Read Angie's Thoughts

"Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne?  Though she may forget, I will not forget you. See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands" Isaiah 49:15-16 Have you ever had a wrestling match with God that seems to go on forever? Just when you think you've learned what He is trying to teach you and you come to some sort of peace with it all, you hear the *Tweet* of the whistle and know you're in for another exhausting round? That's where I am right now with God...rather, where I've been for the past few years and I'm telling ya, some days the battle gets so intense that I'm ready to crawl to a corner of the mat, curl up into a ball and give up. Seriously. I grew up without a mom and I know I've said it before, and I'll probably say it again, but it has been hard...really hard. I always hoped the pain would fade as I grew older but instead, it only seems to intensify with time. I wish I knew w

This song makes me cry every time I hear it. It speaks such an important and powerful message to me as a teacher and as an abuse survivor. As a teacher, I often wonder what I would do if I found out one of my students was being abused at home and I pray that if it's a situation I ever have to face, God will give me the courage to do whatever it takes to protect my student. As a survivor of abuse, it makes me wonder which of the students that walk through our halls every day are being abused. Before I started teaching this year, I was an aide and one of my responsibilities was to do recess every day. I used to sit there some days and watch the students play and interact with each other, wondering which of them were being abused. Statistically speaking, it's a fact that some of our students are being abused. As a teacher, and a fellow survivor, that kills me inside, especially since there's usually no way to tell unless they say something or there is b

When I first began the healing journey almost 10 years ago, God gave me the amazing ability to write poetry as a way of getting my thoughts out. This is one of my favorites, and the first one I ever wrote. When I Was a Little Girl     When I was a little girl, I wanted to be loved. But you loved me in all the wrong ways and now I don't want to be loved anymore.   When I was a little girl, I wanted to be held. But you held me inappropriately and now I don't want to be held anymore.   When I was a little girl, I wanted to be needed. But you needed me for your perverse pleasures and now I don't want to be needed anymore.   When I was a little girl, I thought I was pretty. But you used me in ways that made me feel ugly and dirty and now I don't think I'm pretty anymore.   When I was a little girl, I wanted to be special. But your way of making feel special was to hurt me and now I don't want to be special anymore.   When I was a little girl, I wanted to get married

In religion this morning, the teacher had read a verse from the Bible about bearing fruit. She asked, "What does it mean to 'bear fruit'?" and little Jarrod blurts out, "Is that, like, fruit without any skin?"

I heard a really good sermon yesterday and it's been something my brain has been tossing around the past 48 hours. It was refreshing, first of all, to hear a sermon that inspired me. I don't know if it was his talent as a preacher or mine as a pew-sitter, but I could tune out the pastor at my former church the minute he started to preach. Sad, yes, but a true confession on my part. Anyway, at the new church I am trying for awhile, the pastor really preached a good one that got me thinking. He talked about how unbelievers are always watching Christians from the outside, to see how we live our lives. One way he said we should be known is by our love. I'm not a very loving person, I'm tend to lean more on the selfish, always-think-of-me way of living. I'd like to think I show love to my students every day by not killing them when they're slacking off or giving me an attitude, but when it comes to intentionally doing things for other people out of love, especially p

Well, I did it. Without meaning to, without any intention at all, my starting this blog opened a big ol' can of worms - slimy, gross, disgusting ones. Seriously. I started this blog mainly for me, for my own piece of mind. A place where I could share my thoughts, vent my emotions, share the joy of my 2nd graders, and just ramble out my thoughts in general. If others wanted to read it, that was fine. If they didn't, that was fine too. (Although in all seriousness, my 2nd graders do say the funniest things if you ever need a laugh!) What I didn't intend for this blog to do was bring up more hurt, more secrets, and more pain from the past. I honestly didn't even see it coming. For years after I told my dad about my abuse and it ended, for over a decade, I thought I was my grandfather's only victim. The only one he hurt with his selfish, lustful thoughts and actions. I know it is very rare for an offender to have just one victim but I figured that my situation was one o

" Some of God's attributes are too wonderful to understand. But even if they remain darkness to the intellect, let them be sunshine for your soul. " - Unknown Since my grandfather was a preacher, I grew up going to church every Sunday. I went to Sunday school, Vacation Bible School in the summers, everything. Church and learning about God were a huge part of my life. A lot of my memories from when I was a little girl involve either being at church or include people from the church. But all I had come to know about God was completely shattered when I told my secret. The thing is, when the abuse was happening, I honestly didn't know just how wrong it was. I never liked what was happening, and towards the end, I began to think that something wasn't right because of how concerned my grandfather was with keeping the abuse a secret. But at that age, I was very unaware of how wrong my grandfather’s actions were. It wasn’t until after I told that I began to understand

Going to trial was a very difficult and emotional experience but it was also a day of great healing for me in dealing with my abuse. It was hard coming to the decision to press charges against my grandfather, a decision that came after many hours of praying, crying, and making sure it was what God wanted me to do.   I started to consider pressing charges against my grandfather at the end of January in 2002. It had been a year and a half since I stopped counseling, convinced that I was ‘healed’ and didn’t need weekly counseling sessions anymore. Boy, was I wrong! So I started to meet with a new counselor, an associate/youth pastor from a church where I lived. I was intrigued at the idea of working with a counselor that was a Christian since my first counselor was not. She was very respectful of my faith but didn’t share my beliefs and came from a very worldly perspective when it came to counseling.   During my first session with Dale, I found out he was a retired police officer. He aske

" We are most like beasts when we kill. We are most like men when we judge. We are most like God when we forgive. " - Unknown Forgiving my grandfather was the hardest part of the healing journey although it was the most crucial. I remember years before I started to heal, and even at the beginning of my healing journey, I knew I would never forgive him. I just couldn't see how I was supposed to. But the more I learned about God and understood that He forgives all sins, the harder it became. I knew that I had to forgive to be worthy in the eyes of God – it mentions several times in the Bible how we need to forgive those who do wrong against us. It even says that if we don't forgive, God won't forgive us our sins either. I knew that I needed to forgive but I didn't know how or even what it really meant. There were a couple reasons why the issue of forgiveness was so hard for me. One was that even to this day, I don't believe that my grandfather is genuinely s

I am currently in the process of trying to find a new church. I have gone to First Baptist here in Riverton for almost the last 3 years and I don't believe the experiences I've had there are what a church family is supposed to be. Sometimes I question myself and wonder if I'm making this decision too rashly but I was going through some old prayer journals today and found that several months ago, I was struggling with things going on at church and I realized that God has been speaking to me about this for awhile now. Sometimes I think my expectations are too high when it comes to what a church family should be, but I honestly think today's churches fall so incredibly short of what Jesus intended. I know that it's because we live in such a fallen and sinful world, but I still desire something more than what I've gotten at FB. So I am trying different churches as I pray about where God would have me to be. This process of finding a new church is a little more stres

I'm not sure what to say in the first blog under this category. I guess in a nutshell: my mom left when I was three and even now, 24 years later, the wound is still deep and I still struggle so much at times with how her decision has affected me. I think that at the age of 27 I should be over this and that it shouldn't hurt anymore, but I think that in the past couple of years, the hurt is the strongest it's ever been. This is one area of my life especially where I am eager to see how God will use this hurt and what good will come of it.

"Simply to tell the truth heals. The blood of the wound heals the wound." - Susan Griffin My story begins when I was three years old. My parents got divorced, and my dad got custody of my older brother and I. We lived about an hour and a half away from my dad's parents, and went to see them almost every weekend. My grandfather was a preacher and so we would go to his church on Sunday mornings. During one of those weekend visits, my grandfather started to sexually abuse me. I don't remember much about the abuse at that stage of my life.              The summer before I started second grade, my dad decided to move to the town where my grandparents lived. My dad didn't know the abuse was happening and thought it would be better for my brother and I to stay with my grandparents while he was working instead of at a baby-sitter's. My mom wasn't helping support my brother and I at all, so my dad had to work a lot to be able to support the two of us on his own. Pe

I was eating lunch with my class in the cafeteria one day and out of the blue, Emma has this to say, "My mom didn't get married until she was 30, so there's still hope for you Miss Hensley." Ahhhh, the encouraging words of an 8 year old!

Well, I've finaly decided to start my own blog. Why you ask? I'm not quite sure other than it will be a good place for me to vent, a place to share my random thoughts and hopefully offer some encouragement or insight into this crazy world we call home...for now anyway!!