Man, you guys wanna know all the deep stuff, huh?  Your wish is my command...  :)  I will warn you, however, that this is REALLY LONG.

To be honest, my faith story begins long before I was born.  As far as I'm concerned, it starts with two women: Ruby Burke and Clarice Morrow.  These two women were the impetus for my parents' faith. 

Ruby Burke is my father's mother.  She lived a life of great faith, despite many challenges and heartache.  (Including, but not limited to, a surprise pregnancy at 40 that turned into twins, and the death of her husband at the young age of 50.)  Her example and role model was the cornerstone of my father's faith.  My father has carried on the tradition and been an example and role model that has greatly influenced my faith.

Clarice Morrow is the neighbor lady who invited my mom to a backyard bible study nearly forty years ago.  My mom, who had lived a very rough childhood, met a man at that bible study.  He changed her life.  When my mom had children of her own, she made sure to introduce us to that man.  He has changed my life, too.  His name is Jesus Christ.

I was raised, from the moment of my conception, in a Christian household.  My father was the Minister of Music.  My mother was heavily involved in ministry herself.  I spent the vast majority of my childhood in church.  You know those people who say that they were in church if the doors were open?  Well, my parents had the key to the church.  We were there a lot of times, even if the doors weren't open.  :)  We even went to visit other churches when we were on vacation.

More important than our church attendance, however, is the life my parents lived.  They are both incredibly successful in the professional area of their lives.  More importantly, they have never ceased to give credit to God for their success.  They have gladly given the shirts off their backs to friends (and strangers) in need more times than I can count.  Even after finding themselves shirtless and hurt in return.  Anyone was (and is) welcome in their home.  Extra plates were always at the ready for dinner, and Kyle and I knew better than to complain about unexpected guests. 

Really, they lived a life that *showed* me what Jesus would do.  Sure, they talked about Him, too.  But the old adage is true...actions speak louder than words.  Had their actions not given credence to their faith, I would have turned from their faith and never looked back.

As it was, I tried to turn from their faith anyway. 

As a very young girl, I decided that I wanted to make God happy.  I believed He was real, and I knew that I wanted to be on his good side.  I also wanted to go to Heaven.  And, honestly, the people who had "been saved" got to have a special little snack some Sundays.  I wanted in on the action.  So, I marched myself into my parents bathroom (as my mom was taking a bath and my dad was completing other, less savory, bathroom activities) and told them that I "wanted Jesus to live in my heart."  Oh yes!  I had church speak down pat...even before I had figured out how to properly form a sentence in English.

As I got older, I went through many different stages of "what would make God happy."  I never wore a "WWJD" bracelet, because I didn't need a reminder.  Unfortunately, by the time I reached high school, I had decided that I was a pretty fly chick.  I have no idea how I came to this conclusion.  No honest evidence existed for this belief in my fly-ness. 

On an unconscious level, I decided that getting to Heaven and pleasing God was all about following the right rules.  In the world's eyes, I was a really good girl.  I made very good grades.  I was generally polite to my elders.  I was musically talented.  I never experimented with drugs, alcohol, tobacco, or sex.  (I can even say that I wasn't tempted in those areas.  I fully admit that this was the protection of God, not my own strength.)  Since I was such a good girl, I really figured that would get me through life...and into the gates of Heaven and under God's Approval.

In college, it all changed.  In the world's eyes, I was probably still a pretty good girl.  I didn't party.  I didn't drink.  I did okay in my classes.  Etc..  Etc...  Etc...  In my eyes, I had lost it all.  I became a mediocre student.  I was lazy.  I didn't feel like being kind and polite to my elders unless they earned my respect.  I started to really dislike a lot of things about myself.  I saw how proud and arrogant I was.  I realized how ugly my heart could be.  I realized that, by God's standards, I was trash...completely and utterly.

That realization (and I will tell you that it was an accurate realization) led me into a deep depression.  I couldn't love me, so I was pretty sure no one else (including God) could love me either.  Sadly, there were two spiritual leaders in my life at this time who actually confirmed this belief.  They used words like "conniving" and "malicious" in reference to my character.  In my heart, I knew these things were not true of me.  However, due to some of my other beliefs about myself, I came to believe these things in time, as well.

It was dark at that time.  It was black.  I had no hope.  I had no faith.  I didn't think I was worthy of life. 

Amazingly, there was one person in my life who spoke value and worth into my spirit.  He had a deep faith in God.  He knew that our value and our worth are not based upon our actions or achievements.  He kept trying to speak the truth into my life, and he kept showing me unconditional love.  No matter how badly I tried to hurt him, no matter how ugly my words could be, no matter how strongly I pushed him away...  He loved me.  He truly, deeply loved me.  These days, I call him my husband.  When no one else showed me the kind of love I needed to see, he did.  As my parents had shown me a model of Jesus in my childhood, he showed me a model of Jesus during my darkest time.

I decided that living those few years without God had been enough.  Sure, I said that I believed in God, and I did.  But, during that time, I didn't really believe God.  I didn't trust Him with my life.  I didn't take the time to study what really made Him happy.  In a way, I had taken a bunch of observations from my life time, made assumptions about "god", and decided to craft a god of my own.  At the time, I didn't realize that's what I had done.  I had taken my observations, assumptions, and hurts, and I had defined god.  Living my life with that god was miserable.

The god I had designed was impotent, unforgiving, judgmental, unmerciful, and really hard to please.

It came to me that none of those words had ever been used to describe Jesus Christ.  Just WHO was I worshiping and following??

I made the decision to start searching for the true God.  The God who was powerful enough to create the Universe, part a sea, and raise people from death.  The God who was forgiving enough to offer imperfect people a relationship with Him...a perfect being.  The God who was just (as in justice) enough to ask for my best, but merciful enough to forgive me when I don't meet the mark.  The God who is simply pleased that I'm pursuing a relationship with Him...nothing more, nothing less.  I was scared to death that I wouldn't be able to find Him.

But I did.  I found Him.  And He exceeded my expectations.

That is NOT to say that it has been peaches and sunshine ever since.  The first two years were wonderful.  Tons of blessing, tons of goodness.  These past two years have been more challenging and stretching than ever before in my life. 

I have struggled with not being used in my local church.  My daughter's pregnancy ended in trauma and fear.  Her first months were full of medical problems and hospital admits.  We lost a baby.  I had surgery.  A very good friend lost a baby.  My uncle (who was the only thing I ever knew of a grandfather) died.  My daughter was diagnosed with a severe and life-threatening allergy.  I had to give up my job, which was a humongous part of my life.  A very good friend has been going through a life-altering challenge.  We got pregnant again.  This pregnancy turned to trauma and fear in the seventeenth week.  I am currently facing a severely premature delivery and all that comes with that.  I have been on bedrest for eight weeks.

And through it all, I have felt more loved and supported by God than ever before.  Through it all, I have been used more by God than ever before.  He is real.  When I honestly searched for Him, instead of making assumptions about Him, I found Him.  And my life has never been the same.  I could never turn away now.  Life with Him is so incredibly better than life without Him.

Sometimes my situation in life will be full of smiles and sunshine.  Sometimes it will be full of tears and storms.  Either way, He is worthy of my praise, worship, and trust. 

This is my story, and I'm stickin' to it.