Friday, April 3, 2015

A bit of history: 12

Street life in Florida began full time. Mom and Brother just lived a mere 25 miles or so away, but
I just couldn't stay.

The Georgia hospitals, West Virginia foster homes, Texas detention centers and Florida group home programs didn't help. 

And, even while juggling a new house and career, Mom still tried all she could to keep me close every way she knew, but... to no avail.

I was driven.

Again, I couldn't tell you why, what from, or where to... but I was truly a tormented child. 

So much so that the farthest I got in school was about 2 days of the 9th Grade... the 8th grade was all I actually "completed".

Many a time I left Mom in tears as I walked out the door. 

Sometimes I'd secretly plan ahead and stash a packed pillowcase under a bush to grab when I'd bolt out the window in the middle of the night.

My brother was always left to tend to the turmoil. Yet, he would still try to support me as well.

On one occasion I boldly announced I was going again. 

While Mom was frantically on the phone, brother came to me and humbly offered his jackknife for protection, along with some silver dollars mixed with fifty-cent pieces that he had saved.

Dad had given the collector coins through the years and they were all still neatly tucked in their plastic cases.

Brother was only about 10 or 11 years old but, to this day, I am still extremely touched by his kindness. 

He has always been so very special and I regret that I am the sister he never had.  

Moreover, I am deeply saddened by the loss of the relationship that we both suffered, but... nevertheless, I rejoice in seeing the God-given blessed life in which he has seemed to always have.

The Lord has been so good to him and the beautiful thing is... brother knows it, brother walks it and brother lives it.

Thank you, God!

testimony by: Hallie Agar

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