Yvette's Story
I have enjoyed my trips to the Gardens and have come here many times, each time feeling much lighter than when I entered the Garden Gate. Each story in the Gardens is special because someone special to God lived that story and my heart aches when tragedy was involved and rejoices when God came to the rescue. I am reminded of my own life many years ago when it was hopeless and there wasn't much to look forward to. Many times I wondered why God had put me here and allowed me to live in such misery. How I would have welcomed a spot like the "Gardens of Hope" to look to for the assurance and encouragement I so desperately needed. I thought I was the only one, so never dared to breathe a word of it outside the family - and even then, just a chosen few. Thank God for this place where one can come, spend time alone, be quiet, and never have to leave ashamed. This is why, though I have not thought of this in many years (I think of it as my long-ago buried past!) I knew I had to tell you, dear scared, hurting, and alone sister. Obviously the "gardeners" in the Gardens of Hope have lived their "horror" stories and have a heartfelt desire to share them with other women who need a helping hand.
I'd like to do the same.� My story begins ordinary enough... I was the second of eleven children. Dad worked hard and made excellent money, but we were poor according to the world's standards. I was used to sharing clothes with my older sister. It just seemed that money didn't stretch far enough for all the things we needed. I wanted to go to school and get a great education - that was my dream, but one I knew could never be. So, thinking I'd never have much in the way of a life, I settled for marriage as a way to escape what I considered a pretty bad life.
The one thing I had always had going for me was that I was a good student and I loved to learn any way I could. I was very studious, often taking several library books home to read over the week-end. I actually studied the dictionary, yearning to learn more. My grades excelled and I had great potential for a good education. The more I absorbed, the hungrier I was to know more. Then in my sophomore year I was struck a painful blow - I was forced to quit high school altogether because I was needed at home. Thank God, I was to find an education much later in life, but at that time I felt my life had little meaning. Without a high school diploma, at the very least, my hopes for raising myself above the slum life I had was completely gone, as well as my dream for a better education, a better life.
Not much later, my world came crashing down around me. I found my Kenneth - my "knight in shining armor.� He was handsome, worldly-wise, and seemed to have life by the tail and all the answers in his hip pocket. Impulsively, yet truly believing that Ken was the answer to all my pain, loneliness and loss, we were married. If I'd only known! We moved away from the only world I'd ever known, out of the mountains I loved. I didn't realize then how much they were a part of my "safety net� or how I'd come to miss them. We settled into a small city. I was totally unprepared for what was to come.
We left for the north in the dead of winter. I thought this charming stranger I'd married would be taking me away from the miserable and boring life at home. I was so much "in love" that it never occurred to me how in all the months he was gone, and supposedly working in another state to give us a good start in life, he had not saved any money. All I knew was that it was my chance to leave home, and Ken was my hero. I asked no questions and he offered no excuses. I was getting out of my miserable life, and that was all that mattered.
All the hollow talk ("nothin's too good for MY li'l darlin' "), my hopes, and dreams, the anticipation for that "better life" he'd promised, were short lived. We had only been married a while when the first troubles began with his drinking. Then he began beating me--mild at first, then increasing in violence as his rage increased. I left Kenny at one point while he was in jail. But once he got out, he followed me and begged me to forgive him - "...it was just the pressure I was under, Babe, but things are gonna be different now, I promise! I love you so much, I can't make it without you!! Please come back. I swear I'm gonna change, especially with you there to help me stay straight. Look, Babe," he'd show me his steady hands, "I've quit drinking and I swear to you, Hon, I'll never hit you again, NEVER, I swear it!!"
What could I do? I was hopelessly in love with him - I had to believe him - I needed to. So I went back with him, arm in arm, knowing this time would be different. He got another job, we had a nicer home, and for a while, things seemed to be going along fine - Kenny was doing just like he said he would, and I was so happy!
But... then... as sure as ice melts in the sun, things began to fall apart. First the drinking. At first it was just a beer here and there "to take the edge off" after a hard day. Soon it was the hard stuff, followed once again by the nightmares he'd promised me he loved me too much to ever allow to happen again.
One night he came home smashed and started in on me again, no matter what I did to try to pacify him. The neighbors could hear my screams; they thought he was killing me. The abuse was both verbal and physical. He called me every filthy, dirty name I had ever heard, and many I hadn't. I was terrified of him and pleaded with him to stop. I just knew one day he'd go too far and I'd wind up on a coroner's slab. I wasn't born again at that time and so I had no knowledge of the power of God that I could have called upon!
I learned quickly not to say or do anything to antagonize him when he had been drinking, not that it took much to unleash the monster within! He became a beast who would just as soon smack me across the room as to look at me. The hard part - the part that made me stay even though I was scared was that when Ken was sober, he was a totally different person, the wonderful man I "fell in love with" those years before. He was usually gentle, sensitive, and compassionate. I could almost convince myself that the "monster" was a dream - or not as bad as I recalled. Besides, it was caged up now and couldn't hurt either of us anymore. Ken would sometimes go for weeks trying not to drink. I would get a reprieve, and fooled myself into believing that this time things would be different.
I remember once when my son Timmy was small, we had another couple of friends over to visit. The men began drinking, and I knew what would come next. Thankfully, Tim had asked to go to a school mate/ neighbor's house. Suddenly, Ken pulled me over into his lap and held a knife to my back for over an hour. Finally on the pretext of having to use the bathroom, I was able to get away from him, but I knew I didn't have long. I shoved a set of car keys into my jeans pocket and waited. The first chance I got, I sneaked out the back door, into the car, and was gone. Trying to appear calm and normal, I went by to get Timmy. I then drove the one hundred miles to my dad's without my purse, money, or clothes. I stayed there until Kenny came looking for me a week or so later. He clung to me, crying like a baby, begging me to forgive him and come back once again. So like the blind young fool that I was, I returned with Ken again, hoping with all my heart that he'd finally learned his lesson. You see, my dear Sisters, we always think they will change. We need to believe it, so we ignore all common sense and go back for more - many of us don't live to tell the story as I have.
Frequently he'd get picked up by the police for one thing or another, usually "driving while intoxicated" or maybe even "drunk and disorderly.� He loved a good bar brawl, never would shy away from a fight, even when he was outnumbered, and often bore the brunt of their anger. Most of the time, he'd be too drunk to actually fight except with his mouth.
One time he spent several months in the county jail while I worked and kept our home going. Of course, he came home all repentant and full of resolve to straighten up, and it seemed this time behind bars he had straightened up and �seen the light.� I loved him so much, I'd have done anything to see us be the family he'd always promised we'd be. He was a good provider and soon had a promising job bringing home decent money. But, with our "new found wealth and good fortune,� came his drinking, and of course, the abuse.
I was born again a couple of years prior to this and as a believer with a relationship with my heavenly Father, I knew the power of specific prayer and the benefits of leaving my burdens at the foot of the cross of Jesus. So I asked God to either change things, or make a way of escape for Timmy and me before he killed one or both of us. I knew I was asking a hard thing for God to do, but I knew by then of His faithfulness and I was sure somehow He would make a way for Tim and me.
My help came through my dear brother who loved me and was at that time living nearby. He moved his own family, taking my son and me as far away from Ken as he could. By God's never-failing grace, my brother then became my earthly protector for as long as I needed him to be. I knew he would never let Kenny touch me. I praised God all the way on the journey back to "sanity.� Emotional scars take so long to heal. I thank God for a brother who loved me enough to uproot his entire family to help his sister escape the nightmare she'd been living and make a new life for herself.
I found a job and a place to live and began a new life. As soon as possible I got a divorce. I knew in my heart I would never go back to that kind of existence. I asked the courts for an Order of Protection to be placed against Kenny. This meant he could not "legally" come near me. Thank God, by then, he'd learned to fear the law.
I rekindled my love for education and began to study in my spare time. I planned and worked toward a brand new life for Timmy and for me. Meanwhile, Ken met someone else, had a child with her, and never bothered me again. I often wonder if he treated her well... if he'd learned from our disastrous life... if he ever got the help he needed. To my knowledge he never married his child's mother. Later I learned that he had died. It was a great sorrow to hear that my son's father and the man I had once dearly loved was dead, but I was relieved that he could never harm me again.
Please, as Jesus said, "be wise as a serpent and as harmless as a dove!" If you are even considering entering such a relationship, forget it!!! And please, if you are already in an abusive situation, be aware there is free professional help for you. There are shelters for abused women with people who really care and will help you. You don't have to live in fear for your life.
Your Relieved and Finally Safe Sister,
Yvette
