Amanda's death, my fixation, and God's forgiveness

I remember everything like it was yesterday. Megan and I stared out the window; our faces toward the sunshine peeking out from behind rain clouds from the day before. We were laughing nervously like little girls taking part in their first ballet recital. Neither of us understood at the time the seriousness of what we were doing. At the age of sixteen, there were only two things we thought about; drugs and how to get them.

We stood at the window blowing out the smoke that was filling our lungs. With each inhalation we felt free and careless. Our hearts were unlocked and there was peace in the world. Our eyelashes felt heavy and time was moving at a slower than normal speed. There was a stench that will always remain in my nostrils. It smelled like decaying skunk on the side of a dirt road. It was so harsh, strong, and nauseating.

After half of our marijuana was smoked and in our bodies, Megan then informed me that it was laced with acid. My eyes widened as big as quarters because I was thrilled that she would present me with such a nice surprise. A few minutes later, things started to look different. I was experiencing blurred vision as she was uncontrollably laughing like she was manic. Two walls began to shake up and down and more sedated, tranquil feelings came unto me. This is what I thought I needed. To break out of my shell.

An hour or so later we started coming down from our trip and things slowly returned back to normal. Megan went home in the late afternoon and I then retreated back to my bedroom and thought about what I had just took part in. I did not feel guilty or ashamed. I was in love with it; for it was such a creative experience. It gave me a curiosity that needed to be filled on trying other exciting things.

I was introduced to Vicodin and swallowed these on the days that I wasn’t feeling myself. Little did I know I wasn’t feeling myself because I wasn’t acting like myself. Around the same time I started crushing up OxyContin and placing it in a line on the inside of a calculator tray sniffing it as deeply as I could, giving the chemicals permission to fill my lungs with their poison and effects.

In the next year I didn’t really have sympathy for who I betrayed simply because I wanted what I thought was good for me. If someone wasn’t supportive of my new lifestyle, I pushed them out and didn’t want them back in. I lost my very best friend, whom I’ve had for countless years before that, because I kept into the things that she was highly against. It has been over four years, and even though she has forgiven me, I still will always regret ridding her and forcing many others to move away from me. I didn’t understand that the new people in my life didn’t really care about me. It took awhile to accept that the only people who truly loved me and would have always been there for me were the same people I had told to make an exit from my life permanently.

In August of that following year, I received a phone call from Zack, a very close friend who stayed with me even through the drugs, cheating, and lying. Another best friend, whom I’ve also had for years, was in critical condition in the hospital because she had just been in a horrific car accident. He then told me that two of our friends were coming to get me so we could go up and see her. Why was I losing all my closet friends? Was all of this my doing? Is this my fault?

The doctors told us she was brain dead. I walked the halls to critical; my black ballet flats squeaking against the wet porcelain tile. Hesitating into the room I knew she would die in, I stared at her frail, broken body that was losing the rest of it’s life before me. I brought my favorite picture out of the many that her and I had taken together over the years and placed it on her bedside table. Before her accident, she had been talking about wanting a puppy, so I drug my feet down to the gift shop at St. Elizabeth’s and bought her a small, stuffed German shepard. I walked back upstairs to her room and set it right next to her sunshine colored hair. Her hand was cold and broken as I placed mine over hers, and my eyes filled with tears when all I could think about was hurting her two weeks before and never getting a chance to apologize for it.

“Sorry, Amanda” I said out loud, but there was no response. Neither of her eyes opened, and her hands and feet lay still. They were taking her off life support the next morning.

I climbed the stairwell and stood on the roof of St. Elizabeth’s hospital, staring out into a late summer sunset that I knew only God could paint. I put a cigarette in my mouth and lit it. The smoke swirled around me into shapes that I had only seen before when I was high. But this time I wasn't high. I couldn't wake up from this and have everything be okay. I was in reality and understood that I have done nothing the past few years except hurt myself and the people who loved me most. I looked at it carefully, tears streaming down my cheeks, and I threw it down. It was time for me to stop what I had started. If there was a God I questioned Him and why He burdened me with so much.

At her calling hours I met someone who is the reason why I decided to turn my life around. He started out as just a friend, but he is now my husband, and was my strength for helping me to change. He knew what I was going through and the people I had hurt, and he was still willing to stay with me. He brought me to his church, after many times of asking me to go with him, and I immediately felt at home. This was where real peace was at; not the kind you get from smoking acid. Everyone greeted me with open arms and loving hearts. Most knew that I was struggling to believe, and they still accepted me for what I was. It was exactly where I needed to be.

Five years later, after her death and after meeting my husband Kevin, I will only rely on God for everything. He is my strength and because of His undying love for me I get a second chance to make things better every single day. He is almighty, all powerful, and all forgiving. He has forgiven me--the worst of sinners, and loves me like His child. The question still remains in my mind; did one person have to die for one person to get life?

Whatever it may be, God has a plan--the BEST plan, and I trust that He knows where I’ve been and knows where I’m going. I don't question what He does and what He will do. He holds me safe in His arms and surrounds me with His angels. I pray you know that He loves you more than anything and is with you in trials, tears, and terrors. He was with me through it all. God Bless.

Something Important

It came to me tonight while I was reading in Acts that I am holding the Truth. I am holding something that will never lie to me, cheat me, or take anything away from me. I am holding what I can trust the most, more than anyone or anything. I am getting full on something that no level of food, alcohol or drugs could ever make me. This is something that does not die away. This sustains and gives joy to sad hearts. This fills the hole that I have tried to fill before with many other things; none succeeding. I am holding words written to me that say, "I love you enough that I died for you. Please live for Me."

How He Loves Us

"The Christian does not think God will love us because we are good, but that God will make us good because He loves us." 
— C.S. Lewis

Wow. C.S. Lewis. I've never read The Screwtape Letters, even though I desperately need to-nor was I ever really interested in Chronicles of Narnia, but this! This! Wow--is all I can say. This is one of those things that is so simple yet SO incredibly powerful. It makes me remember that I was never good enough, nor will I ever be good enough for God's grace and sacrifice-but He is helping me to become BETTER one day at a time. 


I am and forever will be a sinner, but through Him I am saved. 

Casey Anthony: Beloved Child of God

Not the headline you were expecting to read today was it? If the thought of it makes you cringe or boil with hatred, this word is for you.
 Today while standing in aisle 6 of our local Wal-Mart, in heavy impatience waiting to purchase my milk and Chef Boyardee, I stumbled across The National Enquirer and a title that was in capital, bold lettering on the front of the magazine. The Most Hated Woman in America. Behind these words was a picture of a notorious Casey Anthony, with dark circles surrounding her big blue eyes and a droopy smile coming from her long, oval-shaped face. I am not quite sure I fully understand why the media must be so harsh and so cruel. I know that for now, because she has been declared not guilty for ending her precious daughter, Caylee's life, that she is well-hated and is much more in danger living in public than she would be in a cold, dark cell. But why must it be proclaimed that she is hated on the front page of almost every other magazine, in newspapers, on television, on the radio--when she is already facing enough harassment and negativity as is? I am in no way, shape, or form saying that I don't believe she killed her own child, but I am also not saying that I think she did. That is definitely not my place to say or judge, and I'm glad it's not. I believe in justice and leaving decisions such as these up to the judicial system, because I really have NO IDEA at all. There should be consequences and punishment for actions such as these, however they should not come from vigilantes, literally or metaphorically. Jesus even told us to obey the laws of the land. 
I'll just say this--I can't imagine carrying the burden of sitting in that jury, not having an idea whether or not this sinful act did take place by Caylee's mother. Let me get to an important point. Like I said, I don't know, nor ever will know, if she is guilty or not. This just doesn't boil down to Casey. This goes for all people who in which the world places judgement upon. It's not our place to do so, unless we are a legal judge or juror. There is one person--one Almighty who knows the truth and HE will make the final judgement. That's Jesus Christ. While thinking on it, I am almost sure He is looking at the world with sadness in His heart, seeing how His people are treating this woman. A sin is a sin is a sin in God's eyes-so the hatred that is spewed at her is just as bad as the potential homicide. We are supposed to show LOVE and COMPASSION... NOT animosity and condemnation. Those are evil and are not at all what Jesus came to teach us. We need to go about these situations with an open heart. Yes-she does need to be told that she needs to accept her sin (whether it be murder or any sin for that matter) and go to the Cross for forgiveness.--Like we ALL need to do. That is the only way to get into the Kingdom of Heaven.
God gave His one and only Son for ALL our sins and for ALL of us! Not just some! At times I feel sorry for her because of what she is facing in the world.  Whether guilty or not, writing headlines and calling her names like The Most Hated Woman in America is unacceptable, horrible, and something that I would never want to see my picture behind. I asked myself this question: "How would I feel if I saw this on a book stand in regards to myself?" I then wonder if people truly know what they are saying and the effect it could leave on someone. I have been praying for her, along with all the others who are dealing with this sort of thing, and my heart slowly begins to break. Tonight my prayers go out to all who suffer from harassment and abuse such as this. Under any circumstance-deserved or undeserved, Relient K reminds us with the lyrics, "the beauty of grace is that it makes life not fair", that Jesus showed love to people who in His day should have served a death penalty. I'll end it with this: If we all showed Christ's love more instead of this junk that is swimming through the air like pollution, everything would work so much better. I don't get why it's so difficult to do so, though. And I desperately need a can of that Chef Boyardee now.