Of Redemption

HELLO! :)
   And welcome! I hope this entry finds you in high spirits my beautiful souls! Today is a bit rainy but that's all the more reason to go stand outside and bask like a hippo. Try it sometime!
 

   There is a story I feel needs to be shared with you, not only because it's my story (and this is kinda my blog), but because it's a story of Gods redemption, and those are the stories that need to be shared the most. This is my testimony. It is 100% real and I'm unashamed of it. So where do I begin?

   My full name is Brittany Nicole Hogg. When I look at my name, it looks so odd. Like…

B R I T T A N Y

   That’s my name… Those little symbols that have been scratched and scratched out over time, and given to countless other  little girls are what identify me to the world. Oh! Nope. Actually I’m identified by a little bitsy number. (I don’t think I should type that out...) Anyways! I was born on March 14th in the year 1994 in Champaign, Illinois. My parents are Kristina Renee Tucker and Steven Kile Hogg. I always used to ask my dad who decided to name me Brittany; it’s not a family name, and I wanted to know why, what was its meaning? My father claimed my mother named me, and my mother claimed my father named me so obviously the aliens are the ones that gave me it, but I don’t put much stock in my name because it’s not me. It doesn’t define the person I am inside. Those scritchy scratches are what I have to write down to get a license and vote, but they’re not my heart and soul.

    My parents were unmarried until I was about one, but were divorced by the time I was two. Their marriage was because of me, as was their divorce, in a way. They had never truly gotten along or been a family, half of me wonders if the world would be different if they hadn't met and had me. Well, either way, there was an incident that was the final straw in the marriage and it went something like this; My mother was supposed to be watching me while my father was at work one day. She put me in my crib to try and get me to sleep, and then she went to sleep in her room. I, being clever and exceptionally advanced in my toddler breaking out skills, managed to climb out of my crib and crawl into my parents bathroom. No one knows what I consumed, but when my dad got home, he found me lying very still on their bathroom floor with some blue chemical dribbling out of my mouth. He rushed me to the emergency room, and they barely got my stomach pumped in time to save me. My dad called my mom and told her he had me, he was at the hospital, and she should come down so they could talk and make sure I was okay. But my mom panicked, she knew she was responsible, and she couldn't face that charge. Instead, she chose to run away with a man named Thomas, abandoning me and my dad. The divorce was ugly, I know that much. But i can't remember back as far as when my parents were together, i have no recollection of being a two year old who could break out of her crib and get herself almost killed. But what I am told by my many sources is that my father wanted my mother to get an abortion, and my mother was completely unprepared to handle a child. She didn't know nor wanted to know how to take care of me, and so my father got primary custody of me.

   Throughout my life, my mom has gone through a string of both men, and new houses. She was married to Thomas for a few years, but they really didn’t last that long. I only vaguely remember him, but I know for some reason, I just didn’t like him. He would glare at me when I played Spyro on Playstation and whenever we’d visit him at the Meijers where he worked, he’d ignore me.

   I can only recall little details about each of my mom’s houses. One was a big blue house that was split in half, we were the top floor. I remember playing on my PlayStation and eating Bertie Botts harry potter jelly beans there, and one Christmas where my mom got me a pair of clip on sparkly cat earrings. I remember the big house where I had two whole rooms to myself upstairs, and where we lived with one of my mom’s boyfriends until he ran off, never to be seen again. I remember the small apartment she was in when she first met my step dad Jeff, and I actually recall he spent the night one time, and I was sleeping on the couch downstairs. I remember most of the houses and some of the boyfriends. And each time mommy got a new house, or boy, she moved farther and farther away from Fort Wayne, and in my child's mind, that meant she didn’t want to be near me anymore. In my seventh and eighth grade years, she completely went AWOL. I didn’t hear from, nor see her. She ignored e-mails, phone calls, just... nothing. Yet when she finally contacted my dad about seeing me again, I forgave her. I always forgave her, she was my mom.

   I know that when they were dating, Beth lived in an apartment complex where my mom also lived. Sometimes my dad would go visit her and I’d go to my mom’s at the same time. I only have two memories of that place. Once I was playing with this little girl when I went to visit my mom, because she never spent much time with me, and the other is of being in the bathtub in Beth’s apartment with Emily. We were practically siblings by then. I miss those times.

   For the first few years of my life, me and daddy lived in a gigantic white house with one of his friends. We had these pet ferrets that I always loved to watch, but I don’t remember their names so well. When my dad first started dating Beth, her and her daughter from her last marriage would spend the night. That was when I met Emily. Emily was wonderful. She was gorgeous with curly blonde hair and light blue eyes. She was someone to play with, the sister I’d been waiting for. I loved her a lot, and I only ever remember it being us two, fearlessly facing the world side by side! Dad and Beth married when I was four and Emmy two. I vaguely remember holding a bouquet of purple at the courthouse, and staring at the beautiful woman my dad was to be with forever. Eventually, they had two children of their own. My half brother Kile and then my half sister Katie.

   Once when we were driving to the halfway drop off point for me, I was talking about home, and I accidentally called Beth ‘mom’. That didn’t fly with my mother. She had a huge conniption and just ranted ferociously about how I shouldn’t even like her because she wasn’t my mother. I didn’t know what to think! My dad had said I could call her mom, that I should, and yet mommy said I should hate her? I was so upset, that night at my mothers, i cried myself to sleep. I didn't understand what it was to love or hate, i knew i liked the pretty woman my dad was with, and i knew my mother would always be my mother and i loved her dearly. I began being spiteful to Beth. I lied to her and did little things to irritate her like stealing candy from the kitchen or being a brat. Forging a signature on a bad report card or stealing from her room would really set her off, and i knew, i knew that. I knew mommy said I shouldn’t like her, so I went off that. I did terrible things when I was a child, but the biggest were theft, and lying. I lied about everything, either to get my way or to manipulate a situation. I didn’t see any point in being honest. Oh I wasn’t a rotten kid, I was exceptionally well mannered and kind, but I stole little things. A pencil from a teacher, a bookmark from the library, just little things here and there. I do remember in fourth grade, one of the other girls had sour skittles, so I took them and ate them. Well I got caught, but I ended up winning a game in class that day so I got a prize of skittles to give to her. I don’t know if she forgave me, I hope she did. When I got into middle school it only escalated. Perhaps it was because I didn’t have a mom. Mine was gone who knows where, and Beth hated me with every inch of her being, something I forever blame myself for. Perhaps because Beth spoiled Emily, Katie and Kile rotten, and I got nothing. I don’t think I’ll ever truly know why I did what I did in that time of my life.

   I do know my dad used to take me out to do fun stuff. We’d go to tokens ‘n tickets and pizza hut. Sometimes we’d go to Sbarro’s in the mall, and he’d tell me I couldn’t possibly eat two pieces of pizza. He was right. We’d play mini golf sometimes. I think we even went to a movie once. But once Kile was born, it just kind of stopped. And then Katie, after her, I was the least favored child, and to some degree, I knew it. I used to sit in my room, next to my bookshelf, and just read books all day long. I remember in middle school I was the top AR reader, and that was pretty much all I was known for.

  I was an outcast. I wasn’t pretty or good at sports. I ran, and I was okay at it. But the thing about running was how you pushed yourself, how it took your mind off everything else but the pounding of your heart and the shortness of your breath. I loved running, and i especially loved my sixth grade English teacher, who was also my distance coach. He pushed not only my mind, but my physical existence, and he cared. Even when i chance to see him nowadays, he still yells "Hogg!". It makes me laugh, because I remember being a child. But fitting in was still tough. I didn’t know who I was. I had no mother to guide me, show me how to be pretty or use make-up. I was not attractive; I didn’t have boys that liked me. And when I did I’d get so afraid that they’d realize how insignificant and plain I was that I’d break it off with them. My dad always said we were never allowed to date until we were juniors in high school, and it was always so hard. He wouldn't explain why to us, he'd just say no. It didn't make sense. Of course me and Emily "dated" behind his back. We were girls after all. Yet I never could feel pretty because my guy friends that could be potential boyfriends knew I wasn’t able to like them. It made me feel unloved, and ugly. I blamed my dad for so much of my unhappiness and confusion. Really, it was my own fault. Not lack of guidance or love. Just me.

   Until High School, God was a foreign concept for me. He wasn’t talked about in our house, and the bible certainly wasn’t discussed. When we were little, our parents would send me and Em to vacation bible school, mostly to get us out of their hair for a little while each night. When we were in middle school, I know we went to the youth group at the church down the road some Wednesday nights, but I also remember falling asleep and only begging to go because a cute boy a year older than me went. I don’t once remember feeling something suddenly hit me about God. My weekly dose of “here’s what you should do here’s what you shouldn’t do” wasn’t helping me find myself any better, and it certainly wasn't stopping my thieving hands. Middle school was when my theft reached an all time high. At one point, in sixth grade, I stole some money from a friend of mine. Right out of her locker. She forgave me, but I’ve always had that itch at the back of my mind… Did she hate me for it? My dad took me in to see the Pastor, and he talked to me, tried to tell me I was doing these things because my mother had abandoned me. He sent me off with a bible, and even more confusion than I’d come in with.Why would i steal because of my mother? I just wanted to have what the other kids had. Stuff. Things. That was how we were raised, whoever had the most or better stuff was better off.

   I know my father always meant well. He wanted to help me. He wanted the lying and stealing to stop. But it wasn’t that simple. The issue really was deeper than that. I think the reason I wanted stuff so badly was because I got nothing at home. Emily was spoiled rotten, she got to see her dad every other weekend and Wednesday nights! Why didn’t I get to see my mother this much? Why didn't my dad take me out like we had used to do? Sure, i was a terrible child, but why wouldn't Beth spend time with me? Why couldn't I join in family game nights? I'd sit in my room next to my bookshelf begging the stories to suck me in and let me live in the pages. I'd hide in my bed and pretend to be asleep if my dad came in my room, and I'd shed silent tears. It wasn’t fair. And dad never wanted to play with me. We didn’t do father daughter things anymore. We always talked whenever those long drives to drop me at the halfway point for my mothers would occur, but those occasions were rare. Yet I remember those conversations distinctly. Conversations of aliens, relatives, my dad growing up, music, and Santa! I cried when he told me Santa wasn’t real. But he explained that it’s the concept that matters, not the person. One year for Christmas I had asked Santa for snow, and lo and behold it snowed. I thought that was magic. And it made me believe. For once in my tiny child life I believed! But it was coincidence. And so for a long time, I gave up the hope that magic was real.

   At home, i felt so emotionally abused. I was outrightly ignored and left out. Beth would take Emily, Kile and Kaitlyn for new school clothes and leave me at home. That was when I would draw. I'd especially try to draw people. People i thought were beautiful, and i would try to make myself look beautiful. All through high school, i lived a sheltered and limited life, and it took it's toll on me. I didn't know how to be an adult. And in July of 2012, just a few months after graduation, i was moved out of my house to an apartment just 2 blocks from school. I had literally no money. I didn't have a license nor know how to drive, and i was crushed. absolutely crushed. My whole life, my father had fought custody and child support battles to keep me, and then, without a second thought, he had left me. That thought reverberated in my mind as i slept. He no longer wanted me, and he'd dropped me in the middle of nowhere expecting strangers to pick me up dust me off and take care of me. That is still an open wound. It's painful for me to even type down, but you know what? It changed me. It made me stronger, and it's made me kinder. For that I am grateful. Now i live with my roommate Lindsay, and things are much better. So very muchly better. 

   My first encounter with what I then called "God stuff" went something like this; It was Christmas of my freshman year, and i was spending it with my mom, Jeff, and their little girl, my sister, Aileese. We ended up going to Jeff's cousins house, and I obviously knew no one. I made a joke at my mom, trying to get her to talk, about how there were no presents for me, and she snapped. She said I was ungrateful and misbehaving and she was ashamed of me for being so selfish. I ran upstairs and cried in the bathroom for at least an hour. When i opened one of the cabinets to look for a tissue, i found a whole hanging rack full of necklaces and jewelry. I was so upset with my mother, so angry at Jeff for bringing me here, so furious with my dad for making me spend Christmas with someone who didn't care, that i grabbed a bundle of the necklaces, and stuffed them in my jeans. A few days later i went back to my dads, and got a call from my step dad. He asked me if i had taken the jewelry. I lied at first, but then fessed up. My dad yelled at me, and the next time i went to my moms, i was to write an apology letter and go to the ladys house. We went back over so I could apologize, return the stuff and read her the letter. When i was finished, she simply looked at me and asked, "May I pray for you?" I was shocked. I didn't know what prayer was, i hardly knew what God was and i certainly didn't think prayer could be a good thing, a way of praise and communication to God. She prayed for me
 and i think, perhaps, that was the first time i felt the Holy Spirit tapping on my heart.

 

   Now i must tell you a happy story. Of a girl named Brandy Lee, but who i simply know as my butty. Yes you read that correctly, just move on. My sophomore year of high school, I was walking with my track friend Brenda in the hall. She was a year younger than me, so i went to her locker in the freshman hall with her. When we got there, i declared aloud that she was my best friend. The locker door next to hers slammed shut, and a deranged perky looking blonde snapped at me. "I'M Brenda's best friend!!!" I was outraged. This stupid little girl was going to steal my best friend? Or at least claim so? Nope. I wasn't standing for that. I walked to choir class fuming over the bold girl, but when i walked in, lo and behold who was occupying my first soprano chair but perky blonde herself! I almost strangled her, but finally gave up and sat next to her. For the first few weeks of our acquaintance, we merely glared and argued over Brenda. But suddenly, something shifted. We realized we had very common interests, and slowly but surely became good friends.

    Brandy is the reason and way i found God. She would talk about church and God and blahblahblah, but I never paid much attention. Until one time when she asked me to spend a Saturday night at her house and go to church. I thought, whatever, and did it. When we walked into Grace Gathering the next morning, I was astonished. What was this place? It wasn't like any church I had ever gone to. We listened to Pastor Norman talk and honestly i think i zoned out to lala land, but then when we began to worship, something in me snapped, broke... I didn't realize it then, but it was the Holy Spirit awakening in my heart. I grabbed Brandy's hand, lifted it into the air, and shamelessly sang my heart out with tears streaming down my face.  Something had made sense. It struck a chord, and suddenly my eyes were open.

   I went home, delighted to tell my father about this revelation, but as i walked into his bedroom, all i got was this conversation;

Dad: You're late. You were supposed to be home at noon. Is your homework done?

Me: No, i was going to finish tonight but dad-

Dad: You shouldn't have spent the night anywhere if your homework wasn't done!!!

Me: I know, but dad just listen!

Dad: DO YOUR HOMEWORK! God you're so irresponsible!

Me: Dad that's what i need to talk to you about! God! Daddy i want to start going to church! Every Sunday! Brandy can pick me up and drop me off can i please go? Dad?

Dad: No. You have a C in math. You're not going anywhere.

Me:But-

Dad: NOW GO DO YOUR HOMEWORK!

   I was broken. Crushed. The one thing I had found, that made sense, that made me want to go on, i was being withheld from it. I would never get to discover what had tried to pound it's way out of my chest that morning. I cried, and cried, and cried, and gave up. I hated math, i could never get better than a C, and so I dropped to an F. Because what was the point? I wasn't able to regularly attend church until the summer I moved out. I went maybe once a month if I was lucky to stay the night at Brandy's. It took me awhile for my faith to awaken, but I know i was being grown, and watched over as it happened.

  The summer after my senior year in 2012, I joined a mission team that Brandy's mother was leading. Before Baltimore I’d never been on a mission trip. I hadn’t been raised Christian. The extent of my Spiritual life was youth group on Wednesdays (sometimes) and Christmas Eve service every year. But we didn’t pray. No one told me about God, and I knew I couldn’t go to my dad with questions about the bible or Jesus or any of that. I certainly couldn’t go to my mother about it. I suppose that’s why I’ve always felt disconnected from my parents, because when I found God, they began to reject me. I think I first heard my calling to be a missionary the beginning of summer 2012, right after graduation. I knew one thing for certain; I wanted to save the world. One day I will. But Baltimore is also a story for another time...

   We all fall. We are fallen beings in a fallen world, and thus, we make mistakes. I've made my fair share, and last fall, I had the biggest fall of my life. It was October 2012. I had been dating a boy named Ben for about 2 years, and i was done. I had been moved out and living an adult life, and he was stuck in high school mode. We didn't have a terrible relationship, i loved him and i know he loved me, but it was child's love. And that childish love led to stupidity. We pushed a physical relationship to the point where sex almost happened and it always tore me up. The fact that i claimed to be a Godly girl, and yet here i was committing acts that Gods word specifically said no to. But i didn't care enough to stop it. My Spirit was dying. The wants of the flesh were taking over, and I was drowning in a sea of lust. I finally broke it off, every time i would say no to him, he would guilt trip me, make me feel like i was a terrible girlfriend for not giving him physical affection. But just as much as he pushed me, i pushed him. It was terrible. I couldn't keep holding him back from God, and I couldn't keep letting myself fall and get hurt. So i ended the relationship. In August, my now roommate Lindsay had introduced me to a boy who will remain unnamed. He was cute and crazy and i fell for him. This was when i was with Ben though, so i pushed my affections aside and even when he pursued me told him no. But then something happened.

   A week or two after i broke it off with Ben, this certain boy was staying the night, because i never really thought it was a big deal. I just wanted to hang out with people, and i happened to have a lot of guy friends. So i said sure, he could stay the night. It didn't seem like a big deal.

   The fall of 2012 was the worst point of my life. I had just been dumped out of my house, expected to survive on nothing, my parents had emancipated me so as not to have any legal obligation to care for me, and to top all that off, college hit me like a brick wall. I was overwhelmed, and i was lost. I still held in the thought that i wasn't good enough to be loved, that i was ugly and would never deserve anyone. All through high school, i had never been one of the attractive girls. It wasn't that i was unattractive or didn't have guys that wanted to date me, but I could never truly see myself as someone beautiful. I knew when i looked good, and on a daily basis, i did not look good. I thought my nose and forehead were too big, my thighs were fat, my eyes were grey and boring, and my hair never wanted to cooperate. I couldn't accept that i was perfect just as i was. 

   I think that was half the reason i stayed with Ben. He called me beautiful, and i know he loved me. He just showed it the wrong way. So i dealt with the physical aspect of our relationship so i could be called beautiful. I cherished that, the first person to think i was pretty. My parents never complimented my looks, my dad would even make remarks to my lack of good features. When me and Ben split, I was struggling even more with how i looked. I just felt ugly, and half of me felt ugly outside, and the other half knew i was inside. So that night, when this boy came to me with sweet words and a promise that he would care about me, I let him have something that should only have been my future husbands. He took my virginity, and honestly? I let him. I was so to the point where i didn't care about myself that i let it happen. And afterwards, i wanted to die. I contemplated killing myself, but then i stopped. I told myself to get up, and ask to be forgiven. I told the boy i never wanted to see him again, and i made the decision to do better from then on. But that was easier said than done, and it would take me quite awhile to finally love myself.

   I did see the boy once more. He came to my house on valentines day asking to take me on a date, i refused and he spoke three words that made my heart drop.

"I told Lindsay."

I asked what he meant, he had told her everything. She was my best friend and soon to be roommate, one of the closest people to me, and i hadn't even told her about what had happened in October. I told him off, using some choice words I'm not proud of, and told him to stay out of my life forever. He left, and i went upstairs. Lindsay was sitting on the couch, acting oblivious of course, because that's what she did, she protected me. Let me hide in my shell. I just whispered, "He told you?" and then i broke down. She held me and let me cry for an hour, and then she said something I'll never forget;

"There is no condemnation in Christ."

   Those words will stay forever in my mind. Breaking down, and telling her, the first person, what i had done? that was the beginning of my redemption. Because holding it in had been poisoning me, and dwelling on it made my thoughts dark. Lindsay taught me that sharing how God pulled me out of that dark place, and letting it be in my past would help both me, and those whom i shared my story with. There is no condemnation in Christ! And that is one of the most INCREDIBLE truths you can ever share with someone!!! So don't you ever tell me that you've done something so terrible that you're incapable of being loved by the Father! Because if i can come out of all the stupid of my childhood, and the falls of my teen years, and still allow God to work through me, anyone can. We live in a fallen world, and we are fallen creatures, but God picks us up, dusts us off and makes us something better than the things of this world. 

   The hardest part of my life hasn’t been my struggle to find God, my fight to like myself, or even the fact that my I’ve been thrown into a grown up life without so much as a nudge in the right direction from my parents. The hardest part is knowing that my father and mother may never come to Christ. That I’ll never… Never be able to pray with my dad. My parents won’t pray blessing over me at my wedding, my mother won’t calm my first child jitters with the promise that God is in control. I can’t give my parents any comfort in my being a missionary because they won’t accept that I’m being watched out for by an incredible divine parent. And that is precisely what I intend to do with my life. Go out to the world, to the most dangerous parts of it and help! There are so few people that want to acknowledge the terrible things that are happening, and even fewer that are willing to say “yes, this is crazy and risky, but you know what? I am brave. I will allow God to work through me, and I will go to this place that so many are afraid of!” Because that’s what the world needs!!! It needs people that aren’t going to give up hope! The only thing stronger than fear is hope. And I'm filled to the brim with a hope that can't be extinguished.

   I'm so far from perfect. I'm weak, and small and insignificant and NOTHING. But with God? I'm beautiful. I'm free! And I'm perfect in his eyes. I'm redeemed, and I am saved, and i shall never again be afraid to proclaim that to the world. So watch out. I may be that maniac on the street corner yelling praise to the heavens. But who knows, maybe you'll come join me?

Psalm 44:26          

Rise up and help us; redeem us because of your unfailing love.