Reveal, Release, Renew

By Ashley J. Lauren

Reveal, Release, Renew was written in my wholeness and my truth, centered around my personal experience growing up in what society acknowledges as a "broken home!" I speak on my life's experience, which is very personal to me! I choose to give blow-for-blow details regarding these situations in hopes it helps rescue or bring awareness and acknowledgment to what is not considered in most families as toxic and/or destructive things happening to young people! I focused on my experience in each situation, and I'm giving my audience some foundation as to why I am who I am!

I speak about my viewpoint on where I lived as a child and how often being unstable affected me mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. I expose how I fell into certain pits as a youth due to my toxic way of thinking which was caused by major traumas I experience as a child, traumas such as different forms of child abuse and sexual abuse. I share in detail my experience with sexual predators and how the Lord helped me to escape that situation. I give some spiritual insight on issues that I was faced to overcome. I give the full back story of where my trust issues began, and I also go into me experiencing a few of my spiritual gifts in early childhood. As I grew spiritually, I noticed these same issues often tend to show up in many young girls who grow up in broken homes. So I go into explaining the revelations I received regarding these traumas. Again, this book was written in hopes that other women can read it and gain understanding and insight into her own traumatic experiences in life. Possibly she can understand where she may need the Lord to help her overcome as well!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Feb 22, 2022
• ISBN: 9781098087678

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Reveal, Release, Renew

Ashley J. Lauren

Copyright © 2021 by Ashley J. Lauren

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Before the Wheels Start Rolling

On the Move

No More Room in This Vehicle

A New Vehicle

A New Route

This What the Wheel Feels Like

Hitting the Road

Losing Control

Overheated Vehicle

Jesus, Take the Wheel

One Good Turn

The Take Off

The Driver’s Seat

A Change of Lanes!

The Destination!

This book is dedicated to my daughter first and then my sisters in Wisdom Women. This book holds me accountable to my past, my present, and my future. I pray that by me finding the strength to tell my story and allowing you, ladies, and the world to see a part of me that I was frightened to admit and show, you will continue to hold me accountable to the standards of God. At all times, He must be our strength, our peace, and our guiding light. Throughout this book, you will see where the Lord has been all those things for me, and I pray that He will daily be all those things to you as well. Let us continue to live Christ-centered lives, keeping one another uplifted and encouraged, continuously striving to do the Lord’s work with wisdom! Now, I dedicate my life’s story to the Father himself. I realize the trials and triumphs were never about me to begin with. I trust He will use my life story to encourage, uplift, teach, and give comfort to the tribe of women that this story was for. While reading, see the Lord and how He moves through us. Nothing that we will ever encounter will ever be bigger than Him. I pray that whomever this story is for takes that knowledge and fight through life with the strength of God and not your own!

Acknowledgments

In the world we live in, I believe all too often we are unaware that each of us is assigned a purpose. Whether we understand or know in the beginning of our lives what that purpose is or figure it out along the way, the statement is true indeed. I knew you before I formed you in your mother’s womb. Before you were born, I set you apart and appointed you as my prophet to the nations (Jeremiah 1:5, NLT). I want to acknowledge the Lord Almighty for doing a great work in me through every test, trial, and tribulation, placing inside me such a powerful testimony to share among women everywhere. My testimony is for encouragement to others to keep striving in their God-given purpose. God’s chosen are anointed and appointed for such a time as this; we are going to be greatly tested throughout our lives!

To the beauty of marriage, which is a vehicle the Lord put in our lives to grow us spiritually. Through every marital trial, God has revealed his true love, grace, and mercy for me. I have had ups and downs throughout the process, but I thank God for always encouraging me to stick things out and be stretched spiritually. I have been encouraged to share my story in times when I may have doubted this project being God assigned. Through marriage, the Lord has taught me how to love in a way that is pleasing unto him. God calls us to love one another with agape love, so I give thanks to the vehicle of marriage which allows God to stretch us in such a mighty way.

To my children, thank you for granting me daily grace. While figuring out what being a mother looks like, you all have been loving and patient with me. I also thank you for the time shared you gave me to be able to dedicate myself to this lengthy project. You are gifts from the Lord, and you challenge me to continue to strive to be the best version of myself I can be. You have been awesome throughout this process, even in my hiccups of trial and error.

To all the friends and family that let me pick their brains whenever I may have forgotten the exact details of a situation, thank you. Also, to those who let me cry on their shoulders when this process became a tab bit overwhelming, thank you. I appreciate every phone call you had with me. This has helped me to remember that I am not on this journey alone, even when the enemy tries to whisper in my ear that I am. Further, to anyone else that may have extended themselves in some way to help me accomplish this masterpiece, I truly appreciate you, and if I have never told you before, thank you!

Before the Wheels Start Rolling

Bang was all I recall hearing as my father slammed the door in my mother’s face. They had been going at it for what seemed like hours. As my mother turned around, I could see the hurt in her eyes. Sliding down the door, tears began to run down her face; instantly, she covered herself with her hands. Although I was four years old, I wanted to comfort her in that painful moment. For some strange reason, I always believed I had to protect her.

Grabbing her arm, I sat and cried with her, Are you okay, Mommy? I asked.

I’m okay, she replied, but I knew otherwise.

I didn’t fully understand why they argued so much, but I knew the arguments were often; and I always remembered the way she would look afterward. I would find myself in isolation and tremendous sadness because of those arguments. I wanted to be alone most times, just to wrap my head around why my life looked the way it did. I would always wonder, Why can’t they be happy together? Then sometimes I would question if I was the reason Glenard didn’t want to be around. He often left the impression he didn’t like being a dad so much. That frequent thought was creating a hole within my heart and spirit that I knew one day would only take an act of God to replenish, which is where I found God. In those isolated moments, I would talk to God for hours; I mean, he didn’t ever talk back to me at that time. But it was in those moments talking to God that I felt the most at peace.

Yet during that time, I had my share of responsibilities. I can recall numerous times where my mother would call on me to help her with my younger sister, Bella. Honestly, I hated it. I felt whatever I needed would become invisible to my mother. It was as though my mother would be so focused on Bella she would forget I needed her attention as well. I was four. She would call on me for everything. I remember a moment she told me to fill up Bella’s bottle. I went into the bathroom and filled it with toilet water. I hated the fact that when my sister came, all the attention and focus left me and went to her. I stopped being important. I remember a moment asking my mom if we could just give her back to the hospital. When she came, my relationship with my mom changed. It was as though I didn’t exist anymore. Often, being so young, I blamed Bella, She did this, She ruined everything!

Whatever piece of love and security I had felt was taken. I would watch her love on her, nurture her, and yell at me for everything. My mother would often take a lot of her frustration with my father out on me! I didn’t know how to manage the emotions I was feeling on the inside, which in turn made me grow resentment toward Bella. I began to despise whenever my mother called on me to do anything for her and, at times, even be around her. I had also taken notice to the way my father would treat Bella, which was nothing like my mother, nurturing her; but he was distant toward her, often separating us. He would take me at times and leave Bella with my mom. I would sometimes hear glimpses of their arguments about why my mother didn’t abort her, whatever that meant. I knew he didn’t want her around either.

Eventually, my mother got pregnant again, but this time with my brother. This was going to be different, my own little brother. For some strange reason, I was excited about him coming. The night my mother went to the hospital, all I remember was being anxious to meet him and hold him. When she came home with my brother, Quincy, I felt like he was my very own baby doll. We didn’t stay much longer living with my grandparents after he was born. I remember the night we moved on Fifty-Fifth and Green in one of the South Side neighborhoods of Chicago. I could still picture how the blocks looked and how the area was different from the middle-class neighborhood we lived in with my grandparents.

There were lots of abandoned buildings and open lots in between the houses. Even the buildings looked different. The blocks of this neighborhood were mostly brownstones, which were bigger and made of this huge brick-like foundation. Their porches were wider, and you would see tons of people sitting on them. The people who lived in this neighborhood were much different from the Chatham area we just left. They were rowdier. Even the kids were unruly, running around in packs, loud, wrestling, and play fighting each other. It was safe to say we moved to the hood. Right across the street from our new apartment lived a woman named Elisa. My mother introduced her to me as my cousin. I don’t ever remember seeing her and her children at any of my family gatherings. But hey, she was nice, and she had a ton of children slightly older and around my age I could play with.

Elisa’s house was big, scarcely furnished, and kind of dark. I remember her introducing me to her children. There were a lot of them. She had an older son, Antoine, two daughters both slightly older than me, Tashina and Shonna, a son my age, Curtis, a son slightly younger than me, Keith, and a daughter who was a toddler, Cheron. They were very different compared to the cousins I was used to being around. Many times, my mom would leave me and my siblings with Elisa while she worked. It took some time for me to get used to her children because they were more rambunctious than my other cousins. Playing with her children was almost uncomfortable at first.

Tashina and Shonna were kind of defiant, smart-mouthed, and loud. Tashina always had an attitude. She would roll her eyes and neck while trash-talking other kids in the neighborhood when we played outside. I felt like she didn’t really like me, maybe because I didn’t like her so much. Shonna was more defiant, mouthy, very bold, and unafraid. She rarely had an attitude. She laughed and joked around a lot. I liked her. Elisa’s sons were cool. For some reason, I was partial to them in some way. Antoine was bad, real slick, unruly, and stayed in trouble. Curtis was calmer than Antoine. He got into his fair share of trouble as well, but he had a sweetness about him. Keith was quiet. I don’t even think I ever remember him getting in trouble much, and he stayed to himself a lot. Cheron was, as I stated before, a toddler, so I didn’t have any real experiences with her.

Living on Fifty-Fifth was fun at times and crazy. Elisa’s kids introduced me to a lot of things that I never experienced living with my grandparents. There was the candy lady, which at that time was exciting to me. This was an older lady selling candy out the window of her house. The candy lady didn’t exist in Chatham. They introduced me to play fighting, wrestling, many different hand games, and crazy dances. Being around them, I was able to experience playing with other children my age. I spent so much time across the street with them that I don’t remember being home much. Elisa would watch us from sun up to sun down when my mom worked. It would be late by the time my mom would come and pick us up. That summer was fun, almost as if God gave me some sunshine in a gloomy time. Going into the school year, I began to miss being around my father and started pulling on my mother to allow him to come back to live with us.

My mother eventually called my father, so we could speak. I will never forget the conversation we had, me crying on the phone, asking him to come back. I remember the feeling of happiness I felt when he told me he would come back. I could hear the hesitation in his voice, though, as if he really didn’t want to. My father had a way of hiding things behind the actual words he spoke. I knew this decision of him moving back in with us could possibly bring back turmoil, but I was hopeful. My dad finally moved back in, and the first thing I remember him doing is transferring me from the school in that area to an elementary school on the North Side of Chicago. He argued with my mother that the current school I was in was too ghetto.

My father wasn’t too fond of the area my mother had chosen to move us into. He would complain often about us living in the ghetto. That’s when the arguing started back up. He didn’t like the fact that I spent so much time at her cousin Elisa’s house, hanging with her children. So those long visits across the street came to an end. This decision left my father in charge of watching me and my siblings. My father could be very strict and harsh. Most times, Bella and I had to sit in the back-porch area of the apartment and play alone. He didn’t interact with us much. He mostly stayed in the front room watching the game. The most he talked to us was when he was getting on us or beating us. I don’t believe he realized his own strength at times because when he whooped us, it would often leave marks on us. I remember once when Bella was being potty trained, she had an accident; and out of fear of seeing my father beat her, I changed her myself and threw her clothes away.

Despite how harsh my father may have been, for some reason, I really did love him and wanted to be around him all the time. Whenever he and my mother would get into a fight, it always made me feel a sense of brokenheartedness. I always felt that he would just pick up, leave, and never come back. After one night of waking up from hearing them fight, it had gotten so heated my mother threatened to leave. I was in total confusion at that point. Glenard would threaten to leave and leave quite often, but my mother would never. I was so shocked after hearing her say that that I jumped up, begged, and pleaded for her to stay. She looked down at me with tears and rage in her eyes. She just stopped and grabbed her face with regret. I don’t think she knew I was listening to them argue. I was so overwhelmed with grief that night I just went to my room and cried to myself.

Unfortunately, after that fight, I don’t remember my dad living with us anymore. I only remember seeing him when he would pick me up for school and to drop me off, seeing he transferred my school all the way up north to a school called Nettlehorst Elementary School. Those bus rides all the way to the north were interesting with my father. We would go so far up north, meet with his girlfriend, Venita, then go the rest of the way. I would feel so awkward whenever she would meet up with us. She would ask me all sorts of questions, trying to get to know me. I would give her the nastiest response to whatever she asked me. To me, she knew my father was married and still decided to mess around with him. I didn’t like her, and every chance I had, I showed it. I remember my dad telling me not to tell my mother that Venita was around. Shortly after my father transferred my school, we left Fifty-Fifth and moved to the North Side. My mother didn’t really want to be on the North Side. I remember her telling my grandmother, but my father insisted. I figured that they were still trying to work out being married.

Moving up north introduced me to a whole new environment. The culture there compared to the south was completely different. The people up north were more diverse than on the South Side of Chicago. There, I went to school with a lot of Caucasian, Hispanic, and Asian children. They were very different in temperament compared to any other children I had been around. After being around my cousins on Fifty-Fifth, it seemed like I played a little rougher than they did. Needless to say, I didn’t make any friends while I attended Nettlehorst. I remember, during recess, always wanting to stay in the classroom with the teachers. I often would end up playing with the boys because the other little girls didn’t want to play with me. Being the only black girl in my class, I looked different from everyone, and I played differently. I would feel so alone! I was normally very quiet and to myself in school. Due to the noticeable difference I felt between me and the other children, I didn’t really want too much attention drawn toward me.

This move made the transportation to school easier though, no more bus rides. I was getting on the school bus now. I would get ready for school and walk to the end of the corner to catch the school bus early in the morning. Often, I would see this homeless man sitting across the street. I would feel so bad for him. The fact that I had a warm home to go to and food to eat and he didn’t made me feel awful whenever seeing him. I will never forget the day my mom packed me a lunch for a field trip I had at school. That morning, I got ready for school, and I was so excited when I saw that she packed me a lunch. I left out the house and ran to the corner, looking for the homeless man. Finally, I had something I could give him. When I spotted him, I walked over and handed him the bag, and I felt so good on the inside. I was on cloud nine the entire trip, up until it came time for us to each lunch. As all the other children unpacked what their parents had packed them, I sat there watching. My teacher walked over and asked where my lunch was, and I told her I didn’t have one. After the field trip, my teacher called my mom to ask her why I didn’t have a lunch. When I got home that evening, I remember telling my mother what I did with my lunch. She wasn’t happy with me, but I told her that giving the homeless man the