Welcome back, to part 2 of my story. We are going to jump right in where we left off. While things with my stepdad and mom were good at times, it was a hard and painful 13 years, of their marriage. There was a lot of fighting, abuse, crying, pain, confusion, loneliness, hate, and anger. We constantly were hurting for money and I tell you what, my mom was superwoman at making something out of nothing. I had God in and out of my thoughts throughout those 13 years. We moved around a lot, and lived in what seemed like constant Chaos, and then God brought us a blessing and we finally came to settle in a small town in Wyoming called Clearmont. It is still to this day one of my favorite places on this earth. It was our saving grace at this point in our lives.
Clearmont gave us community, family, friends, faith, hope, and love. We were very blessed to live and grow there. My mom and I often went to the small Clearmont Community church and fell in love with the people and the community. I learned so much about God, his love for me, his sacrifices for me, and to rely on him with everything. He was at work in my life, more than I knew at this time. My family grew with this community and they helped me survive a lot and taught me so much. This town brought me so many blessings and loving memories that I will never forget. On the other hand, I also gained some of the worst memories while living in this town.
We moved to Clearmont when I was in 6th grade and stayed till after I graduated high school. When I was an 8th grader my mom was taken away from me. One night we were sitting in our house watching movies and there came a knock at the door. I can’t remember if my mom answered the door or if my stepdad did, but the next thing I remember were police officers coming into my house and putting handcuffs on my mom. It is a bit of a blur to me now, and I am pretty sure it was then too. I remember the fear in her eyes as they took her out the door, and all she cared about was telling me “It is going to be ok, I love you so much” “Don’t worry mom will be ok.” I screamed for her and tried to run after her, but my stepdad held me back. I remember it was a Friday night because I had a basketball game the next day. I don’t remember what happened the rest of the night.
The next day was a blur, I don’t know if we won our game or not. I was distracted and quiet. I spent a lot of time on the phone trying to find out what had happened and when my mom was going to come home. After that I don’t remember a ton, but I do remember having to say goodbye to my mom because in the end she would have to serve time for what she had done. I was scared, she was going to leave me with my stepdad. I didn’t want to be without her, and I couldn’t understand why God was taking another person I loved away from me.
I finished my 8th grade year out with my mom gone and the summer came. My stepdad was absent. He wasn’t home much; I spent a lot of time either by myself or staying at friends’ houses. I did get to visit my mom and I was there every visitation. You never realize how much you miss someone till you see them through glass but can’t touch them. We got an hour one weekend day per week, through glass and on a phone in the wall. My papa and my grandma were there when they could be and supported me as much as possible. My dad got wind of all that was going on and immediately whisked me away from my mom and my home. He moved me to Montana and cut me off from my family and friends. No communication and no visiting unless he was present. What was supposed to be a summer visitation became a prison sentence of my own.
Him and I had hit a rocky spot during the time of me moving in with my mom and me coming into my teenage years which was in the time span of about 3 to 4 years. He had married someone I was not fond of and who was not fond me. So, we didn’t really see eye to eye and I had distanced myself from him and her. Things weren’t in the best place they could be when I went to visit for the summer, especially when my parent that was in charge of me at the time was serving time.
Things had changed in my dad’s life just as they did for my mom. He got married, they had a baby girl and made a life together. A life without me. This in turn made me the black sheep of their family. I was a reminder to his new wife that he had a life before her. She made me feel like the leftovers you leave in the fridge and don’t want to eat them but also don’t want to waste it by throwing it away. In efforts to look like the good supporting wife, she went along with my dad moving me in with them despite my complaints, kicking and screaming.
I have no doubts that he loved me very much, but I never stopped fighting to get away and back to my mom. I prayed every second of the day for God to get me out of this lonely, sad prison. I spent my days with his then wife and the baby. I loved the baby but feared his wife and she took advantage of my fear. My dad still worked for the railroad, so he was gone during the week and came home on the weekends. During the week, his wife made me do all the chores, housework, help with the baby, etc. She would yell at me and tell me I was lucky they let me live there. She would then tell my dad that I was disobeying her, being lazy, not helping with anything around the house and being a bad kid. I would then get in trouble and be sent to my room. I would get privileges taken away, like talking to my mom, or my grandparents, get my phone taken away, not be able to visit anyone.
I wasn’t allowed to go outside by myself, because they were afraid, I would run away. I would have too. I spent my days thinking of ways to get away and what I would do and how I would get to my grandma’s house. She also lives in Montana. At that time, I didn’t know how far she was or where she was in perspective to where I was. I didn’t care I would find a way to her and get away from this place. I fought constantly, I hated it there. I wouldn’t unpack my bags, I wouldn’t eat their food unless they made me, I wouldn’t let them buy me stuff. I was in the mindset I would never stop fighting. I fought God too, I would cry out to him constantly, for help, for answers, to get me out of this place, to get me back to my mom, or my grandparents. I was so mad that he wouldn’t take me away from this place. What was only 2 to 3 months seemed like 2 to 3 years.
Now, I do want to say I believe they did what they could to help me in the situation we were all put in. It was all so foreign to us and no one really knew what to do. I have since forgiven everything that happened to me in this situation and I hold no ill will towards my dad or his then wife. A lot has changed since this happened 15 years ago. Another story for another time.
Finally, it became too much for my dad and he was tired of fighting with me. He made me choose, to stay or to go. The catch, if I chose to go, I had to give him a good reason why. I had a week to decide. Well of course my first thought was of course I want to leave. There was no way I would get away with the reasoning “I don’t like your wife, she is mean to me.” I had tried that before; he didn’t believe me. I couldn’t say “I want to be with my mom” because as we all know now that wasn’t a possibility at that time. So the week came to an end and I did what one young girl should never have to do, tell her dad she didn’t love him anymore and she wanted to leave. Of course, that was not true, and it broke my heart as much as it broke his to say it. It was the only way at the time that my young mind could think of for him to let me go.
My grandma came a few days later and picked me up. Turns out there was a deal made between them. My grandma had to pay him what he was owed from my mom in child support and she could take me back and he would give up his parental rights for me as long as my papa was the one to then become my legal guardian. At the time my feelings of finally getting in the car and driving away from the prison I was in and knowing I would never have to come back there were relief and happiness. I thought God finally heard me, he saved me from that place. What I feel now looking back on that time is much different. I feel sadness, confusion, wonder, disappointment, and heartbreak.
I know now God had his own plans and I should have been patient. My dad did the best he could with what he was given. Where I was, was safe at the time. No, things were not perfect, but they were much worse back home. God kept me from the situation back home without my mom to keep me safe. A lot happened while I was away, and I had no idea the trials that awaited me.
That will bring Part 2 to a close. Part 3 to come. If you are to get anything from this part of the story. I hope you will learn to be patient with God. Just because it is a No now, doesn’t mean he is saying No forever, it could mean No, not right now. Patience is the key in working with God. He knows when things need or should happen for your good. Trust in that.
🥰🙏 always