This post is about prayer. The power of prayer. The blessing of prayer. And the transformation through prayer. I have recently started using the phrase, "I am a product of a praying mother". It has taken me years to realize this.
When I was sixteen years old I was a junior in high school. I was young. I was blind. I was lost. I was hurt. I was looking for acceptance in all the wrong ways from all the wrong people. My insecurities soon led me to hanging out with the wrong crowd at all the wrong places. Partying and drugs became my forte. Academics became secondary and attending class was only an option; and option that I chose not to exercise most days. Soon, my appetite to fit in with others and to be considered "cool", "hip", "popular", and "loved" consumed me. This in trade led to drugs, alcohol, and sex. My morning routine would look something like this: Make a drink to carry along with me at school (usually this was a large bottle filled three fourths with Vodka, and the rest Gatorade). Go to a friends house and snort an eight ball of cocaine. Than smoke a joint on the way to school. I did this all day- everyday. I found my self in courtroom after courtroom, but found no conviction for my deeds. Only anger. I needed to find a means of financing my addiction- so I turned to stealing. I would rob, steal, pillage, and hurt to get what I needed. Cars, houses, people, stores- it didn't matter. I eventually began to steal funds from my mother. I would steal blank checks from her and deposit them into an ATM. The amount I stole from my mother ended up totally over eight thousand dollars. Money was the priority, however, I would steal her jewelry, clothes, possession- her love. .... The whole time she prayed. She prayed. Prayed. Prayed. And prayed. She loved me unconditionally. She tried with all her means and every bit of her soul to prevent her son from dying. She tried to save me. She tried to reach out to me. She prayed. I cant imagine what she went through. I cant begin to understand the hurt she felt. The questions that arose in her mind.
Eventually, she was given the advice that if she didn't intervene drastically- her son would up dead, and soon. She had no choice but to withdraw me from school. She withdrew me from school and sent me to live with my dad. I returned a month later where I finished school alternatively and joined the army. The struggle didnt end there, but that season ended. Long story short, I sit here today redeemed, saved, forgiven, called, loved, blessed, in the process of restoration, and on fire for my Savior. I also am proud to call my mom the love of my earthly life. My best friend. Nothing comes before my God, but my mom is second.
See, it was my mom who stood with God during those times. She who held His hand and whispered prayers into His ear. It was my mom who pleaded with Him to save me from this storm. It was my mom who didn't give up. It was her who saw the goodness in my heart darkened by the world. My mom is a prayer warrior. She prayed until her knees bleed and her voice was gone. And God came to her and said, "I have a plan for him, my beloved, find peace.."
I look back now and find solace and gratitude in my past. I am more than confident God will use it for His glory. I have already seen the fruits of this. I love looking into an adolescents young eyes and being able to say "I've been there....and there is a better way. But I understand. I know what your going through."
I AM the product of a PRAYING MOTHER....and God IS in the family business. There is not a day that goes by that I do not think of this. I praise my God for his mercy, for my deliverance, and for blessing me with a mother who finds the Lord as her rock. She is a woman of many talents and strengths; but motherhood is her greatest second to her immense love for Christ. Many say that they have the best mom in the world.... I don't believe it. I DO. Thank you Karen Jean, my mother... I love you.
