My Testimony

I was encouraged by my friend Julia Hull to share my testimony. I don't remember much from childhood unfortunately and this is probably why. This is my testimony.

I grew up in a Catholic Family. I remember going to a Catholic Preschool, attending church and Sunday school every week. I don’t remember much prayer, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t take place. I remember my maternal Grandparents were very religious, probably why my Mom was so consistent. I remember the church wanting my sister and I to go to confession, but my Dad thought we were too young, so I never made it. 

I remember my Dad sitting my sister and I down one night before bed, maybe I was around 6 or 7, not sure exactly. He told me that his brother, my Uncle Rick had gotten very sick and was no longer with us. I was too young to really understand it, or what it meant, but I never got to say goodbye. I would later understand that he died from melanoma. A few years would pass and I noticed my mom’s belly growing and I thought she must be having a baby. This was not the case. I didn’t know or understand at the time, being only around 8, that she was battling ovarian cancer. I was a young kid who was the only kid I knew whose mom was in and out of the hospital getting chemo treatments, hooked up to IV’s, walking around our house losing her hair, her nails, her bladder. Never feeling good, but always having a smile on her face to show me she was okay. I twirled baton and was really good at it, but my mom was too sick to ever see me compete. My coach adopted me as we traveled around the country for competitions. I became a National Champion at age 10, but she never got to see.

When I was 11, my mom was still fighting. Ovarian cancer is a very hard cancer to find before its too late and unfortunately her battle was coming to an end. Hospice came in and took my sister and I out for pictures to be done, tried to get us out of the house and into happier places. This was a great program, one that I would later train to be a part of while living in San Diego, but moved out of state soon after and never sought since. Something I still regret and hope to do in the near future. I remember she wanted to die at home, so all of our family was there near Halloween of 1988. I remember my Dad coming down the stairs, asking my sister and I to say goodbye to our Mom. I crawled onto her bed weeping, saying I love you over and over again. I wasn’t really sure what was happening, what this all meant. At least I got to say goodbye. I embraced my Mom one last time on October 30, 1988. The next day was Halloween and I went to school. I wanted to dress up. I remember my Dad taking my teacher aside and providing the news. I should not have been there, but I was a kid and I wanted to dress up.

After this point, I did not see church outside of Christmas and Easter when my Dad would take us. God was not part of our lives much anymore. Fast forward 3 years to age 14 when my best friend Julie became a Christian and wanted nothing more than to share the good news with me. No thank you. I was done with God. I was hurt, heartbroken and confused as to why a loving God would do this to me. I had no one else to blame. Julie kept trying and trying to convince me to come to church with her. After much begging, I would go with her throughout the remainder of high school because I loved her, not God. I would find another friend Sarah in high school who would invite me to church as well. I went with her because a cute guy at our high school went there too. I entered Sac State the fall of 1995 and would meet another friend Cari who wanted to get back into church. I would later realize that God placed all of these people in my life for a reason. I would later realize that God did not pick my Mom out of the crowd and give her cancer. I would later realize that we are not promised a perfect life. I would later realize that God uses circumstances in our lives to bring us closer to Him. I would later realize that He used Julie, Sarah and Cari as stepping stones to my relationship with Him. I would later realize on December 6, 1996 that Jesus died for me and my sins and He loved me more than I will ever know. That no matter what joy or hardship I face, He is right there with me.

Please don’t get me wrong. I still weep over the loss of my Mother, but I am healed and restored by the love of Jesus. Yes, it was the worst tragedy in my life thus far, at too young of an age for any child to endure, but I am thankful and grateful that God used that circumstance in my life to bring me to Him. To his peace. I was set free of my anger, my hurt, my blame.

That is my story.