I
stand across from the old white Victorian house. The porch wraps the house with
arms of love. I remember Mom reading her devotions sitting on the swing and Dad
assembling the tricycle that I raced back and forth with the floorboards
rumbling beneath me. What took me away from that security and love?
Independence
and freedom to do as I pleased had lured me. My parents couldn’t do anything
right and complaining about them got sympathy from my friends making me feel
justified in wanting to leave.
I wasn’t
a bad kid but I resented parental authority. I resented my required attendance
at youth group functions. I had accepted Christ as my savior and was baptized
with all the other twelve year olds before we entered the youth group. I knew I
was “saved”, so what?
I
turned eighteen. “Now you’re an adult,” friends told me. “You get to do what
you want, when you want.” The principle sounded great but the restrictions
remained. Resentment grew through my senior year in high school.
When I
was encouraged to choose a college, I saw an opportunity for escape. I chose a
Christian college miles away from home knowing my parents would agree to it. “After
all,” I told them, “God is calling me to this campus.”
College
life became a bore. I skipped classes and chapel. Homework cut into my social
life too much. I found myself in danger of flunking out. I certainly didn’t want
to go home. Then the idea struck.
It was
time to begin registration for classes for the next semester. If my father paid
for the next semester soon enough, I could withdraw and get a refund. It would
be a nice nest egg for starting a whole new life and getting the total freedom
I sought.
It was
too easy. The money was refunded to me and I was packed and on my way to a new
apartment in the city in my own car that sputtered and choked each time I
turned it off. I figured once I got set up and was rolling, I would let my family
know I was all right. There wouldn’t be anything they could do about it then.
After all, I was an adult.
Job
hunting was distasteful and offered nothing of interest that wouldn’t drain my
energy for the nightlife I found. My first taste of alcohol was a bitter
surprise but soon I could hold my own with the others in my new group of friends.
I refused the drugs. I liked my brain the way it was. I’d seen what it did to
friends.
Before
long one of the guys claimed me for his own. I felt special and loved in a way
that never happened with the guys in high school. It didn’t take long before we
were intimate. Harley didn’t want to wear protection because it would take the
fun out of it. I hadn’t planned for intercourse so I was unprepared with birth
control. I snickered as I remembered the “purity pledge” I’d taken along with
the rest of the church teens. Well, when love came along it didn’t matter, I
told myself.
Well,
love came along again—for Harley. He left me for the newest arrival in our
group. The same day, my landlord cleaned out my room, changed the lock and put
everything I owned at the curb. I couldn’t understand it. I was only two months
behind on rent. Undaunted, I decided to rough it out in the car until I made
some pocket money and I could get a new place.
A few
weeks went by with no income. The money ran out. I found myself in convenient
stores grabbing whatever food I could inconspicuously shove in my pockets. I
remembered the lasagna Mom made monthly to feed the homeless. I thought about
trying to find a church with a food program but decided I wouldn’t lower
myself. I had my pride.
It got
colder. The gas in my car ran out and I couldn’t move it for a few days. One
morning I returned to my parking spot after foraging in some trash cans behind
a restaurant. I had just lost my meager breakfast and needed to lie down. An
empty space instead of my car greeted me. Sitting down on the curb I curled my
arms around my knees and cried. Why can’t anything go right anymore?
After
my pity part I headed for a place I had reserved as a last resort. Harley had a
friend who would take me in. He promised a warm room and the friendship of
other girls my age who lived in the same building. He even said there was a guard
at the door for security. I should have taken him up on his offer sooner, I
thought.
I
arrived at the rundown apartment house and walked up to the big burly goon that
was blocking half the door. “I’m here to see Freddie,” I said, my teeth
chattering from the cold.
“Oh
yeah? And just who would you be?” He sneered and snorted.
“I’m a
friend of Harley’s and Freddie said if I needed a place to stay, I could crash
here.”
“Well
let’s just see.” He grabbed me by the arm and ushered me inside to a dimly lit
room that smell of pot and booze. Freddie sat at the desk counting loose bills.
“Hey!”
he said looking up at me. “Look who’s here. Decide to take me up on my offer?
Harley told me you were one great lady. I only take in the best.” I shivered
involuntarily as he leered at me. Panic welled in my throat. “You realize you
have to pass the test to become one of my girls.”
I
shook my head and backed away. What was this?
“Come
on. Make it nice with us and you’ll pass. Then you can start earning your keep.”
Before
I could react the two men pushed off my coat and pulled my sweatshirt over my
head. The smell turned my stomach as their bodies closed in.
“No!”
I screamed and tried to run. The back of Big Burly’s hand sent me flying across
the room. He landed a few more blows before I black out. I remember waking, feeling
cold and hearing sirens before I blacked out again. The pastor of the little
church a few blocks from Freddie’s had found me lying in a snowbank covered in
blood.
My
hospital stay was short. A miscarriage had produced more blood than the
beating. I had been pregnant. Upon discharge, they handed me test results and a
list of clinics. I was HIV positive. The pastor met me at the hospital door. We
talked about my options and he offered to buy me a bus ticket home. I hesitated.
An old Bible story came into my head from nowhere. The prodigal son from the
fifteenth chapter of Luke. I let him buy the ticket.
Now I
stand here. Looking at the beautiful warm home full of love. During the bus
trip I turned to my heavenly Father and asked his forgiveness. Would my parents
forgive too? The prodigal was met halfway down the road. I will have to cross
the street and ring the bell. But wait. . .Mom and Dad are on the porch
smiling. Their arms are open wide.
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