Who Am, I Am: A Journal of My Thoughts, Issues, and Opinions

By Victoria Stith

Don't let your past define your present and miss out on the blessings God has waiting for you. In the process of change, it is painful and unforgiving in fact you want to scream, you know throw in the towel? But don't you do that. Find a sponsor, that special person that can sit with you in your process of reclaiming your life. Document your life's experiences in journal writing, poetry, and songs, but don't hold on to them. This is what I started doing over twenty years ago. I found it refreshing. I could really say what I wanted and how I wanted to say it. It was my release, my refuge, my letting go. As you read Who Am, I Am, my story is your story, my challenges are your challenges, and my climbing the steps of trust and faith in God is yours as well. Welcome to the world of Who Am, I am. Embrace the change that awaits you.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jun 29, 2020
• ISBN: 9781098010423

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Please, I need help March 20, 2018

March 20, 2018, Tuesday

This morning as I prayed, I thought about if I’m worthy enough to go to heaven.

So many times I hear other Christians claim they will be caught up in the rapture. But Isaiah 64:6 reads, But we are all as an unclean thing and all our righteousness as a filthy rags, and we all do fade as a leaf and our inequities, like the wind, have been taken away.

Even Romans 7:19–25 reminds me when I/we do good or want to do good, we’re/I’m still subject to sin.

I am God’s creation, yet I have an alter ego that lives in me. It is self-destructive. It is a liar in me. It casts me down to the pits of a fiery hell. Yet the holy ghost in me thrives, the holy ghost that is loving and tender. It’s my constant reminder of God’s real love. He loves you and me.

He gave his only begotten Son—spotless and sinless who was bruised, battered, and beaten scorned for a worthless low down woman like me.

I can relate to Rahab the Samaritan woman at the well. I am that woman who all the townsmen had. Then to cover their tracks, in front of their wives, children, and townspeople, they stepped up one by one and two by two to stone me. But it was Jesus who came to rescue me. He knew me, he knew all my faults, and he knew my dark side, but he also saw love in me. He saw beauty, and he saw a soul begging to be free. I said to God, Rescue me. Help me. I can’t live like this anymore. John3:15–17 is the answer to my question to myself. I’m worthy to go to heaven. I don’t know but every day that I awake, I strive to live holy in the presence of God. One day I will be in heaven where the streets are made of gold, where Jesus is preparing my mansion, and where I will see my family, friends, and loved ones again. There will be no more darkness, no death, no worldliness, and no idolatry, just pure, holy, loving, merciful, righteous God.

I love you, God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost. Every chance I get, everything I do, every breath I take, and every hug, kiss, and good word from my mouth, I do it all for you. I don’t want to turn any man, woman, boy, or girl away from you.

Always and forevermore, I am yours and you are mine.

Your loving daughter,

Vickie

Give the God the Glory March 27, 2018

March 27, 2018, Tuesday

As I read my daily affirmation, I was reminded that we are the seeds and God is the planter. God wants us to grow in his divine plan and genetic makeup of every human being ever born and those soon to be born.

The message of seeds rooting and plants growing in impossible places under impossible circumstances only shows us who God really is, and we should gladly, with a good heart, praise, worship, and glorify him every living second of our crummy lives. Well, I’ll speak for myself—my crummy life.

As for me, I was that impossible seed. I grew to be that plant that grew on ground that in no way should’ve survived. I should’ve withered. My roots should’ve molded. I should’ve crumbled up and died.

But God didn’t quite see it that way—all the problems I caused myself and all the embarrassment and humiliation I brought upon my family and my community. I lied, I stole, and I cheated. I sold myself for little of nothing. In fact, I sold myself for nothing.

I smoked, ingested drugs, and drunk my life away for twenty-three years from age fourteen to age thirty-seven. Yet I still had a heart. I had a ray of hope under that foul-smelling crud I had become.

By age twenty, I already claimed I would live in Hunter’s Point till the day I died. By the time I was thirty-two, I accepted that I was a nobody and that my life was what it was. So I kept putting myself in bondage, tightening the chains.

But for some strange reason, in the midst of my troubles, every now and then I would pray. Then I would have these feelings—feelings of loneliness of what happened to me. I would imagine myself working, having my house, and most of all having my children back with me. I would even imagine me and my daughters’ father get married. But it was only my imagination—wild again. This could never happen to me. I wasn’t good enough, pretty enough. I accepted what people told about me. I accepted when other people told me what I should be. I accepted when people would degrade me, talk down to me, or even humiliate me. "So what’s the big deal? Are you