My Musings

Monday, March 17, 2008

Overcoming My Bitter Childhood Memories

When I was sixteen years old, I told my parents that I didn't want anything to do with God. I didn't want to serve a God that would allow me to experience what I had been forced to grow up with. I was at the peak of rebellion and bitterness because of my tragic upbringing.

My parents had adopted me three years earlier when I was thirteen. Before my adoption, I was brought up by a single father. My mother had left before I was even old enough to remember what she looked like. My dad was a heavy drinker and often very violent. He would beat me and make fun of me. To this day, I have scars on my body as a result of what he did to me.

A Struggle with Bitterness and Hate

Following my adoption, I grew to resent my family situation. I looked back on my childhood with contempt and bitterness. I despised the experiences that I was forced to suffer through. Why would a loving God let an innocent child experience such brutality and mistreatment? What had I done as a child to deserve that type of life? These questions plagued my mind. They tortured me.

I would often sit in my room, isolated from the world and from my new family. Alone. I didn't spend time with friends. I didn't talk to people on the phone. I avoided leaving my room at all costs. My mind and thoughts were consumed with the depressing memories of my bitter past. As I sat there in my room, my mind haunted me with so many things that I fervently wished I were able to forget.

Only by the Grace of God

It was at this time that I stumbled across this verse. To my hungry father-starved soul, these words became as sweet as honey. No matter, what my family situation was physically, God wanted to draw close to me and personally fill that void! He wanted me to look to Him as the father that I never had.
"Behold, what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us, that we should be called the sons of God:" ~ I John 3:1
My outlook slowly began to change as I grew to realize how beautiful my relationship with Him could be. I began to pray again. I would always begin, "Father..." Before I would even begin my requests, I would pause after that amazing word and let its meaning soak into me. Father. I grew to love that aspect of my relationship with God.

My mindset began to transform! Christ's love began to work in my life and I began to overcome my hatred for my father. My love for him renewed and was now much stronger than it had ever been as a little child before he was violent. I began to pray for my father's salvation. I would visit him often and invite him to church. God's grace is so far beyond my understanding.

It was at that period in my life that I wrote this poem. This poem is the expression of that struggle and the victory that I found in Christ. It was an expression of this new relationship that I was learning to enjoy. Oh, how sweet God is!

A Child of the King
by Nicholas Z. Cardot

Walking through life as time passes me by,
Surrounded by people who can’t hear my cry.
Living and searching for a place to belong,
I find in my heart there’s no joy, there’s no song.
Where is my place in this world of despair?
Could anyone love, or just try to care,
For a small lonely boy at the end of his rope?
Yet no help I find, no man gives me hope.

As a child with my father, we shared such a joy,
To him I was Son, his proud little boy.
My dad was not perfect, but his love I could see,
When he’d hug me real tight as I sat on his knee.
Those times that we shared, that love that we had,
Filled my heart with great pride as I called him my dad.
As my mind now goes back and I think on those days,
My eyes fill with tears and all my sight is a haze.

Things were so grand, yet how could I see,
That life would soon take my dear father from me.
I took it for granted, that time that we shared,
Seldom would I let him know that I cared.
And now that he’s gone I understand what love is,
I’d give my own life if I could save his.
I never understood what great things I had,
Until on that day I was taken from my dad.

My mother was gone; when I was young she had fled.
She lived her own life as if I were dead.
Though I’ve missed her at times and longed for the love,
Of a mother who cares, a sweet gift from above,
I’ve learned to press on, to keep going forward.
Hoping to see her, I keep walking toward,
The goals of my life as I still long to see,
The one who has power to bring great comfort to me.

I dreamed of her often, I dreamed of her much.
To look on her face, to reach out and touch,
To live my whole life with a mother to share,
My heartaches and pains and know that she’d care.
I longed for a shoulder to cry out my fears,
A women to love and take all my tears.
But all these were dreams, fantasies at best,
So yet in my heart I still found no rest.

Walking through life as time passes me by,
Surrounded by people who can’t hear me cry.
I look up to the savior, who for me gave his life,
And I know in full faith that he can calm all my strife.
And when all had forsook me, God sent from above,
The savior to guide me through his holy great love.
Now I bow down in shame as he walks by my side;
‘Tis the greatest of all who now acts as my guide.

Walking through life as time passes me by,
Surrounded by people who can’t hear me cry.
Living and searching for a place to belong,
I now find in my heart a great joy, a great song.
I’ve now found my place in this world of despair,
For Christ gave his love, much more than mere care,
For a poor lonely boy at the end of his rope,
Christ now holds my hand and gives my great hope.

A Living Testimony of God's Grace,




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