I grew up in home that claimed to be Christian, yet we never talked about God, went to Church or read the Bible. I went with my Grandparents to Church on occasion as I was growing up but viewed the entire experience as a miserable waste of time. The highlight of these visits was that we were allowed to go to the church basement after service and eat donuts while my grandparents visited with their friends. I thought church was a place that boring, sad, old people went to feel better about their lives.
             My parents divorced when I was young. I thought I'd had a pretty normal childhood until then but things quickly began to change. My parents fought over us kids and manipulated things constantly throughout their divorce and eventually both remarried into abusive situations. The rest of my childhood was a roller coaster of ups and downs. I lived in a home where abuse, alcoholism and drug use where always present. Outwardly I'm sure things still appeared fine. I did great in school, held down a job from age 13 and for the most part stayed out of trouble. On the inside, however, I was a mess, withdrawn and depressed; I felt alone and didn't know how to deal with my home life. I began using drugs, drinking, stealing, and hanging out with the wrong crowd. I developed an eating disorder and ran away from home several times. Looking back on things I was doing everything in my power to cry out for help, to get attention, to feel alive but all the while I was destroying myself and spiraling out of control.
             I graduated from high school early so I could get out on my own. I started college, continued working and tried to rebuild my life. However, I carried with me an immense amount of guilt and pain. I continued to turn to drugs, alcohol, and people to escape. I started living every day as it were my last and hoping tomorrow would never come.
             When I was 19 I met a man who would later become my husband, we quic...