Testimony
I've come a long way...
As I’m sure most of you are aware from my blog, I’m Christian, and I’m loving God with all my heart. But there is a story behind my love for him, and I’m ready to share it.
My parents dirvorced when I was one year old, and my dad is an athiest and my mother is a Christian, but she doesn’t go to church, so I never had a strong role model in the religion field growing up, and was always told to “pick what feels right for me.” I would switch back and forth between houses constantly, and was always told this.
Eventually, my mother and father decided that I’d live with my daddy so that I could get a better education (which I did.) But I was told by my mother that I had made this choice, and had broken her heart. I lived with that heavy on my heart for years, thinking I had hurt my mommy so badly and I couldn’t even remember doing so.
I considered myself Christian then. I didn’t really understand what that meant, I just knew that there was a God and my mom forced me to go to church every Christmas and Easter. Other than that, I didn’t think about God much, and when I did, I was terrified of Him. Literally terrified. I was completely convinced that He was going to throw me into some fiery pit where I’d be torn limb from limb for eternity for hurting people and doing bad things, and for a young child that’s not a pleasant thought.
Church started to scare me, because of that. I felt like I was constantly being judged and looked down upon. And then… Eventually we just stopped. We had never gone regularly before, but we stopped going on holidays. There was nothing to scare me anymore.
When I turned 7 I developed a fascination with magic, so my Daddy showed me the New Age section of the bookstore (we LIVE at the bookstore pretty much). Then, he bought me a spell book. It was harmless, a colorful little book with neat spells in it and colors and symbolisms and numerology. It was cool. I loved it. And it was a great escape.
Around that age, I was molested by my cousin, and by two of my teachers at a daycare. I didn’t realize what was happening, I didn’t realize it was bad. I just knew that I would get in trouble if I said anything, so I never reported it. It bothered me for a long time, and by time I realized what had happened, it was too late to say anything about it.
So, as I grew up, I continued to stay fascinated with magic, and continuously grew more and more aggressive and angry. And depressed. Until I was about 12 my favorites section at the bookstore was the New Age section. By time I was 13 I had officially converted to Wicca, or in other, the worship of nature and magick, and was very depressed. It wasn’t like satanism or sacrificing goats or anything, I had pure intentions (such as healing, helping, etc etc), and I was genuinely convinced it would make me happier. I thought it was amazing, and for a while I was happy with my false gods and goddesses. I had developed a family and a network of friends who were Wiccan, and my dad had even gotten me a Wiccan reference book despite me not telling him (he was smart enough to figure it out though).
Then my depression got much worse. I was a mess. I would cry myself to sleep at night for no reason, and periodically have emotional breakdowns where I would cry for hours, freaking out and clawing at my skin, hitting myself, cursing myself… It was bad. I hated my life. I would hole up in my room and just stay there, never talking to anyone and hardly sleeping. When I tried to tell my parents I was depressed, they brushed it off as a teenage phase. When I tried again, they didn’t think I was serious. It was hard, and I was crying out for help that just wouldn’t come. My friends weren’t there for me, because I was the one who had to be strong for them. I couldn’t show that I was breaking into pieces. They couldn’t see it.
I continued to practice Wicca, and thankfully it managed to keep me out of falling into sex or drugs or alcohol. I stayed clean, because I thought it was the right thing to do. Though I still couldn’t be happy. I started trying to hurt myself, at first just using a fingernail to carve into my skin. I pushed everyone away and wouldn’t talk to anyone, and no one really seemed to care.
Eventually, my dad confronted me about it. He asked, “What’s wrong with you? I hardly ever see you smile anymore, and when I do, I don’t know why.” And it hit me that he does care and that he does notice. He just didn’t know what to do with me. I was turning into a zombie, a shell.
Towards the end of my freshman year, I met a boy named Andrew. My younger cousin had met him at her friend’s church, and had a huge crush on him. I, being the only protective “big sister” role she had, demanded his phone number so that I could check him out. I mean, he was 2 and a half years older than her, anyone would’ve done the same.I texted him, and told him I was “Bob” his stalker. And we started to argue. We hated each other for a good three months, though we, for some reason, could not stop texting each other. We’d never met before in real life, and we were constantly at each other’s throats, but there was some undeniable connection there.
Mostly, we argued about religion. He didn’t like my beliefs, and I didn’t like his. We argued about it all the time, every waking hour. Then, that summer my mom moved to Ohio, and I would have to switch states for two weeks between her and my dad.I was miserable again, and Andrew noticed it. He tried to help make me feel better about it, though we still argued frequently. Still, he listened to me. And slowly we became very good friends. And my mom moved back to Kentucky at the end of that summer!
Eventually Andrew and I arranged a meeting at a bookstore. Nothing fancy, he would just run in really quick to say hi and give me a hug, then leave. We were both nervous, and excited. And I had officially fallen hard for this guy, and he knew it.
But he also made it clear that he wouldn’t be with me. I had no chance. I wasn’t Christian, and he wanted a Christian wife that he could grow with spiritually. Needless to say, I was devastated. I would cry every time we argued over religion, and every time he rejected me I just fell further and further into depression. I was a mess, and I was only getting worse.
On April 21st, 2010, my Mammaw died. She was an amazing woman, who loved God and everyone else. And I loved her, so much. She was a huge part of my life, and I was devastated. She was the one person that I could talk to about anything at all and know she wouldn’t judge me and would give me some sound advice instead of just saying “sorry” or “things will be ok.” She was wonderful, and I still love her so much, and I miss her dearly.But after watching her life slip away on the hospital bed for four days, I realized that I didn’t have my life together. My Mammaw often times told me God loved me, and always had a Bible sitting open on her coffee table, this huge red and gold thing that was gorgeous but intimidating. She was a very wonderful Christian woman, and she still accepted me for what I was.
It was then that I realized not all Christians are bad, and I prayed to God that night saying that, if he was real, he’d give me a sign that my grandmother was alright.That night, I had a dream about her in a brilliant white light telling me she was happy, and that she was ok. I thought it was a coincidence though, and prayed again. Again, I had a similar dream, where she told me it was alright and she was safe in Heaven. I was in tears. I told Andrew that I wanted to convert, and he helped me turn my life around.I stopped cursing, I stopped being so mean to people, I stopped practicing Wicca. Everything I did was suddenly for God, and I loved Him so much. I still love Him.
God helped me find happiness, and made me realize that in order to be happy, you have to work towards it, and strive for it, and embrace it. He made me realize that life isn’t easy, but that he will only give you what you can handle, and if it gets too hard, he’s there to support you. He sent me an angel in disguise, via text message, and put events in motion so that I may turn my life around and find his everlasting love and acceptance. God has helped me realized not only that I do deserve to be happy, but that I AM loved. I AM talented. I AM special and unique, and I AM worthy. His unlimited grace made me the way I am, scars an all, and I’m eternally grateful.
Profile
I'm not very interesting
My name is Brandie, but my nicknames consist of too many things to count... I'm 18, my favorite color is blue, I'm not fond of pink (doesn't seem that way, huh? I just like the color scheme), I'm a Visual Arts student and am going to college next year for nursing. I have 7 cats and 2 dogs (6 cats and 1 dog at one house, 1 dog and cat at the other), and my parents are divorced. I'm happily taken by a guy named Andrew, and I found God in April, 2010. I'm not a fan of spicy foods and I don't like rich sweet things such as frosting, cake, any kind of fudge that's not chocolate, and pies and cheesecakes. Really, I just like cookies and ice cream. Chocolate chip cookies, specifically. Below is a picture of me and Andrew :D
Summer Has Started and I'm Already Sore
POSTED ON: Monday, June 4, 2012 @ 9:21 PM | 0 comments
So, last Thursday I graduated from high school (I'm stuck between depressed and excited over that...) and since then, I have only managed to sleep in once. My graduation started at 9 AM, and we had to be there at 8, which meant leaving the house at 7, which meant getting up at 6. So I didn't get to sleep in then. Then on friday I went on a camping trip with my church (which also required waking up at 6 AM) that was such a blast.
Oh, here's my diploma :D
Nifty huh? The graduation itself was pretty interesting, but so exhausting. I'm not sure what it is about sitting around waiting for your name to call that is so tiring, but I was dead on my feet afterwards. Boyfriend was kind of concerned about how sleep I was.
So, needless to say, on the six hour drive to Benton, TN I was worn out. But in the end the ride was worth it. I mean, just look at this view!
It was absolutely breath taking. We went up in the mountains to camp (like, legit camp. In a tent, on the ground, with bugs all over us), and I spent the entire weekend praising God for creating such a beautiful place. Everything about it was gorgeous, and I'm kind of sad that my phone died before I could get a picture of the waterfall, which was amazing as well.
And the trip ended up being a success!! We went on this trip to welcome the new freshmen into our youth group, and to "initiate" those of us who hadn't gone on the trip before into the group "officially" (they make you preform some ritual they call unga bunga which I personally didn't like too much but it meant a lot to Boyfriend and the eight graders so I took part). We got to spend a lot of time with the incoming freshmen, and we talked to them about what they are going to face in high school and how to handle the pressures that come along with them. We also explained that, when you do mess up, God WILL forgive you if you come back to Him. And they all seemed really excited, if a little nervous. But marshmallows over the camp fire helped clear that up a bit :)
One thing that was bad about the trip though (besides the white water rafting totally beating me up, though I admit that was by far the best part of the trip) was it really reminded me how mush I miss wicca. I was a wiccan for a very, very long time and being so immersed in nature for the weekend reminded me of how much I loved it, and how much I miss it. I talked to Andrew about this and he suggested that I make sure I spend time in my Bible, and I think I'm going to do that. I have been kind of lazy with my quiet times lately, and that is no bueno D:
However, he did remind me that my favorite parts of wicca (holistic medicine, the study of the different languages, meditation, the morals and peaceful values, and worship rituals) aren't actually for any specific religion, and can easily be applied to Christianity, which I think I'm going to do. It was a huge part of me for a long time, and with me already being uncomfortable in the church I do think it would be better for me to take the things I was comfortable with in wicca and try to apply them to christianity, to get back a sense of normalcy. Holistic medicine, meditation, and language study are definitely some things I'm going to start working with again, and maybe once I'm stronger I'll start applying some of the worship techniques to christianity. And I've always held the values that wicca had, and I think the church should adopt some as well (putting others before self, having perfect love and perfect trust amongst each other, always pushing each other to be better as human beings, never being intolerant towards other people).
Don't get me wrong, in no way am I becoming a wiccan again, I'm just trying to combine the things that I really love in order to enable myself to worship and glorify God better. And I honestly think that this is right for me, but I'm going to pray on it and see.
Ending Prayer: God, please let me know if this is the right thing for me. Would it really be okay for me to combine these things, with the hopes of it making me stronger in my faith? I hope so, God, but I also don't want to do anything that could cause me to stumble. So I'm unsure. Please, let me know what you want. In your name. Amen.
Labels: school, white water rafting, wicca, youth group
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Welcome to Pass the Salt, Please, a blog centered around my journey with Christ, and how He makes Himself present in it everyday. I hope you enjoy it, and feel free to say, send, or ask me anything, and remember to always thank God, for He is the one who provides.
"She is clothed in strength and dignity, and she laughs without fear of the future." Proverbs 31:25
