Ava’s Story: Rebellion and Pain - Now Peace and Joy
One of my earliest memories is waking up to my mother’s screams. I would slip into the room and see my mom all bloodied up with my step-day standing over her ready to continue beating her. My mom would see me and say, “It is OK. Go back to bed.” The message came through loud and clear, “Expect to get beat up when you are married. It is normal.”
When I was eleven years old, living in California, my military step-dad was shipped off to Vietnam, leaving Mom to raise us 5 children on her own. One morning we got up and saw that Mom was sitting in a chair smoking a cigarette and appeared to be in a trance. She stayed there for days on end. We didn’t have any food in the house and Mom couldn’t give us any money, so I went to the grocery store and stole some food. My older sister cooked it for us. After several days, a neighbor figured out there was a problem since she didn’t see mom and that we kids weren’t going to school. She called our grandma in Michigan. Grandma came and took care of us and got my step-dad home. My mother had experienced a nervous breakdown and was hospitalized. Grandma took me back home to Michigan with her to live until Mom was better; when we got there, unexpectedly Grandpa decided to divorce Grandma. I thought I must be a jinx (Dad always told me that I was no-good), - first my mom getting sick and then Grandpa leaving!
While living with Grandma a neighbor man took a friend and I fishing. While showing me how to cast the line, he grabbed me from behind and fondled me. I was terrified. When I told grandma she yelled at me as though it were my fault.
My mom had recurrent bouts of mental illness and episodes of violence - she would beat us with the broom and attempted to stab me in the back with a butcher knife. When I was 13 years old I took my mother’s car and drove a friend over 100 miles to see her boyfriend. My other brothers and sisters were basically taking care of themselves; shortly after my drive my step-dad was brought back from Vietnam again. He was furious with me for taking the car and grounded me. So I ran away. I was mad at my dad and scared of my mom. I went to a friend’s house and she was mad at her folks too. So we took our clothes and a gun for protection and started walking along the highway. The police showed up and took us to jail. I stayed in jail a few weeks. In the meantime, my family moved across the country. The judge was furious with my parents for abandoning me. Grandma took custody and drove me across the country to be with my folks. But my mom was back in a state hospital. My step-dad told grandma I could spend the night, but he would kick me out in the morning. Grandma didn’t believe him and left me. But he kicked me out the next morning.
So there I was, turned loose on an army base. I was a blonde and very mature looking for a 13 year old. I went to the bowling alley and hooked up with this military guy. Within a few hours we were doing dope and having sex (not my first time). This continued with various guys for the next few weeks. Eventually we got caught and they placed me in foster care and disciplined my step-dad for kicking me out. He blamed me for all his problems.
Life continued like this for years. A succession of geographic locations and people in my life, but always dope and sex. I got involved with an outlaw motorcycle gang. I hung out with Greg for a couple years, then he was killed by a hit-and-run driver. Then there was Blair. One day he called and told me to meet him in Oklahoma. Later I found out he had murdered someone and was a fugitive. We were transporting drugs by this time. We both got busted. I pleaded guilty of transporting drugs and got a suspended sentence, but was ordered to leave the state. Larry was next. He is the only guy that didn’t beat me. About this time my sister had a baby. She wanted to turn her life around and asked if I could help her. I was eager and very happy to help my sister; but after only a few weeks of caring for the infant child, Shannon, my sister returned to the street life and left her precious daughter with me and Larry. I was able to gain custody of Shannon and thought that everything was going to be “peachy,” but then Larry was unfaithful to me and I broke up with him. Then there was Tim. Later Andrew, a rich quadriplegic, I figured he couldn’t hurt Shannon or me, so we got married. But that didn’t work out either.
Eventually I arrived in Kelso, WA in 1988. Shannon started kindergarten and I took a class entitled “Women in Transition” at Lower Columbia College. We had an opportunity to attend a John Bradshaw seminar called, “Healing the Child Within.” He asked us to remember events in our lives. Everything he asked us to remember was either awful or absent from my memory. Finally he said “If you want to heal the child within you, if you have a substance abuse problem you have to get rid of that first." I got hooked up with drug rehabilitation counselors as an outpatient. That was the beginning of the end of drugs in my life.
I started attending Narcotics Anonymous (NA) meetings every day, sometimes twice a day. I did that for the first 6 years after getting clean. I tried everything that they told me would be helpful. I discovered the Steps really come from the Bible. I started asking myself what I believed and what I wanted to do with my life. I knew it was God. I was just a young teenager when I started doing drugs and my emotional maturity had stopped then. As I stopped drugs, I started maturing inside. I surrendered my emotions to God. I didn’t want to pass on the sin of anger, hate, yelling and screaming to my children. I wanted them to have a better life than I had.
I tried several churches. Finally I found one where I sensed the presence of God. I saw Shannon truly happy and worshiping God. But we were new to the church scene and I was overly sensitive. After a couple incidents where I felt put-down we quit going to church.
At a NA meeting I met Duane. I discovered that his background was as messed up as mine - only in a different way, but he is a gentle soul. We got married and then my son Noah was born. Shannon was 12 by then.
Noah started kindergarten in public school. After a few months I knew that public school was not where I wanted him to be, and withdrew him. We drove down West Side Highway where I had seen a sign for a church-related school, went into the office and announced that I wanted to enroll my son in the school. They were dumbfounded and asked if I didn’t want to at least tour the school. I told them "no." I knew that this is where God wanted him to be! They agreed. I am sure it was God that led me to that school. A few weeks later they asked if I would like to help with the Home and School organization (like PTA). I was delighted to discover that someone I had worked with years before was the leader. I knew God was at work in my life.
God used NA to help me accept myself as a human being who needed him; and in doing so I was able to accept others as they are. As I grew emotionally, I discovered that I wanted and needed a closer and more personal relationship with God, so I began going to church again. It was so easy to talk to Pastor Dave Livermore. He had been an alcoholic too, and understood me in a way that many others could not. He asked me if I wanted to do a Bible study. I had been baptized a couple times, but had never studied the Bible. I did Bible studies with Pastor Doug. I enjoyed those afternoons spent asking questions and receiving such patient and detailed answers. I came to the realization that I had a Father, and a family and I did not have to roam anymore!!! I gladly accepted Christ as my Savior and had the privilege of Pastor Doug baptizing me in the river! I have grown to realize that even when I was at my worst, God never abandoned me, He was always at work in my life.
Sometimes, I have bouts of feeling sorry for myself, anger, and painful memories from my childhood that blur the reality of my current circumstances. God is always there and gets my attention with gentle reminders of the gifts he has given me - Duane, Shannon, Noah and Courtney (my granddaughter) and a church family that accepts me as I am. As I look back on my life, I can see how God was protecting me through all those tumultuous year; I was never seriously hurt or stricken with an incurable disease. What a miracle!
My life is sweeter now than I ever could have imagined. In May 2007, I celebrated 18 years without the use of drugs. I have a real family and a nice home. I have a good relationship with my Mom. During the summer of 2006 my joy overflowed when Duane, Shannon and Noah all were baptized in the river. My marriage is even better now since we are both going to church together. Surely God is good all the time.
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Life was sweet. During my early years we lived in this area. My dad owned a saw mill and logging operation in Rose Valley. Financially we were very comfortable. I enjoyed the perks of affluence. I grew up going to church and learned some Bible texts. One text that always stayed with me was the Twenty Third Psalm: The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. I loved that passage.
In the space of a few short months, tears changed our sweet life to salty. Arson destroyed the saw mill and dad almost lost his leg in an accident. It took years to heal. Financial reverses followed and we were now officially “poor.” We lived in a one-room cabin. Mom and us kids picked all kinds of produce to help support us and to eat. It is hard to go from being wealthy to poor. I resented it.
When I was 13 years old I started working as a chambermaid to help support the family. I worked for 55 cents an hour and would take my paycheck home to Momma. I thought I was pretty big. Then I got rebellious. The next thing I knew I was pregnant. I was only 14. That was a long time ago and caused a scandal in the church. They did not treat us right and life became bitter. Mother always said, “You can’t blame the church and God. It is the people who are to blame.” But I did blame the church. I did blame God. I quit going to church for more than 25 years.
During that time I married. But my husband was unfaithful and vindictive. He brought unspeakable suffering into my life. After that, I hated men. They were just a bunch of trash. It was OK to use and abuse them, because that is how they treated you. So I used them for my own purposes. Eventually I married Jim. He is a very decent man. My daughters consider him their father. But that didn’t last either.
I lived a pretty rough life. It was hard on my kids. I tended bar for 25 years or more. I got so sick of drunks that I hated them before they came through the door. So I switched to cooking. But my life remained chaotic. It was always a struggle. I only had a seventh-grade education, though I have an advanced degree from the School of Hard Knocks. All through these years my dear mother was always in the background telling me what I should do: “You should quit drinking and smoking.” “You should go to church.” “You should change your ways....” But the more she told me, the more I rebelled. I knew it was true, but the truth hurts.
Jerry and I got married. Other than his alcoholism, we had a reasonably good marriage. He was kind and loving. When he was drunk, he was still a nice drunk - never abusive. I used to drink with him. I finally realized that if there was something worse than a drunk, it was two drunks. So I just decided to quit and I was done. It took me many years to realize that not everyone can quit that easily. Jerry would have given anything to quit drinking, but he couldn’t.
In the ‘80's I started attending church again. I knew it was the right thing to do, but I still had not met Jesus and fallen in love with Him. A couple years later Jerry was home more and I just accidentally slid out of church. It just happened.
I developed a tickle on my chin. It persisted. I finally saw a doctor and a brain tumor was diagnosed. The neurosurgeon insisted that I had to have surgery. I was scared to death, so I agreed. The day before the surgery, a young doctor came in and told me he was taking me down to have a test before the surgery. He informed me that there was a 60-70% chance that I would have a stroke from the test. I absolutely refused to have the test until I spoke to my surgeon. Eventually he came and talked to me and he told me that my chances of having a good outcome from the surgery were not good. I told him I was functional now and if that was the case, forget the surgery. I packed my bags and went home. That was 20 years ago. But the thought of having a brain tumor rode on me. I told myself, “You need to get right with God. That could snuff you out any time!” I thought of the 23rd Psalm: Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me. I wondered if God really was with me, after all this time and all that I had done. After Jerry died, I was lonely. I had even more time to contemplate my health and my relationship with God. I got to wondering what I was going to do with my life. My youngest daughter, Kim, is very religious. For years she kept trying to get me back to church. I said, “Shut up! You sound just like your grandma!” I sure didn’t need her preaching at me, too!
My doctor insists that I have regular MRI’s to follow the slow growth of the tumor. Several years ago he found that I had a brain aneurysm. That could certainly snuff me out anytime! It scared the socks off me.
One night I told myself, "I am going to go to church tomorrow and check out the preacher." I knew that Pastor Kurt Johnson, from the ‘80's was long gone. So I went to church and ran into Sherri Wolverton. She used to waitress at the same place where I tended bar. When I saw her I said, “What are YOU doing here?” Sherri said, “This is my church now, but what are YOU doing here?” We talked a few minutes and I learned that Sherri was leading a stop smoking class. She invited me to attend. I quit smoking the second night. I have been going to church ever since.
Well, I had to do something about the aneurysm. I knew that there was some risk to having the surgery done. I made up my mind that now was the time to get right with God, before I had the surgery. I talked to the pastors and was baptized May 24, 2003. What a glorious day! A few days later I had surgery and all went well. Praise the Lord!
My life is again sweet. Sweeter than ever before. I enjoy helping people down at the Community Services Center and in the kitchen at church. You meet so many interesting people in the process and feel you are helping them. I am a reluctant preacher to others because my mom used to preach at me so much. I felt like she was shoving it down my throat. I try to be more subtle. Today my life has meaning. I try to share God’s love through my actions and when necessary, with words. Now I can say with the psalmist, Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
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Am I Good Enough?
I grew up in a loving Christian home. We went to church every week. I loved the pastor - he was my Dad. If something was happening at church, we were there. We had family worship every morning and evening and my Mom would sing songs about Jesus through the day. We learned the great stories of the Bible. I have loved Jesus as long as I can remember.
When I was five years old my mother had brain cancer surgery (this was in the dark ages - decades before MRIs or even CT scans!). The pathology report revealed a high grade cancer. She should have been dead in weeks to months, but in answer to prayer, she lived another 48 years before dying in her late seventies. I remember other answers to prayer - our lost dog being found and another time when our car got stuck in the mud out in the middle of no where. These incidents strengthened my trust in God.
I always had a heart that was tender for the Lord. When I was 7 or 8 I asked to be baptized, but was told by the pastor (my dad) that I was too young. I was a good kid, but I remember wondering if I was good enough because sometimes I would tease my little brother and talk back to my Mom. I hadn’t read the Bible text that says, There is no one righteous, not even one;... there is no one who does good, not even one. Romans 3:10-12 As I matured, I gradually learned through prayer, Bible study and conversations with others that it was not my goodness that counted, but what Jesus had done for me. As John 3:16 makes clear, God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. Jesus was good enough. He gave his life for me.
As a young teenager I developed a strong devotional life and got involved in activities to tell others about Jesus. I even considered studying to become a minister, but that was not really an option in those days. So I went to college and then became a physician.
In my practice of medicine I tried to share Jesus with my patients when it was appropriate. I remember thinking that the office was my parish and I was truly a minister to my patients. As my children started growing, I got involved in children’s ministry at the church. Later I had opportunity to minister in other areas. But always my greatest joy was seeing people come to know the Lord and mature in their faith. When I retired early from medicine in 2002, I joined the pastoral staff as a volunteer staff pastor. What a joy!
We all have struggles in our lives, some more than others. But I cannot imagine living in the world of today without the security of knowing that Jesus is my friend and that he cares for me. When problems come, I don’t have to handle them by myself. I can share my problems with God and trust him to lead in my life. Even when bad things happen I know that is not the whole story. God is love and he hurts when I hurt. My favorite text is probably John 14:1-3, Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. Jesus promises we don’t have to have troubled hearts. He has gone to heaven, but he will surely return. THAT is the rest of the story. I can’t wait to experience the end of that story and be with my friend Jesus forevermore.
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Steve’s Story :
December 5, 1978 -
A Day That Changed My Life Forever
I am employed by the church to share the Good News about Jesus with people in our community. I love the Lord and love sharing His Word with others, but this was not always the case. Although I was raised in a Christian home, I had no peace in my heart. But 1977 was a turning point in my life. I was 15 years old at the time. The memory of what happened one particular evening has burned itself so vividly into my mind that I still clearly remember it’s details and emotions nearly three decades later.
Our family had just finished dinner one evening and was still seated at the table when the phone rang. It was a phone call that would change our lives forever. A hospital in Walla Walla was notifying us that my sister, the oldest of us seven children, was in serious condition. As my mother talked with the hospital personnel, I still remember the horror in the sound of her voice. It was bad news. My sister was sick, very sick. A short time later Carolyn was diagnosed with late stage cancer.
Crisis turned our family upside down in a desperate struggle to save my sister’s life, but to no avail. About a year later, Carolyn lay in a Portland hospital, eaten up with the cancer. December 5, 1978, we were notified by the hospital to come quickly, as she wouldn’t last long now. So that cold, icy, December evening, our family climbed into the car and left for Portland. But I was not with them. I just couldn’t face it. Now 16 years old and full of grief and sadness, I couldn’t bear to see my sister in that condition. And there at home with a broken heart, the Lord came close to me and heard my cry and saw my tears.
As I stood looking out the kitchen window into the dark, I made my covenant with the Lord. From now on my priorities would change and He would be first in my life. I was really going to give Christianity my honest effort. Losing my sister spoiled my appetite for this world and I was now going to live my life for eternity.
God truly did make something beautiful grow out of all that pain. In place of sorrow and hopelessness, the Lord gave me joy and purpose, and the assurance of eternal life. And what happened to me can happen to anyone. It doesn’t have to come through tragedy and pain. That’s not what changed me, but rather what I did as a result of the crisis. All I did was re-evaluate my priorities. To do so, I had to clean house so-to-speak. There were certain things that were strangling my spiritual life to death. Things like too much TV. With my new priorities I made time each day for serious prayer and Bible study and through this discipline the Lord filled my heart with happiness as I came close to the heart of God.
The Bible calls David a man after God’s own heart (Acts 13:22 KJV). And if you desire to come close to the heart of God and experience Him, all you need to do is to make the same covenant with the Lord that king David made, who said: “I will not neglect your word” (Psalms 119:16 NIV). Or that of Job who said: “I have treasured the words of his mouth more than my daily bread.” (Job 23:12 NIV). This is how I found the Lord back then, and this is where you can still find Him today.