.
|
|
 |
|
"I thought the idea of praying to a God that I didn’t believe in to be silly, to say the least. Although I visited Sean’s grave, I found no comfort, as his family seemed to do..."
|
|
|
|
I was born on 27th May 1965 and was christened Margaret Ruth Johnston in the local Catholic Church, but was always referred to as Ruth. I was brought up in Blackrock, a fishing village and seaside resort near Dundalk in County Louth, Ireland.
I met, dated, and eventually married Dave. We were deeply in love with one another. Our life consisted of working, going on holidays, enjoying our family and friends’ company and generally enjoying life to the full, and with the exception of his dear mother dying of cancer, life’s problems seemed to pass us by. I was devastated when I learned that our relationship was over. Dave had found someone else.
The initial months that followed were horrible. My whole life had changed. Everything that was familiar to me had disappeared. I had no work, no home, and no husband. I had no idea how to start over again. Indeed, I felt that it was impossible to start again and at twenty-eight I thought my life was over and that I would never meet or love another man as I did Dave. Because I had, up to then, lived a fairly sheltered life, this situation was crippling and I had no idea how to cope.
For the next two years I lived with several of my sisters and their children. They were a brilliant support to me, as were all my family, and took me out and about whether I wanted to or not! I became stronger and I began to pick up the pieces of my life. I got a job and made new friends. During these two years I began to take control of my life and, once again, to feel normal.
It was then that I met Sean. I was sure I would never love someone else again. I thought that you were blessed if you met one person in your life that you loved and loved you back, as was the case with Dave and me, and here I was being given a second chance! We eventually got engaged to be married. We bought a house together in Newry and spent many happy times tearing it asunder and putting it back together again, just as we wanted it. We made great plans for our wedding and the future, and started to plan for a family. We loved each other very much and were very happy together.
On a Sunday, Sean’s cousins came to our home and told me that Sean had died in a car crash. There is no explaining how one feels under these circumstances. I was six months pregnant with our baby, our baby that we had planned for and eagerly waited for, when Sean died. I had our son, Sean, on the due date, exactly twelve weeks after his father’s death. I must say it was the most bittersweet experience of my life. When he arrived he was image of his father, just like a little man, a little Sean! It was very hard on us all.
I didn’t believe in God. I had been an atheist for years. People suggested I pray. I thought the idea of praying to a God that I didn’t believe in to be silly, to say the least. Although I visited Sean’s grave, I found no comfort, as his family seemed to do. I ended up wanting to believe in God, but felt it wasn’t an option open to me. Either you believe, or you don’t. How can you make yourself believe in God? It never seemed to be a matter of choice to me therefore it was a luxury I didn’t have.
When I met Sean, his family and I got on extremely well. On the most part they accepted me into their lives and we became friends. His mother in particular was very good to me and from the outset we developed a strong mother/daughter relationship. This friendship continued after Sean died and if anything, because of Sean’s death, we became closer. We spent a lot of time together and both of us doted on the child.
For reasons best left alone, my son’s grandmother and I started to fall out with one another approximately two years after Sean’s death. During the third year it became clear to me that I could no longer stay in Newry. Because we had become extremely close to one another over the years we both found the break an unhappy and bitter one. I left my home, my furniture, most of my personal belongings and moved back to Dundalk.
When I moved back home I had hoped to put a lot of my problems behind me, and for a short time it looked as if I did. But then, within a very short period of time, I fell out with three of my sisters, the very ones who had been a great support to me in the past. I couldn’t believe it. As sisters go, we were fairly close, so I knew something was very wrong. This was the last straw for me. I didn’t know what was going on. I didn’t understand why these things were happening. I felt every crutch I had to support my life and me had been kicked from under me. First Dave and my home in Dublin, then Sean, then Sean’s family, then my home in Newry, and now my own family.
I thought of the long life that I had in front of me, and the thoughts of going through it friendless and on my own horrified me. To have to go against my very nature and not trust people, to have to close ranks and shut people out, to harden myself as I had seen other people do seemed impossible. Yet the opposite of it was just as bad, to go through life continually leaving myself open to people, trusting them and being hurt and deceived again and again would be unbearable.
With these thoughts I spoke out loud and said, ‘I don’t care if there is a God and if you hear me, what is the point of living this life and not caring for anybody? What is the point in living this long life and not being able to mix and share with people? I don’t care if you are there; I wish I were never born…. I wish I were never born’. I was crying and I just said these things out loud. It was really then that the full horror of my situation hit me. I wasn’t going anywhere because I had my son Sean to care for. I couldn’t leave him and make him an orphan with no father or mother. I felt trapped. Whatever lows I had reached up to this point in my life, this was the worst, and I knew I had hit rock bottom.
On the 6th of August 2001, three months after I moved to Dundalk, my sister Caroline attended the women’s meeting in the Baptist Church. She asked the women there to pray for me because she was going to ask me to attend a gospel meeting with her that was going to be held in a house in Cooley that Friday. She thought that if she asked me to go, I would laugh at her and refuse, a very real fear, as she knew that in the past I had laughed at the very idea of people believing in a God. I ridiculed them for their beliefs and thought they didn’t live in the real world.
Caroline did indeed ask me to go to the meeting with her and I accepted. I had never been to one before, and the only concern I had at the time was that I would bump into someone I knew (the shame of it!). So three days later, I went. There were quite a few people there and the lady who owned the house made me feel very welcome.
If I had been uprooted and planted on the moon, I couldn’t have felt more ill at ease. I sat on an armchair and waited. The meeting started and a man, began to talk about the Bible and God. He told us all about Jesus and why He came and died on the cross for us. He explained how much God loves us and how much of a sacrifice the death of His Son was to Him. I never thought of it in quite this way before. I had never thought of it as being real before now, to think somebody, let alone God would do that for me, die for me, well it’s humbling. When he was finished another man got up, he too gave a talk about the Bible, God and His Son, Jesus. If I thought that I was going to find any comfort there I was sorely mistaken. I spent most of the evening upset and on the verge of tears, I felt awful.
I thought about some of the things I had done in the past, things I had long buried with the hope of forgetting, and things I was desperately ashamed of. I said to myself that I too was a sinner and meant it.
Two weeks later I went to the Dundalk Baptist Centre with Caroline. It was wonderful! Never before had I heard grown men and women pray and talk with such love and softness in their voices, as they talked on a one-to-one basis with God. It really touched me. They didn’t rhyme off long impersonal prayers like I had been used to hearing. I had begun to think there was no peace to be had, and that any peace and happiness that I had had in my life was in the past and gone for good. Listening to these people praying and singing uplifted me, but it also had the opposite effect on me, as it reinforced just how much my life lacked grace and beauty, peace and contentment. I felt that every wrongdoing I ever did was written across my face for all to see. I felt my sins so keenly that I thought all someone had to do was look at me to see them. When the service was over Caroline paused to introduce me to some of the people but I looked at her and said no. When I saw her face drop, I hastened to tell her that it wasn’t that I was being unfriendly, but that I might start crying and I had to leave.
A day or two later I got my mother’s old Bible and thought I might glance through it. I hadn’t looked at a Bible in years let alone read one but after reading it for a short while I said out loud, ‘This is exactly what I have been looking for all these years!’ I felt full of wonder. All of a sudden I knew that everything in this book was true. I knew there was a God. I believed in Jesus. I know it sounds like such a cliché, but I started to cry with happiness. I can’t put on paper and describe to you the huge significance of this revelation.
By the time I got back to the Church the next Sunday I had changed. Not only was the Bible beginning to make sense to me but I also believed every word. I knew that I would never be alone again. I knew God was with me all the time.
Read Next story >>
Ordinary people in Ireland with Real life Experiences with God
Contact us by eMailing:info4YOU
|
|
|
|
|
