Saved by Grace

Thank you for coming to read my story and I pray that you continue reading my blog and see my journey to be coming a Christian. I always thought and been told that I should write a book about my life. It was never easy from the start. I was born a Catholic and not that I do not like nor respect Catholics, but, it didn't work for me. I always knew of God and Jesus but growing up I didn't understand what it meant to have Jesus in your heart, your life and in everything you do. I didn't understand how blessings work and what it meant to have the Lord's Grace. I had so many trying times that often I had blamed God for not loving me. I did not understand what it truly meant to have faith. It wasn't until I moved into my cousins home (I say home because that is what it is. A home, a house filled with love, light and faith. A safe place, a safe haven.), and saw how having faith, religion and Jesus in your life, family and heart really was like. Before I get in to that part of my journey I want to go back from the earliest memories I had as a child.

I come from a family that originated with myself, two brothers and two parents. From what I remembered we were the typical happy family, living in a three bedroom house with a huge backyard in Carson, California. I am the oldest of all my siblings and being the oldest I always protected my brothers. My father, always been a hard working man, worked long hours to provide a good home for his family. We were far from living a rich style life but we had security. My mother was a house wife that kept clean well behaved kids and a well kept home. Sounds like a fairy tale right? Well all fairy tales end at some point and most never happy. As a child I do remember going to a catholic church Sundays, but not always. Soon we stop going all together and things started to change within our family. My mother and father began to fight and it soon became physical. Now let me explain before all the assumptions and blame begin. My father, never in his life hit a woman let alone his wife. I am a sole witness to this, I remember watching as things would unfold that began with a simple disagreement. That would turn into an argument and a shouting match, and eventually into some hard fist flying from my mother. I guess we can say she had a temper. I remember shoving my brothers into our bedroom and hiding them from things that I saw. I would have to say I was six years old when things became violent. My brothers were five and three. We were always scared and confused, you can imagine being locked in a bedroom and only hearing things crashing, breaking, and screaming. When things would become quiet, of course I, would go out and make sure things were okay. I would find my mother often in her bedroom with tears and still filled with anger. The house would be thrashed in all directions. Glass on the kitchen and bathroom floors, clothes everywhere, chairs upside down and picture frames smashed to pieces. My father in a different room on the opposite side of the house looking like he became the hulk with his shredded shirt hanging from his body. I never realized until years later that my father was a broken man and that in those days where there was a fight so devastating that he showed vulnerability. My father is a hard man, never liked to show feelings outside of himself.

There were times during the fights that my brothers would need to use the bathroom and I remember one day I had let one out and go to the bathroom. There was glass broken all over the floor and as he walked in barefoot he got a huge piece of glass stuck in his foot. I was terrified that I did not take care of my brother that day. The only good that did was stop that particular fight. Life went this way for a year and within that year may things happened. My mother stopped taking us to school often, she would sleep all day and have parties while my father worked. My father happiness dwindled, causing more fights to happen. I saw things that I never understood till I was older, and that was drugs. Drugs ruined my family. My Mother and Father some how started using drugs and I believe that is when things began to change for us. Things didn't get better for us for a very long time, but this is where my journey stated. At least this is how I feel about my journey. I may have been to young to realize it but it was the point where my life began the roller coaster of faith. 

Being six years old I knew of God but I never questioned him till later that year when my Mother left us. I will get into that in time, for now I leave you with this; God is never punishing you. God only challenges you, but he loves you no matter what. I didn't understand that till I moved into my cousin's house at the age of thirty. It is never to late to learn about Faith and about God. Only you can make the decision to walk in his path, the path that God made for you. 

2 Peter 1:2 "Grace and peace be yours in abundance through the knowledge of God and of Jesus our Lord."