"We each have a journey story..." My life, again in purple prose, but wrapped this time with a bow.
The LORD said to Abram, “Leave your country, your relatives, and your father’s home, and go to a land that I am going to show you.” Genesis 12
One of my best friends has a favourite saying – “all things happen for a reason; we just don’t know what that is yet”. JH Newman’s thoughts echoed this: we are made for a reason, and we must trust the Lord that he is sending us the way we mean to go.
In a way, I am like Abraham (here still named ‘Abram’), in that the Lord pushed me out of my comfort zone, from the place I had known, and away from the people I knew to this knew land He has prepared for me.
Here, I worship, and here I think.
I was born to a Polish Catholic and an Anglican Londoner. My mother had long since relinquished her practise of faith, including her Saint’s name, when she met my father and became Anglican with him. We attended a church in a town that would later become a place of solace for me; we attended as a family, and I learnt their faith that way. In a way, though, I was empathetic to the hesitation behind my mother’s eyes.
They separated when I was seven years old. My father had been posted across the country, and my mother didn’t want to move me away from the school I had joined. Given the choice, I stayed with her.
It was a foolish choice. I was lonely and bullied at my school and unhappy at home. I lost interest in sports and gained weight. I tried to kill myself three times.
What was worst, however, was that, as my mother descended into depression as the divorce courts loomed, I lost my little faith along with her. By the time I was eleven, I had almost given up that He could rescue me from my own spiralling unhappiness.