Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: FRAGILE (02/23/17)
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TITLE: The Necessary Pursuit of Hope | Previous Challenge Entry
By Teresa Odden
02/28/17 -
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He wasn’t what we called a “happy drunk.” He loved to argue and get into physical fights. Few wanted to be around when he was drinking, including his family.
I had a wonderful childhood except those days and long nights that turned into years when my father would drink. I remember walking home from school and when I turned the corner I would look for his car in the driveway. If the car was gone, more than likely he was going to come home drunk.
The nights were long, listening to him yell at my mother, making us sit perfectly still as his captive audience while he ranted about war and politics, to name a few.
If one of us did something to irritate him the day before, my mother would say, “You caused this.” We walked on eggshells. I didn’t comprehend how fragile her mental state was until I became an adult and understood what she endured.
My mother taught us an important lesson on how to deal with my father’s drunken rages. “Agree with him, just say yes,” she’d say. If you’ve ever been around an alcoholic, you know there’s no reasoning with someone who’s intoxicated. Because of this, I became a people pleaser. I rarely said “no.”
If we were permitted to go to bed, it was nearly impossible to fall asleep. I covered my ears with my pillow to drown out the yelling or vomiting. When silence filled the house, I didn’t stir in my bed for fear the yelling would start again.
The slightest noise would reignite his temper. When my father was drinking, my mother would sleep with me and my sister in my bed. I learned to lie still and curl up on my side of the bed.
We tried hiding our problems as though others didn’t know what was going on. Subconsciously we were protecting the family image. We exhibited the perfect family. “Perfect” meant alcoholism didn’t exist in our home.
The morning after my father would sleep off his hangover, life went on as before. I had many feelings bottled up inside because we were told by my mother, “Act like nothing happened.” And so we did – all of us.
I began to feel alone and helpless. I wanted things to change, but they never did. I felt ignored, forgotten, and even had thoughts of suicide.
I was on medication for epilepsy and there were days I stood over those bottles and wondered why I was alive. I hated my life. I wanted to escape.
It was during these years I began praying out of pure necessity. I cried out to God even though I didn’t fully understand who God was. I believed God heard me. I had no reason to think otherwise. I was pursuing God and didn’t realize how He was pursuing me.
God put a longing in my heart to know Him. I started reading the Bible and I will never forget when I read the story of Joseph for the first time. He told his brothers, “You intended to harm me, but God intended it all for good.” Genesis 50:20
The hardships didn’t cease, but through prayer, God gave me a promise I held onto for years. “Your father wouldn’t do the things he does if he knew me.” In that moment God was telling me that one day He would use my pain to help others.
My job was to pray for his salvation and this was the hope I held onto until his death in 2010. As the years went by I had a sense God’s hand was on me. In the fourth grade, I was hit by a car. No permanent injuries.
I had a thirst for more of God that I couldn’t explain. My love for Christ increased and I wanted to please Him over all others.
Accepting Jesus as my Savior changed the course of my life. God is faithful. I married a Christian. We have two sons and their families are serving the Lord. I have no other desire in life than to know my family is serving God.
I’m blessed.
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