What About Her?

      Between the years 1980 to 1982 I was Sixteen to Eighteen Years Old. Freedom, Finally…or so I thought. “The dad from across the street” left us. Miracle of miracles. Relief. What was interesting though is that right around the very same time that he left, someone had reported about the situation going on in our home, and the people from social services came over to investigate. They saw what our living arrangements were like and they asked us a lot of questions. Before I knew it people were setting mom up in her own apartment ‘for sick people’ with round the clock aides and my younger sister and I went to live with relatives. Freedom!! I didn’t know what to do with myself. I was free.

I stayed with my bachelor uncle who lived upstairs from us, and my younger sister went to live with relatives in a different city. During this time he didn’t enforce any authority over me. My uncle wasn’t home very much and when he was it really didn’t matter to him when I was home or when I wasn’t. Oh I had freedom alright. Way too much of it. I didn’t know how to act. My heart was still destroyed and I was starving for affection and love. I was so sheltered and never had any kind of a childhood that I just went crazy. I partied with “serpent” and his friends, no matter how they treated me. I got drunk, smoked pot, and drank liquor. I met some more of his friends and started hanging out with them, doing the same things. I met up with an old girlfriend of mine from school and partied with her. During these two years I did everything under the sun. I met groups of people after groups of people, each one leading to more people. I had sex with so many guys during this time. So many that I can’t even remember.

I got pregnant during this time. I was so scared. No, I was petrified. I was so far from Jesus that I didn’t let the fact that He said ‘do not murder’ even enter into my mind. I was frozen in fear. My mind was so filled with fear of having this baby that the only thing that I could think of was having an abortion. I know that fear is no excuse. I have no excuse. But I had nothing anyway. I was already destitute. So, I went to mom, cried to her, and she saw how petrified I was and how I was on the brink of a nervous breakdown. And she helped me get the appointment set up and I did it. I am so devastated, still to this day, that I did such a thing. But I know that the redeeming blood of Jesus covers me and washes me clean because I have repented for it.