The In Between Summer


The summer after Master’s Commission was insane. We were at each others throats. It wasn’t entirely her fault. I was so brainwashed that I pretty much couldn’t live with anyone that wasn’t under the “spell” of this discipleship program. In Master’s we were taught to be so separated from the “world” in order to be more full of the holy spirit. This was such a load of horseshit. The only thing that did was make me a worse bitch than my mother. I was difficult to be around. I know in part that I really didn’t want to be back at home. I was restless. I needed to get a job but I had such an attitude about taking a “worldly” job. I really wanted to get a job at a church. However, it couldn’t be a Baptist, Presbyterian, Methodist, Catholic, etc, etc. Those denominations were all cults and rejected the activity of the holy spirit. I was seriously full of it. Shit that is. I was full of shit. At least I admit it! I was hard on my to get a regular job. I felt like I was compromising myself and selling out. I had been called to greater things- not activating Sear’s credit cards at a call center.

I now know that I was suffering from depression as well. I couldn’t tell you if it was chemical or situational. I don’t know but it was definitely depression. I just wanted to hide and cry all the time. I felt like I was being held back. I needed to jump into ministry and get to work. I just couldn’t get anything done that I wanted to because of the lack of money and a car. I was at the mercy of my mother. She stopped demanding my paychecks, so that was good. I was able to start saving up a little but I was never taught very good money management skills so it seemed like my money dissolved pretty quickly.

Not too long after coming back from Arizona, we went to a women’s retreat. I thought it would be great. I was so will and open to the holy spirit and I really wanted the Lord to speak to me. I just needed direction. My mother was very irritated with me. We were constantly bickering. Much of it had to do with her unforgiving spirit. She held so many grudges and was just a toxic person. She just couldn’t give anything to the Lord. She spoke deeply of her faith and read her bible and devotional every morning but she definitely didn’t pray hard enough. This was my worldview from Master’s Commission. Basically, if you didn’t pray like a raving maniac then you didn’t love Jesus. So now you can see why I was just plain rude to other people around me. My relationship with God was very calculated. This is just my personality though. I’m not a very spontaneous person. Dave and Scotty just didn’t give a shit about being as fervent and full of shit the holy spirit as I was. I pestered everyone constantly. They all felt comfortable where they were in their Christian walk and didn’t need someone else, other than the pastor, telling them what to do. I really can’t blame them now. At this retreat, the main speaker had us all line up at the front so she could pray over us and speak a word into my life. I was hoping that my word would be some direction on what I would do next and where I would go. Nope. Instead I was told to stop pretending to be like other people and just be myself. That just wasn’t what I needed to hear. I felt that I had worked really hard all year “being myself.” I left the room and curled up in a big chair in the foyer and cried. I wanted to kill myself. I felt like I couldn’t live. There were things that I wanted to do with my life but I felt like I was in shackles. At this point I really didn’t want to go to school for computers because I thought that I was being called to ministry. Christian colleges were expensive so there was no way that I was going to go. Besides, my mother was only going to fill out my financial aid if I went to school for computers – with her. Yes, she wanted us to go to school together. Funny thing about this woman… she has always tried to play me out to be her best friend. I never wanted that. Now that I was an adult, she thought that she had a shopping buddy and someone to bitch about her marriage to. What the actual fuck. Yes, bitch about the guy that molested me. She wanted a “girlfriend,” and wanted me to fill that position. I didn’t want that. This was another thing that made things very tense between us.

Another issue that was screaming at me in my face was dating. I was 19 almost 20. I honestly never had a boyfriend other than that pathetic two month stint with the guy that my mother hooked me up with and the tryst I had with a guy that was engaged. The only social outlet that I had was at church. Work wasn’t one since it was a call center. There was absolutely no socializing there. There were a few young men at my church but I wasn’t really interested in any of them. There was a couple of brothers that went there before I left and I had a huge crush on one of them but he started dating Melanie’s sister and didn’t attend our fellowship anymore. My mother was fucking hell bent on hooking me up. I swear to everything under the sun, she was almost pimping me out. It was so uncomfortable, awkward and fucking rude. One guy was actually very good looking. He had just graduated from Texas A&M and was a gymnast. Is biceps were amazing, he had sandy blonde hair, piercing blue eyes and a nice smile. He also dressed well. He was also gay. My mother didn’t get this. Dave picked up on it right away and then I learned that other people in the church new. He was undergoing gay-to-straight therapy. Dave said that his father asked for prayer at a men’s breakfast because he had a son that was gay. We knew who it was because one son was engaged, the other had a girlfriend and the other was just flaming obvious. I feel sorry for him now. The other guy was like an 80 year old man in a 25 year old’s body. He was nice and courteous. He also wore his jeans above his navel with his polo shirt tucked in very tightly. I’m not all for judging a book by it’s cover but it was very obvious that this guy was a hard core mama’s boy. He still lived at home, never went to college and was working a job making minimum wage. I needed more than that in a man and I just couldn’t stand the way that he dressed. I didn’t know enough about relationships but I did know that you should be attracted to many aspects of a potential lover because you will not change them. Changing people wasn’t my M.O. I wanted someone that was “made” for me and none of these guys were it. Ok, so what did my mother do that was so horrible? After Dave got through to her about guy A being gay, she stopped with him. She didn’t stop with navel jeans guy. She kept striking up conversations with him after church and then would interrupt me by yelling across the sanctuary to come over to her. I’d get there and then she would just sit there and stare at us. I’d say hi to him but we had absolutely nothing in common worth talking about. After about 15 seconds of her bullshit I told him that I’d see him later and got out of that situation. She did this a few times. Then there was the church luau. Everybody got to get a picture taken. I just wanted one with my brother. That wasn’t good enough. She got navel jeans guy to come over and take a picture with me. I’m still embarrassed by her and it’s been 14 years. I finally had to tell her to stop. She got offended and her feelings were hurt and of course she had to tell me all about it. I basically told her that I would NEVER date a guy that she picked. I didn’t care if it was Brad Pitt. It wasn’t going to happen. That was something personal to me and I deserved the right to choose a mate for myself. “Fine then…” was her reaction. Besides, I had my head so far up Jesus’ ass that I couldn’t even think of dating.

I thought all the abuse from Dave was behind me, especially since I had to forgive him and move one. One day my mother and I were heading down the hallway to her room. My room was the first bedroom and theirs was the last. As we passed my room, Dave was hunched over my laundry basket with a pair of my underwear in his hand. My mother and I both blurted out, “What are you doing?!?!”

“Nothing. I was just looking for something.” And then he left my room. My mother asked him one more time and he wouldn’t answer. I think it was pretty obvious what he was doing. One more opportunity for her to see how much of a pervert he was. One more opportunity that she passed up to do the right thing.

September came around and I was starting to consider moving out. The problem was that I had nothing to fill a house with other than what was in my room and even though I was working, I barely had anything to show for. The other problem was that I really wanted to move far away. I knew that if I got a place near my parents, that would just be the end of anything I ever wanted in my life. She would officially control everything because it would be mostly her effort in getting me set up in an apartment and what-not. One evening we got a phone call. They spoke to my mother while I wasn’t there and she took a phone number. When I got home she gave it to me and told me it was some people from Master’s Commission. I was confused because I thought they didn’t want anything to do with me. Turned out to be a couple that did the program and graduated the year before I went. They were starting their own Master’s Commission in Springfield, MO. They were interested if I wanted to come out and do my second year with them and help them start up. Yes, yes I was. “Get me out of here, I’ll do anything,” I thought to myself.


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