I was raised in a forlorn and broken family. I feel so bashful to even classify my relatives as a “family” because they were the complete opposite.

Walking home so late (a child my age is supposed to be in bed) with one thought on my mind; the thought of my mother uttering her frustration and pain unto my body that left me looking like a zebra with purple stripes.

When I arrived home, my mom and her boyfriend were having a very violent disagreement that distracted her from giving me a hiding. I was somewhat relieved, but as their argument got more intense, I could already envisage his manly fists landing onto my mother’s fragile face. His knuckles sunk into her eyes as he expressed his wrath. I sprinted into the room as my thoughts were terrifying me.

Sticking my arm into the drawer, looking for something sharp to cut my wrists open with because I just could not take it any more. With my arm at the back of the drawer, I came across the Bible. I threw it against the wall because I was so cross with God for abandoning me.

For a second I compared my reaction to me getting rid of my faith, it made me feel very bad. Right there and then I repented. I was searching for death and God led me to everlasting life and his unfailing love.

He says, “… seek me and you’ll find me”. The situation that you are in is a storm that will clear up when the sun comes out. I have found my resuscitation hidden at the back of a drawer, but I was too blind to see. Confide in him and he will put your storm at rest.

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