It’s funny looking back and realizing that I always had a connection with God. Because I most certainly did not grow up in a Christian home. My Puerto Rican mom very traditionally grew up in a Catholic Church. And was very much turned off to organized religion. She always told my brother and I that she wasn’t going to choose our religion for us. She wanted us to have the freedom to choose once we became old enough to decide. She did share with us that Christmas was the season that Jesus was born. But we very much celebrated Christmas believing in Santa Claus. And somehow, I was never confused that Christmas was Jesus’ birthday. I was very excited about all the gifts that Santa was going to bring. But I knew that Jesus was born on Christmas. I didn’t know any of the details surrounding his birth. Or even the sacrifice he would make soon after. But I did know about him.
My mother was a very damaged woman. She grew up the youngest of 5 children. And she was also molested by some family members. She dropped out of high school and got married to my grandmothers at the time boyfriend. Yes, you read that right, my grandmother’s boyfriend who by the way was in his 30’s and my mom was only 16. She married my dad at 16, had me at 17. Had my brother at 18. And got divorced from my dad soon after. And then he died a little later on from being drunk and taking a bunch of pills. After she divorced my dad, she raised my brother and I with some very unsound ways of thinking. She would say things like “It’s ok if you smoke cigarettes. I would rather you smoke with me than sneak around and smoke at school.” This was the 80’s/ 90’s, and smoking was a common thing. Or “I don’t expect A’s and B’s, but I don’t expect D’s or F’s either.” And there-fore I never pushed myself to do well at school, because I didn’t have to. Or “I don’t care if you have sex, just don’t bring a baby home.” So, I didn’t know that the most precious thing you could give to your husband was your virginity. Although that was already taken from me before I could choose to give it away.
My mom was also bipolar. She would have moments of immense emotions that would lead her to take out her frustrations on my brother and I. I remember she told me after I had Patience, that she tried to smoother me with a pillow as a baby because I wouldn’t stop crying. I didn’t even know how to respond in that moment. I just looked at her. As a child she would punish us for the times that we were just being kids. She would beat us with a belt. Not like whoop us. But beat us. She beat me so hard one time that I fell forward and hit and bruised my head on the corner of the wooden boxed tv that sat in the living room. “Bend” she would say. And we better bend over and not stand back up, because wherever she swung, we got hit. And then we would be sent to our rooms crying and locked in by the outside lock that was attached to our doors and not let back out until she calmed down. Which most often times was hours later. She would sit in the living room and play The Carpenters on the tape player. I can tell you the lyrics to every Carpenter song to this very day.
Needless to say, I was conceived out of confusion. And raised in confusion. But even in the midst of it, I always felt a connection with God. I would pray to him while looking at the sky, wanting to run away from home with my favorite toy. My Amy bear who always brought me so much comfort. I never did try to run away, because I was scared of the streets. My mom who had run away often as a teen shared with me that if I ran away, “they would put me in a foster home.” And that scared me.
While sitting here writing this and thinking about that little girl who felt lost and sad. I can’t help but to think of that verse in John 6:44 where it says, “No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws them, and I will raise them up at the last day.” The Father was definitely drawing me near to him in those days. I didn’t know anything about him. We did not even own a bible. But I knew he loved me. And he listened to me. And that I could find comfort in him. To this day, I can honestly say I do not know where I would be if I didn’t have that connection with him as a child.
Just Being Dee 