Destination Joy, Driver Jesus: Surviving Abuse

By Anne Reynolds

Destination Joy, Driver Jesus is an autobiography on how to survive abusive relationships. The stage is set by describing a difficult childhood. It moves into each of three marriages with more of the same.

Whether physical, emotional, or mental abuse, it is an extremely hard thing to overcome. This book shows how to do that. It shows that, with Jesus, nothing is impossible and that, with him, it is possible not only to overcome but to have hope for a normal future.

If it serves to help one person, my work was not in vain. Every hour spent retrieving my life will be worth the effort. And so I give you Destination Joy, Driver Jesus.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Oct 12, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524643768

Book preview

PROLOGUE

My life was one massive dead end and I had traveled so far for so long. Unlike the pages of my Bible, my road map was worn and difficult to read. I kept getting more and more off course. I decided even though I was an excellent driver, that a driver’s-ed course might help. As I ran into my last dead end, I was convinced. I was tired, depressed, lost, and finally admitted it. It was time to let go of the wheel and let Jesus do the driving.

I never picked up hitchhikers, but something told me to pick this one up. I had seen this face before, but where? I pulled over, too tired to care about anything. As I did, I remembered I had left Jesus behind somewhere. He had offered to drive, but I had said no. I had it under control. Right. I had dropped Him off and drove on. I remembered the saddened expression on His face as He said, I’ll be just ahead if you change your mind.

The hitchhiker got in. Wait a minute, I thought. Could it be? I looked at Him and tears filled my tired eyes. As they rolled down my exhausted face, I exclaimed, Oh Jesus, is it really you? Yes Anne, He said lovingly. I’ve been waiting patiently for you. I knew you would eventually pick Me up. You are finally tired enough. Now, would you like Me to drive? Oh yes, Jesus! I’d like that a lot. I’ve been so exhausted. See, I was getting lost again in the storm and. . . He smiled and interrupted me with, I know child, I know. Just rest now. I’ll take over. Then I said, Excuse me, but You are God. Why were you standing out there in the rain without an umbrella? You could have commanded the rain to stop or at least summoned some shelter. He turned to me, tenderly took my face in His hands, and said, Because I love you. You are worth getting a little wet over. I’ve done more serious things for you, like calvary for instance. This was a piece of cake.

I was filled with an overwhelming desire of wanting to cry and laugh all at the same time. It was joyous laughter. I never felt so content or so at peace. At that moment, I knew everything would be alright no matter what. My memory strayed to a passage in my Bible about love. Joy is love’s strength. Peace is love’s security. Long-suffering is love’s patience. Gentleness is love’s conduct. Goodness is love’s character. Faith is love’s confidence. Meekness is love’s humility. Temperance is love’s victory. I could see all these things in Him.

I traded places with Him, and the trip began. What we would encounter and where we would go I left up to Him. I relaxed as His words, Trust me Anne. I have everything under control, rang in my ears as never before. I fell asleep for several hours.

Then it happened. I awoke to a loud clap of thunder. He was driving through blinding rain, and I panicked. I grabbed the wheel from Him thinking I could help. The car swerved, and we skidded into an embankment. We were unharmed, but I was shaken. He turned to me and gently said, Thought I needed your help again? Yes, I, I’m so sorry. For the millionth time, look where it got me. It’s OK, He said. You are beginning to recognize that now. So just try to keep Me in control, and little by little you’ll get used to it. You’ll begin to like it as you see the results. And by the way, don’t be so hard on yourself. He smiled lovingly, started the engine, and we got back on the road.

There I was on the passenger’s side, and for the first time I let Him do all the work as I simply gazed out the window and enjoyed the ride. I never realized how much scenery I had missed while in the driver’s seat. The storm had passed, and the day was aglow with sunshine. Hills, trees, and flowers seemed to take on a new vibrancy.

Then, there was the ocean. He had taken California State Highway 101 along the Pacific Ocean. He knew the beach was one of my first loves. To me, the sights and sounds of the pounding surf were among the most beautiful of all His creations. We pulled off at my favorite beach. This awesome Jesus didn’t skip any details, did He? He had always led me to a Scripture in Philippians 4:19, which said, I will supply all your needs. I always thought that meant He would send me a prince on a white horse. But, He meant Himself. I knew that now like never before, and judging by the joy I was feeling, there must be something to it.

Let’s get out and walk on the beach for awhile, Anne. Here was God Himself, yet I was amazed at how down to earth and personable He could be. I took His hand and we strolled for hours, really getting to know one another. Before we got back into the car, He took me into His arms. That did it. I had found real love at last. He promised me He would always hold me close and never leave me, and I never felt so secure. I was consumed with His love, and I knew we would be a team forever. Even though in my pain and confusion, when I walked away, He took me back. This was genuine agape love. This was real, and He knew I always loved Him too. He knew I was ready now.

We got into the car. He told me He was taking me to the place He had planned for me all the time, but my driving had gotten me off course. I kept making wrong turns and getting myself lost. I thought, No kidding. I asked Him why He hadn’t helped me with directions long ago. He said He had tried, but I thought I could do better myself. He let me get lost just enough times so I would ask Him willingly for directions. He said it was better that way, because He prefers to be wanted instead of just needed.

Then, a thought occurred to me, and I just had to ask Him, Jesus, is that why, when I wondered where You were and why You weren’t helping me, You were really there all the time? You were just waiting for me to give up my own paths and let You lead the way completely? Ah, you’re beginning to get the idea, Anne. He stared at me from the corner of His eye with a pleased look on His face and His smiling mouth upturned. There He went again, amused with me. He read my thoughts and said, You are amusing! Where had I heard that before. . .

As we drove along, I realized that although I was right next to the awesome God of the universe, we could communicate on a personal level. Besides that, He made me laugh and cry all at the same time. These tears however, joined the laughter in simultaneous joy. This felt wonderful. . .

He pointed ahead, and as He did, He told me I was taking all this so well that He felt it was time to reach our destination. The one He had planned for me all along. I replied and told Him I had never been happier. He said lovingly, Oh, the best is yet to come, Anne. We pulled into what seemed to be one of the loveliest towns I had ever set eyes on. He asked me to pay close attention to the city limit sign. It read:

WELCOME to FELICITY

City of Joy, Hope, Peace, Love, and Contentment

ENJOY YOUR STAY

Now, the Webster’s Dictionary defines Felicity, as: 1. Happiness; bliss. 2. An instance of happiness. 3. A source of happiness. 4. An agreeable pertinent or effective manner or style. Something told me I was home. I knew it. I could feel it. I was smiling a genuine, non-surface smile. If I hadn’t let Him drive, I never would have found my way. To think I almost hadn’t. I traveled some bumpy roads to get here, took some dangerous curves, and wound up in ditches and over embankments. Always the sign, DEAD END, here, there, and everywhere. I got some heavy spiritual tickets, perfect driving record and all.

I begin my journey back in time now. It was a rough ride while I was driving. So, if you plan on coming along, fasten your seat belts, take a deep breath, and hold on. . .

I have a better plan for you,"

I hear My Savior say,

"A special purpose for your life,

If you’ll but walk My way."

I love You for the sunshine,

I thank you for the rain,

That taught me how to trust in You,

And brought me joy from pain

PART I

Childhood and Beyond

"It’s what happens to our

characters through the sorrows

of life that is most crucial in the

preparation of the person in us

who will live forever."

CHAPTER 1

Mom was no different than any other mother when it came to bragging about her baby. She told me when I was old enough to understand, that the sun shone brighter on the day I was born than any other day she could remember. She said it was so appropriate that I would be born in May. When I went into the hospital, the sky was full of angry storm clouds. But, when we walked out together, the trees were in full bloom and the spring flowers had blossomed. Kind of like the way your smile lit up the room. It was as though spring was sent to celebrate your birth. Well, what do you expect? She was my mother.

Ironically, she and my father hadn’t picked out a name for me. She told me that there was a magazine on her nightstand with a picture of a famous movie star. Deciding this was the perfect name, the birth certificate was completed at last. There hadn’t been much planning for me. I was an early surprise, and though welcomed, Mom had not really wanted children. She had planned a career and didn’t even want to get married. Though I wasn’t their reason, they had tied the knot, and I followed shortly after.

My mother was born to a musically talented, Italian family. My grandfather had sung in the world-famous Carnegie Hall. He sang one note higher than Caruso, and if the great depression hadn’t hit, they would have been quite wealthy. She remembered a time when she and her seven siblings had awakened to a prosperous Christmas, only to find days later that they had lost everything. All of the gifts were returned to the store. It was to be the beginning of hard times. My grandfather gave up the opera and began selling produce on a push-cart in the streets of New York. It was slightly difficult to support a family of ten on what he managed to bring in. So, my grandmother began sewing at home and trained the girls to help. My mother told me of the times their fingers would become sore from all the sewing. She said it was difficult to see with only a dim kerosene lamp. But, they had a certain amount of work to turn out in a given time, and they always met their expectations.

Though hard times had come to them, they managed to laugh and enjoy one another. Because of a show business background, my grandparents had many friends from Vaudeville. There was always music, laughter and love. But, there were tears too. My grandparents had been betrothed to one another at a very young age. Fourteen children later, six of which died, and hard financial times were to take their toll on the family. There was fighting in the great Italian way. My mother was soon to learn this practice and take it with her wherever she went. To add to this, she was the sickly child in the family, and perhaps this served to spoil her just a bit.

My grandfather had met Jesus along the way, but by now, Mom chose to ignore the church and leave home. She went to live with my aunt and uncle. She met and fell in love with the man of her dreams, and they dated for four years. But, as with many romances, it didn’t work out. They went their own separate ways. Though she had emerged a totally loving individual, she now maintained that she would have a career and be free of children. But, fate took another twist. She had been introduced to my father. On the rebound without realizing it and feeling in the way at her sister’s, she married my dad within a few months. Then I came along.

Most girls can’t say enough about their dad. I however, don’t really know mine. Circumstances being what they were and are, I never really got to be friends with him. But, now I’m going off on a tangent. Mom had shared with me that he had been born to a family of six children. He was the only boy and quite spoiled because of it. His sisters did everything for him. Consequently, though gentleman’s manners were instilled in him by a religious mother, he was positively self-centered. To add to this, was an arrogance he had inherited from his father.

My grandmother died before I ever met her. My dad was only nineteen and very close to her. He took the loss so heavily that he began drinking over it. I was told that she had a sweet, calm, English attitude. My Gramps, on the other hand, did not. He could be a very arrogant and demanding German fellow. I am not one to generalize, but I was soon to learn that strange as it may seem, each nationality has a definite personality of it’s own. On the flip side of the coin, I inherited from these two distinct groups of Italians and Germans, a very loving and determined personality. But, let’s get back to Dad.

With outstanding good looks, it’s easy to fit into a mold of selfish and arrogant. Dad was no exception. In the years to come, my girlfriends would mistake him for my brother. Like Mom, he was quite attractive, classy, and charming. But, the attitude he had developed even cost him his fiancee. She said she couldn’t marry someone who was as self-centered and arrogant as he was. She gave the ring back. Now he had lost his mother and the woman he loved. He met my mother, and in lonely desperation, he married her on the rebound.

On May 19th, I was born in, New York. Who was to know that I would become a victim of a very unhappy and dysfunctional home? My parent’s paths had been carved out for them by their parents. Their personalities had been formed. Life had dealt some harsh blows to them. They turned to one another, but not out of love. Out of desperation. Instead of turning to the faith they had both been raised to believe in to meet their needs, they tried to find comfort and life in one another. They found instead, more confusion and pain. Perhaps I however, would experience the most pain. As my grandparents had paved the way for my parents futures, I was now to experience the same.

I, on the other hand, had a Bible-preaching, miracle-believing, praying, grandmother. As the Bible says, Prayer changes things. But then, I’m getting way ahead of myself. . .

CHAPTER 2

They say that parents can make or break a child’s future. Their impact either paves a positive path or a negative one. In fact, while they are yet in the womb, the child can hear and feel what type of environment he or she will be born into. The parents set the groundwork for personality traits and solid or negative relationships as well.

Every little girl wants to believe the best of her parents. That her dad is superdad. That he is the most intelligent man in the universe, her best friend, and always there for her. That her mom is her fondest role model in every sense of the expression. That she is consistently sweet and gentle. Unfortunately, it wasn’t always so in my house. What was wrong with this picture? Dad and Mom were totally unfulfilled in their relationship. As a result, Dad withdrew. In doing so, Mom and I felt neglected. Mom learned to retaliate verbally. Raising me without his help, she often resented me and became verbally abusive toward me as well.

I would lay in bed at night and cry, wondering why Mom was always so unhappy and why she would take it out on me. Was I bad? I had to please her more. Maybe that was it. Then there was Dad. Why did he always keep to himself? Why wasn’t he my friend? Wasn’t I good enough for him or anyone for that matter? With children, love is spelled, T I M E. I never got any from Dad unless Mom coaxed him, and then it wasn’t the same as if he had done it willingly. Did he hate me? I loved them. Why couldn’t they love each other and me so we could all be happy? These were just some of the things that would go through my little head.

I couldn’t possibly know then that it wasn’t me. That they were simply unhappy with each other and the life they had together. That it had nothing to do with me, and I wasn’t responsible. As a child, all I knew was that I felt rejection from all this. Subsequently, rejection became insecurity.

Yet, there were the happy times. They both had such a great sense of humor. We loved to travel together, and Mom would invent games for us to play in the car. We saw much of the United States and Mexico together. We loved Disneyland, Knott’s Berry Farm, and the beach. Sometimes at home, we would all laugh and carry on. But, it would never last very long. The fighting would always resume. I learned at a very early age, that to confront and argue was the way. At least in my home it was.

Then, there were the nightmares. The relentless nights of the same, horrible, recurring dream. I was always in a round, black hole, and something on the outside was yelling. It seemed as though it was trying to get to me. I would wake up screaming in a cold sweat, petrified to be alone in my room.

Mom would come running in, but after so many nights of this, she grew tired of the routine. They finally thought that it was just a ploy to be with them. They made me sit outside their bedroom door in the hall. I remember being scared out there too. The next day, tired and angry, my mother would become very verbal with me. With no help from Dad, I imagine she grew tired of raising me alone. But even so, I was only five years old, and she would frighten me. I remember running down the hall to get away from her. She would catch me by my hair and it would hurt. As I cried, she would mock my tears. How, I wondered, could she hurt me like this and make fun of it? Didn’t she love me? I was devastated. I learned that