I was baptised in August of 2009 at the age of 23. Typically, in the church I attend, a person wanting to be baptised has to go through baptism classes. Given my age and a variety of other factors, the pastor thought it would suffice for me to meet with him once and talk things through. The first thing he asked me to do was to share my faith journey with him. Upon doing so, he asked if I would be willing to share my story with the congregation, stating that he felt they would be interested in hearing it . I really thought hard about it, and I even felt the gentle nudging of God trying to get me to do this, but ultimately my fear of public speaking won out (I have an interesting story about how my fear of public speaking came about, but I'll save that for another post). I have always wanted to tell my story, thinking it would be a great opportunity to reach out to people, so I guess this is my opportunity.
Let me just say one thing first. There is this song called "Breathe" by Anna Nalick. In the songs she writes,
"2 AM and I'm still awake, writing a song
If I get it all down on paper, it's no longer inside of me,
Threatening the life it belongs to
And I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud
And I know that you'll use them, however you want to"
If I get it all down on paper, it's no longer inside of me,
Threatening the life it belongs to
And I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud
And I know that you'll use them, however you want to"
I identify with these lyrics very much in many ways. First, I have felt for a long time that I should share my journey and that if I just get it out there I won't be burdened by this feeling any longer. I can't explain why I feel this way. I don't feel that my journey is unique or remarkable in any way. But God works in mysterious ways and uses things in ways we never could have imagined. Second, my journey is mine and it's very personal and sharing it does make me feel a little like I'm standing naked in front of a crowd so to speak. So it is with these thoughts in mind that I will humbly embark on this journey of sharing with you.
My dad's family attended a Lutheran Church and so when my mom and dad married, she attended there as well. I don't know much about how often they attended, my dad had to work most Sundays. I do know that when my younger brother was born, all church attendance stopped. He was the last of four children and was very sick as a baby. My brother and I are only 15 months apart, so I was too young to really remember any of this. I'm just going off of what I remember being told over the years. For whatever reason, once my brother was a little older and healthier, we never started going back.
Growing up, I remember at least a summer or two of attending a local vacation bible school program. My mom also loved The 10 Commandments, so we always watched it around Easter time. As I got older I attended church with some friends on and off, but I always felt awkward and out of place. I once was given a King James version of the Bible. The intentions were good, but let me just say that it has to be the worst way to attempt to get anybody to read the bible. I didn't understand most of what was said, and I like to think I'm a reasonably bright person.
I remember going to the fair with a friend who was a believer. We were going through all of the booths at the fair and stopped in a booth of a local church. They asked me if I was saved and upon answering no, they asked if I wanted to be saved. It sounded like a good idea to me. In my juvenile mind it seemed like being "saved" would get me into heaven, and I definitely didn't want to go to hell. I'm not afraid of dying but there are two ways of dying that I have a fear of, drowning and burning alive. So you can imagine that the thought of spending eternity in hell wouldn't sit well with me for more than a few reasons. Anyways, back to the story. So the guy asked me a few questions and I answered them. He said I was saved and all was right with the world.
Besides my sporadic church attendance, I didn't do much to improve my spiritual life. I definitely believed in God, and that Jesus died on the cross for me, but I just didn't know how to grow as a Christian or anything about developing a relationship with Him. Then I met Anthony.
When Anthony and I started dating, he of course asked some questions that were important to him. Are you a Christian, which I was and did I go to church, which I didn't really. I explained to him my situation, that I would like to go but hadn't found a place I felt comfortable, etc. Let me just say, I was a little rough around the edges. I had some bad habits that wouldn't have been considered very Christian, but deep down inside I really wanted to change and he understood that. He accepted me for who I was and where I was at in my journey. He never pressured me to change; he just loved me for who I was and let God do the rest. Being accepted and loved so unconditionally made it easy for me to slowly makes changes. I wanted to be better for myself, for him, and for the sake of the special relationship developing between us. There is no doubt in either of our minds that God brought us together.
I started reading a teen study bible that a friend's church had given me a few months earlier and also doing a bible study program through the mail. (Reading through the bible was a goal of mine and I made it all the way to Isaiah before I quit. The thought of reading Isaiah straight through proved to be too great for me. I will, 8 and a half years after setting that goal, finally reach it since our church is reading through the Bible in the course of a year.) Then there was the issue of attending church. I really wanted to go but I had heard such bad things about Mennonites. I had always heard them described as judgemental and snobby, no offense to any Mennonites reading this, that is just what I had heard.
I don't remember how many times Anthony asked me to go to church with him before I finally went, but I do remember a lot about the day I first went to church with him. God was definitely at work. It was the Sunday after the World Series in 2004; it was the year the Red Sox won. Anthony's parents were out of town (a very rare occasion) and I decided it would be an ideal Sunday to go. I would feel more at ease without them there. Sunday morning my alarm went off. I lay in bed staring at the ceiling awhile. "I'm not going. I hate meeting new people. It's going to be so awkward. And they're going to judge me and be mean to me." I reset my alarm. But try as I might, I couldn't go back to sleep. I knew that I needed to go. I owed it to myself, to Anthony, and to our relationship. I got out of bed with very little time to get ready. There was definitely no time to wash my hair. I'm sure my hair was looking pretty gross; and it was raining that day, which only made the situation worse. This, of course, only added to my anxiety. Now I was going to be that gross girl Anthony brought to church.
I was right about one thing. It was awkward meeting all those new people. I was so very wrong about the people I would meet, however. These people were some of the nicest people I had ever met and they welcomed me with open arms. There are two women who stand out in my mind, who made me feel so very welcome that day and who continued to be a blessing to me. I instantly felt at home.
In the spring of 2005, I was commuting to college where I was taking 18 credit hours. The place I worked was short handed. I had a hard time saying no to anybody at that point in my life, so I went from working about 15 hours a week to 30+ hours a week. Anthony and I were engaged at that point so I was also trying to make time for him and for our relationship. It was exam week. I had stayed up late the night before working and then preparing for my exams. I was so exhausted and burnt out. As I drove to school that morning for my Calc II exam, my mind was on everything else but the road.
And then it happened. Not even a half a mile from the entrance to the school parking lot, I rear-ended the car in front of me. The speed limit is 45mph on that road, and although I remember seeing the car stopped in front of me at the last second and trying to hit the brakes, I don't think I was able to do so before my car smashed into the one in front of me. It was a hard hit. I can remember everything so vividly. I remember seeing the car, trying to hit the breaks, and then everything went black. I remember exactly how it felt when the air bag deployed and how everything smelled. When everything went black and I felt the impact of the air bag, I was convinced I was a goner. I sat there for what seemed like a very long time, stunned and wondering if I was dead. I opened my eyes, realized I was mostly ok, and got out to survey the damage. I was ok, but my car was totaled.
You know Job from the Bible. The man who is tested and endures tragedy after tragedy but clings to his faith and doesn't turn from God. I'm not comparing my situation to that of Job, this was minor compared to what he suffered. I do believe, however, that I was being tested...and I failed miserably. I was angry...very angry. "How could you let this happen to me?" A car that my parents had worked so hard for and were still paying off was totaled. I had to essentially wipe out my bank account, money I was using to pay my tuition, to buy a new car so I could get to and from school. Instead of thanking God that I was ok and that the other driver was ok, I was just angry. It was so much easier for me to be mad at God than to take responsibility for what had happened.
I went through a period where I didn't read the bible much and didn't pray much. It was a really dark time for me, only made darker by the fact that I had turned my back on my relationship with God. Slowly over time, the anger subsided. I was deeply ashamed of my behavior, that I had blamed God for what had happened. Like so many things in life, God used this experience to teach me a few lessons. First, bad things happen in life. That's just how it is. This life is not easy. But we can either go it alone or walk with Him, and walking with Him makes unbearable situations bearable. Second, it forced me to realize that I am only human. I can no longer be a "yes man", a people pleaser, and take on everything. I should have been clear with my work that I could only work so much. I just completely wore myself out. I'm just one person, I can't do everything. It is a lesson that would serve me well when I became a mother and I'm glad I learned it way back then than as a new mom.
In the fall of that year we were working on setting our wedding date. We knew we couldn't do it in the spring/summer of 2006 but neither of us wanted to wait until the spring/summer of 2007. So we looked at our finances and prayed about it a lot. Absolutely the only date that stood out was December 16, 2006. I wasn't sold on the idea. Winter just didn't seem like a season for weddings but it was, believe it or not, the only day that worked for us over the course of the next year. So we went with that.
In the summer of 2006, we set out to buy a house. We were hoping to buy a house, close on it, and get Anthony settled in before the school year started up. With both of us taking classes in the fall and preparing for our wedding, we wanted to find a place to live during summer, which was a much slower time for us. It didn't take much searching until we found a house that we fell in love with. It was everything we wanted, and better yet, we could "afford" it, at least according to lender we were working with. It all happened so fast that it isn't something we had a chance to pray about.
We put in an offer on the house and eagerly waited for their answer. When the realtor called me, she said they had declined our offer. Then she said that she thought they were holding out for a full price offer, and if we offered that to them, they would take it. A full price offer would have been only $2,000 more dollars and what is $2,000 spread out over 30 years anyway? But something just didn't feel right about it. We both believe that it was God interceding on our behalf and keeping us out of trouble. We may have been able to "afford" it, but it would have been difficult for us. It was really dumb on our part to have even considered making an offer on that house. It really showed me how easy it is to get into trouble when you don't take the time to slow down and prayerfully consider something.
About a week later, Anthony and I were driving around Orrville going to garage sales. Now me, I love a good bargain and I love going to garage sales. Anthony on the other hand, while he appreciates my thrifty nature and the fact that I save him money on kids clothing and other items, he would rather do most anything else than go to garage sales. Somehow, that day, I convinced him to go with me. As we were driving around Orrville, going down a street neither of us went down much, we passed a house with a "FOR SALE" sign in the yard. Anthony immediately noticed it (I wasn't paying any attention to anything that didn't say garage sale or yard sale, and had I been by myself, I probably wouldn't have thought anything of the house). It was small but cute, in a nice neighborhood, with a big backyard, and an open field behind it. When we went home, we looked up information about it on the Internet and were able to see photos from inside the house. It was something we were both really interested in. This time, we prayed.
Everything felt right this time around. Within a week, the owners of the house had accepted our offer. We closed in early August and began getting Anthony settled in right away. We even had time to complete all of the painting we wanted to do before the semester started. This house isn't perfect. There are things about it that we want to change. At the end of the day though, God knew that this is exactly what we needed. Nothing more, nothing less.
December 16th, 2006 rolled around in no time. It was 70 degrees or so on the day we got married (the entire week we spent in Tennessee for our honeymoon was in the 60's and 70's as well). I actually went to get my hair done in a short sleeve blouse, a light weight cardigan, capris, and flip flops...and it was the middle of December! The ceremony was short and simple. There were only about 25 guests at the wedding. The fact that it was a winter wedding never even crossed my mind. It was everything I wanted my wedding to be and I could feel the Lord their with us as Anthony and I said our vows. I was a wonderful moment.
Having a winter wedding so close to Christmas has been a blessing. I don't feel like we have one day in which we celebrate our anniversary, but an entire season. Anthony and I have collected some Christmas ornaments from the places we have been (Pigeon Forge, for our honeymoon and Oglebay, for our two year anniversary). I plan on continuing this tradition by getting some ornaments in Niagara Falls, which we will be going to for our 5 year anniversary this winter. Every year when I get out the ornaments and hang them on the tree, it is an incredibly special time of looking back on our marriage. It may sound dumb to some people, but I just feel like having a winter wedding was an incredible gift.
In the Spring of 2008, I began my student teaching. I was so excited to get the opportunity to teach. I felt so full of energy and new ideas and I couldn't wait to share that with my students. I'm not even sure that all of that energy and enthusiasm lasted an entire week. My student teaching experience was awful. That statement doesn't even do justice to how bad it was. To be honest and frank, I felt like I was in hell with no way out. The teacher I was placed with is not a nice person. I'd like to give him the benefit of the doubt and believe he was once a good teacher who cared about his students and maybe was just burnt out. Sadly, he made it clear that he was there for the paycheck and the 3 months off.
I don't want to get into the details of all the horrible things that went on in my time there. That's not the purpose of this. But let's just say, I cannot to this day figure out how he is still employed there. I expected my supervising teacher to be someone who was a resource, a guide, a nurturer, not someone who took pleasure in verbally beating me down into nothing on a daily basis. At least I was an adult, not that it excuses the things he did and said, but it's not as bad when it happens between two adults. The things he said to students, these impressionable young people, was just utterly inexcusable.
I am only human, and I can only take so much. The stress of dealing with my class loads plus the verbal beatings and humiliation became too much for me to bare. It got to the point where I cried daily before leaving and it's hard for me to admit that because admitting it makes me feel so vulnerable and exposed. It makes me feel weak. But that's what I did everyday before I left. And when it got to the point when I didn't know what else to do, I prayed and prayed and prayed some more.
Most of you probably read that and think it only seems natural that I would pray and ask for help. For me though, it was a big step. I, for so long, took pride in being this really strong person who could handle anything and didn't need any help from anybody. So to pray and ask for help, as crazy as it sounds, made me feel like a failure. But I believe God used this situation to humble me. I quickly realized that there was no way that I could get through this by myself. The only way I would make it was with His help.
I prayed pretty much unceasingly. It was the only thing keeping me from dropping everything and running in the other direction. It is my personal belief that God answers all prayers, it just may not be in the way we had hoped for or as timely as we would have hoped for. About midway through our student teaching experience (after enduring about 7 weeks of torture) we had to meet at the Kent campus for a class, basically just to see how everything was going. My professor, who I had taken classes with for the last year and a half at that point, took one look at me and knew something wasn't right. When she asked me what was going on, I had two options: I could be truthful and explain what was going on and ask for help, which would have likely made me feel like a failure, or I could lie and say everything was fine. I explained some of what was going on but I also reassured her that I could handle it and said I wanted to stay and finish out my student teaching experience there. I was a glutton for punishment or an idiot or both depending on how you want to look at it. Mostly, I was just proud and stubborn. Little did I know what awaited me when I arrived at school the next day.
The event that occurred the next day was so humiliating and hurtful and inexcusable that I actually made up an excuse and left pretty much before the day even got started. I didn't know what I was going to do, but I knew I couldn't stay there. I cried and prayed the whole way home. Then I called my professor. She seemed to know that the situation was worse than I was letting on and she had pretty much already made other arrangements for me. She advised me that Kent would take care of letting him (and the school) know what was going on and said I never had to have contact with him again. It was a glorious answer to prayer.
For my new student teaching assignment, my drive to school went from being 25 minutes to more than and hour. I had to work with middle school students, which I never wanted to have to do, instead of high school students. But none of that mattered. God may have taken longer to answer my prayers than what I would have liked and maybe I didn't end up in my ideal situation, but in the end all I wanted was out of that horrible place, and that's exactly what I got.
Fast forward about a month. It was two weeks after graduation, and I got some unexpected news. I was pregnant. I'm not at all ashamed to admit that my son was a surprise...it happens. I think things happen for a reason, but I couldn't help but wonder, "why now?". I was in the middle of interviewing for jobs. Is it something I should hide until after I accept a job? That just felt a little dishonest to me. But who would hire somebody who would only be there for a few months and then need time off? And besides that, how was I going to juggle my first year of teaching (which every teacher I have ever talked to said it's the worst one and your only goal is to just get through it), pass the Praxis III, and have a baby? None of it made any sense to me.
I continued to interview with a couple of schools and was eventually offered a job at Kingsway Christian. After praying a lot about it and weighing my options (of which I had few), something just didn't feel right about taking the job. I felt like I needed to be home with my baby. It was a totally scary and weird revelation. I had always planned on working, even after kids came along. We had always planned on me working and having that income. How was this ever going to work? How were we going to make it? I wasn't sure, but I took a leap of faith and I am so grateful that I did. Being a stay at home mom doesn't earn you a paycheck. It isn't glamorous and it surely isn't easy, but it was the greatest blessing I had ever received. I believe wholeheartedly that, had I started a teaching career, I wouldn't have stopped once my kids came along. I also believe, that if I was teaching, I wouldn't be half of the mom I am. I'm not perfect by any means, but I would be more stressed and pressed for time then I am now and likely a whole lot less patient.
I have since taken a part time job. This opportunity really felt like God knocking at the door. I had applied for a job I thought sounded interesting in January of 2010. At that point I had been a substitute teacher in some of the local schools. While I didn't mind it, it wasn't easy not know how much income I might be earning or what my schedule would be like from week to week. This job would provide a regular schedule and a regular income. I didn't hear anything from them. I assumed they gave the job to someone else and didn't think anymore about it. Then in August of 2010, as I was dreading the beginning of the school year and being a substitute teacher again, out of nowhere, I got a call from the company I had applied to. They said they had a different position open and wanted to interview me right away. I was basically hired on the spot after the interview.
It was hard to leave my son on a daily basis, something I hadn't had to do up to that point, but this job has been a blessing in so many ways. It gets me out of the house for a couple of hours everyday. I do my job by myself with little interaction with other people, and the quiet time is kind of nice. The schedule coincidentally fit perfectly into my son's schedule. It provided a regular income for my family which gave me a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment. I get to watch the news and keep up on current events. This sounds silly, but I always felt so isolated and cut off from the world as a stay at home mom. I feel in the loop again and like I'm able to make interesting conversation again. Most importantly, this job has zero stress. Work stays at work. When I'm done, I can come home and give myself 100 percent to my family. I just really feel like God had a hand in this. I have no doubt that once my kids are older and I'm ready to move on to something else, that God will be there to guide me and open doors for me.
Now back to where I was at. My son was born in February of 2009. My world, my life, changed in an instant. I think the time of the most spiritual growth for me has occurred since becoming a mother. First, I now had this tiny person watching me every second of every day. I wanted him to grow up believing and to grow strong in his faith, but I knew if he was to do this, Anthony and I were going to have to be good role models for him. I knew I still had a lot of work to do if I wanted to be that person he looks to and learns from. Second, becoming a parent helped me understand God on a deeper level. The Bible often describes God as a loving father, like He is the loving father and we are His children. I think about the disappoint, frustration, anger, etc. that I feel when my children don't act like I know they can or make a bad decision. If I have these feelings, how much more must God have these feelings about me when I go astray? When I discipline my children, I do it out of love, knowing that it is what's best for them and God does the same. I just feel like I have such a better understanding of who God is after becoming a parent.
In August of 2009, we were set to dedicate my son at our church. As the date of the dedication grew closer, I just didn't feel right about it. I wasn't baptised. Up to that point, it hadn't bothered me, but now it did. I had always made my intentions about being baptised very clear to Anthony. I wanted to be baptised, and it was important to him that I be baptised. Knowing my intentions and knowing I would get there in my own time and my own way, Anthony never pressured me. That's not to say that there wasn't pressure from other people for me to be baptised. It was hard and upsetting to face the kind of pressure that I did, but I wasn't going to be baptised just to please somebody else. Up to that point I just never felt like it was the right time to do so. I can't explain it, but I felt like I hadn't made it to the right point in my journey to be baptised. That all changed when we made plans to dedicate my son.
A baby dedication has less to do with the child and more to do with the parents. The parents are making a commitment to live right and to raise their child in a godly way until that child is old enough to decide to follow God on his/her own. At that moment, I didn't feel like I was living right. I felt like I needed to make my life right before I committed myself to raise my son in a godly way. I wasn't sure my baptism could be arranged on such short notice, but God had a hand in making it happen, I'm sure. Being baptised was a special moment for me. I don't claim to feel instantly changed or anything. However, because we were dedicating my son immediately following my baptism, he and Anthony were up there with me as I made my public confession of faith. Anthony was allowed to help pour the water over me and laid a hand on me as the pastor prayed for me. It was an incredible moment for me.
Recently my journey has led Anthony and I to join a Sunday school class. After high school was over and we no longer had a high school Sunday school class to go to, we stopped attending Sunday school altogether. Anthony and I are both introverts by nature and joining a new Sunday school class and getting to know new people didn't sound particularly appealing to us. As the years went on though, I began to realize that I had been attending the church for 7 years and still didn't really know anyone at the church well. I also began to realize that something was missing. Although I am mostly an introvert, I longed for fellowship and a sense of community. I knew it wasn't going to be easy to create friendships and build a community within the church.
My church is largely comprised of people who were born in the area, grew up together, went to school together, work together, live in the same community together, etc. etc. It is hard, as an outsider, to come in and try to get to know people and create friendships when everyone already has these tightly knit social circles formed within the church. All of this was made more complicated by the fact that I am shy, I often feel awkward in social situations, and I am terrified of being judged. Not growing up in the church has made me more fearful of doing something wrong and being judged for it. I have no doubt that God loves me and accepts me, a person who didn't grow up in the church, just as much as he does someone who did. But would people be equally accepting and nonjudgmental? I don't want to send the impression that these people are that way, they are in fact wonderful people. Most or all of them probably aren't even aware that I wasn't raised a Christian. This all has to do with my own insecurities more than anything else. Despite our reservations, I needed to branch out and create friendships.
We joined a Sunday School class in the Fall of 2010. It has been a wonderful experience. The class, itself, is a lot of fun and it is full of wonderful people. After the birth of my daughter , they were so supportive. They provided meals for our family for two weeks. It was a wonderful gift. I still sometimes feel like I haven't been able to create as deep of friendships as I would like to. However, as I look back at my journey up to this point, I know that God has been with me every step of the way and I have no doubt that he is working in this situation.
So this is me and this is my journey up to this point. Take it for what you will. I still consider myself a little rough around the edges, perfectly imperfect. I know that God will continue to shape me and use me. I am so grateful that God gave me Anthony. I feel like I can stand here before you and say that I know I am going to heaven when I die. I often wonder where I would be without Anthony and if, without him coming into my life, I could stand here before you and make that same statement. I'm honestly not sure I could.
