My Dad met Jesus on death bed and I choked out the devil.

We All Have A Choice




There were years where if given the opportunity to choke out my biological father, that’s exactly what I would have chosen. I don’t think a single soul would have blamed me.


I lost my childhood and pure innocence to this man when he raped me when I was five years old. Just writing that sentence is hard.


He left me reeling for years with shame and the feeling of filth no matter how many times I bathed and scrubbed. I battled fears in motherhood that no mother would understand unless they experienced this type of trauma. I scrutinized and choked up with panic attacks that took my breath away during the most innocent moments with my husband and children, moments that should have been priceless memories.


I questioned people’s true love for me and never felt worthy enough. I screamed at God, “How can you say you love me and care about me and allow this to happen to me? Why God? Why Me? Why did you allow this?” Weeping in between every gasp of air, rocking back and forth in a fetal position praying, praying, praying the pain would stop.


For years I believed my pain would stop when my father took his last breath. So many times, he should have died and miraculously made it through. Why God? This man had destroyed countless lives and lived solely for the purpose of serving himself.


I battled this for years with God, and with each step of healing, He adjusted my eyes to see the way He sees. I would have never imagined being the one at my father’s deathbed in a single room, with a single window, alone for weeks, without another loved one in sight. I had been tasked with preparing him for death. I would be the last face he saw.

I had a choice – obey God or not? I chose to obey God.

It’s an amazing story, one I never could have imagined.

I’m telling the whole story in the book I’m writing, as I explain in this post. (add link)

I sure would appreciate your prayers in this writing journey!

Love, Bethannah

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