Love Me Now and Forever

By Adelia Goncalves

Love Me Now and Forever is a book about life’s trying moments. Here the author is trying to address the issues that people face in society and hope to respect, relearn, reconsider, recapture, restore, rely, reenter, relate, reexamine, review, renew, and retell with God the principal author and perfector of our life when we believe

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stratton Press
• Release date: May 30, 2018
• ISBN: 9781643450483

Book preview

Acknowledgments

First, I would like to express my appreciation and gratitude to my Heavenly Father. Secondly, to my family and friends who have inspired me to write this book.

Many thanks to the publishers at Stratton Press, Max Lopez and Danny Watts, and to the staff that helped design the book cover, and to the ghostwriter.

Last but not the least, to my husband who has stood by my side throughout all the challenges.

My view of the book and the aim is to challenge the reader to grow and understand God’s amazing love. God’s forgiveness and his unconditional love is never ending when we trust in his Word. In Proverbs 3:5, Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not unto your own understanding in all your ways acknowledge him and he will direct your path straight.

There is a fact that I come from a family of fourteen brothers and sisters, and I’m the seventh and youngest of the sisters. I have an average education, and although I don’t have any literary skills nor am I a scholar, this book is from the heart for all of those who suffered and for the cause of righteousness. The lessons we learn in life are the life stories of the heart. This book will challenge the reader to grow and relate to the concerns we have in society and the love of God in operation.

I don’t have to boast or claim to be an expert in any of these subjects, but I do read the Bible and understand about the power of reconciliation through Jesus Christ our Lord. John 8:32, Then you will know the truth and the truth will set you free. John 8: 36, If the Son therefore shall make you free you shall be free indeed.

I have volunteered at the schools for more than twenty years in the classroom. I have ministered to the homeless in the streets of Melbourne and volunteered for a Christian organization. I am currently a supporter of Save the Children’s fund. I would love to do more for the homeless in society and be able to help as many people as I can because it was through people’s caring contribution which helped me in life.

I hope when you read this book you will be touched by God, you’ll experience a love like no other, you’ll begin to be drawn closer to him. You will experience a wholeness and healing, divine interventions, and encounter the manifestation of the Holy Spirit to purify you from all sin and live a life holy and acceptable unto him. You will experience a deep confrontation, a decision, and emotional account, redemption, relentless love, reconciliation, salvation, a new heart and be born again.

To fill that void, you need to surrender it all to God the Creator, and he will show you the meaning of life in him.

Psalm 61:2, When my heart is overwhelmed: lead me to the rock that is higher than I.

Last but not the least, the Bible says we must teach and preach the word of God in its entirety. Ephesians 4:12–13, To Equip his people for works of service so that the body of Christ may be built up until we all reach unity in the faith and in the knowledge of the Son of God and become mature, attaining to the measure of the fullness of Christ.

Isaiah 61:1, Maintain Justice and do what is right for my Salvation is close at hand. Jesus is coming soon!

Love always,

Adelia Goncalves

1

Early one winter morning, as Janelle tossed and turned in her bed, she wondered if the temperature had really dropped at around 3:30 a.m. or if it was all a dream. It had become so cold. She kept her eyes shut, remaining still for this reason. She was exhausted. The darkness prevailed, and she fought with the fog in her head. She should have been lying in the hospital for a nervous breakdown and clinical depression, but she wasn’t. Even though the calendar on the wall was marked with a pen stroke telling her that it was March 11, 1995, she thought it was June.

Her vision blurred. Janelle raised her head to figure out where she was; her mind was still stuck somewhere in the bad dream. Where am I today? she wondered, frightened by the vivid nightmare she just had.

That’s right, she reassured herself. It was just a vivid dream. She dreamed that she was homeless; she was hiding under a building with a feral cat and a street dog. Were they my pets?

After a while, she looked at her clock: 4:00 a.m. She wanted three more hours of sleep, and she could tell that pretty soon the outside street noise would eventually rise to disturb her from this calm. But not now, she thought. This was all part of her daily struggle of battling a sleep disorder. Without a doubt, her depression was a contributing factor to her poor health.

Her condition was not uncommon. She lived in town on the South Eastern side of Sydney’s CBD, which was one mile from the busy central station, indistinctly quiet in the early morning. During the day, she could hear the trains going by and the usual bustling noise; but in the early hours before dawn, she heard only her mind making poetry out of this silence.

She recalled her dream. In it, she was paralysed. Her arms were stuck, and she was almost crippled as she laid in bed in the mental institution. They were about to throw her out into the street. The dream took her right back to the start. She was familiar with the surroundings. She lived on a smelly, dirty street when she is found. Homeless, forlorn, and hungry, all she could do was moan.

Dreams are real; they bring a message. This one rang a bell within her as she woke up, quite concerned that the dream meant she had neglected her call of duty to help the poor, the homeless living in the street. That was a message, she thought, and it’s time I did something about it.

Her memories were hounding her again. Janelle’s thoughts jumped from one thing to another, through different emotional landscapes that made up their own fractured city. My mind carries me and transports me for a purpose, she realised. It was all about transit to the next terminal where she sought restoration.

Janelle didn’t get much rest. If she did manage to close her eyes, sleep was like being drunk on dust. She was constantly reminded that her past was a nightmare.

These days, all the interesting things she had a passion for in life dissipated so quickly that she constantly found herself starting something else on the spot. She couldn’t complete a task without having her interest vanish with no warning each time. She would easily lose heart. She would lose interest and did not care. She was feeling helpless. Nothing worked out for her.

She decided it was better to surrender. She was tired of going around in circles; it was better to surround herself with less than more. Janelle decided to throw away what belonged in her past. She was in pursuit of a new future in a new place. Anywhere but here, she thought. This town is a terrible place. Just a couple of hours away, the city looked industrious and busy, so she made up her mind that it was the place she wanted to stay. She had no regrets; the decision was a good starting point.

The fact is, she didn’t complete high school. It was a horrible school. People at her school ignored or harassed her every day, it was difficult to fit in. The teachers paid attention only to the smart ones. Her stepfather didn’t care if she went to school or not. Opportunity existed only for the wealthy, he believed, so she was discouraged from trying to achieve anything for herself. Janelle found school to be too hard, so she dropped out as quickly as she could. She was done by the age of sixteen.

She already rehearsed her story for anyone in authority who might ask. She was unaware of the great dangers of the streets. On August 23, she decided to leave. It was her birthday. She turned sixteen years old today. Janelle didn’t have much of anything to start with, so she left with just some clothes left from her mum, a hundred dollars in her pocket, and two books: one by William Shakespeare and another by Charles Dickens. She didn’t understand either book much (although she was willing to read some, whenever she got bored).

Her stepfather was (of course) unaware that August 23 was her birthday.

Janelle was excited about venturing into her adolescent years, so she walked into the living room and told him flatly, It’s my birthday today.

He looked at her, raised his glass, and said, Happy birthday. Then he belched.

That afternoon, as she was gathering her things to run away, her stepdad tried to stop her. Where are you going? he asked.

She answered him fearfully, careful to avoid any eye contact. To visit my friend, she lied.

Right. He blinked at her once, his eyes glazed over, and then turned away. Off you go then.

At the door, Janelle paused, her hand on the doorknob. Dad, you may think Mother went to work, but she’s left for good.

He did not say anything, only stared at the television as if he didn’t hear.

Sorry, Dad, she mumbled.

As she walked off, she began to cry. She cried all the way to the train station, leaving her childhood behind. She cried on the train. She cried halfway to her destination, Sydney CBD.

Janelle felt sorry for her stepdad, but the alcohol made him waste his life, spinning in the same spot. He was hateful; the alcohol took away the beautiful man she and her mother once loved. Her mother felt loved when he was sober, when he knew how to respect her, but that was a rarity in the final days with him. To avoid an altercation, she knew it was safer to simply send the divorce papers to him.

Even though Janelle’s mother tried her best to care for Janelle, everything she did showed Janelle the opposite. All Janelle wanted was a warm hug every now and then or a smile and a kiss on the cheek, but her mother never did things like that. Even though she went to work and brought home the bacon, all Janelle wanted was for her mother to stay with her, give her some attention, and properly respect and honour Janelle as her little girl. She wanted love and attention, maybe a little compassion, but that was apparently too much to ask for.

Janelle was accused of being selfish. Don’t expect such royal attention. You have to be tough, so you need to be treated rough.

Janelle came to expect and accept rejection. She tried to understand—told herself that her mother gave what she could. It was the best she could do. Her mother, after all, had tried to end her life twice; she was a lost soul.

Which one was better: to end her life or skip town for another chance? It’s hard when you try and understand what makes a person the way they are. Her mother told her to go and best to get out of there since she wasn’t coming back. She told Janelle once before: she didn’t ask for a child; she was given one. It was a one-night stand. She felt deprived of her younger years, and she wasn’t at all happy. She blamed Janelle for having stolen her life from her.

One day, Janelle caught her crying. Her mother hurriedly dabbed at her nose and eyes to dry them. She must have been already planning her great escape then, Janelle realized. The day her mother left, Janelle tried to go with her, but she closed the door after handing Janelle a hundred dollars and a note.

She still had the note. In it she told Janelle to be good, study, go back to school, and do the best she could.

Janelle was only sixteen, and she needed her mum. She was all alone—an orphan, really. She had no one, bankrupt of everything including any semblance of family.

Her mother had been so beautiful. She was petite, slender, which made men admire her all the time. It made her stepdad angry. He would get jealous and blame her, tell her to stop putting on makeup and nice clothes.

Janelle’s mother knew exactly how to use her beauty. She was promiscuous, always hungering for something she would try grasp at by sleeping with her admirers from time to time. She even brought some of them home while her husband was away.

Janelle would see, but she wouldn’t say anything. She had seen how hateful her stepfather had become, so part of her felt like he deserved it. Janelle was just as hungry as her mother was; she felt like there was a void inside of her that no one and nothing could fill up. She carried the void with her all the way to the other side of the city, far away from home. Far away from her stepfather.

It was only 7:00 p.m., and it was just getting dark. Janelle felt no familiarity with the city and was filled with uncertainty. The city walls reminded her of an enclosure—a hidden city.

There must be a lot of rich, caring people around, she thought. Look over there. She saw a figure lying along the floor of the building. It was the first time she had seen a homeless person, and she was horrified. Janelle decided to try and help; she decided she just should walk over to talk with her.

As Janelle walked towards the old woman, she went to talk to her but the woman’s appearance—her messy hair, dirty clothes, toothless mouth when she grinned—scared Janelle. Despite the unkempt appearance, the woman was lovely and she seemed kind. Janelle didn’t know why the old woman frightened her; she didn’t mean to be frightened. Janelle knew it was how her view was towards the woman because she looked poor, neglected, and uncomfortable.

Janelle wanted to reach out to the woman but didn’t have enough courage.

She was so concerned. She would hate it if that lady were her mother, even if her mother appeared to not care for her—maybe she perceived that her mother loved someone else more.

When Janelle tried to book herself a room at a hotel near the station, she realized that she was short on money; she had bought herself some hot chips on the way and a can of Coke. This is all the money I have with me right now, she said, sliding a few crumpled bills and coins across the desk to the receptionist. Can you make an exception? Just for tonight?

The receptionist’s smile hardened. No, sorry, I can’t do that, she said.

Please? It’s a really cold night out.

The receptionist’s smile disappeared. It’s not my problem. Go back home. You’re too young to be running away.

Janelle tried to negotiate some more, but the receptionist told Janelle she would have to call the police if Janelle kept trying to argue.

Hence, Janelle had to go to the station and sleep on a bunk, but the station master who saw her told her she was not allowed to unless she had a ticket for the train.

Janelle said, I’m not catching a train.

No? Well, what are you doing here? Puzzled and amused, he smiled.

Janelle replied shyly, covering her mouth, I need to sleep here.

The station master laughed. No, little darling, it’s illegal. It’s very dangerous.

Oh.

He said, Well, where do you live?

I’m not living anywhere, she told him.

Okay, well you’d better be careful not to tell too many people that, he warned.

Why? she asked.

Well, it’s dangerous, that’s all, young lady. I tell you what. You don’t have to sleep rough tonight but try a hotel down the road, he told her.

I have, but I was short by fifteen dollars so the lady said no, she tried to explain.

Well, I can loan you fifteen dollars. He didn’t hesitate for one minute as he put his hand in his pocket and pulled out an old, worn, leather wallet.

Oh, shucks, he said, surprised. He thought he had more but forgot that he had stopped for breakfast on the way to work, which was ten dollars including coffee. He was reluctant to tell her the unfortunate news, but he didn’t have to. Janelle figured it out.

Not enough? Janelle asked trying to cover her disappointment.

No. Sorry, love. I feel a little embarrassed, I gave you high hopes for a minute there. He laughed, feeling absurd.

Thanks anyway. You’re such a nice man. Don’t worry, I understand. I didn’t expect it, honest, said Janelle.

I know, he said apologetically.

I’ll be going then. Janelle stood up to go. As she started to walk, he accompanied her every step towards his office. She continued to speak as they strolled along. Janelle tried to make him feel at ease because she knew he meant well. There are other homeless people sleeping rough tonight. I won’t be the only one. I’ll ask them if they can tell me where to go, she said.

When they approached his office, he said, Hang on, I have an idea! He beamed like a lightbulb. I’ll lend you my coat. And I keep a blanket for the chilly nights. I can lend it to you, but you’ll have to return it to me tomorrow morning. I start my shift at ten, he told her.

Oh, you’d do that for me? she gasped.

Sure, why not? But make sure you keep your word, he warned.

Of course I will. I’ll bring it back, promise, Janelle reassured him.

Normally, I don’t trust a lot of people, but it might be your nice smile, he joked.

Oh, thanks. That’s very kind of you, she said.

You’re welcome. Give me a minute, and I’ll be back, okay?

Janelle waited for a few minutes, and keeping her thoughts drawn towards her destination, she waited patiently for the coat and blanket. Janelle was overwhelmed by the man’s love. Even though she didn’t know him, he demonstrated such care and attention towards her that she wished he were her father.

Not long after, he emerged from his office towards her, carrying his belongings. His other hand had a cup of hot soup with a couple of sandwiches.

He handed her the large, long coat and the blanket as well as the food he prepared. Do you like continental cup of soup? he asked.

Sure do! Oh, mister, thank you so much.

No trouble at all.

Janelle felt a lot better than when she first arrived, but unfortunately, she needed to be on her way.

He dressed her in the coat and handed her the blanket. She was glad she met him and was so thankful for his generosity.

It became obvious to Janelle that the professional homeless knew what they were doing. They were equipped with sleeping bags and cardboards and such, but she had none of that. She didn’t want that; she wanted something enclosed. She tried looking for a spot where perhaps she’d be safe for the night. She asked a homeless man just under the bridge, and he started to laugh.

He told her, Anywhere! Take your pick. It’s a jungle out here. Then he continued to laugh uncontrollably. It infuriated her, and she walked on.

She left and found a spot near the underground car park a short distance away. She slept the night but had no idea what the next day was going to be like.

She woke up disillusioned but safe and tucked. She was thinking about how that nice man’s generosity had rescued her from the cold.

She visited the station master, and he asked her where she slept and whether she had found somewhere to live yet. He told her he would lend her the coat and blanket for another day, plus lunch. After two or three days, the station master remembered the charity food van because he had made enquiries. He told her to look out for the food van Friday at Scott Street. They had a mission for the homeless, and they would give her food. He told her to go there a bit early, as there were a lot of people. She agreed to do just that. She didn’t even know where this Scott Street was, but she knew it wouldn’t be far, surely. The station master showed her on the map and gave her a photocopy of the streets around central plus ten dollars that he gave her to shop at the markets. They always had fruit that you could buy really cheap! Janelle followed his instructions. A week went pass and she finally thought it was a good idea to try and get some food from the charity organisation.

She arrived about half an hour early on Friday. It must have been around 6:00 p.m. She saw some teenagers as she was waiting and observing what the people did. She looked and waited alone. Suddenly, there it was: a charity food van parked and handing out some food. She saw that people went up and held their own bowls and received it with thanks. They nodded, had brief conversations. She decided to go and put her hand out. The lady hadn’t seen Janelle before, but she was familiar with most people. It was obvious how she knew their names.

The lady looked at Janelle and asked her where she was living. Janelle told her she arrived the other day. She had to leave home. The lady asked her why.

Janelle said, Well, my mother left, and now I have nowhere to go. The lady was just about to add another ladle of soup in the cup, but Janelle thought the lady wanted to hear what she had to say. Janelle continued, My stepdad was a drunk. My mother told me to get out and study and try my best.

The lady felt so sorry for her and immediately asked her to give her a hand if she could. Janelle had nothing better to do, so she stayed all night. Perhaps she was trying to teach her a lesson on how or what it would be like if she decided to stay in the streets. Janelle wanted an opportunity. She explicitly told the carefree lady her problem for that reason. I would love to go back to school and eventually help the poor and the homeless ones in town. The lady smiled at her and told her that it would be good. She counselled Janelle and gave her some options on courses she could study, like theology, social and welfare work, counselling, community services, psychology…

Janelle told the lady she wasn’t that smart, but the lady told her that she sounded smart so she must be all right. Give it a try, she encouraged. Then she pointed to Janelle’s heart and said, If you have it here, that is a good start. You can do anything in Christ who gives you strength.

Janelle was glad at least someone in this world believed in her.

The volunteer at the food van knew Janelle was in the right frame of mind and asked her to go to the homeless shelter and stay there overnight. She said, It gets really cold. You’ll freeze to death.

Janelle was overjoyed. She was petrified the night before, and she remembered her fears, so she thanked the kind lady for providing her with shelter.

At the shelter, there was a girl Janelle’s age, and she told Janelle her story. She was homeless before, she told Janelle, and she found herself homeless once more. She ran away from the house she had lived in before. The woman’s a witch. She ran a brothel, the old cow. She said she was lucky she had the chance and ran for her life. Janelle told her she did the right thing.

Good for you, Janelle applauded her. By the way, how did you meet the crazy woman?

She proceeded to tell Janelle the story after flicking her long fringe to the side. She leaned over closer for confidentiality.

Well, once upon a time there were three of us. Now there’s just me. We became homeless youths. We ran away from our parents, of course, as we do, she explained.

Yeah? Why did you leave home? Janelle asked inquisitively.

Because of the closeness, they were able to engage eye to eye. Janelle was paying attention to every word so she understood the story; it was hard to hear because of the loud street noise and the people around.

Besides her wanting a new friend to lean on, she remained interested in the story to show respect.

The young girl said, They told us to get lost.

Janelle asked, Who’s they who told you to get lost?

Mum and Dad.

Right.

They thought we were doing drugs.

Were you? Janelle was astonished.

No, not even. My parents did, and the same with the old bat because we were living in a warehouse. Well, that woman saw us running one day. She snuck up on us and took us all by surprise.

No way, Janelle exclaimed.

Yes way. She paused and waited for Janelle’s reaction.

Then what happened? Janelle asked in disbelief.

Bad news, said the girl. We were convinced she was nice. But she lied to us. She shook her head, eyes wide. She continued to say that the woman appeared to be rich, and she pretended to be nice to them, bribing them every day.

What did she do? asked Janelle.

The girl replied, Oh, you know. She would bring us pretty things like hair clips and extensions or bags of lollies, some clothes to entice us, and asked us where we lived. We were tricked to believe that she was alright. She dressed really nice and smelled just as nice, so we trusted her and decided to tell her the truth.

What did you tell her and trust her for? You didn’t even know her, Janelle cried in disbelief.

Don’t know! Pretty pathetic, I know, she answered, hanging her head in shame.

Janelle leaned over and didn’t really know what to do, but then she touched the girl on the arm and said, Don’t worry. It isn’t easy, you know. She waited in silence and didn’t want to pressure the girl to relive the tale.

Suddenly, after a long silence, the girl continued the story as if she were trying to recollect where she was interrupted by Janelle previously.

She told Janelle the rest of the story.

The lady pretended to feel sorry that they were homeless; they were too young, so she made them believe that she could help them. She asked them to come and live with her; she had other girls there as well. After a while, it was clear she was a brothel owner.

We were really scared, so she kept us imprisoned for a few weeks. Then one day the girl I became friends with told me to run away if I could. She opened the back door and told me to run. This old woman was a lying witch.

Just when the girl was about to say more, the volunteer lady called Janelle over and told her, Stay clear of too many stories. You’ve got enough trouble of your own.

2

Fortunately for Janelle, the lady sent her to a foster home where they took care of her, had intimate conversations with her, and gave her not only security but also support. Janelle was forever grateful; they showed her kindness and respect. They were an old couple, and they both passed away within months from each other. Janelle had never been so sad; it was as if they had one more mission to do before they left this earth. It was significant; it was a story of love, so a divine kind of story.

They had sent Janelle to speak with a psychologist. A youth counsellor too. All they did was talk about her stories, and Janelle was not sure why it was any of their business asking so many personal questions. At first, Janelle thought she was in trouble, but they said they could try and heal the effects of trauma and teach her how to be in touch with her feelings, with all her pain.

After