Approximately four years ago, during a church service that I was singing in, I felt the presence of God in such a strong way that I interrupted the show and shared a brief moment of my testimony. That was the first time I had ever spoken so freely in front of a large quantity of people about myself. I was quite the backward, introverted type at that time of my life—not the kind of person who wanted a light shined on and microscope placed over me for anyone to examine, let alone a crowd of two hundred or more. It would’ve, no it should HAVE felt like such a vulnerable moment for me, but that day it wasn’t me speaking. It was God.
After I finished blubbering what seemed like nonsense for… well I don’t remember how long, we jumped immediately into the next song, which I also cannot recall. The next few minutes that our group was vocalizing lyrics and music, I was trying to remember what I had said and why. I peered back to my college music director who was controlling our sound switchboard. Was he crying?
After the show was over, not one, not two, three or even four, but five women of all ages, all different backgrounds came to me in tears thanking me for sharing my testimony. Each having gone through what I had gone through at some stage of her life. Each deeply touched by MY short life story. One of those women truly stood out to me. She came to me as I was headed toward the dressing room to change clothes. She stopped me and said, “I never would have guessed you. You have such a talent, and are so beautiful. Watching you sing and seeing your spirit, I never would’ve guessed you to have had such a difficult life. You look like you have had everything.” Hearing these words shocked me. ---Everything?! ME have everything?
Why did my few short words reach out to those people? My words that were so insignificant.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I was born into an impoverished world. I am not talking about THE world; I am talking about my world, my world that I had absolutely no control over. My small-town-West Virginia world. I was placed briefly into the arms of a seventeen-year-old young woman, who then asked the nurse to show me to my forty-two year old, now divorced grandmother. There was no young father to hold me, to fall in love with my dark blonde hair and (at the time) baby blue eyes. Instead, holding my 6 pound, 7 ounce tiny body was a tired, brave, excited, nervous, but proud young mother and a beaming grandmother that couldn’t stop smiling at me. I was a miracle to my unprepared, unexpected young family, no matter how different or nonstandard we were.
I grew up among children just like me--single family and broken homes relying on only the bare essentials to live from day to day. I grew up among children who were the opposite of me as well, who had a mother and a father and a seemingly happy, stable home. I grew up among the abused and neglected children. I grew up among other children who used our tiny little elementary school as an escape or safe ground. All of us played together at recess. Even the children with the most complicated of lives could rejoice during recess.
I ask myself now, what did most of these children have in common, though? It was that even at a young age, we all had a picture of our future. Our picture was growing up to be the head of a small-town-West Virginia household with what our parents referred to as a “decent job.” Our highlights would be clocking out on Friday at 5 from a hard week’s work, fishing trips and camping on the weekends with family and friends, four-wheeling in the biggest mud holes we could find, a cold beer on a hot summer day, finishing the back porch project we had been planning for years, maybe college, if we could afford it, church on Sundays and football, football, football! Just thinking about it all still makes me smile. It was our American Dream.
So why didn’t I fit in? Why did I feel like there was more to life? Why was I secretly ashamed of my life as it were? I KNEW that I loved my family. My mother was the life of any party and simply a joy to be around—unless she was just waking up of course. J My grandmother was the most caring, adoring, strong woman that I would ever grow up to know, and both of them encouraged me every day. They told me, no, they literally beat it into my head, that I was special. I could be whatever I wanted to be. I could grow up and change the world if I wanted to. I had the most supportive two women in the world, and I knew that I had a choice to make my life into what I wanted my life to be. At six years old, I was going to be an astronaut, a police officer, a lawyer, a doctor, no… a... singer.
I was always quite the songbird. Humming and writing my own songs about flowers and lady bugs at as young as age three. Later, I danced and sang in front of my great grandmother’s huge bedroom mirror to all the pop music of the early 90s just like every other girl my age. No one in the world could tell me that I wasn’t going to be famous one day. Tragically, adolescence sets in for every young dreamer, and somehow dreams, goals, and ambitions slowly seem to fade, and then, life happens…
My mother finally married what seemed to be a good man when I was eleven. At age twelve, twin brothers entered my life! Finally, siblings!!! Even though at age twelve I felt more like a mother to them than a sister, it was really, well, cool! We were still poor, probably more so now, but we were happy. I began to realize what I really wanted for my future. My ambitions and goals became more mature. I eventually wanted a family that was stable. Stable enough that we could afford to enjoy the world in which we lived. Regardless of our poverty, we were a family, the family that I would soon grow up and learn that I had yearned for every day of my life. I yearned for a mother AND a father, brothers and sisters, Christmas and family traditions. Even MY biological father was slowly showing an interest in my life. I was so close to what I considered to be ‘normal.’ After some time, the “good man” turned into a hypocrite, and my real father began to show his true colors again just like he had done thirteen years earlier. The twins’ dad became a slob and a terrible husband, and an even more terrible father to say the VERY least, so my mother divorced him a year later--Another broken family. I thought it couldn’t get any worse…
It was only a year later that my mother died. She was ripped out of our lives in a sudden and tragic car accident. How could this happen? How could God let this happen to us, to me? Now my ex-step father regained custody of two innocent, two-year-old boys, and I legally belonged to my biological father. That didn’t last too long though. He actually didn’t even show up for the custody hearing between him and my grandmother. Now I felt empty. Felt like I would be lucky to even be able to “settle for less” in my life. Felt like no matter what goals I set for myself, it wouldn’t matter. I was a victim of constant failure. Why did I have NO control?
The next years of my life, now a blur, were full of bad decisions---choices that I had made. I made choices to experiment with alcohol, choices to abandon the God that I had prayed to every day, choices to slowly let my grades slip, choices to replace my emptiness with the short companionship of one boyfriend after another. It was okay, I was a victim. People felt sorry for me. I felt sorry for me.
Of course, with the bad decisions and regret, were good decisions and hope. Fortunately for me, when I abandoned God, He outright refused to abandon me. I was rededicated at sixteen and baptized for the first time at seventeen. Silly of me to think I could run from God’s plan. I realized that I wasn’t alone and that there was indeed someone who knew my heart and my desires and was ‘familiar with all my ways.’ He had even given me an outlet to save myself from the destruction. Actually, he reminded me that I had an outlet all along. Music. Music kept me in school. I was good at it. It gave me a good feeling about myself. It gave me hope. My childhood dream was still locked down inside of me. “Remember, Amanda you wanted to be the next Mariah Carey!!!” J
I salvaged my pride and became the first person in my family to beat the odds and attend college. Of course I was going to have to get scholarships and grants and the dreaded college loans to afford it…or maybe not… My grandma and mother always told me to use my talent to better my life, so I auditioned for college music groups, show choirs, even gospel groups that would help pay for college. I was entirely drawn to a small private college in North-Central West Virginia, where I could sing in a small Christian group AND have my school tuition handed to me. WOW! Both myself and a girl I would eventually come to know as my best friend auditioned together. Neither of us was selected. I was extremely disappointed, so I decided I wasn’t good enough and started to feel sorry for myself, again. I decided that I would stick to what I knew and attend college, get a degree in something, and get a mediocre job here in the heart of WV, where I truly didn’t want to be. Not that there was anything wrong with that, it just wasn’t what I truly wanted. It was settling for a life that I did not desire.
I really didn’t want to stay in West Virginia forever, nor did I want to attend this college that I really was not excited about, let’s call it, Marshall UniversityJ. Then one day I got a phone call, a phone call from Alderson-Broaddus College. They told me they had a spot for me in their Christian group, you know, the one I had my heart set on that paid a full tuition scholarship, yes THAT ONE! My family and friends were so proud of me. I was proud of me too! The even better news was that I would be sharing a dorm with my future best friend, who also got the same phone call! Again, all seemed right in the world. I had overcome my odds.
It was touring and singing with this group that would change my life. I still struggled with choices every day, making good ones, and bad ones. It was also touring with this group that gave me the opportunity to share that testimony four years ago in Charleston that would touch the lives of five women for sure and possibly a few others. It was my believing in myself even in my darkest hours of life that there was something better out there for me. That God had a plan for me. That He had written his name on me before I was even born. That I didn’t have to settle for a life that, while great for some of the other children I grew up with, was not a fit for me. That He had given me choices throughout my life and will continue to do so.
Now, today, as a twenty-three year old woman, I still face choices. I still remember my past and sometimes feel sorry for myself. I still make decisions that affect me, some of which will soon change my life again in a very big way. I don’t regret the road I’ve traveled. I accept the good with the bad.
Now I have a new world-- A world that I DO have in my control. I have a loving husband and my own six pound, 7 ounce tiny little girl on her way very soon. Well, I hope she’s six pounds, seven ounces, and TINY. J But, I now rejoice in the fact that from now on, my world is a choice.
I will choose to make the very best of every situation. I will choose good over evil. I will choose to learn from my mistakes. I will choose to serve God and thank Him for never abandoning me and always giving me the freedom to choose. I will trust in God’s perfect plan for my life. I will never tell myself that where I am today is as good as it gets. I will be a loyal and loving wife to my husband. I will be the encouraging and fun-loving mother to my daughter as mine was to me. Most importantly, I will continue to set higher goals and strive to reach them.
I take comfort in the fact that my life will never be predetermined for me; my life IS significant and I will always have a choice.
