Well I don’t really know how to start this so I guess I’m just going to let God do the typing. My daddy is Mexican, he moved to Virginia and met my mother who is black and they raised me in an all-Spanish speaking Pentecostal church from the time I was born. Ever since I was young I could remember my mother and father having arguments almost all the time. One of my strongest memories is walking past the bathroom door and smell the strangest scent blow from under the door. When my mom would come out I would ask her what that smell was and she’d say, “Don’t worry I’m just burning incents.”
When I was eight years old we got kicked out of our apartment and my parents and I had to move in with my grandmother for a couple of months. After that we lived out a motel for a few weeks and some of the arguments got worse. We finally rented a house in the southside of Richmond. One day I came home from school and everything was a mess, I mean I walked into my room and clothes were out of my drawers, my room, my parent’s room, everything was scattered everywhere. My mom claimed that we had gotten robbed. Truth is my mom had stolen money from my daddy that had belonged to our church. She used it to pay for drugs.
Years passed and the arguments continued they had even gotten worse. When I was thirteen my aunt introduced my mom to this white guy named Doug, he was an alcoholic. I didn’t like him. She ended up leaving me and my daddy for him and I went into my deepest depression ever as a thirteen year old child in the eighth grade. I would cry all the time, in school, walking up the steps to my room, at night in the bed. The thing that hurt me the most was realizing that my mother was on drugs and I didn’t want to accept it. Just knowing that she loved something so terrible more than me would hurt me. I felt unwanted and unloved and I hated her for that because it also hurt my daddy as well. He was the only person I had that I knew loved me. He made sacrifices for me, and that summer was the worst. I don’t think he worked at all that summer and our water had gotten turned off. We didn’t have money for the rent. We had to decide whether we would use the little money that we had to wash clothes or to eat for the week.
Things started to look up a year later, my daddy had got a new job for a small real estate company and we rented a house from then. We moved to a better part of Richmond and I started a new school. The thing that has me thanking God the most from all this is that with all this happening I still maintained my good grades. I was glad that I didn’t let that go to waste. In the 10th grade my best friend Deja had asked me to go to church with her one night so I decided to go. I don’t really remember that night but I continued to go. That church turned my life around and by the end of 10th grade I decided to dedicate my life to Christ. It was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. Like every other Christian, I haven’t had the easiest life once I made that decision; I still struggle with sin to this day but every one does. But without the grace of God I wouldn’t be here. I don’t know where I would be had I took the opposite route and sprawled out of control. I can only say that Jesus has truly changed my life and I encourage anyone who is reading this to consider dedicating your life to Him as well.