I have carried this burden for the longest of times. The times I’ve attempted to share it was met by well meaning people discouraging me. Probably the time was not right, or the audience was inappropriate. Perhaps it was cringe worthy to hear or embarrassing on my part; but I’ve decided that the time is right. Authors such as Loui Hay, Sarah Jakes, Stormie Omartian, Stasi Eldredge and Maya Angelou inspired me with their imperfect stories to also write mine- an indescribable adventure I would like to share with you. You might want to get that Kleenex out because what you’re about to read is not some fairy tale; but one woven in in grace. I call it A TAPESTRY OF GRACE.
0-5 YEARS
My grandmother narrated this story to me: At 8 months my
mother dropped me off at my aunt’s place. She called my grandmother to get me
and from that day on I was under her care. As a toddler my mother came for a
“visit”. While my grandmother was outside hanging laundry she heard neighbors
screaming, “Mma Moruti (preachers wife) they’re running away with your child!”
When she got out she saw my mother dragging me on the ground with my sister on
her back, running as fast as she could. She chased her until she got a hold of
my hand, grabbing me from my mother. She concluded by saying that she didn’t
mind my mother having me, what bothered her was the way my mother had done
things.
Eventually I went to live with my parents and sister. My
sister and I went to different pre-schools. She went to a “white” preschool and
I attended one in the location. I always listen to my sister and parents talk
fondly on the crazy beautiful moments they experienced of my sister being in preschool.
I can’t recall any. Although I’m
introverted, as a child I was talkative and energetic. I wasn’t close with
either one of my parents, but my father was more approachable.
One evening while playing in the bedroom, a TV that was
placed on top of a wardrobe fell on my head. Blood was dripping on my forehead
when my mother came in. Although I don’t remember much, when my mother tells
the story she says she found me in that state while the woman who was
supposedly taking care of us was unbothered watching TV. My mother has never
liked caretakers, she always gives them a difficult time. I guess that woman
was indifferent during that incident just to get at my mom. I was taken to the
hospital where my head was sewn. But before that, my mother put “special”
earrings on me and made sure that I was “presentable”. She was taking me to the
hospital where she worked so presentation was everything to her. To this day,
it’s pretty much the same.
I recall another incident when I had a running tummy. The
new nanny in place had locked us outside the house. I knocked tirelessly on the
door until I finally defecated on myself.
Just a few moments before my mother came home she opened the door and
placed me in a bath tub. I was feeling ashamed as everyone remarked on how
stinking the house was. This nanny got pleasure from beating us for just about
anything. At night, we’d tell our parents that the nanny was beating us. They’d
stare at the TV screen pretending that they heard nothing. The next day we
would get beaten again, from head to feet, for having told our parents. We gave
up telling and surrendered to the everyday beatings. Thinking of it now, I
think it was one of the ways this other nanny was “getting at my mom” for being
unbearable to work for.
6-7 YEARS
Once again living with my grandmother, doing grade 1 and
grade 2. This phase was characterized by
intense loneliness and sadness. Just when I started grade 1 it was my birthday.
I brought cake to school which the teacher cut into pieces and instructed me to
share it with my friends. Everyone took a piece and ran off while I was left
staring at the one piece left. It was supposed to be a happy day but I was
extremely sad missing my parents and sister back home. In subsequent days I
made cards for the three of them and kept them in a safe place where I always
checked them. I never got the chance to give them the cards since I don’t know
what happened to them, but looking at those cards kept me going when I wasn’t
even certain when I’d see my family again. I remember having those long sweets
which you suck on; I’d eat a little every day and put it away, telling my
grandmother that I was saving it for my mother. When I eventually saw her and
gave her the sweet she was indifferent insinuating that they were using me to
try to bewitch her. It was confusing.
I experienced bullying from two boys on the street. Almost
every day when I got off the school bus, I would speed home in fear. My
grandmother took me seriously when I got home fearful and crying one day. On
that day, I had even taken a different route. She and I walked to those boys’
home where she sternly reprimanded them. Those boys never bothered me again. I
felt secure by my grandmother protecting and standing up for me. Even to this
day, when I recall that incident I feel happy that at some point in my life, I
was worth fighting for.
The household was chaotic. My uncles often fought
physically; the fights were extremely violent with blood and broken glasses.
Frightened, I would watch as my grandmother would stand in between her sons
trying to stop the fights.
My cousins bullied me a lot during this time. They would place me against the wall, each
taking a turn with their friends to dry hump my friends and I when we played
house. When my older cousin caught us, I was always the one to blame. He
blackmailed me for doing inappropriate things threatening to tell my aunt. I
always felt guilty for being coerced into doing inappropriate things and guilty
yet again that it was my fault. The older cousin resented me. He’d take out the
mucous from his nose and brought it closer to my face forcing me to eat. He’d
tell me that he placed the mucous in my lunchbox which I never touched. He’d
beat my head often swaying it from one side to another, back and forth. He’d
cut my hair when I was asleep once on the side and another in the front. My
grandmother didn’t believe me when I told him that my cousin was responsible
for all that. She thought it was the bats flying at night that chewed on my
hair.
I’m sure I enjoyed plenty of good times with my friends; but
amongst the sad ones I remember a time when I had a fight with my friend’s
cousin. They both ganged on me and chased me away. In the evenings, I would
stare at them on the other side of the fence as they played together. I’m quite
sure many children go through such experiences which bring intense sadness and
loneliness to the individual affected. I felt left out by my family, I felt
left out by my friends.
I was fearful of my aunts. I fought once with my cousin (one
of my aunts son) and my aunt slapped me hard on the face, angrily pointed at me
telling me that that was his son. Another incident when I refused to place
another cousin on my neck because she had peed on herself. She went to her dad
crying and her dad pinched me hard in my inner thighs for making his child cry.
I longed hard for my mother’s protection.
8-12 YEARS
During this time I was living in Schweizer-Reneke under my
aunt’s care. Soon after arriving there, I was being molested by a family
friend- a boy just a bit older than me. I’d lay in silence and shock as he
rubbed my vagina almost every night. I
had no one to confide in. I didn’t get along with the woman who cleaned our
house; she was particularly mean to me. Once on a rainy day when I got back from
school I found that she placed the pink and white towel my mother gave me on
the doorstep for people to wipe their feet before they entered the house. I
took the towel and she tried grabbing it from my hands which firmly held it.
She angrily poked at my face attempting to beat me. I was extremely sad and
angry. To say this lady resented me is an understatement! We’d go long periods
of time without speaking to each other. When she dished up she called the other
children each by name to get their food and just left my plate on the table.
Sometimes I wouldn’t even touch the food. She’d call me with horrible names,
cursing me. For a time her words manifested in my life, but as I continue to
tell my story you’ll see that no one can curse what God has blessed.
I had a close group of friends at school. We got along very
well since I was the domineering one. I got disappointed by my friends one day
when I was called by my cousin standing with them. They had just told her that
I told them that I saw a man on top of my aunt (her mother) in her
bedroom. My cousin told her mom and I
was shamed for daring to have said that. My aunt denied it, telling every
person what she had just heard which made me feel guilty. Deep down, both my aunt
and I knew that I was telling the truth.
Rather than shaming me for the truth, she could’ve sat me down and
explained the dynamics of love and sex between two people who choose to be
together.
I was a bully at school. I usually picked on slender, light
skinned girls simply because I envied them.
I hated myself and that hatred showed in those I treated with
contempt. The hatred of myself came from
the way my mother teased me about my weight and dark skin color. “Don’t wear stripped shirts because they make
you fatter”, she’d say disgustedly. When she was in a jolly mood she’d make
jokes around people saying that I should get a certain cream that’ll make my
face lighter, and laugh her lungs out. I
would also get into many fights at school with both boys and girls, probably a
month never passed by without me getting into one. I remember the disgust on
the principal’s face when with a disgusted face asked, “What’s wrong with
you!?”
At Schweizer-Reneke I was cursed by the caretaker and during
the holidays I was cursed by my mother. She’d call us stupid and say all kinds
of mean words to us. She’d say, “You’re stupid you hear?” We’d nod agreeing
with her. And she’d ask, “What are you?” And with giggles reply, “stupid”. She’d often lament, “I don’t know why God
gave me such stupid children!” “Why didn’t God give me boy children instead?”
“What did I do to deserve such a punishment?”
One morning, as a nine year old she placed me against the
kitchen cupboard, lifted my pink pajama top and told me that I’m pregnant. I
was afraid…I was speechless. When I reminded her sometime back with the hopes
of her admitting the abuse I suffered, she flat out denied the event. She
denies all her cruelty and hateful behavior towards me. One night when I was
peacefully lying in bed, she woke me telling me to go clean the stoop outside.
As I was washing it with a huge ball on my throat she sat down watching me. It
seems like she derived pleasure from the emotional pain she inflicted on me.
Back in Schweizer I was getting more indignant as the
situation was getting worse with the care taker. I found solace in the
attention of a boy five years older than me. I was twelve. He worked at our
shop and would come to the house anytime he wanted to. He began to molest me.
It started with him rubbing my thighs, which gradually built up to baby kisses
until it led to intercourse. From that moment onwards I viewed him as my
savior- the one who could help me escape the horrors of my everyday life.
Prior to the events above he always “checked” on me. If I
was standing with boys he’d tell my mother on the phone and I would feel guilty
for just standing with a boy. One day he found me standing with a boy and he
slapped both of us on our faces. He was instructed to check if I was playing
with boys and he took his role very seriously. My savior was physically abusive
towards me and I thought he only did it because he cared for me. After the sex
I was obsessed with him. I enjoyed the attention he gave me even though it came
with a lot of emotional and physical abuse. From an early age I formulated my perception
of love: Abuse. Pain. Dysfunction.
We went on an excursion for our grade 7 fare-well and while
my peers were playing and swimming, I laid on my tummy feeling ill. I
intuitively knew that I was pregnant, so later in the evening I took an
overdose of pills attempting to put an end to my misery. The pills didn’t work
as I woke up feeling more alive than ever. I told the guy that I was pregnant
and he’d sit on my tummy jumping on it in attempt to kill the baby. Eventually I got the courage to tell my aunt
that I thought that I was pregnant. I was taken to the doctor by all of a
sudden “present” and concerned family members. The doctor confirmed that indeed I was 6 weeks
pregnant. I was told by my uncles that I was busy doing adult things while I’m
a child. Once again, the incident bred shame and guilt.
My mother was working overseas during this time so my father was the one told. He never said a word to me. I just woke up one morning and was taken to the doctor by him and his sister. The doctor performed an abortion. I was crying, I was weak, I was vomiting, I was twelve! I was ashamed and guilty for putting my father through all of that. I learned at a later stage to stop feeling sorry for adults but to consider the emotional turmoil that that twelve year old little girl had to endure.
The emotional and psychological pain I suffered up to the
age of twelve had begun forming the trajectory of my life. I sought validation
and attention so much to the point where I’d do crazy things. I’d sleep on the
pathway where people were passing just to be noticed. I’d mix food with water
in my mouth and pretend to “vomit” it out.
I remember one time all sitting together, we were six in a dormitory,
with a couple of visitors, I masturbated in my bed.
In my first year at boarding school my roommates weren’t
particularly nice to me. They’d call meeting after meeting to express how they
wanted me to conform to the dorm rules. Those meetings usually made me panic
because I had lived with no structure nor rules my entire life. One thing they
told me once was to get nice bedding because I was making the dorm look ugly.
They had colorful beddings whilst I got mine from our boarding mistress which
was striped. I felt guilty for not even knowing what I needed in order to
settle into boarding school. I experienced much isolation, silent treatments
and gossip in my first year.
On my birthdays my father and sister would bring me cake. A
bystander looking from the outside would think that I had a perfect family but
behind those walls was negative criticism, silencing and put downs. It was
obvious that my sister was my father’s favorite. She got to live with our
father, while I was taken to boarding school.
She got bicycles whilst I stood by the sideways having to rejoice for her.
Realizing that I wasn’t going to get the attention I needed from my father, I
sought it from boys. I once asked to boys to kiss and finger me. One agreed and
the other one seemed baffled by my request. But in my mind what I had just done
seemed normal.
I learned intensively about Jesus at this stage in my life.
Yet though I attended prayer meetings and was immersed in religious activities,
I was a hypocrite living a double life. I started becoming promiscuous. I broke
boy’s virginities and took pride in that.
In the classroom, I was at best absent minded dreaming about sex, and at
worst troublesome. My relationship with
most of my teachers was mostly non-existent; but there were those who made me
feel valuable since it was in them to treat each child with respect and
fairness. To me it felt like special treatment. Due to my troublesome behavior,
one teacher told me that he wishes that I would fail matric. That really stung
as I had already become sensitive to negative word curses from adults.
As time passed by I developed a new hobby; I began using
chat sites in the school’s library. I placed fake pictures pretending that it
was me and enjoyed the virtual attention that I received. For a time, I felt
validated. I met two men from the chat
sites who drove from their various places to meet me. One was shocked to see
that I had lied about my picture whilst the other one took me to his hotel room
and slept with me- without protection. Recalling that day now, I remember how
thin and frigid he was. His back was covered in sores when he took off his
shirt. He had a strange walk like someone who was struggling to walk. In
silence, I had sex with him, twice, with no protection.
One boy that I had sex with regularly (he never wanted to
use condoms) during the holidays back home passed away some time last
year. I was not home when he apparently
went to my house looking for me twice. According to my sister, he looked sick
and he had just come to bid his farewell.
Two weeks later he passed away. Now, I discover that my father was aware
that I was having sex with this guy when he jokingly reminded me of him. I was
embarrassed and shocked that a parental figure was aware of my destructive
lifestyle but never saw it necessary to show me the right path. Nonetheless,
when I heard about my ex’s passing I could not help but ponder; “If not for the
grace of God, there I go.”
18-20 YEARS
I completed my matric and was now in Johannesburg for
tertiary. Initially, I wanted to study Education but my decision was overruled
by my father. He wanted me to be in a
career that he had not even taken the time to groom me for and when I kept
failing, the guilt and shame was on me for disappointing him. Emotionally, I was stuck at twelve years and
was not able to cope with the demands and responsibility that came with
tertiary life. I met a 30 year old man
from the chat site who wanted to meet as soon as he heard that I was around
Gauteng. He was sitting at the backseat of his friend’s car when he came to get
me from my flat for the weekend. During the drive, he held me close; held my
hands and smiled warmly with me. I felt secure, seen and validated. It didn’t take long for him to be emotionally
abusive towards me. I availed myself as an object that could be used and tossed
for his convenience. He’d tell me that no one was ever going to marry me
because of my obvious flaws and one being that my fingers were too small. He’d
leave me for long periods of time without food or emotional connection. Without
knowing what I’d done to him he’d ask me why I was causing him grief. He’d search
my bags when I left his place thinking that I stole from him. He’d see me on
his terms.
I received a text message not long after spending time at
his place once telling me that he couldn’t make me climax because my vagina is
larger than life. It appears that he had gone through my emails and saw a
message I sent to my friend that I never experienced a climax with him. I
believe that when he sent that message his ego was bruised so he just wanted to
hurt me, but the fact of the matter is- he was a two minute man.
I continued a life of drunkenness and promiscuity. To please
my friends, I would listen to them when they advised me to sleep with the men
we partied with so that we could have money.
I was doing everything I could to fit in. I allowed a man to take nude pictures of me,
which unfortunately for me was placed on a local porn site. I heard the news
when I got a surprising call from the 30 year old man who seemed concerned
about me and directed me to the link. The comments were nasty, “disgusting”,
“eeuw”, “Is that the big momma from UJ?” I was falling apart yet I did not know
any other way of living.
At some stage I developed a terrible vaginal thrush. I decided to see the doctor when it worsened.
I heard of Esselen Clinic in Hillbrow which specialized in treating sexually
transmitted diseases. As I stood on the long queue I’d hear screams of
individuals crying out. Someone next to me would say, “There goes another one
testing positive for HIV.” I remember the fear. Although the men sleeping with
me used a condom, I couldn’t help but think that it was “over” with me. I
tested negative for HIV and was given medication to treat my condition.
My hatred of self escalated with each bad decision I made. I
envied my calm room mate who was sought after by guys. I stole her pictures and
sent it to guys on the chat sites and pretended that it was me. I wanted her
life, her body, her beauty. I was in conflict with myself when a classmate
relentlessly told me about Jesus Christ. She’d say, “You’re so beautiful. When
God looks at you He sees you through the blood of Christ.” She always took time
for me but there was no change because I was too busy focused on other things. A
seed however was planted.
I met another guy from the chat site who became the object
of my obsession simply because instead of having sex with me right from the
start, he tried to converse and get to know me by taking me out on dates. Sex
was my only method of communication so each time he dropped me off without
wanting sex I was disappointed. When he eventually discovered the price tag I
placed on myself he started seeing me solely for sex. The last time he saw me
we had just had sex and my discharge was all over his pelvic area. He was
freaked out exclaiming, “What the fuck is this!” On his way to drop me off I
kept pointing at cars saying, “There’s our car” “our house” “Our family”. He
drove as fast as he could when he realized how incoherent I was. I didn’t want
to let him go. I called and stalked him. I’d call radio stations dedicating
songs to him. At some point I diverted my phone calls to his number. After many
polite requests to leave him alone, he said “leave me the fuck alone and go
find your father!” Although I didn’t know I had daddy issues by then that stung
and it helped me release him.
After failing a module three times the University kicked me out of the course- what was known as F7 in Uj. I wanted to continue my life in Johannesburg but my time there was up. I tried to apply at VUT since it was based in Gauteng. On the day of my application and after standing on a long line, I finally got in the Deans office. She saw that I had been at UJ and wanted to apply for the same course I failed thrice. She asked, “If you couldn’t pass at UJ, what makes you think you’ll pass here?” At that time with my victim mentality I thought she was being mean but today I realize that she helped me greatly.
Being an average student, I was required to upgrade my marks
in order to enter the university my sister suggested that I apply for. I
upgraded in a town called Welkom. I was older than my peers so I did not quite
fit in. I kept myself busy by going to the gym which helped me cope with life’s
demands. I was also more into long term entanglements than hookups. However the
people I was in a relationship with were not in a relationship with me. To them
I was a means to an end- either to break their virginity or to amuse their boredom.
I continued with my clingy tendencies placing my life on a man’s attention for
me.
For the first time in my tertiary existence I passed all my
modules at the end of the year. When my father got back from work I excitedly
handed my report card to him. He viewed it and put it away without uttering a
word. His dismissal of me and not acknowledging my excitement invalidated my
perception. When I was failing and struggling he was always offering his
“support” yet when I did well he could hardly congratulate me. From that day
onwards I seldom share any good things happening in my life with him.
22-26 YEARS
I was now in the main university in Bloemfontein. I briefly
got back to my life of drinking and promiscuity. I had a friend who gladly
introduced me to those activities. Through her I met a man who was a medical
doctor by profession way older than me. He proposed that we be together and
he’d give me anything that I wanted. He was in Gauteng so we didn’t see much of
each other. A married, decent looking man who had a flat for whenever he needed
to commit adultery. I also didn’t respect marriage or regard his wife’s
feelings. I didn’t know about the scripture that asks, “Can a man walk on hot
coals and not be burned? So is he who sleeps with another man’s wife. He will
not go unpunished.”
On the side I had a guy who adored me. I always pushed him
away because his attention of me was too much for me. Stability and consistency
was all too boring for me since I got used to the idea that love equates to
drama. On New Year’s Eve we became intimate using a condom but the condom
broke. I bought morning after pills the next day. I was shocked to discover
later in March that I was 9 weeks pregnant. My period was just normal. The only decision from there was to have
another abortion, I did not know any other way. I went to Marie Stopes clinic
where a cold, detached nurse performed the abortion. The pain was excruciating,
the room was cold, the guilt was overbearing. That was the turning point in my
life. How many more abortions was I going to have before I could decide to
change my ways? How much more pain and guilt was I willing to live with before
I could surrender?
On 15 April 2012, whilst sitting in Church Jesus Christ
saved me. Outward I looked the same but inward I had become new. Suddenly the things I used to like I no longer liked, and the things I used to hate I now loved. I showed up
for church meetings and home cells. I went through a lot of embarrassment as I
learned to relate functionally with the opposite sex without assuming that
their kindness or smile meant that they were sexually interested in me. By
God’s grace, I read and understood my Bible, I read books on sexuality, biblical woman and manhood, boundaries and basic mannerisms which helped build me up. I formed
values, healthy friendships and hobbies. My need for men and sex vanished as God
filled my void. My life became colorful.After many attempts in the past for weight loss, the weight effortlessly pilled off. By God’s grace I received a
scholarship bursary which paid my accommodation and tuition fees. Everything I
had lost got restored double. I went from failing all my modules to obtaining distinctions in most of my subject. I began travelling the world, mostly to USA which broadened my
horizons. I took leadership positions in
the Church and tried out different ministries to explore my gifts. I formed
close interpersonal relationships with healthy ladies whom were safe to open up
to. All this is a gift from God. As I moved along this journey, I came across
guys who became obstacles along the way. Although they saw that I was on a
mission to living my life for Christ they insisted on getting me to bed. It was
difficult for me to overcome as my subconscious mind had already been
conditioned for toxic love and dangerous men. I fell constantly, but by God’s
grace I kept getting up and learning from my mistakes. It is the grace of God
that keeps me striving forward, looking ahead to a glorious future.
27-30 years (present)
In 2017 I got into the work industry as a High school
teacher; thank God I was level-minded and saved. Many people and colleagues
looked at my life and talked behind my back because of the lifestyle I am
living. They say I take life too seriously. I however know the cost of not being taken seriously. They don’t know what I have been through to get to this point. I get
angry at times and disappointed when they discourage me from choosing the life
I chose, but I find strength, confidence and solace in my relationship with
God. I have my prayer and reading of God’s Word on weekdays at 4am each
morning. That has strengthened my relationship with God on so many levels and
because of that nothing ever shakes me.
Later in the same year, my sister and I received a call from a man who narrated his and my mother's history. He claimed that either both, or one of us is his daughter. My sister looks exactly like him. I was shocked but not surprised to hear those news because throughout the years, there were hints that the father that we know is not our biological father. There was even a time when I drove with my uncle and out of nowhere he said, "The truth is, your father is a foreign doctor". I froze and that was never spoken about again. My sister and I blocked the man's number and refused to entertain the matter any further. We believe that if he really was serious about being in our lives he would have done it by any means necessary. However, if that is the truth, it would give me a sense of closure for my father's passivity in my life yet extreme gratitude for the sacrifices he made.
Again in 2017 I entered into a relationship with a toxic
individual. Being in that relationship was hurtful but I learned a great deal
about myself, people and God. It was a short lived relationship that truly "woke" me from naivete. No man is coming to save me. I learned that I had to work on the deep-seated
beliefs I had about relationships that were causing me pain and since I'm doing the work, I am able to spot pathological, unstable men from afar. God works on me
every day and I am glad I don’t have to use sex or a man to help me cope with
all these emotions, even the long lonely ones. I have the Holy Spirit as a
close friend and comforter. I cry out to Him at anytime and He comforts me.
In 2018, I took my cousin's child under my care. His father committed suicide and his relationship with his mother is dysfunctional. I wanted to give him a better life but I don't think I was well-equipped to care for a hurting, strong-willed child. I tried my best, and when he reminded me of my parents by calling me stupid and treating me as if I was nothing, I decided to send him back to his mom. The validation I thought I'd get from him for being a good person is something that never came. So I stopped feeling guilty for not being responsible for other people and placed that focus on myself. I validate myself now and the love God places in my heart everyday day is enough to carry me.
I know I mentioned a great deal about the pain I suffered in the past, but fantastic things are taking place in my life. I am endowed with remarkable splendor, I move about with grace. I am clothed in strength and dignity; I’ve been blessed with wisdom and discernment. I am mentally strong, emotionally intelligent and know how to love and take care of myself. I am insensitive to negative criticism and I try my best to depersonalize people’s behavior. I attend therapy where my psychologist and I are working through my codependency and validation seeking. I have a great career and academic opportunity ahead of me. I am blessed with a beautiful, warm and cozy apartment; a classy car and over-abundant financial blessings. I see my body as God’s temple; I look after it by working out, eating healthy food and taking supplements. I am blessed with supportive, generous and loyal friends and I am blessed with the ability to appreciate functional, loving, stable and respectful men rather than be drawn to those who are abusive. Men now chase me (swarming around me; a hive of honey bees) not the other way round. And until I find a partner worthy to father my children, I'll continue taking care of myself and seeking the Lord.The latter part of my life is truly greater than the former.
I like to reflect on the story in Mark chapter 5 about a man
who was severely demon possessed who lived in the tombs and broke the chains that bound him. You can read the entire story on your own. Towards the end of the
story it’s mentioned that after Jesus had delivered the man from the Legion, people saw him
sitting , dressed and in his right mind. The man wanted to follow Jesus wherever he
went but Jesus told him he should go home to his people, and tell them how much the
Lord had done for him and how he had mercy on him. I tend to feel like that
demon possessed man who’s now delivered by the power of Christ. I am now
sitting, clothed and in my right mind. I used to be crazy but the Lord had
mercy on me and now I just want to tell everyone what He has done for me.
In the same chapter, a woman who had been bleeding for
twelve years is mentioned. The number twelve has a special meaning to me in
this instance. As soon as she touched Jesus’ clothes, her bleeding stopped. This
is inspiring because it showed me that when we reach out to the Lord He heals
us from all our infirmities. My infirmity wasn’t physical bleeding, but
emotional and psychological bleeding. Jesus healed me and gave me a new life.
Lastly, in the same chapter a girl who was dead but raised
to life by Jesus is mentioned. “He took her by the hand and said to her, “Talitha
Koum!” (Which means, ‘little girl, I say to you, get up!’). Immediately the
girl stood up and began to walk around (she
was twelve years old).” Verse 41-42.
‘She was twelve years old”
are the words that have a significant meaning. At twelve years of age I “died”
but years later Jesus resurrected me. People thought it was the end of me, my
own family had given up on me, but God’s ways are always higher than our ways
and His thoughts higher than ours. People’s current situations don’t define
their destiny so we need to learn to see them through a broader perspective. Also,
don’t define yourself by your situations. If we ever meet or cross paths, I
hope you don’t see me through my past but solely through grace. That’s why I
call my story- A TAPESTRY OF GRACE.
A true epitome of God's grace. May God continue to shower you with his grace and blessings. In all situations, cling on to him
ReplyDeleteAmen, thank you for reading and blessings!
DeleteWow... I'm super inspired and proud of you bestie. The best is yet to come ❤️❤️❤️
ReplyDeleteThank you mogotsi for reading, and for your encouragement! I love you lots!
DeleteAmen.... God is indeed a great God. I love you Tis babe. Your boldness is remarkable ausi..
ReplyDeletethank you for reading! and indeed God is truly good! Please comment with your name next time so that I know who you're are :-D
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