Imperfect Child of God

This blog comes from a start a long time ago. Many years ago I was planed the seed of the LDS church when I was 14. When I first met a friend of a boy I was dating. That same young man when he went on his missions trip sent the local missionaries over to talk to my husband and I. Then again I would run in to them while walking my kids to school.

But at that point I was angry. My young child came out as Gender Non Conforming. My kids and I were kicked out of our non denominational  church and my anger was strong. Then my husband and I started to have issues in our marriage. It was things that got stronger though our marriage. Our 13 years of marriage.

It got to a point where we had taken a trip to Mexico. It was an amazing trip. I was having trouble sleeping and was depressed and stressed. My doctor prescribed me antidepressants, and sleeping pills for the trip. My husband then was more verbal to me during the trip, the abuse that I had been suffering the last few years was more intense. It was so bad at one point in the trip he had me so beaten down that I locked myself in the bathrooms sobbing. I was done. I was so done. I just wanted this feeling to end. The pain that I was going through to end. I started to make a plan. That when he went to sleep I would go to the bar by the beach, I would go have a few drinks, and more drinks, and then I would take my sleeping pills. Not just one, but ALL the pills. I would then walk out in to the ocean, I would let the sleeping pills kick in, and let the ocean take me. I was sobbing, and then this little voice inside me told me to stop. It told me to leave him. It told me to make a plan and go.  And so I climbed in to bed. I am so happy I listened to that whisper. It was from the holy ghost.

Things were hard when we got back. I went to go see my doctor and told him what had happened. He worked out a plan with me. Gave me numbers of places to call, and suggestions. I then started to stash money aside. A few dollars here, a few dollars there.

We then went to Disney on Ice for my husbands birthday. He had this anger in him the whole time. He was mad getting there, He was mad during it, He was mad after. It got to the point that when our 4 year old was sick on the way back and at home she did not want to take her medication. It was hard, I was working with her. Lots of medication spat out and I was frustrated. He flew in to the room and swept her off her feet, ripping her pants and pull up off and threw her over his leg and started hitting her hard on her bum and legs. He then swept her off and shook her, and was screaming in her face. He did that and after a few seconds I clued in and grabbed her from him. And she looked up at me and then threw up. I grabbed her in my arms, took her to the only bathroom in the house and locked the door.  I cried non stop as I gave her a bath. I took pictures of the marks on her legs and then emailed them to my father and my good friend in another province. I wanted to make sure that if he saw them on my phone and deleted them, that they would still be out there.

The next day I walked my older two to school. I came home and I packed 2 suitcases. I pull out the money that I had saved. It was not more then $50. I called local transition houses. I could not find one that had room for me till we went an hour and a half away by bus. It was hard. I was scared. I had ripped the house apart looking for our ID and all our other information. I had called all my friends asking for help to get there, all the people who told me to leave him and that they would helpme but they could not. They all had things they had to do, or told me to stay and work it out. I talked to the kids principal at the school explaining what happened and I had no idea when I would be back. I then took the kids straight from school and we left. I had a hard time explaining to them what had happened.

We then got an apartment not too far from the kids school.  We got settled in the place. The kids got contact with there father on weekends with supervision through there grandparents. Things were going ok. But then I got a call. My dad was found collapsed at home by my sick moms home care worker. He was taken to the hospital. I called my ex husband. Our children went to his parents house, He went to go sit with my mom, and I went to the hospital.

When they brought me in and took me to room with chairs I knew something bad had happened and he was not ok. They brought me to look at him. The doctor had told me to say goodbye. He had massive bleeding and would die. They left me alone with him. I was scared. I was shocked.  The doctor came back, he said he would talk to a neurologist at a neighbouring hospital. He then came back and said they would take him and they were prepping an ambulance and asked the two nurses there who wanted to go on the trip. My father ended up coding on the trip to the hospital. I got in with my dad who was revived, and they talked to me, they got him ready for surgery. We got up to the waiting area, and he was bumped 4 times due to c-sections and only 1 OR room available.

My Aunt took me out, and home, I needed sleep. I was called after he made it out of surgery. I had to also make that hard choice and I had to put my mom in a nursing home. My mom had an illness called Progressive Supranuclar Palsy. Its like ALS and Parkonsons combined. It was hard and she was at the point where she could not talk, could not eat, and was bed bound.

It was the hardest choice of my life of what parent to take care of. I was told at the rehab that my dad was in to put him in a home too. But my Dad came out of the surgery very well. His mind was there, his memories there. I could not do that to him. My Dad and I never really got along. I had left home when I was 14 due to our issues. My Dad has told me in my life time that he loves me and I can count those times on one hand. It hurts. Even with everything I have done for my dad since the stroke he has not told me he loves me or even thank you. It hurts, it hurts a lot.

This last April I got a call from my Uncle. My mom had pulled out her feeding tube again. More then once. And they had decided that she was done. They were leaving it out and giving hospice care. I  was not contacted by the nursing home. I was left out. I found out days after it was pulled out. I then had to get ahold  of my ex husband who then refused to watch our kids. I had to get my lawyer involved. It got to the point where we almost had to go get an emergency hearing infant of a Judge. But he took the kids. I rushed to my Mom and I did not leave her. I stayed by her side. I played christian music my mom loved. I grew up in the pentecostal church with my parents, going to a christian private school. I know my Mom loved our heavenly father.

I had just started a few weeks before talking with some LDS missionaries and was texting with them. They continued to txt to me while my mom was dying. Sending me txts back and forth. The funny thing was as I was walking around the nursing home there was a book of mormon in the shelf. I took it and was reading it as I was resting in the hard chair beside my moms bed. It was hard feeling her get cold. Her eyes glazing over, and the rattle as she was taking slow breaths. I knew it was close and I was counting the seconds between her breaths. I had already told her it was Ok, that I would be ok (even though I did not believe that) and that my dad would be Ok.

She took her last breath. I cried. I walked to the nursing desk and there was no one there. I waited softly crying. Finally a nurse came up and I told her she was gone. She then walked to the room with me, and checked for a heart beat. It was just moments before midnight on April 12. My mom knew the number 13 is special to me. It was the day I was born. I know she did not want it to mean anything bad for me. I went home. I slept. I was exhausted. The next day someone took me to the funeral home to plan things. I was in shock, I was 32. I should not be having to take care of my disabled father, watch my mother die, and go through a nasty divorce. It was not fair. I was angry. I was very very angry.

I took half my moms ashes to mexico and left them there. I have wonderful pictures. My mom loved to travel and wanted to travel with me, but she got sick before we both could afford it. I had a hard time with christmas coming up so soon so I talked with my kids who were 6, 7, 7 at the time, and we had agreed to go on vacation at the end of November instead of doing christmas.

As we lead up to that I started dating. Had a lot of single dates, The men were not great. Either we didn't click, or the men just wanted sex. It was one man I had talked to for 3 weeks, and we went to meet up for coffee and after 4 hours talking at the coffee shop and it closed he asked if I wanted to go for a drive with him. I did. And that was a bad mistake. He tried to rape me in the car. Thankfully I had my cell phone in my hand an threatened to call 911 and told him to drop me off at a fast food place. I then called a cab and left from there. It was scary. I stopped dating after that and only talked to people online. I had this big hole in my heart. I was lonely.

When I went to mexico with my kids I would talk to people by the pool while my kids were playing. It was great. My divorce was final. It went thought the day before I buried my moms ashes in mexico.  While in Mexico I was playing on a dating app, and found a guy who was in mexico but he lived only a 10 min drive from my home. We met up a few time and connected. We exchanged numbers so when he got back home from his vacation (he was to be there for a month) that we would get together. Things clicked and I thought maybe this was a change I needed.

I got home. I was lonely. I cried a lot. Christmas was very hard. My ex husband had changed so many things and it was to the point where he stopped seeing the kids. He then picked up and saw them but  for less then 12 hours on Sunday. It was hard, my kids were hurting.

One night I was lonely. I turned  to a dating app. Clicking yes, No, Yes, Yes.... I got a message from a guy on November 27. The same day I had hurt my hand and was in the ER late at night getting it checked out as I thought I may have broken something. We ended up talking the next few days. Then we were txting and I found out he was texting in church. We met up. Went to see a few movies, went out to eat. Then he told me he has church on sunday and so he would not be able to date that day. I was really liking he time I was spending with this guy. Sundays were the day I did not have my kids and only real day to go out and do things. SO I asked if I could go to church with him. He said sure and invited me to come. He took me to his YSA ward. It was a bit awkward at first as it was young women alone learning first, then sunday school, then another service where they did communion.

I went, and I felt the heavenly Father speak to me. I felt like my questions I was being asked were being answered. I wanted more. I asked if I could come back next week. And then I went the week after. Every time I had a struggle I got answers from the speakers at the service. I knew I wanted more. I started talking to him about baptism, and asking questions. I knew I wanted more, I wanted to be back with our heavenly Father. I wanted to have this amazing relationship with him again. I needed it.

I then took the steps to read all the information that the missionaries give out. I then decided to talk to the Sister Missionaries at the church. I gave them my number. I started to talk and they shared, I shared, and I felt this amazing peace in me. I never knew I would have this peace. I still am scared at time, but I can pray to our heavenly Father. I can ask him for help. Because it was hard. It was hard to obey the laws. To no drink coffee. I was a big coffee drinker. I was drinking 2-5 cups at work. Alchoal was a big one. My mom had a problem with drinking, and I was starting to head that way too. I was drinking when I was sad, or upset, or when I needed a deep sleep. I stopped. Cold turkey.

There was one night that was hard. Very hard. I don't even remember what I was going though, but my boyfriend would send me txt messages with bible verses. Little tid bits to help me through my day. And I let him know how I was feeling. How I was stressed, And he listened, He gave me advice, and It was good. I told him I was struggling and how I wanted a drink. I really wanted a  drink. He advised me to pray. And he told me if I truly need it to get through this, then do what you need to do. I prayed, I cried, and I fell asleep.

Every night this man leaves me a good night txt. He txts me in the morning and sends me verses through the day. After my divorce I had started praying for my future husband. I prayed that the Heavenly Father would bless him, help him, guide him. This man I know pray for along side praying for my future husband.

I had been meeting with the Sister missionaries and my baptism is planned for February 6th 2016. Im excited. I am an Imperfect Child of  God. I will always be imperfect. But our Heavenly Father loves me. He wants me, and he welcomes me. He also gives me a chance every week to renew my vow to him that I will do better, That I will strive to be Christ Like.

So this is the start of my imperfect life with our Heavenly Father. I will stumble, I will fall, But our heavenly Father is there to pick me up, dust me off, and love me.

Thank you for following me on this journey.