"Something's Wrong with Her"

Lie #3: God Made A Mistake.

Someone once told me we give the devil too much credit, but I don’t think we give him enough. Until more recently, I don’t think I really thoughtfully considered what the devil was created for. He was made to be a leader, not a follower. He is an intelligent, celestial being created for greatness. I can almost understand better the high intelligence of such men as Johann Wolfgang van Goethe, Da Vinci, and Isaac Newton. All brilliant minds, but confined to a human body. The devil in all his craftiness is so magnificently influential with his smooth, sly tongue. And he has the freedom to roam this earth with access to both you and me. And not just us, but the generations before us and the generations to come.

I’ve always said the devil has been trying to kill me since the day I was born. Then more recently I was thinking about how he did not have to wait and see what my likes and dislikes would be. No, the devil knew my great, great, great, great grandmother and the whole lineage before that. He didn’t have to know me specifically to be planning my demise, or yours either. His desire is to cleverly manipulate the life of every single person in my family, especially those before me. As a result, this darkness trickles down generation after generation. These generational curses have been going on for centuries. In my family, my mother and I never really connected when I was a child and I doubt she connected well with her mother either. My grandmother was the meanest, most miserable person I have ever known. And I can only wonder what her mother was like before her. You can see a pattern here. So who is going to break this? Me? My daughter? Someone has to or the enemy maintains its hold not only on myself, but the generations to come. That is how powerful and intelligent the devil is. He is a master at warfare and has had a long time to perfect it.

Most of my life people from the congregation have said, “Oh you are so lucky to grow up in that family or to be a PK (pastor's kid).” It was like they thought I was growing up in some spiritual bubble of protection because my father was a minister. I think I did have the perfect opportunity to grow up in a healthy, loving environment that cultivated a strong foundation in faith and self confidence, but I did not. Just like most families, the devil had infiltrated our family generations ago. 

The experiences we have in childhood make a dramatic difference in how we see the world and ourselves even as adults. I just read an article by Hack Spirit on the 10 signs you may have had a bad childhood. I included the link at the bottom. I can resonate with all 10 of them. If you have been reading my blogs, you know that I rescued a kitten under our family's trailer, was possibly taken by a man on a motorcycle (Blog: Holy Spirit Vision) or at least petrified by that experience. You also know I was molested by my cousin at age eight (Blog: God Doesn’t Really Love Me). I had also experienced a kindergarten teacher that was abusive and then transferred to a Christian school where I was not accepted because I was the wrong kind of Christian. I was already depressed and thinking about dying and wasn’t even in third grade. Life sucked. Then just before I was about to turn nine and start the third grade, my father announced that we were moving. It would be the first of many. When we loaded up the U-Haul truck that summer, my mother told me to climb in and sit in the middle of the seat. She handed me Booptekin and told me to hold on tight. As my father turned the key, my mother was still standing outside of the truck with the door wide open. You probably already know where this is going don’t you? Well you would be right. The moment the engine roared to life, my best friend clawed his way out of my arms and leaped from the truck. He was gone in seconds. My father followed me into the cornfield behind the house, but Booptekin was gone, at least for the time being. He was an indoor-outdoor cat, so he would be back looking for me later that day. Less than a half hour passed when my mother announced that it was time to go. Wait, what? We’re leaving without Booptekin? I’m not sure you can imagine the overwhelming trauma in that moment, not after everything else I had been through. 

It was not just about losing Booptekin, but everything else rolled into one ugly painful mess called my life. I could not stop the overwhelming sadness from consuming me. That day I shut down completely. I built walls around myself so nothing could get in, but sadly nothing could get out either. I started school shortly after we settled in, but within a few months the teacher sat down with my parents and said I needed to be transferred to a special needs class in another school. She said something was wrong with me. Yes, something was terribly wrong, but it was not me. I didn’t understand why the other kids in my class were so happy and playful. They were full of energy all the time. I rarely played at recess, but chose to sit alone somewhere in the shade. I would watch everyone else play because I felt tired and uninterested in doing anything. I just wanted to be left alone. I never spoke a single word at school, not once. When the teacher would ask me a question, I would either stare at my paper or just look at her blankly. The answer was in my mind, but I couldn’t speak the words. My mouth wouldn’t move for me. I tried to speak, I wanted to speak, but I couldn’t. At the special needs class I was welcomed with loving arms. The class of children ranged in mental disabilities, but what they lacked in normal functioning they made up in fantastic personalities. One very friendly girl connected with me almost immediately. She always greeted me with a huge smile and warm hug. It was like I was the most famous person walking into the room. I wasn’t used to that kind of contact or high spirited temperament. It was really uncomfortable at first. Slowly over the months I started to break out of my tormented shell. Transferring to this class ended up being exactly what I needed. This teacher saw me through all the layers of trauma and didn't turn her back on me or ignore the obvious needs I had. And the other students in the class only knew how to love one another relentlessly including me. I know my parents did not intentionally try to hurt me growing up. It was absolutely the work of the devil and he so easily used my parents, cousin, and others against me. If you are a parent, I pray the Holy Spirit helps guide you in strengthening your child's foundation. I don’t accept the lie that “Well, that’s just how kids are.” or “He will outgrow it.” Do we recognize when our child is misbehaving that that could be the enemy influencing them in some way? Maybe the devil is using a friend to upset them or something they watched on the television. Maybe he is whispering lies into their ears about who they are. Good, healthy communication and love can tear down the schemes of the devil. It can break off lies that may have been spun for several generations. The lack of communication and care between myself and my parents was a wide open door for the enemy. The devil not only told me lies, but my parents unintentionally proved the devil right by not being there for me the way I needed. I needed to feel loved, protected, and heard. When we pulled out of the drive that summer day, knowing my best friend was left to fend for himself and all alone just as I had found him, I think my soul retreated into the darkness. I stepped out of the light and chose the dark shadows instead because their truth was more real to me. Life was hopeless, unkind, cold, and unloving, even while growing up in a church parsonage. I can’t say I did not ever have good days or fun times with other kids or even my parents. I still functioned the best I could, but I never felt like I belonged anywhere. I wholeheartedly believed God had made a huge mistake when He created me. I was not supposed to be here. The devil had done his greatest deed and completely cracked the foundation of my youth. With no help with healing over the next three decades, it laid in my heart like a spiritual cancer. This is why it is so important that the church, families, friends, and the community slow down and care for one another. Don’t wait for the next person to help. Be that person because there may not be another opportunity for that soul before it is too late.

Psalm 91

“He will cover you with his feather, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart. Nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys at midday. A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you.”

https://hackspirit.com/if-you-recognize-these-signs-you-probably-had-an-unhappy-childhood/