Looking forward to reading, Marathoner.

I'm looking forward to follow your blog, and read 📖 about your testimony. 😊 

I was born wandering this earth. My father's military career was the reason why I never remained long in one particular place, but he wasn't the only one who served in the U.S. armed forces. My mother had enlisted in the Women's Army Corps (WAC) before they met, the only woman in her family of six brothers and two sisters to have done so. After my father returned from Iran in the early 1960's, he was attached to the U.S. Army's nuclear program; this was when he met and married my mother. As was the custom at the time, my mother was honorably discharged from the WAC on account of marriage. 

My mother's oldest brother, a veteran of the Korean War (and afterward, Vietnam), was present in Iran at the same time my father was. Their paths never crossed for my father was somewhere in the Syrian Desert, testing hardware and techniques that were the foundation of my own military occupational specialty in the United States Army. A series of coincidences illustrate that there was nothing coincidental about the circumstances of my birth and upbringing:

My father was one of the founders of my specialty as a soldier;
He served multiple terms as an instructor at the U.S. Army Signal Corps school. I was born during his first term as an instructor;
I was born in an Army hospital not far from this school;
I graduated from the same military school twenty years later;
The day of my enlistment in the United States Army was my father's birthday, and the day my enlistment expired was the same. 

Life was hard under their roof, and I witnessed horrible things being done to others. Due to ceaseless warfare between my father and mother, the name of the Lord was never mentioned. I was the first of their children subjected to this "truce," for my father was vehemently opposed to my mother's insistence upon Roman Catholic indoctrination for us all. Therefore, my youngest sister and I were "heathens" to our mother and older sisters. We were treated with additional contempt beyond the norm in that house. My mother preferred us to know nothing at all if we weren't allowed to fall under the sway of the Roman Catholic Church. 

My father, on the other hand, preferred us to choose Christ on our own accord. He had no choice but accept our mother's tyranny during his lengthy absences because his duties kept him away from the house for months on end. He was prone to disappearing with no warning; when he returned, he would reveal that he was sent on temporary duty (TDY) to some strange place in the world. For example, he vanished one day in 1974 and, when he returned, we learned that he had been sent to Ethiopia. That was the nature of his military career. He was never at liberty to discuss what he did. 

My mother was exceedingly harsh, using violence and terror as tools to make us conform to her wishes. I became inured to pain by her hand at a young age, suffering blows with no complaint; but what my sisters suffered affected me deeply. I would listen to their screams and weeping into the small hours and this, more than anything else, exposed me to the depths of despair. I became acquainted with sorrow and hopelessness. This was when I started speaking to God, though I didn't know Him. I didn't know if He heard me or not, but I spoke to Him anyway.

I uttered my first vow to the Lord while their screams kept me awake, that I would never become like my mother or father. I would rather die than do such things to another living soul, or even an animal... yes, I had witnessed enough animal cruelty to be affected by that as well. It was so monstrous and evil that I started suffering from severe insomnia. When I managed to fall asleep, I experienced nightmares that left me hoarse from screaming myself awake. I was afraid to sleep. I would talk to God while I lay in bed, but I never imagined that He had inclined His ear toward me.

It wasn't long after my 8th birthday when I started experiencing the beginning of a depression that would never truly leave. I said to God that night, "I would like to die, God. Please, don't let me open my eyes again. I don't want to wake up to another day! I can't do it anymore!" I remember crying myself to sleep that night. It was the first of many nights when despair sought to swallow me whole... and that was the first time I heard the Voice. The Voice wasn't audible with these ears, but I could hear him speak in such a way as if nothing else existed in this world except for the Voice. I didn't have a name for him, and he didn't name himself; he spoke soothing words, telling me not to be afraid. He loved me. 

I didn't know that the Voice was the Lord. I wouldn't learn the truth until after my time in the U.S. Army was over. When the Spirit spoke to me, revealing Himself as God, the truth was overwhelming. He was the Voice. 

12 minutes ago, Marathoner said:

I was born wandering this earth. My father's military career was the reason why I never remained long in one particular place, but he wasn't the only one who served in the U.S. armed forces. My mother had enlisted in the Women's Army Corps (WAC) before they met, the only woman in her family of six brothers and two sisters to have done so. After my father returned from Iran in the early 1960's, he was attached to the U.S. Army's nuclear program; this was when he met and married my mother. As was the custom at the time, my mother was honorably discharged from the WAC on account of marriage. 

My mother's oldest brother, a veteran of the Korean War (and afterward, Vietnam), was present in Iran at the same time my father was. Their paths never crossed for my father was somewhere in the Syrian Desert, testing hardware and techniques that were the foundation of my own military occupational specialty in the United States Army. A series of coincidences illustrate that there was nothing coincidental about the circumstances of my birth and upbringing:

My father was one of the founders of my specialty as a soldier;
He served multiple terms as an instructor at the U.S. Army Signal Corps school. I was born during his first term as an instructor;
I was born in an Army hospital not far from this school;
I graduated from the same military school twenty years later;
The day of my enlistment in the United States Army was my father's birthday, and the day my enlistment expired was the same. 

Life was hard under their roof, and I witnessed horrible things being done to others. Due to ceaseless warfare between my father and mother, the name of the Lord was never mentioned. I was the first of their children subjected to this "truce," for my father was vehemently opposed to my mother's insistence upon Roman Catholic indoctrination for us all. Therefore, my youngest sister and I were "heathens" to our mother and older sisters. We were treated with additional contempt beyond the norm in that house. My mother preferred us to know nothing at all if we weren't allowed to fall under the sway of the Roman Catholic Church. 

My father, on the other hand, preferred us to choose Christ on our own accord. He had no choice but accept our mother's tyranny during his lengthy absences because his duties kept him away from the house for months on end. He was prone to disappearing with no warning; when he returned, he would reveal that he was sent on temporary duty (TDY) to some strange place in the world. For example, he vanished one day in 1974 and, when he returned, we learned that he had been sent to Ethiopia. That was the nature of his military career. He was never at liberty to discuss what he did. 

My mother was exceedingly harsh, using violence and terror as tools to make us conform to her wishes. I became inured to pain by her hand at a young age, suffering blows with no complaint; but what my sisters suffered affected me deeply. I would listen to their screams and weeping into the small hours and this, more than anything else, exposed me to the depths of despair. I became acquainted with sorrow and hopelessness. This was when I started speaking to God, though I didn't know Him. I didn't know if He heard me or not, but I spoke to Him anyway.

I uttered my first vow to the Lord while their screams kept me awake, that I would never become like my mother or father. I would rather die than do such things to another living soul, or even an animal... yes, I had witnessed enough animal cruelty to be affected by that as well. It was so monstrous and evil that I started suffering from severe insomnia. When I managed to fall asleep, I experienced nightmares that left me hoarse from screaming myself awake. I was afraid to sleep. I would talk to God while I lay in bed, but I never imagined that He had inclined His ear toward me.

It wasn't long after my 8th birthday when I started experiencing the beginning of a depression that would never truly leave. I said to God that night, "I would like to die, God. Please, don't let me open my eyes again. I don't want to wake up to another day! I can't do it anymore!" I remember crying myself to sleep that night. It was the first of many nights when despair sought to swallow me whole... and that was the first time I heard the Voice. The Voice wasn't audible with these ears, but I could hear him speak in such a way as if nothing else existed in this world except for the Voice. I didn't have a name for him, and he didn't name himself; he spoke soothing words, telling me not to be afraid. He loved me. 

I didn't know that the Voice was the Lord. I wouldn't learn the truth until after my time in the U.S. Army was over. When the Spirit spoke to me, revealing Himself as God, the truth was overwhelming. He was the Voice. 

Thank you for sharing this with us. Heartbreaking, but yet faith strengthen. 😊 

No matter how dark or hopeless things may seem, the Lord lifts us up on wings of eagles, dear sister. I'll continue to share when I'm led here to write and, so long as I'm faithful to the testimony, it will become apparent how the circumstances of my birth prepared me for my calling in the Lord. What did the Son of God call upon me to do?

To serve the sick and the needy, to stand as a son for the childless, and give to others just as He gives to me. I've been through dark days and terrible times, and here I am now. I'm here because of Him!