There is a commercial on television where a very animated preacher says, in a loud booming voice "You don't WANT GOD to take you down to the lowest common denominator!" I know a little something about that....and as it turns out, my lowest common denominator was 0.
Born in the late 60s to conservative parents, I was raised going to church. My mother took us every Sunday, along with my grandparents, to a Southern footwashing Baptist church. My dad wasn't much for church at the time, he would later on in life say he was "running from GOD" back then. And although he made that confession when I was in my twenties, it was clearly an activity I learned through absorption in my youth. Or I guess it's possible that such things are part of our emotional make up, but the whys aren't really the issue.
My parents grew up in neighboring communities and didn't know each other until high school. Though they lived only miles apart, their upbringings were as different as the Upper East Side of Manhattan and the Coal Mining country of West Virginia.
My mother was an only child born to land rich parents. My maternal grandparents both worked, were frugal with their money and"gardened" as they called it but it was acres and acres of fields with every fruit and vegetable that would root in our climate. Until I was in my early teens, I'd never had anything but vegetables and meat. No pasta, no pizza, no ethinic food of any sort, not even BBQ...in the SOUTH no less.
My father grew up as the eldest of three children, 2 boys and 1 girl, with parents who also owned land. Though not as extensive in size, their land was river bottom land, which became worth more and more money as time passed. My father's father was a violent sociopath with significant control issues. By the time I was born my grandmother was a broken woman. Mentally ill from years of abuse and in a rapid descent to death. She died when I was very young. We had no relationship with them at all, and though seemingly impossible, it actually declined after her death.
I have two siblings, of which I am the oldest by 9 years and 15 years respectively. I was the typical oldest child. Trying hard to please everyone, excellent grades and outstanding athlete with a sweet but driven nature. I was saved by Grace through Faith when I was 13 years old. It was the single greatest day of my life. Because on that day, my life became perpetual. Even though I was young I understood at the time that I'd received a gift beyond anything I could comprehend. But the church that prayed for and with me, didn't really have a focus on discipling. It was around this time that my father "told his calling to preach". It wasn't long before the devil set in on me and the downward spiral began.
I lost two "uncles" who I dearly loved from my tight knit maternal family. I lost several friends suddenly and tragically. Not knowing how to turn to GOD, me (and several of my friends) turned to whatever we could find to ease the pain and fear. Without going through years of mess, I'll just say that alcohol was my friend for over 30 years, I was married to a man who tried repeatedly to kill me, I had a child with him, and then I divorced him. The church then turned me out for that "sin". I had several failed relationships, until I met a man to whom I was married for almost 20 years.
Having been rejected from the church at 19, church and GOD grew dimmer and dimmer in the rear view mirror every passing day. I thought I was doing ok. I was married, my daughter was growing up and as I believed life was supposed to be, there was always a drama of some sort going on. I was just never happy. No matter what. Nothing filled that emptiness. Nothing was enough. I thought that was my lot in life because of the sins I'd committed.
Twelve years and two beautiful grandchildren living in our home later, we were preparing to build our "final" home. The home we were in at the time was going to my daughter and grands. We had two very nice vehicles, guns, boats, a camper, went on great vacations and had just purchased a Harley. It seemed that we'd finally reached that destination point we had been staring at all those years. One particular Saturday morning we awoke early to go work on the new house. It had rained the night before and I discovered a hole in my work boots. My husband said we'd just stop and buy some new ones on the way - 5 stores, 9 hours and over 300 miles later we ran in to a Tractor Supply and found what we were hunting 10 minutes before closing time. We ran out laughing all the way to the truck at the wasted day turned amazingly fun adventure. We had a nice steak dinner and headed back to our current home to get up and try again Sunday. On the 2 hour drive home, we began to talk about our future when suddenly, as if the world turned inside out, my husband said "I don't love you anymore, in fact, I'm not sure I ever did".
But that's not zero.
Three days and a lot of screaming and crying later, I'm staying with my best friend, keeping my granddaughters while my daughter worked. My daughter was staying with friends and keeping the girls while I worked. My husband was who knows where, calling me non stop wanting to "pretend it never happened" and "be own his own to see if our family was what he really wanted" alternately every five minutes.
On the fourth day of the seventh level of of my descent, my daughter called me at work. My oldest granddaughter was gravely ill and no one knew why. Less than 24 hours later, my 6 year old granddaughter, traumatized by the split of her grandparents (who were really more like her parents), was lying in a hospital bed with what appeared to be advanced Parkinson's disease. She couldn't feed herself, couldn't walk. She was terrified asking me over and over if she was going to die. She was SIX.
But that's not zero.
Six days later as they are transferring us to the children's hospital, they tell us she may never recover.
That was zero.
That night as my daughter worked, my youngest granddaughter's whereabouts unknown to me, my oldest in grave condition and me without any sleep for 6 days, I fell onto the floor of the hospital.
I screamed and cursed GOD. I cried and begged Him. I prayed and prayed and prayed without ceasing for hours. I confessed every sin, in part to remind him of my useless life. To beg him to let me die in her place. And I fell asleep begging him. The next morning nothing changed. We were transferred to the Children's Hospital. But day by day, she began to improve. Day by day I prayed more. Day by day, life went on.
30 days later I was divorced, my granddaugher recovering and all of the "girl tribe" as we called ourselves were under one roof. My first ever apartment in only my name. A little more than a year later, I was in that apartment alone, as my daughter had remarried and moved out. The first time EVER in my life, I was alone. See I lived with my parents until I was 17, when I got pregnant. From the birth of my daughter I was never alone again.
I slipped back to my old ways with the idle time. Drinking, partying some, a few relationships here and there, But it never felt right again. I had gone back to GOD at my lowest common denominator. He had won. Once again I had witnessed His sovereignty, His Grace, His love and His mercy. Nothing would ever be the same again, yet the one thing I had searched for my whole life, was right around the corner. But to understand the truth, you have to first understand the lies.
