I moved into the crisis pregnancy home on February 2, 2011. I was four months pregnant and still addicted to drugs. I was incredibly willing though to stop, walk forward in life and learn how to take care of this baby that I had been blessed with.
The house parent that lived in the house with us was this older woman who had been a single mom. I was older than most of the girls that move in and that gave me more privileges than the younger girls. When we went to the church service where I went forward to the alter call Olga (the house parent) was over the moon. She was every time one of the girls went forward.
Something felt different though with me. I didn’t want to do drugs anymore so they started saying that God removed my addiction from me. Looking back I can see that he didn’t in fact remove my addiction. The cravings left but my addiction manifested in other areas, as it sometimes does.
All of a sudden “my story” was this amazing thing that was talked about everywhere we went. I was asked to speak at conferences, at benefit nights and in church services. According to the women who were involved with the house I was a walking miracle.
I soaked that stuff up because no one had ever thought of me as special before. Now that they did I needed them to keep speaking about who they thought I was going to be. I still saw no future (while I was pregnant) I had no idea what was going to happen after I had Abigail. So their words of God doing a big thing in my life were enough to sustain me.
When I moved back to Colorado and started going to my former MOPS group there were women there who said the same thing after I shared my story. I started to believe it and suddenly saw myself like Beth Moore speaking about Jesus from a platform in an auditorium or stadium. That became what I strived for.
I would share my story whenever anyone would ask. I attended bible studies to “grow” and I even joined a ministry hoping that, that would open doors for me to become a famous Christian. I can see my flawed logic now. I was living for people to SEE me and THINK I was special, that I really was this walking miracle that people said I was.
Things started to change though. My grip of perfection started to slip, I felt like a fake every time I spoke. I would be speaking somewhere and sharing my story but internally I was telling myself “do you really believe this.”
I had everything laid out for my future and because it was for God I was sure that he blessed it.
Then all of a sudden everything was gone and I was left wondering where those “big plans” for God were now.
Slowly over time as my faith shifted so did that idea that I needed to do those BIG things for him. I started to think simple and see each act of love as a big thing.
It didn’t matter the act. Whether I was bringing someone a meal after surgery or taking care of Abigail during one of the hardest seasons of my life I started to see those things as BIG things. I wasn’t doing them because I wanted to earn major props with God I did them because He called me to love.
I still see that now. I don’t participate in any type of church activity but what I have learned is that God calls us to love extravagantly. Whatever that looks like in my daily life I know that I am doing what I am supposed to do.
I want to live a life of love, not a life of striving to be known.