I am writing this blog not because I want to but because I have too. Today I am going to tell you a bit of my past that is ugly and broken. It is painful to share and not very appeasing so just bare with me. I write this story not to shame the person but to shame the devil because he is worthless and I am through with him.
PART 1
I grow up with amazing parents and a sister who love me deeply. I have always been blessed beyond measure but things I grew up in were not always pretty. You see, my dad has a brother who is down right crazy. I will refer to him as “my Crazy Uncle” for the remainder of this blog. My Crazy Uncle has caused a lot of pain in my life and in my family’s life. As a little girl the more I was around this man the more I hated him. He was consumed by alcohol and drugs. The anger that bellowed from his soul could make the strongest man weak. He was always mad about something and was always looking for ways to get his next hit. If you stood in his way or frankly did anything he didn’t like you would know it really quickly. When we had family gatherings he always made me feel so uncomfortable and before the night was over the cops usually had to come take him away. I wasn’t quite sure how this could be what his life consisted of. It seemed nothing short of hell, yet he continued to pursue down this path. My heart ached and I prayed for change. I tried to be a light to him in this very heavy dark place.
All of these drug deals started to add up and one day he met with the wrong people and his life was crushed. I mean literally crushed, he was beaten to a pulp and ran over. They crush all the bones in his head, yet he was still alive. After much time the doctors were able to fine out who this mangled body belonged to. My heart sunk deep, I put my hatred down and prayed for God to spare him. I turned to my role model and the woman I respected most, my grandmother, Grammy. My Grammy is hands down the most Godly women I have ever met. We sat together and prayed and prayed and prayed for my Crazy Uncle. Although I was only in 2nd grade and wasn’t allowed in the room my Grammy was. Every few days her and my mom and dad went to visit him. They prayed for him and helped provide things for him. God started changing him from the inside out. Before I knew it he was getting out of the hospital and promised my Grammy to come to church with us. His life started to change and his passion for the Lord took root. It was a miracle and I was apart of it. A few years went by and one day the beauty turned to mourning. My Grammy had a massive heart attack and died. I was so upset that God would take her away from me. Yet my frustrations didn’t even compare to my Crazy Uncle’s. He did what he knew best to numb the pain, alcohol. Before too long he was back to his old habits and I was left to do this job alone. I felt hopeless and powerless.
The more I wanted to serve my Crazy Uncle and show him love the harder it became. I would see his anger more and more. He would hurt my other grandmother (his mom) and crush things over her head, he would push her into cabinets, he would call her names, he would steal from her, and he would leave her heartbroken. She was weak and helpless.
My dad was always know as the “bad guy”. As soon as my grandmother could get the chance she would run to the phone and call my dad to help. I can remember night after night after night of my dad grabbing his gun and going off to my grandmothers house. I was afraid that something bad might actually happen…..part 2 is on its way!
