Through It All I Am Still Standing Because of His Grace

By Annabelle Faith

Through It All I Am Still Standing is intended as an encouragement and inspiration. People can also overcome their own life trials and tribulations if they believe and have faith in the God that we serve. This is a true story about a young lady from Africa who grew up and learned how to survive in some of the toughest places in Africa with a difficult family background. She was sexually molested for years at a very young age and found her way to the United States, learning how to survive on her own and putting herself through college. More importantly, she learned to accept Christ as her Savior after facing many life trials and tribulations and even attempted to take her own life on several occasions.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Mar 24, 2015
• ISBN: 9781490870380

Annabelle Faith

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Book preview

1

Everyone has a story. The only difference is that some people’s stories are more intense than others. We owe it to ourselves to decide how we’ll allow our stories to define us.

I was born in a small country in Africa. My mother gave birth to me when she was eighteen years old in the village where she was born. She met my father when one of her family members took her to the city to be the house help for my father’s family.

My father’s family came from money. My mother was raised by her single mother in their village after her father abandoned her mother. My mother had less than a fifth-grade education and didn’t know how to write or read, but she never let her situation stop her from dreaming big.

I have a few happy memories of growing up, but most are sad ones. I was the oldest of four children. I never really had a relationship with my parents, especially not with my father.

I lived in a studio apartment with my mom and siblings in one of the poorest neighborhoods. We didn’t have a toilet in the apartment, so we went into the bush to use the bathroom, and we showered outside of our compound after dark. My father, however, enjoyed his wealth, living in an upper-class neighborhood with another woman. Eventually, that woman gave birth to my half brother.

In most African countries, men have two wives, which is common in the Muslim culture. However, it’s also common to see Christian families living a polygamist lifestyle, even though doing so is against the Christian faith.

My father had a childhood friend named Andrew. They were so close that most people thought they were siblings. We even called him Uncle Drew. He would visit frequently when my father came to visit us. We knew his whole family.

For years my mother considered Uncle Drew and his family as part of our family, but interestingly enough, Uncle Drew’s little sister became my father’s other woman and the mother of my half brother. Although my father and Uncle Drew’s sister weren’t married legally, they lived together and raised their own family in a wealthy neighborhood. Their neighbors were some of the wealthiest politicians in our country.

Many people who knew about my family’s situation expressed their opinions about my father’s lifestyle and that he didn’t acknowledge my mother and my siblings. My situation didn’t bother me at the time, because I was a child and that was the only lifestyle I knew.

My mother tried her best to provide for us financially, selling firewood to support us, and she was determined to give us opportunities in life that she didn’t have. Although she wasn’t educated, she was committed to our education and our making something of ourselves.

My siblings and I didn’t have a connection or any special moments with our father because he was rarely around. We saw him maybe once or twice a month. When I look back on my life, I can honestly say that it’s good that my father wasn’t around, because when he did visit, my mother suffered, emotionally and physically.

I watched my father beat up my mother on many occasions when he visited us. There were times when my father would show up in the middle of the night and get into an argument with my mother. He would beat her and throw us into the street for no reason.

I remember running away at night with Mom and my younger siblings, just to escape my father. Many times we slept in our local church because my father was terrorizing us.

This abuse went on for years. Mom tried her best to keep the family together, but the past always caught up to us. One moment that still haunts me occurred when was when I was nine years old. My father and Uncle Drew came to my mother’s house late at night and started beating my mother. They threw her belongings into the street and chased us out of our house. My mother cried and begged my father and Uncle Drew to let us back into the house. But it didn’t bother them to kick us out; they had accomplished what they came to do. They locked up the house so we couldn’t get in, and then they took off.

My little brother and I held each other while