Prayerful RetreatHow often do you have a “prayerful retreat” with God?
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In order to tell this story, I will have to give you some background first. My mother was a catholic and my father was Jewish. When I was young my mother would take me to church on Sundays. To be truthful, all I can remember is kneeling on that wood bar that folds down with very little padding and how it hurt my knees. I was maybe six or seven. After that we stopped going. Then they got divorced. I continued to live with my mother until I was twelve years old then moved in with my dad the only Jewish influence I had at all was once a year lighting a candle for my grandfather that had died years earlier. Oh yeah, I attended many Jewish camps over the summers that I hated because they let me know I didn't fit in. How did they know that I wasn't a full Jew? There was this small problem, I had blonde hair with blue eyes and looked as gentile as Patti's pig. I still have some pictures of back then. There black and white and we were wearing caps. I still stuck out like a sore thumb. By now your asking, what does this have to do with being beaten to death? Please read on. It ties in to the mind set that I had that night. Now, lets fast-forward. I 'm twenty-seven years old, sitting at a light in a work van 8:30 a.m. Then all of a sudden a big bang, the van spins into the intersection. I'm sitting on the passenger seat that has a low back with no seatbelt. We have just been hit from behind from a woman driving drunk at a high rate of speed with no warning. At that moment, my whole life changed. I got out of the van and sat on the curb. My boss was called and came to the scene. I thought I was fine but he said let them check you out anyway. I tried to stand and fell into the street. I had no feeling from my waist down. They took me to the hospital and after x-rays found I had injured my lower back. They also found I had a birth defect on that part of my spine and wouldn't be able to operate. So for almost two years I was unable to walk. Doctors tried different ways to pull on my spine in order to take the swelling down to restore my spinal cord and over time it started working a little. I finely was able to walk but only for a short periods at a time. I would have to lay down for a while and let the swelling go down before trying again. I started living back with my dad because the money I received from workmen's comp wasn't enough for all my bills. My dad by this time had become an alcoholic and was very rarely feeding me. I was losing a great deal of weight and between the pills for pain and my empty stomach I developed bleeding ulcers. The state was trying to teach me a job I could handle. The problem was I couldn't stand for long or sit as this would cut off feeling in my legs. So what's left? I was growing so depressed. As far as I could see, my life was over at only twenty-seven. I had a dog back then. When he needed to go out, I would open the door. He would run out and do what he needed to and come back.( TO CONTINUE READING THE STORY GO TO BLOGS 2, 3, & 4,)