Yesterday was Sibling Day, Father God, what can I say? You know the pain that comes my way when I look at this photo that I have saved. My mom was a child, she was just fifteen. She was lost and confused when she had me, but she and my dad we’re young in love they made a plan to get it done. Abortion was pressed by the adults in their lives, but they would not have it despite the strife. So they married and tried to build a life, two broken souls became husband and wife. Without direction they made a mess of things, another child, and divorced in four years. I’ll never forget the memory of my dad pounding on the back door, crying to come in, but the lady she became was selfish in every way, she laughed in his face and then he walked away. So my brother and I, we endured the life of two kids under single motherhood. She partied and drank, nurturing children became a bother. She locked us in our room, just me and my brother. We screamed and knocked asking to be let out, but she did not hear us, she left us to rot. It was only a weekend that I can recall but the shame that came from urinating on our clothes, brought up feelings of being abandoned. Then she got remarried to my stepdad. He was always aloof to the life we had. They had a son, that brought joy to my life, “His name is Johnny” was announced when I was nine. I became a mom at such a young age, protecting my brothers, from the sins of man. Between the drugs and the men, that filled our house, I was always a warrior on the lookout. I failed my brothers when I fell to sin. I became focused on self, and let life in. I had my own life that I had to live, even though I know it’s not my fault, it still eats me from within. My mom divorced again when I turned fifteen. She was out every night living the bar scene. And at 2 am, when it was last call, she would bring them home, and the party would roll. I remember walking the streets, until the school bell rang, then I would go to class and pretended I was okay. When I was sixteen I met a boy, and his family took me in. I’ll never forget the first Christmas when they bought me winter boots and other special things. I was so overwhelmed by the kindness they showed, they treated me like an equal, instead of a “ho”. For so long I was an object for men to explore, and then reject. So I left my house, and went to live with them, they introduced me to the dreams I had when I was a kid. When I was a child And would often write poems About a life filled peace, and love and hope. So my life went on, and I lived the dream, I was accepted into college and it boosted my self-esteem. But there was a big difference between “me” and “them”; the people in school came from wealth and I came from “low income” It’s amazing to me, how life labels us, because in the end we all turn to dust. Anyway, let me move on, My first sibling is the only one that lives on. He’s had nine lives, to say the least. He lives fractured inside, under the beast. I’ve tried to help in a million ways, he will not accept the type of love I relay. He will not receive unless it’s done his way. I had to set boundaries and walk away. The baby in the picture is my brother's son. He died of cancer when he was eleven. Christopher was his name, He was an angel of God. His beautiful heart was one to applaud. He brought joy to my life, in such a strong way, his laughter was infectious, I can’t wait to see him someday. The blonde boy in the picture is my baby brother. He is my heart and will be there forever. He died at twenty-three, after living a short life that was filled with hurt and great strife. He knew the worst in people. He was viciously abused by the walking dead, who are under the curse. He was raped and afflicted, by the demon-possessed, and will take me a lifetime to forgive and forget. I blamed my mom for the mess we were in. I was angry and hurt by the life she brought us in. There was a time when I wanted her to die. I thought to myself, “If only she had tried.” But then the Lord blessed me by putting me near her, when I moved to Nevada she got cancer. I was the only one who could take care of her. She had just turned 50 when meth took its toll, the cancer metastasized and took her whole. I had forty days to make my amends I cared for her fully, and the hurts were forgiven. I saw the broken girl that was buried within. I felt her brokenness and saw generational sin. The feeling of abandonment cuts straight to the soul, when we are divided from the one who makes us whole. It hurts to the core, when you’ve been let down, but it hurts even deeper when you're totally alone. So as I look at this picture, and see that three are now dead, I pray to God they have chosen to bow down to him. I also ask for divine intervention for my brother who still lives, I don’t know how to help without enabling him. As for this lady, who was once that little girl, I commit my spirit to the one who makes all things whole. I no longer feel abandoned because I know who my father is. He’s the one that gives life to all that lives. He has never left me nor forsaken me. He’s always been there. He's always cared for me. I felt his love as a small child, and his peace when I was just twelve. Just four years ago, I saw Jesus on the boardwalk and it's his hand that I held. I am so blessed to say the spirit of abandonment stops with me. I’ve identified the culprit in my family tree. The demon of rejection is not welcome in. I cast him out in the name of HIM. The him that is above every other name. The him that will never quit the game. The him that endures all troubles of this life. The him that makes peace out of strife. The him is no other than Jesus, my King, and I am a branch that shoots from his tree. Alone I am not, because I always have him. Jesus is the only one who can blot out generational sin.
I love you Jesus! Thank you Father God! Holy Spirit, you have opened my eyes to your everlasting love!