Hate and resentment. That’s what I felt towards God for the longest time. I just couldn’t comprehend how a loving God could allow a child to be sexually abused. How could He allow that same child to be sexually abused, and sexually assaulted by so many people for so many years? How could a loving God give her a loving husband and allow him to be killed? How could a loving God watch His child suffer for decades? How could He watch her punish herself, and fall apart? How could He ignore her pleas for mercy?

My journey to deepen my relationship with God begins the day I escaped my ex. E was violent, unpredictable, and a notoriously light sleeper. He had begun taking some heavy duty pain meds, that made everything worse. On my last morning next to E, I woke up early. I didn’t just physically wake up, but I woke up emotionally, and mentally. The life I had been living hit me like a Mack truck. The rapes, the yelling, the isolation, the slapping, hitting, all of it. The fact that my body was slowly just quitting on me. I felt it all, and I cried hysterically, but quietly. I was paralyzed with fear, and hopelessness. My abuser, snoring peacefully next to me. I came up with a detailed plan, for the first time, to end my own life. I was determined to stop being hurt, and I knew E wouldn’t just let me go.

I was getting ready to get out of bed, and follow through with my plan, when, out of desperation I begged God for help. If He was there, if He really had any amount of love for me, please help. I told Him I was ready to die if He wasn’t really there. If He really didn’t love me. I told Him that I needed Him. I needed a miracle to get out. I wanted to know if there was a chance at a life with love, and safety. A life with contentment and happiness. I told God that if He couldn’t, or wouldn’t, help me, I was prepared to help myself. I was terrified, and I had never in my life felt so alone. Then something happened.

To be continued…