A Journey for My Father's Love and Mother's Secret

By Kim Hug

When hope dies in a person, life seems over for them. This candid autobiography chronicles the story of a woman who lost hope. Her only solution was to attempt suicide, but on the night she tried to end her life, she found a miracle that would change her life forever. This book traces her journey though abandonment, sexual abuse, secrets, and paranoid psychosis, a journey that did not ultimately lead her to death but to life. She was many times lost in delusions of unreality and spent countless days in mental institutions, seeking answers to a way out of the darkness of her life. But the answer came when Jesus found her, her haunting memories were revealed, and she began to walk down a new, healing road. Here Kim Hug speaks of the power of Jesus and how he gave healing and hope to her life through many faithful people. This story was written through the inspiration of the Holy Spirit and is filled with creative pictures of memories and poetry as Kim rewalked her life over again to find the missing pieces to the puzzle of her life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: May 30, 2012
• ISBN: 9781449751692

Kim Hug

When someone writes a book, she usually lists her accomplishments and college degrees. Kim's only accomplishment has been to answer the call to follow Jesus, which remains the greatest thing she has ever done. God spoke to Kim's heart, telling her that she would write a book chronicling how He took Kim's lost and broken life and mended the pieces. If there is anything that she has done that's worthy of praise, let it go to Him, her Prince of Peace. Kim's calling is to minister to lost, hurting, and broken people of this world and tell them of the love of Jesus and of the kingdom to come which is everlasting, where true believers will dine at the marriage feast of the Lamb and live with Him and glorify Him forever because He is worthy!

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Kim Hug

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Copyright © 2012 Kim Hug

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

WestBow Press books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

WestBow Press

A Division of Thomas Nelson

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.westbowpress.com

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This is a true story, but some of the names have been changed to convey respect and dignity.

ISBN: 978-1-4497-5169-2 (e)

ISBN: 978-1-4497-5170-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4497-5171-5 (hc)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012909057

Cover Photos by Kim Hug

Designed by

Lisa Zealey for Kim Hug

Kim’s blog: https://restoringthesplendor.wordpress.com/

Kim via email: [e-mail]. She would love to hear from you.

Scripture taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 Biblica. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.

Scripture taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

Scripture quotations are from The Holy Bible, English Standard Version® (ESV®), copyright © 2001 by Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

WestBow Press rev. date: 5/24/2012

Contents

Jesus is in My Heart Forever - No Matter What Happens

The Projects

Refuge in a Corner Garage

The Big Scare

Hope and the Broken Heart

The Wilderness Experience

Escape by the Skin of My Teeth

Bathed and Soaked in Love

A New Creature in Christ

Church with a Window View

The Pitts, the Police,

and a Church with an Open Door

Sermons with a Light Attached

The Secret Revealed

Please Don’t Give Up, There’s Still Hope

Christ is Coming for His Bride, Get Ready!

Acknowledgements:

I am most thankful to God for His Restoring the Splendor in my life and that He put so many special people in my life!

I would especially like to thank Pastors Rock and Karen Dillaman for being that bridge over troubled waters that led me to Jesus. They walked beside me along my dark path when I walked it a second time with light from the Holy Spirit.

A great admiration goes to my high school teacher Miss Turner who inspired me to value life as my first mentor, thanks to her I am the person I am today. (I wish I could see her again someday.)

Blessings with love to my brothers, Tommy and Keith, and to the rest of my small family of aunts and cousins. You still matter to me!

Thanks to Lisa, Melanie, their husbands and children, and the rest of their dear family whose family is my own (as my brothers don’t live in Pittsburgh) their love means the world to me!

My appreciation to June and Wilson and Ginger and George who helped me many times to know I was not alone.

Blessings to all the precious ladies who shared their hearts with each other at many bible studies in my yard, the Tuesday morning Women’s Bible Studies, those dear friends from my Dillaman Growth Group, Art Class at Urban Impact, PBI and CEF Classes at ACAC!

Thanks to Jan and Liz,, my neighbors, who cared for my dogs and birds during some troubled times. (And thanks to all my other great friends on my street, you’re the best neighbors, ever)

Thanks to Tara Conroy and Sarah Greene who did the beginning stages of editing on this book and it was greatly appreciated!

To the many who contributed to the publishing of this book, your gifts are invaluable because they may bring many to Christ which is a priceless gift.

Without Pat Drudy’s help in restoring my files, this book would not be possible, so thanks to him from the bottom of my heart!

Thanks ever so much to Marie and Kay who led me to the Lord.

To Pastor Long who did a great job as my first Shepherd

Heather and I are bonded with love like Ruth and Naomi.

Thanks to Lisa Zealey, whose gifts and talents are amazing! Her creativity and formatting skills turned this book into a reality. Lisa and her husband Efrem’s help was invaluable! They and their two precious daughters mean allot to me and they live in Texas.

Thanks to Dr. J. for giving me the hope I needed to complete this book.

To all my dear ACAC brother and sisters; your fit in God’s temple makes me so glad we are family! (And many others from past churches!)

To all those who have been a true friend to me, from the past or present, you matter to me! You are Jesus with skin on. (My dear friends from grade school are Kate and Kay and from high school are Diane, Carol and Linda who I keep in touch with sometimes)

And finally to all those who will be reading this book, whose hearts are shattered in two,  may you see that every dark thread you have had, he intertwines with light threads to make a beautiful tapestry of your life and someday you will see what our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ has created to bind your heart with his!

I dedicate this book to my grandparents,

Lillian and William Hug

who gave me the stability I needed at a young age

when everything else was falling apart.

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Mom and PapPap holding Kim in 1957

Therefore, behold, I will allure here, and bring her into the wilderness, and speak tenderly to her. And there I will give her her vineyards and make the Valley of Achor a door of hope (Hosea 2:14-15).

Foreword:

The world is filled with trophies of God’s amazing grace and restoring power. Kim Hug is one of them. God has quite literally restored what had been tragically devoured in her life and made all things new. Her journal of pain, tragedy, and numbing despair will resonate with the hurting everywhere. But shared pain doesn’t always lead to freedom!  That’s why Kim’s testimony is so important. Her tale of being surprised by God’s joy – a tale of restoration and hope - will help similar victims believe God for their own healing and a bright future. And it will help the friends and family of sufferers better understand the needs of the broken. I recommend it not only for the eloquence of the words but for the unvarnished power of those words; words born out of both pain and deliverance.

Dr. Rockwell Dillaman

Lead Pastor Allegheny Center Alliance Church

Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

Introduction:

Late one night, God spoke to my heart while walking down Fifth Avenue in Pittsburgh’s Oakland neighborhood. He told me that I would write a book. I wondered how an uneducated mentally-ill reject could write a book; it is when God gets the glory that He uses improbable people who are unlikely candidates. Fourteen years later, God gave me the words to write. It was my life story. I had been abandoned by my father, sexually molested by my uncle, and sexually assaulted by some men when I was a teenager.

Consequently, I started having panic attacks. I became paranoid thinking my mother had done something terrible to me that I just couldn’t remember. I thought she was trying to hide an ugly family secret. I spent many days confined to mental institutions trying to find the reasons for my persistent pain. I bounced from one relationship with one man to another, trying to find the love I never received from my father. In my search for love, I found my Prince, and His name is Jesus. God led me to a church in Pittsburgh called Allegheny Center Alliance Church. I arrived there after many bizarre delusions, nervous breakdowns and termination from my job. There I received the nurturing I needed and the answers I longed for; answers that would set me free from the haunting memories that had kept me bound most of my life.

This story may be about my life, but I truly want it to be a story of God’s faithfulness to those who are hurting. Jesus is coming back soon, just as He promised He would. We need to get ready to be His Bride, at that Marriage Feast where we exchange our soiled clothes for beautiful white linen. We must labor while there is yet still time. The fields are white and ready for harvest - Are you ready? Are you ready for the marriage feast of the LAMB of the King of Kings and Lord of Lords . My hope is that my story will encourage you to never give up and to recognize and believe Jesus loves you more than you could ever imagine.

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Jesus is in My Heart Forever - No Matter What Happens

Psalm 8:1-2 & 9 O, Lord, our Lord, how excellent is your name in all the earth, who has set your glory above the heavens! Out of the mouth of babes and nursing infants, you have ordained strength. Because of your enemies, that you may silence the enemy and the avenger. How excellent is Your name in all the earth!

As far back as I can remember, I felt a little songbird in my heart. I had my first memories when I was around six-years-old. I remember how exciting it was to be six. I remembered being teased when I said I was six. Some strange friend of my brothers would say, Are you sick? I would smile sweetly and reply No, I’m six.

We were dirt poor, and we lived in a third-floor apartment with one large bedroom. My mother, Florence, was employed, so my brother, Keith and I were latch-key kids. We didn’t mind; we were happy to be the bosses of the house. In fact, I was the boss - I’m not sure what my brother thought. Keith used to tease me all the time. I sometimes hated him. He wasn’t like a brother, but sometimes he was nice. He was just as scared as I was. We had a mother who yelled and screamed allot. She would beat us when we were bad. We were happy when she was gone. That is why I was glad to be the boss of the house at age six. I did feel bad though, when all of the other kids were called to come home at the end of the evening. My mother never called for me. I was upset about that one day, and asked her why she never called for me to come in. The next evening, she called for me, but I said, No, I’m having fun. I did not want to come in. My mother let me stay out until I decided on my own to come in. Why did she do that? I often wondered. I loved her so.

I lost my dad. I loved him, but he was gone from me. I missed him so much. One day, I put a little sock in an envelope, and I tried to mail it to him. I couldn’t reach the top of the box to open it up, so someone helped me mail it. They must have seen it was not a normal letter, but they let me mail it anyway. I cried out for my daddy - that’s what I used to call him, but he was gone now from my sight. Why did he have to leave without saying good-bye? Why did my mother let him go? Didn’t they know how important it is for a child to have a father? Why, the father is the protector. I was now left unprotected in the rain. I had no umbrella, and I was left to fall into the unsuspecting arms of my molesting uncle.

My uncle used to be so clever. He would sit next to me in my little dresses, and he would be so inconspicuous as he gathered the goods without anyone knowing. He didn’t hurt me, physically, with his advances toward my private parts, but he left me scarred that would leave me screaming all over the neighborhood. I used to scream and cry my head off. My mother used to scold me for screaming, but I felt so frustrated, angry and upset.

My dear grandmother, Lillian, was well-liked by everyone. She used to smoke and swear, and she would make everyone laugh. She always made light of people’s conversations. She would call my Great Uncle Ed a horse’s ass, and she used to tell us kids that we were so dressed up - like Aster’s pet horse. This was truly a compliment from her, as we knew it.

I used to have a security blanket that my grandmother wanted to wash for me. It was so very dirty, but no one could get it away from me. I needed that blanket so badly that I screamed loud enough to deafen God’s ears when they took it away from me. My grandmother just wanted to wash it, but to me, that meant me giving up the only security I had.

My father left and my mother was ill-stricken on Valium and prescription sleeping pills. Why in the world would they take my blanket? I guess because it was dirty. Just like the dirt that was left behind from my father leaving, my mother not always being there for me, and my uncle sexually molesting me.

Well, somehow, I don’t remember getting back that old blanket. But, I do remember my grandmother giving me a stuffed donkey. I really became attached to this donkey and we were inseparable. I used to hug it all the time, and I did not go anywhere without my donkey. I put pen marks on my donkey that seem to be my sick feelings I had inside. No one messed with my donkey, and no one asked to clean it. It was brown and did not show the dirt. I was happy to have a something to hold in my arms. This made me feel secure. My grandmother did something right for me, and I was deeply appreciative. When she gave me a present, she always made me appreciate it, and I did. She once gave me glow-in-the-dark rosary beads. She took me in the bathroom, and there they glowed in the dark, to my amazement. I was thrilled to be given a gift from my dear grandmother.

She was a great cook, too. My grandmother used to gather up all the fresh vegetables you could ever imagine, and she used to delightedly cook them on Sunday afternoons after Mass. She used to make fresh green beans and would snap off the ends, steam them up, and then fry them in butter. They were so good, and made with real butter to boot. She used to make rutabagas, removing the hard part and cutting it up like she was making mashed potatoes. She would submerge it in boiling water until it was tender, and then grind it with a potato masher. She never used an electric beater. It was mashed for a long time and served as smooth as can be. My grandmother also combined turnips with the potatoes and made mashed potatoes. They were yummy! She made a leg of lamb, too, which was so good. I was always so hungry when I went to her house. This was living.

My grandmother was a stickler for housework. Her house was dandy panty clean (as I would call it). You could eat off of the floor, she was so clean. My mother never liked housework, so I offered my services because I wanted to be like my grandmother who was my first role model. I loved her so, and I looked forward to Sunday afternoons with the whole family. My Aunt Grace, her husband, Uncle George, and their son, Dale would all crowd around the dining room table along with my Aunt Leah and Uncle Jeff (the one who molested me), and their three kids: Karen, Barbara, and Jeff.

With the exception of the presence of my uncle, everything was great. Why did I have to have an uncle who molested me, and not have a father to hug and hold? I missed my daddy. Didn’t he know how important he was to me? Why did he leave me without any guidance? Where would I find that guidance that I so badly needed?

In first grade, I went to a public school and attended Sunday school at St. Raphael’s and there was a teacher who told me about Jesus, and told me to ask Jesus into my heart. She didn’t care that my hair was dirty. She just wanted me to come to Sunday school. She told me I had a guardian angel who was watching out for me. I used to set a place for my angel at our tiny kitchen table.

My mother would smile at me when I told her about my angel. She had some nice kind moments when she wanted to. She had been a beautiful woman. She was the bookkeeper for Paramount Studios, and was just as pretty as the movie stars. She made all of her own clothes. She was very talented. She used to make me beautiful clothes, too. My mother meant well, and wanted to care for me. She loved me very much and needed me so badly, and I loved her, too. I would do anything to please her. I used to clean and clean and clean because she hated to. I didn’t mind; I loved my mother, and I knew she needed help. She would still yell and scream and threaten to send my brother and me to an orphanage. She made me appreciate that three-room house. She made me appreciate the things I had.

I appreciated being a child, and I loved the Lord at an early age. I used to sing and skip all the way to school. I was a happy child in spite of everything. That little songbird in my heart kept me alive. When I had to repeat the first-grade and went to St. Raphael’s, where I had attended Sunday school, I didn’t mind. The teacher babied me, and I loved it. I was like a baby finally being nurtured. I was now the baby of the house, and I was special, especially in God’s eyes. His eye is on the sparrow. I was a weak sparrow whose spirit used to fly so high that nothing could bother her.

Somehow, that time of my life is left with a memory of an Eskimo coat that everyone loved and commented on. I had little girl gloves from my mother that were like puppets. I used to play with them for hours. The puppets would talk to each other all the time. The hood of my coat had a fur trim that framed my long chin. I was so happy to have such a warm coat that winter. I used to play in the snow for hours with great fascination. I loved the white snow. I built a snowman one day with my friends. I came in the house with very red cheeks. The pleasant heat from the radiator warmed my hands as I slipped my gloves onto the top of that old hot register. As I closed my eyes in prayer that night, I tighten my eyes to see colors and visions. I was excited about school the next day, and I thought of coloring a winter scene on the top of a hill. I believed my guardian angel watched me all night long.

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The Projects

Romans 8:38-39 For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor principalities nor powers, nor things present nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

My grandfather, William Hug, was a special man. He had been a fireman. He rode the back of the truck until he became ill and had to retire. During the Depression, he was employed, and my grandmother served many hungry mouths that came to the door for something to eat. I don’t know why he got sick, but I was told he went for shock treatments for depression. No one knows why he got sick. He had been a happy man, or so I thought, but, he did tend to spend most days staying in bed. He had a very large belly, and when he came down for dinner he seemed to always have a smile on his face, especially when he saw me. I used to go to his room and sit by his bed to talk to him for awhile. He would smile and asked me how I was. I was always fine. I remember that was how I always replied. I really loved my grandfather and I called him PapPap. He was a special man in my life, even though I couldn’t figure out why he had to retire, and why he would stay in bed all day. When he did come down for dinner, he would tell bright stories of the playground he was going to build in the yard. He always used his imagination.

PapPap and my grandmother (who we called Mom) had separate bedrooms. My cousin, Karen, was the first grandchild, and gave my grandmother that nickname. Ever since then, it just stuck. So, we all called her Mom. My mother was the middle child. She always resented that because she said that her older and younger sisters were always favored for their brains and their beauty. My mother was the prettiest, I thought, but no one ever told her that.

My Aunt Leah was married to the uncle who molested me. I was told she was very sick, and that she also needed shock treatments. Aunt Leah was always