. I was so shy that when the group's leader would ask me to walk around with them, I didn't even answer her..... I thought, Surely they aren't talking to me, a nobody. But after a few weeks, I began hanging around with them and became best friends with the most popular member of the group. We did everything together and it was wonderful to finally have a real friend!
She and her family attended church regularly and she would often inform me of my need to be in church..... my response being, "Why should I? ...it doesn't do you any good!" To which, she would leave me alone about the subject for a little while. We were like sisters, and had plenty in common.... she often suffered beatings at the hands of her mother for some over-exaggerated cause while her younger sister was treated like a little angel. I remember crying as I heard her screaming and her mother yelling, as I walked the road home to my own personal "hell" on earth.
She and her family lived less than a half mile from me. If I was at her house when my dad passed by on his way home from work, he would be furious ......shaking his fist at me and yelling out , "Get home right now!" I spent as much time as possible at my friend's home. But it wasn't to last .....she had grown up all her life in Huntington, and during 7th grade, she and her family moved to Alaska!
I received very harsh discipline when I did not please my dad. Most of the "discipline" I received took place in the hallway with either his hand or a belt..... lashes, upon lashes, upon lashes. I never understood the reason for the lashing - I am sure there were plenty of legitimate reasons for discipline, as I was very strong-willed. I do remember being often rebuked for "back-talking." What is "back-talking" anyways? I just thought I was pleading my case! Mostly, I was just inquiring what I had done wrong. Many times, I was too strong-willed and hard-headed for my own good! Most people who knew us thought I was so sweet and quiet... never talked, or even looked their way. When company came over or we visited somewhere, I hid behind my mother and kept my head down. But our homelife - as they did not see - was a very different story. Something inside me wanted to scream! I was very quiet most of the time until the anger inside would build up like a huge volcano, and when it errupted.... I paid the price. I could not keep my mouth shut and just take it..... I wanted justice! Or at least... Please, tell me what I did so I won't do it any more. Why do you hate me?!
After my sister was born, my mother was not supposed to have any more children. One day, she happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. She was visiting her mother's house, sitting on the couch next to her brother who was cleaning his gun. When the phone rang, my uncle jumped up to answer the phone and the trigger caught on the couch cover. The gun went off and my mother was shot straight through the pelvis, the bullet lodging into her hip bone on the opposite side. She was told by the doctors not to have any more children. But my dad insisted on trying again because he wanted a son. Then when I turned out a girl, he was resentful. The night I was born, he spent drunk. I was a girl instead of a boy and therefore I was resented and my dad took his anger out on me anytime things did not go according to his liking.
My mom prayed for a strong-willed child after my older sister was born. My sister would just sit and take what others did to her and not fight back. So then I came along, as strong-willed as can be! And that got me into more trouble than I care to mention. Well, my mom got what she asked for! But when I acted the part, she would say..... I hope you grow up and have one ten times worse! (And, that's another story all together!) So when the discipline was handed out, mother would always tell me to just keep my mouth shut and take my punishment. My dad would always be ranting about something I had done wrong, but it went in one ear and out the other because somewhere around the 20th lash, I went into survival mode until it was over! It seemed the lashing would never end! Some would call what I got beating.... to me, it was just a normal part of life (for me, not my sister or brother).
I appeared as the "unloved" child in the family, as my sister received plenty of attention, and our brother received almost NO attention at all. But those were only the outward appearances, meant to put wedges between us children - I don't know what private torment my sister must have gone through. Publicly, and in front of company my sister was showered attention and hugs - she was so pretty and talented and had the gift of making people laugh. I admired her! I wanted so much to be like her, if only to win the attention of my dad! I always had the memory of a certain incident which involved my dad and both my sister and I, and was often plagued by flashbacks of this incident. This served to feed the conflict going on in my mind.... How could it be true about these pictures that invade my mind when she (my sister) and dad clearly love each other and get along so well? So, I constantly pushed the pictures out of my mind and went on living my double-life as a normal person. I knew something was going on, but I lived in daily denial as a way to cope. I wanted so desperately to feel loved, yet I pushed away the One who wanted to shower His love on me.
Finally, at the age of 13 in an Assembly of God church in our town (the same one where I had attended that time when I was 10), I felt the love of God so strong that I could no longer say NO to him! On January 12, 1986 I was saved and filled with the Holy Spirit! I'd never felt so loved before! God instantly removed all the hatred I had in my heart toward my dad, and gave me a burden for his salvation that I still carry to this day.
Some things God does instantly, but other things for some reason take longer, or come by process .....such as emotional healing. Growing up, my life was filled with fears of all kinds. Loud noises and dark rooms made me afraid. I could not be anywhere near a television or radio speaker because the loudness terrified me. If I was in class at school where a film was being shown I would lay my head on my desk, cover my ears, and shut my eyes until the movie was over - I was very sensitive to noises. Drive-in movies had the same effect on me - the speakers just terified me!
I believe that children have more discernment than most adults! I can remember being called into the living room by my parents to watch certain television programs.... I always dreaded that! But my worst fear was the fear of bathrooms which began around age three. Bathrooms were so terrifying to me that if I awoke in the middle of the night needing to go to the bathroom, it would throw me into a horrible nightmare where I'd shoot straight up out of the bed and run through the house screaming for fear of someone getting me. Sometimes, I would bolt out of my bed and run around my dark bedroom frantically looking for the door and could not find it. I remember the feeling of being trapped and the sheer terror I felt as I traced the walls with my hands in search of the door! During some of these episodes I took refuge under my bed.... I don't remember how I got out. Most of the time, I would come to sitting on the commode with my mom holding a wet rag on my forehead. I would black out sometime between the frantic running and my mom catching hold of me. She eventually figured out that I should use the restroom before I went to bed so as not to wake up during the night. I avoided the bathroom as much and as long as possible.
(A picture goes here)
This picture was taken in a house we lived in belonging to my paternal grandmother. It had no plumbing. For a bathroom we had a bucket in a closet where the only privacy was provided by a red curtain draped over the doorway. We had an outhouse and a water well out behind the house and baths were taken in a metal washtub on the back porch. We had an old wringer washer outside on the porch where we washed our clothes. (I once threw an innocent kitty into the tub of the washer.... it survived just fine!) We did, however, have electricity.
My fondest memories of this time of my life include sneaking out into the garden and picking tomatoes off the vines and hiding in the garden while I ate the whole thing! I loved playing with the geese, chickens, and ducks. I remember my sister climbing atop the kitchen counters and fixing us catsup and sugar sandwiches..... Yum, yum!! I can remember us being made to sit for hours into the night at the supper table because we would not eat our food, yet we ate these? When we lived in Central, our landlord's teenage daughter would put on puppet shows and play cartoon films outside or in a livestock barn and all the neighborhood kids would be invited to attend for a small fee. I can remember my sister and I sitting at the kitchen table longing to be out there with the rest of the kids, but we hadn't eaten our supper, so we were not allowed to leave the table. I had a repulsion for foods with a certain consistency and would become nautious at the thought of eating things like mashed potatoes, macaroni, pudding, jello, oatmeal, and marshmallows to name a few.
By age 9, the nightmares had slowly diminished, yet the fears stayed with me. Any time I went into a bathroom, I had to check the shower stall, the linen closets, and even the medicine cabinets ......several times ......to make sure there wasn't someone hiding in them, but still I was afraid and felt I was being watched, or someone was in there. Taking baths and showers was a fearful task..... I was always checking to make sure someone hadn't stepped into the room while my eyes were closed and was constantly afraid that someone would attack me from behind. I could just feel someone behind me, ready to get me! Fear was a constant part of my life -- a physical feeling of vulnerability I felt in the middle of my back. I became paranoid to the point that anytime I was alone - especially in a bathroom - I thought people were watching me, whispering and taunting me..... and I had no privacy. I do remember as a small child (about 2 years old) while I was still potty-training, needing to go to the potty. I ran down the hall in our mobile home in Tyler, Texas to the bathroom, and just as I sat down, my dad jumped out from the linen closet and scared me ......I had an accident on the floor. It seemed that he took great pleasure in my distress. Once, the lights had gone out when I was in the bathroom and I became frantic and started screaming.... I could hear him laughing and taunting me. I just knew he had caused those lights to go out!
My fear of bathrooms was also fed by other incidents such as when an older cousin - about 10 years my senior - locked my sister and I into a dark bathroom on more than one occasion and chased water bugs under the door to crawl on us. And at about the age of 4 I remember being taken to an old empty house, where was discovered a man's corpse in the bathtub. Why they would bring us children in to see such a hiddeous sight, I do not know. Couple that with the fear tactics I had already experienced..... no picnic! Our family was just lovely!
Often in order to get sleep, I had to fight fear. I hated sleeping on my side because it left my back exposed. I was always afraid of someone attacking me from behind. Either my sister and I would sleep back-to-back, or I surrounded myself with covers and pillows to protect my back. Often I slept in fetal postion, huddled way beneath the covers.
I had frequent flashbacks throughout a lot of my childhood. I lived a double-life. Most of the time, I was Kim Crain ......a normal girl with a normal family, and no conscious knowledge of the abuse. But in the evening or whenever an abusive situation occurred, I'd endure it/space out, until it was over and then block it out, mostly ......except for when the pictures of the abuse popped into my mind and I would tell myself, "NO, that's not true! That's not happening to me!" Looking back, it was like I had different levels of consciousness.... Kim #3 was the surface Kim. That is where I lived most of the time. She was sad and depressed but lived a mostly normal life. Kim #1 knew about both Kim #2 and Kim #3.... when I was there, I knew.... this was the core identity of me. And Kim # 2 only knew abuse.... she ceased to exist after the incident of abuse was over only to reappear again when my dad or someone else made advances toward me. After surrendering my life to the Lord JESUS, I can truly understand the meaning of the word wholeness...... for I have been made WHOLE in JESUS' name!!!
Especially disturbing to me were the flashbacks of my dad, laying on my parents' bed exposed, teaching my sister and I oral sex. He made it seem like a game as he instructed what we should do to him. I was 3 years old and my sister was 6 ......our little brother was just born. I always felt dirty and was a compulsive hand-washer. I washed my hands so much that my hands became dry and my skin would crack and bleed. As a result of some of the abuse I suffered chronic bowel problems, and so I have memories of my mother holding me down to administer soap enemas. I can remember screaming in protest and the feeling of shame, humiliation, and violation..... Why is mommy doing this to me?!
My mom, sister, brother and I started attending church when I was about 13 years old. I could feel the love of GOD coming from the people there. I was saved at the age of 13 1/2. My sister also received salvation at the same time. What drew me and broke my heart toward GOD that day was that I saw our mom at the altar weeping before GOD - my heart was broken when I saw that, and I began to open my heart to the LORD and His love flooded over my soul. My little brother received salvation about one week later. The first thing we did when we arrived home was to tell dad what GOD had done for us that night! He seemed alright with it.... but there was some opposition on his part to us spending too much time at church. My brother and sister soon strayed away from GOD, and my mom's church attendance became sporradic after several months. If I was to receive punishment for anything, I would be forbidden to attend church services. Some years later, I found out that the reason my mom's church attendance waivered was because my dad put up an ultimatum to her..... "Either you stay home, or she stays home."
After my chores were done, most of my spare time was spent in the sanctuary of my bedroom. There, I prayed. There, I read GOD's Holy Word. There, I played my gospel music so that I could not hear what was going on elsewhere in the house. This was something I received criticism over from both parents.... "Why can't you come out and be a part of the family? Are you too good for us?" "Why do you stay locked up in your bedroom all day?" But I was safe when I was in my room spending time with GOD - safe from abuse and safe from the evil that filled our home. There, I received strength to stand against the mental and spiritual battles I would face in the world.
The abuse stopped after I gave my life to Christ, except for quite a few mostly futile attempts by my dad. There was some abuse still, but there were periods of weeks where there were no incidents of abuse, just a sort of mental stalking and staring. At one point, after the abuse had seemingly stopped for a period of time, I gave in to the urge to do as I had before and I walked up to my dad in hopes of receiving a hug and as before, he grabbed me and held on to me to do as he had before. I was repulsed by his words! He would not let me go, all the while saying how much he loved me and wished he could hold me in his arms forever (he was speaking to me as a man would speak to his wife) ....but the LORD made a way of escape. When I was 14 years old, I confided in an older friend in my church about the abuse.
My friend, Cathy and her husband Arthur were in their 20's and they had a sweet daughter who was a toddler at the time. Their daughter Ginger was like a little sister to me. Once Cathy and her daughter had come to our home for a visit. We had been outside doing yard work and my dad had invited Ginger to sit with him on the riding lawnmower while he mowed..... this made me cringe inside! I guess my friend felt something wasn't right because Ginger didn't ride for long and they soon left. Maybe she discerned the look of concern on my face. Looking back, I believe Cathy was checking things out, trying to see if her suspicions were correct.
It was extremely difficult to gather the courage to tell Cathy about the abuse..... there had been a mental battle going on inside me and I was in denial for a long time. I had spent alot of time in their home and they treated me as part of the family. I'd walk over a mile to their house because it was safe. Sometimes...... alot of times, when things were especially difficult at home, I would determine I would walk to my friend's house and tell her what was happening .....often walking to their house late in the night and then, losing courage before I knocked on their door. Sometimes I would stand at the edge of their yard late in the night and watch - wishing I could go inside, yet had not the strength to do so. Usually it was too late, and the lights in their home were out . So crying, I'd turn around and walk back home. There were several times when I fled to their home and without actually saying it, almost begged them to let me stay. My parents didn't know where I was or that I was even gone. Usually, it was during school hours.... and instead of stopping at the bus stop to be picked up by the bus, I would continue walking all the way to Cathy's house. I knew she wanted to let me stay but she had to take me home, or make me go to school. Only a few times did she allow me to stay because I was pretty much "out of it" ....I had come to see their home as a sort of refuge.
Most of the time, when I went there, I would go to sleep on their living room couch out of mental exhaustion more than physical. Cathy and her husband knew something was up with me..... I was extremely underweight (5' 4" and about 90 pounds), almost never ate, and in the beginning I would mainly come over to their house and fall asleep. Sometimes they would pose questions pertaining to bruises and such..... I had no idea where those bruises were from, unless by the force of my dad's actions upon me. But usually when they would point out a bruise, it was as much a surprise to me as it was to them. I remember one particular time when Cathy asked me about some bruising on my leg and how it got there.... I just sat there blankly, because I honestly didn't "know." They often would request me to spend the night at their home after church services..... which I was very thankful for. During this time of my life, I had developed heart palpitations and stomach problems. I was taken to the doctor and was hooked up to machines but they found nothing - of course. But I was as I recall, diagnosed with ulcers and a hiatal hernia.
The night I told my secret, I had been invited to spend the night at their home. Cathy and I (she had become like a mother and big sister all in one person) were at the dining room table playing cards as we often did. My insides were churning and I was in deep thought. She made a statement, "You sure are quiet, Kimberly." I forced a smile but could not form a reply. A little farther into our game, she asked me, "Is there something bothering you? ......what's wrong, Kimberly?" Oh, how my heart ached as sharp pains rushed through me at the sound of her questions - my face became flush and I became very nautious! I only replied, "I'm not feeling well, I think I need to go to bed." And with that I quickly left the table and went to bed. As she passed by my bed she said, "Good night..... see you in the morning." I replied, "Goodnight." "I really wish you would talk to me," Cathy said. My desperate words came like an involuntary reaction.... "I wish I could," ....the tears trying to escape the corners of my eyes. With that, she rushed over to my side.... "But you can tell me, Kim.... is there something going on at home?" "I can't tell.... " was my reply. "Is someone hurting you? You can tell me... " My weak reply was the same, "I can't tell, I can't tell, I can't.... " My body began to shake and my breathing quickened as I fought against the pictures flashing in my mind. "Kim, is there someone hurting you?" she asked. I was losing strength to fight and all I could do was whisper, " ....yes." "Who? Is it... " She began naming several people, and I answered to the affirmative when she mentioned my dad.... a weak, " Yes."
After I confided to her about the abuse, the next thing I knew I was taken (during school) by CPS and put into a foster home, which at my request, was Cathy and Arthur's home because I wanted to be able to still attend church and quite honestly, I was afraid to go into the home of a stranger and risk another home-like situation. They had me in a room for what seemed like hours, writing out pages and pages describing what went on at home.
I was also required to attend weekly counseling so they could tell me how much I hated my dad (and try to convince me that deep down, I really hated my mom .....I just didn't realize it yet.) I just kept telling them that I gave my heart to JESUS and He took all the hatred away that I had toward my dad, but I never hated my mom. She made plenty of mistakes, and there were times when I needed to feel safe and comforted and didn't get that from her .....but somehow, I knew she loved us kids.
My mom said I was a quiet baby, and seldom cried. So, she would leave me to myself and rarely held me. Perhaps this is why as a child, I always yearned and actually ached to be held and hugged in a loving way. I absolutely craved hugs... a safe hug does more than one can imagine for a love-starved child! There was always a hunger for physical touch in a nurturing way, and yet a certain timidity and fear (and guilt because I thought touch was bad) when someone actually showed their love in a physical way. "Love" was not a word I fully understood because it was associated with bad things for me. Certainly, closeness was never enjoyable. And though I craved closeness, I also avoided it.
I always seemed to get closeness from all the wrong sources. The word "Father" goes with words like "love" and "security." I think it is a desire that was built in by our Creator to want to be close to one's father. That is a wonderful thing, but in a sinful and perverted world it can be exploited, and as a result many find pain in their search of this closeness.
My mom had grown up with physical abuse at the hands of her mother and oldest sister, and she did the best with what she knew. She made it a point to tell us every day that she loved us. But often, when she was upset at us kids for some misbehavior, she would yell hurtful words.... "I hate you! I wish you were never born!" I knew she didn't mean to say those words, because she would always run to her bedroom, shut the door, and weep uncontrollably. The guilt would finally get the best of me and I would always go in an appologize for my wrongs and she too would appologize, and things between us were smoothed over. I believe she really tried, in her own way, to do right by us although she hadn't been shown love by her own mother as a child.
While in foster care, and by way of notes from my dad delivered to me by my sister at school, I learned that he wanted me to come back home and for us to be a family again (like we ever were a family). In the notes he said he was going to church and that he loved me and wanted me to come home so we could go to church as a family. So, I talked it over with one of the counselors at MHMR (who was a Christian) and I decided to drop the claims against my dad. I was able to go back home, but my dad never went to church after that. I never saw my dad set foot into a church service.
Things were quite different when I came back home. My mom turned on Cathy and my family took great joy in starting and repeating terrible rumors about Cathy. I was forbidden from going to her home and my attending church was even more greatly resented. My dad didn't have much opportunity to try anything with me, but his cold stares were enough. I tried running away from home on a few occaisions. I would just set out walking -- I didn't care where I went, just as long as I could get away from everything. The only thing that kept me from going through with it was the fact that Cathy would most likely have been blamed and that would have been too much to bear.
Within a few months, my dad left us and my parents divorced. I was glad and relieved to have him out of the house. But my little brother was only 11 years old and he never had a real father/son relationship with our dad (he was verbally and emotionally abusive towards my brother and neglected him for the most part) ...... yet, the thing I remember most is the pain my brother went through wanting his dad. I could hear sobbing coming from his room on several occaisions. I would often go in and try to comfort him. I felt bad for him, and I hoped he did not know the details of what happened between my dad and I. Silence was still a huge part of our lives.
My brother would get on his bicycle and ride across town looking for our dad. But he didn't give my brother the time of day except to come over occaisionally to show off his new clothes and new boots that he could afford since he wasn't supporting a family anymore. Meanwhile, my mom struggled to buy school supplies and clothing for him.
My sister had been taught to drive and actually had her own vehicle for a short time. Our dad gave her a car for her 16th birthday, only to take it away when he left us a few months later. She worked part time at our uncle's small convenience store for a good while. This was a relief to the family finances. She would either drive herself, or rode with her soon-to-be husband to and from work. They were married in September of 1988.
My mom ended up going back to school to get her GED, and then received training to become a nurse's aid. At this time, we mainly lived off of AFDC and food stamps. Soon, she took a job working at a nursing home to support us, and I earned money by babysitting and a couple of other odd jobs. When I was 15, I would get a ride with someone or walk to a local plant where fishing lures were assembled by hand. I would take home boxes of supplies to make fishing lures and made an average of 7 cents for each finished item. I gave to my church, bought for my own needs if there were any, and gave the rest to my mom. We had a little money ......enough to put food on the table, but we couldn't afford to buy food for our cats, dogs, chickens, rabbits, birds..... we tried to give them away but no one wanted them and sadly, most of them died of starvation.
We didn't have a legal vehicle. We had a blue station wagon that my brother and some of his older friends worked on and got it running. My mom never drove and I was never really taught. I had to drop out of Driver's Ed because of lack of money. My brother was driving by the age of about 13. He was taught by his older friends how to do mechanic work and how to drive. The police in our little town would see us in our illegal car and with our underaged driver and wave at us! They knew our situation and we were never pulled over by them.
Although my parents were divorced, my dad would always somehow sweet-talk his way back into the home, and he would spend a few weeks at a time in the home with us and leave, and back and forth. It may sound terrible that my mom would allow him to come and go like that, but I don't know what her state of emotions were at that time and I never hated her for it. Deep down I had hopes that my dad would appologize to all of us and give his heart to JESUS and we'd be a real family.
Yes, I did wonder how she could stand to see him - let alone allow him to touch her, knowing what he did. I still felt a little guilty for my mom's unhappiness. I knew I didn't choose to be an object of my dad's perverted intentions, yet I couldn't help feeling I had somehow stolen something from her. I wanted her to be happy, and that was one major reason for my years of silence. Most of the time I lived in a state of denial, and though I always felt sadness I lived a normal life as much as possible. But during certain times when I was faced with knowing what was going on, I truly wished I could tell ......but I also knew my mom would be hurt and I did not want to take what little happiness she had, for I knew she loved my dad and her happiness depended greatly upon pleasing him.
When I first told my secret my mom refused to acknowledge the truth and accused me of lying. She knew I was telling the truth. Years later, she confided in me that she almost left my dad after my brother was born and she caught him with my sister. She packed us kids up and was about to leave him, but he pleaded with her and said it would never happen again. And she believed him. She kept that incident to herself all those years.
My mom said she always wondered why I seemed to hate my dad. I wanted to love him. I wanted him to love me....... but neither of us knew what love was supposed to be. My dad and his siblings also had grown up neglected, physically and sexually abused, and pushed from foster home to foster home to children's homes.
My relationship with my dad was love/hate. On a daily basis, I would walk up to my dad (as he stared at the TV), reach out for a hug and say, "I love you, daddy." His response was always either..... shrugged shoulders and "I love me too" (not even eye contact) or, instead of a hug, he'd grab me and do as he pleased. So there's where the guilt came in.
My dad made it known that the ironing board had to stay in their bedroom. I wondered if maybe I deserved what I got, since I did go into my parents' bedroom to iron my clothes. I walked into their bedroom like a robot, trying to look and act normal.... knowing what would probably happen. There were times he would hold his arms out to me in a gesture to give me a hug, and I fell for it every time..... It must've been my fault! And even after the secret was out, my dad's response was that "she liked it." In actuality, my heart was more crushed with each incident. Once, at about age 10, I went into their bedroom to put clothes away and I slipped a hate note into his sock drawer! When he found it he took it to my mom and showed it to her, and I was the "bad guy."
Besides the incidents that occurred in the bathroom and in the bedrooms, the abuses could occur anywhere.... any place we were alone for more than a few minutes (the living room, kitchen, or hallway). If I walked past him too closely, he would grab me.... almost no place was a safe place. I was always nervous and afraid that my mom would walk in at any moment... what would that do to her?! I was always very tense around him. Sometimes I'd go to bed crying, and would've cried myself to sleep, except my sister (as if she knew without me telling her) would make me laugh by tickling me or making up silly games and songs. On some occasions I recall her saying, "Don't pay any attention to him!" She'd say, "I love to hear you laugh!" She'd make me laugh, until our dad would get on to us for playing when we should've been sleeping. Before I came to know the LORD, there were countless times when I absolutely wanted to die... but I knew my sister would miss me if no one else did.
My sister had nightmares too, and oddly enough when we were quite small, alot of the time we'd both have nightmares on the same night. Sometimes we would both be standing in the dark outside our parents' bedroom door, crying for momma. I can vividly remember the intense fear I felt. Part of me knew it was my father I was afraid of, yet that part of me was "numbed" as I stood outside my parents' bedroom door crying for momma. She wasn't allowed to come to us to comfort us on those nights. Rarely, if dad was good and asleep, she'd sneak us in, turn over on her side toward the edge of the bed, and put us in the bed beside her with covers over us or she would let us lie down on the floor next to her side of the bed until we calmed down. She usually would make sure we were back in our beds before dad woke up, but if we fell asleep there and dad found out, we'd get woke up by a hard pinch and was made to go back to our room. This was no ordinary "pinch." This was a -grab a hunk of flesh, squeeze, and twist- kind of pinch that lasted from the bed to the door!
By the age of 16, life for me was mainly focussed on surviving emotionally. I wasn't doing well in school .....I only attended school about once a week. My grades went from all A's to failing. I skipped school on a regular basis and once my mom caught me, she beat me with a plastic coat hanger until it broke and then ran to her bedroom and wept.... one of the very few times I remember my mom actually physically disciplining me. After I became an adult, she confided to me that she didn't physically discipline us kids much for fear that she would go overboard out of anger - as she had experienced as a child. She had gone overboard a few times when I was a toddler and decided it was best to curb physical discipline. (As I stated before, I was a very strong-willed child to say the least..... quiet, but strong-willed.) I knew it was wrong to skip school and deserved what I received.... my mom only wanted more for me than she had received education-wise.
When I did go to school I was usually late. The kids in school would laugh at me and ask me .... "Hey Kim, how's your dad?" "Where've you been .....with your dad?" "....NO!" So I quit school in the 11th grade. I later found out that my mom's oldest sister bragged about paying my cousin (who was like my sister/best friend) to go to school and spread rumors about my dad and I. My aunts were angry at me because I didn't cut off my friendship with a good friend (who was also sexually abused). My friend had gone to school one day with intentions of killing herself. She went around asking kids for some of their prescription drugs, until she had enough to overdose on. My cousin gave her some of her asthma pills and my friend took them along with some other pills. Her family was called to the school to get emergency care for her - which she did not receive. They just took her home and let her sleep. She had gone unconscious and could have died.
Later over the phone (in a calm manner) I told my cousin that she should never give her medicines to another person to take. That was all it took ....they all turned against me, told me that I better not be friends with "that girl" anymore, and the rumors were started. They thought it funny and relished the opportunity to make snide remarks about my dad and I in front of my little brother - something I wanted to protect him from hearing. They made a special visit to our home when they found out my friend was spending the night at our home so that they could try to intimidate us into sending her out. During that visit some of them made their way to my bedroom to try out a rock and roll cassette tape they had brought. This they knew, that no one was allowed to play anything but purely Gospel music on my radio and cassette player. I had "JESUS" written across my speaker! GOD showed His power to them in a humorous way.... soon after the tape began playing, my cassette player began chewing up their tape! I began getting threats from members of my family, but GOD protected me .....to the point that one of my older cousins, after having threatened me physically, called me on the phone a few days later to appologize because she could not sleep for three nights! This was the same cousin that had locked my sister and I into the bathroom when we were younger, and from whom I received many a beating when we used to spend the night with her. She was a brawler and had dabbled into things of the occult.
When I was 17 years old, my dad was out of the home for good. My mom had a restraining order against him for his stalking behaviors. She didn't want him around anymore, especially after she had re-married him...... and then found out that he was also married to another woman. He went to jail for bigamy.
I finally learned to drive at age 17..... one evening, I just got into the car, prayed, backed the car out, and drove like I had known all along -- taught by my Father, GOD! One day, while my mom was at work, my dad came over and sat in his car in front of our house. Although he was not allowed to set a foot on our property because of the restraining order, there was nothing stopping him from driving up and sitting in front of the house in his vehicle...... we lived on a narrow, dead-end, dirt road. This day, he was very drunk. I don't remember alot of what he said, but as he was about to leave I asked him to hand me the keys to his car - and he did! I did not want him to drive being so intoxicated and get into an accident, and die and go to Hell. He let me into the driver's seat and I drove him down winding back roads hopefully giving him time to sober.
During this time, my dad began crying and mumbling words too jumbled to understand. But after awhile, I heard him say, "Kim, look at me!" I didn't want to look at him. "....look in my eyes, Kim." And when I did, he made a confession the best way he knew how.... "I know I haven't been a good daddy to you kids. I did some bad things to you and your sister, and I am sorry!" I broke in, "Dad! I forgive you.... and GOD will forgive you too ...if you'll just ask him!" He said, "I know.... but I can't forgive myself. But maybe, someday..... " "Don't wait too long, Dad - I want to see you in Heaven!" He replied again, " ...maybe someday, I will."
After my dad was out of the home, I had been seeing counselors mostly at the request of my mother. Each time I went I became more depressed and oppressed because the focus was on myself and what had been done to me. I hated being looked upon as a poor victim but it is easy to fall into self pity. The attention, whether positive or negative, appeases the flesh. Talking to a friend in and of itself is not wrong and can be a great tool in the process of healing - as long as the motive is right. Sometimes no matter how "spiritual" we think we are, what we really need is the hug of a friend and a safe place to cry. I once heard a well-known christian woman speak about what the LORD told her in a time of great trial.... It is alright to cry, as long as you cry to GOD! I LOVE that! Counseling in and of itself is not wrong..... just that the focus needs to be in the right place - on CHRIST. CHRIST offers a better way..... He is the way, the truth, and the life! (John 14:6) Isaiah 9:6 says, "For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace." Wow, what a promise! One night while crying to out GOD in the altar at my church, I heard Him speak to me.... "Don't you trust me? Just give it to me, and I will take care of it!" That settled it in my heart. I told my mom I would not be going to counseling any more except to go one last time to tell them what GOD had told me. And so, I did!
After that life was somewhat normal. I stayed in church, served GOD, and began praying for a husband. I never really dated anyone up till I was 19 years old. I didn't have a legal car (or a driver's license for that matter). The only place I ever went was church. People would ask me, "When are you gonna start dating?" "When are you gonna get married?" But I was determined not to date a non-Christian .....and they had to be "husband-material" before I would even consider dating them. Up to that point, I hadn't met anyone meeting those standards.
While talking on the phone with an older lady in my church one day, she gave me some advice ...."Pray specifically when you ask GOD for a husband, then leave it in his hands, and go on serving the LORD. Don't worry about what people say or think about you not being married or dating someone." So that's what I did. I asked GOD for a husband who loved Him(GOD) first, me second, loved kids (and wanted plenty of them) .....and since I never went anywhere, He'd have to bring him right to my door!
Less than a year later, I met Kevin at a church I was visiting (and he was only visiting) a couple of towns away .....WOW! Upon entering the small church, my friend who drove me there said, "Kim, there's a good looking guy.... you should go introduce yourself!" I replied, "No way, that's not what I came here for!" It so happened that I sat almost directly across the aisle from him. I kept my focus on the LORD, but I did notice that he was not ashamed to worship GOD and I could see his sincerity. After the service we had fellowship and refreshments. Kevin was sitting directly across the room from me ......next to Fonda, a girl from my church. I thought... Oh, well I guess she found herself a nice guy. But I noticed that he didn't seem much interested in what she had to say as she went on and on about her "plans" for her life and carreer. I noticed that he was great with the kids, and soon there were several children sitting around him and playing with him like he was one of them. He would glance across the room at me and catch me watching attentively, and I just smiled and blushed.
After having talked with him very briefly after the service I told him where I attended church. On the way home my friend said to me, "I saw you talking to that guy." Jokingly, I replied, "Yeah, maybe GOD will have him contact me and then he will show up on my doorstep!" A few months later he contacted me through my pastor's wife, and I just knew he was the one GOD had for me. Our first "date" was a watch-night service at my church on New Year's Eve, 1991. He proposed to me on my 20th birthday ....."Will you be the mother of my Carrie Michelle?" "YES!" He'd wanted a little girl for a long time since he saw a man in a restaurant with his little girl. And as the man turned to give his little daughter an ice cream cone, she hugged him and said, "I love you, daddy!" How ironic ......and so much like my Heavenly Father! He had her name picked out before she was born and before he found me, his wife.
Kevin and I were married Saturday, October 3, 1992. Carrie Michelle was born October 10, 1993. Then came Christen Marie (March 18, 1995), Mark Evin - named after daddy .....you'll find "Kevin" hidden in his name (December 22, 1996), Clarissa Miranda (July 8, 1999), and Matthew Jordan (June 18, 2002) ......5 blessings of GOD in 8 years!
We have both had some faults, and failures too, but our journey together with GOD has been a wonderful blessing! I thank GOD for my husband. He has been good "medicine" for me. Kevin is genuine no matter who he is with. He is quick-witted and has a great sense of humor. I am a person who shuns the limelight, and at times the attention is more than I am comfortable with. We can be in church or in a public place and he is just as much at ease being himself as he is at home, and enjoying it all the way! I could take some lessons from him. His genuine, unconditional love has been a great comfort to me. He tells me I am beautiful, and I believe he means it.... and that is all that matters.
Kevin was with me through the births of all five of our children ....one hospital birth and four homebirths - two of those delivered by him! (Although if you ask him, he would say, "She delivered - I caught!") It is amazing to me how GOD has given me so much and brought me such joy in giving us our precious family. Oh, our children are just like any other children - no angels..... but about as close to it as any child could be! GOD has granted me my life-long desire to be a mommy.... to have someone to love and give them what children are meant to have and what I didn't have. I take this seriously and count it a privilege!
Now, to take it back a little, the memories of abuse had their effects on my married life. I've come a long way with GOD's help and strength. I face obstacles almost daily, but GOD is good and gracious and kind. To put it plainly, I couldn't even kiss my husband without shuddering in fear and couldn't really understand why. Over time GOD has revealed to me it was in connection to the memories of oral sex ......I was dirty .....I might contaminate him ......the thought of it sickened me!
GOD has done a lot of healing in my life and as more things (in His time) come to the light, He is always with me to see me through each stage of healing. While talking to a friend recently about how my dad and "uncle" (friend of the family) used to give us cans of beer to drink when I was 5, 6, and 7 years old ......and about their adoptive teenage son's loud rock music ....... a wave of panic and emotions came over me like a flood and I began remembering bits of things I didn't remember before. The LORD only allowed me a glimpse, and as soon as I remembered, it left me. These things happen from time to time, yet the Holy Spirit is always there for strength and comfort.
On December 4, 2001, while I was carrying Matthew, I went to visit a good friend in West Virginia. That evening during normal conversation with my friend Rita, telling her a humorous story that happened when I was a little girl living in Tyler, Texas, I began to feel afraid .....like I was a little girl again. I felt like I went into a time warp and couldn't even finish my sentence. It only lasted a few minutes and I told Rita, "I hate it when that happens!" "What?" she asked. "......lose my train of thought," I said. Jokingly, she replied, "You're standing on it (your train of thought)."
I still felt out of sorts for the rest of the evening, and when we were all about to say our good-nights, I felt the overwhelming need to be hugged. So I asked Rita for a hug (I felt silly). She did, and I felt safe. And in that safety I was able to face the memories of my past. I began to cry and tremble. The emotions were so overwhelming. I had never been able to face them before. As Rita was hugging me still, she began to pray in the Holy Spirit. After a while I began to pray in the Spirit also. During this time, GOD took me from one point to another in my childhood. I didn't see many pictures, although I felt the feelings and intense emotions of them (maybe I wasn't ready). It was like GOD was showing me, letting me revisit the dark rooms of my past where the abuse took place. What I did see was comforting to me .....while revisiting one of these rooms, I saw light in the corner ......and in that light was JESUS! He was there! How could that be? .....that while I was a child being sexually and physically abused, JESUS was there, and He knew? He saw, and it grieved Him! This may sound strange, but I know that we are all born into a world of sin. And wicked men and women do terrible things. But GOD knew my address! And He preserved me until the day of my salvation ......and for that I am so thankful!
As a child, I had very poor self esteem and often punished myself when I felt I was being bad by punching myself and pulling my own hair. By the young age of 10, I had already acquired plenty of sinful habits. Any sinful habit one could think of that goes along with sexual abuse, I had probably experienced - and then some.... some too terrible to mention except in confession to GOD. I have been a chief of sinners! How a holy GOD could love a dirty little girl such as I was - to me - is beyond AMAZING! So amazing is his love that he sent his only Son, JESUS, to die in my stead! Romans 5: 6-8 says, "For when we were yet without strength, in due time Christ died for the ungodly. For scarcely for a righteous man will one die: yet peradventure for a good man some would even dare to die. But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." And not only did JESUS CHRIST die in my stead, He now has bestowed upon me the free gift of salvation and has cleansed me from my sinful nature! This passage goes on to say, "Much more then, being now justified by his blood, we shall be saved from wrath through him. For if, when we were enemies, we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, being reconciled, we shall be saved by his life. And not only so, but we also joy in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom we have now received the atonement." (ch. 5, vs. 9-11) Because JESUS paid the price for my atonement, I am free from sin and death and in their place, I am now filled with joy and a peace that passes understanding!
If satan had his way, I'd have died as a child. I had wanted to die so many times as a child. Several times at the ages of 5 and 6, I tried to suffocate myself by going to sleep in my brother's toy box with the lid shut, or on my bed with a pillow on my face. And indeed, several times after my salvation, messengers of satan were sent to try to take my life.
The spirit of suicide was at work in our home from early on. Often our dad would go off and get drunk and we would get a call from one of his brothers informing us he was on his way home. We immediately searched through the house as quickly as we could removing and hiding any sharp objects and then we children were sent to our rooms to hide. My uncles would bring him home and we could hear him sobbing and ranting about wanting to kill himself - sometimes threatening violence, and needing to be physically restrained by my uncles.
At the time I was carrying Matthew, I had found a lump and had been having abnormal pain. A few weeks later in December, 2001 while still visiting in Rita's home, she and I and another friend of hers went to the church next door to her home to have a prayer meeting. Rita and her friend prayed for my healing and the birth of the baby. And afterward, Rita was telling us....... "I just kept hearing the words in my spirit, 'I speak life to the birth! .....life to the birth!' " And when I heard those words, the Spirit of GOD fell on me gloriously! While the LORD ministered to me, I heard these words in my spirit, "the Water and the Blood." Immediately after GOD spoke this to me, Rita began reading scripture out of John chapter 15 and verses 1 through 5 and verse 16, and chapter 16, verses 27 and 28....... "I am the true vine, and my Father is the husbandman. Every branch in me that beareth not fruit he taketh away: and every branch that beareth fruit, he purgeth it, that it may bring forth more fruit. Now ye are clean through the word which I have spoken unto you. Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abide in the vine; no more can ye, except ye abide in me. I am the vine, and ye are the branches. He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit: for without me ye can do nothing. Ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen you, and ordained you, that ye should go and bring forth fruit, and that your fruit should remain; that whatsoever ye shall ask of the Father in my name, he may give it you. For the Father himself loveth you, because ye have loved me, and have believed that I came out from God. I came forth from the Father, and am come into the world...." He revealed to me that those words 'life to the birth' had a two-fold meaning, for my physical healing and the baby's birth ......but also, for my emotional healing - this began the birth process of my emotional healing! That was Saturday, December 8, 2001.
Recently, in allowing the LORD to work healing in my heart, I have experienced what I would call "spiritual surgery." In one of the church services during Family Camp in August of 2004 in our home church, Anna Turman came over and laid her hands on me and began praying in the Spirit. The automatic reaction I had was to close up - which is what I had always done when anyone touched me in any way.... just something I always had to press through. But all of the sudden, I felt light as a feather as a wave of GOD's power flowed over me - and I went down! As I laid there on the floor, I was in the lap of my Heavenly Father and I was not afraid. He spoke to my heart and told me he loves me and I am a princess..... he filled me with joy and peace.
All that night and through half of the following day, that joy bubbled inside of me..... it was wonderful! But about halfway through the next day, I began feeling a heaviness in my heart. I felt things I did not understand.... I felt like crying at the drop of a hat. I told the LORD, "I don't understand.... it feels like you did surgery in me but you forgot to close me back up." I heard Him speak to my heart in a loving voice, "That was my intentions.... you have been closed up for too long. And now it is time to allow yourself to feel love." Oh my! That was a very exciting, and yet a very hard thing for me to hear. Even those closest to me do not understand the struggle it is sometimes for me to allow them close - physically, and emotionally. And the LORD has been walking me through some difficult places. At times it has been very tempting to close myself back up, to put back the bricks on the walls the LORD has brought down. But I keep hearing a still small voice telling me ....You know, that is not the best way. And so, I keep going forward on this healing journey.
At times it seems too hard a journey. Sometimes the emotions come so strongly, it physically hurts and I feel I might faint! I have felt like my heart would burst after a friend gives a hug, a smile, a kind word. A brother in the LORD offered to pay for the kids' food at the concession stand after church and I had to find a place to weep. GOD's love is pure and good. These expressions of GOD's love through His people, I now cherish .....I will never forget and they will always be recorded in my heart and mind. They are new to me and I pray the newness never goes away!
GOD preserved me through my childhood and saved me, and delivered me, and blessed me with a wonderful husband who loves the LORD and 5 beautiful children! I would have never known the joys of salvation, of being a wife and a mother, had it not been for GOD's mercy and preservation. GOD is good! To GOD be the glory!
It is my prayer, in the name of JESUS CHRIST the Son of GOD, that all who read or hear this testimony will know that .....no matter your situation, or your past - GOD knows your address! And he has preserved you until now to hear his message ......that he loves you immensely and wants you to be free from your pain. TODAY is the day of your salvation!
"For he saith, I have heard thee in a time accepted, and in the day of salvation have I succoured thee: behold, now is the accepted time: behold, now is the day of salvation." II Corinthians 6:2
"I love you, Daddy!"
"Thou hast turned for me my mourning into dancing: thou hast put off my saccloth, and girded me with gladness. To the end that my glory may sing praise to thee, and not be silent. O LORD my GOD, I will give thanks unto thee for ever!" Psalm 30:11, 12
Closing Thoughts....
I have written this, my testimony, by the leading of the LORD. The initial purpose was for me personally, for by writing it He has allowed me to glimpse into my own heart with the light of GOD's love to go where I would not go before - to see where He has brought me from and where He wants to bring me. And, it seems that the LORD had me to write out my feelings and experiences in such detail so that others could see and hear the silent pain that an abused child lives with every moment of every day.... to be a "voice" for those who are still living with their pain, who search for true love and feel so alone..... and to be a voice to those - the hurting - that there truly is hope through JESUS CHRIST!!! Praise be to GOD!!!
"I am free to love and to receive love, because the One Who is Love lives in me - JESUS! JESUS! JESUS!"
"I am the healed of the LORD!"
Kimberly Lucas
kimmie0630@yahoo.com