He is Deeper Still

By Robert Weaver

In He Is Deeper Still, Rob shares his life's story from being raised in his mother's home until the present. He also shares the dreams and visions that God has shown him since he was fifteen years old. He opens up and completely shares his life holding very little back. He shares the wisdom and insight he learned along the way. May his story inspire you to start your own journey to all that Jesus has for you and encourage your hearts and spirits to keep going no matter how dark things may seem. Always remember that there is no pit so deep the He is not deeper still.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Dec 17, 2019
• ISBN: 9781642994131

Robert Weaver

From the literary tradition of Romanticism and Gothic fiction to contemporary media sources such as video games and rock and heavy metal music, Robert Weaver builds worlds in words with a promise that no matter the genre, there will always be mystery to unravel or inequity to overcome.

Book preview

Introduction

My name is Robert Lee Weaver. But you can call me Rob. I am sharing my story in hopes that it will inspire you and encourage you to never give up and to know that no matter what, things will get better. I know my story is not the most fascinating or horrible abuse story that you’ll ever hear, but it is a story of God’s faithfulness in my life and of His sovereign plan for my life. I’m not looking for pity or sympathy. I’m just praying that sharing my story will give at least one person the hope and faith to just keep going and to understand how much God loves them.

I was born on March 4, 1979, to two unmarried parents who hated each other. My childhood was spent being caught in between them.

My mom never treated me as an accident. She did her best by me. My dad, however, is a different story. He always treated me as his mistake. But we’ll get to that later.

The first part of my childhood was like most people’s, I suppose. I was raised by my mother for the first eleven years of my life. I lived in a small town called Reinholds, Pennsylvania. I lived with my mom, my stepdad Jim, and my sister.

We lived in a small upstairs two-bedroom apartment. My sister and I shared a room divided in half by a makeshift wall. Across from our room were the stairs that led to the entrance to our apartment. Next to the stairs was my mom and stepdad’s room. After their room were two doorways. One led to the kitchen and the other to the living room. The bathroom entrance was on the far side of the living room. It was a nice little apartment and served our needs.

Outside the entrance door was a long inside hallway we used as a storage space. This led to another door that led outside. Our downstairs neighbor Gus’s apartment door also entered into the inside hallway.

We had several pets growing up, including a hermit crab or two, two turtles, two parakeets, two sand crabs, and a cat.

My Grandma Weaver

One of my fondest childhood memories is of Grandma Weaver. She has been a major stabilizing force in my life. She helped raise me in many ways. Not to take away from my mom and all that she did for me, but my grandma helped me through so much in my life. She was always there telling me that Jesus loves me and that my life matters. If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be alive. We’ll get into more detail about that later.

I went to her house at least one weekend a month. I used to sit on the armrest of her recliner (or as she called it, her easy chair) watching TV on a Friday night. We would watch Webster, Mr. Belvedere, and 227. She would peel, core, and slice an apple for me, and I’d eat it while watching TV with her. Then at ten o’clock, she’d tuck me into bed and say a prayer with me.

I remember looking at a picture on the wall of her guest room. It was of two little kids walking on a bridge with an angel standing next to the bridge. It always seemed to fill me with hope and reminded me that God was always watching over me.

Then on Saturday morning, I’d wake up after hearing Grandpa leave the house and go into Grandma’s bedroom and find her awake. We would then play Racko in her bed for a while. Then she’d ask me what I wanted for breakfast. I always told her that I want French toast. She always made the best French toast.

After breakfast, I’d watch Saturday morning cartoons. Some of my favorites were The Gummy Bears, The Smurfs, Transformers, and Thundercats.

On Saturdays, we’d play croquet in her backyard. Or we’d go play mini golf. Grandma really loved playing mini golf.

Then on Saturday evenings, we’d watch Hee Haw. I loved that show! Minnie Pearl and Grandpa Jones were my favorites. I also liked the cornfield jokes.

Then on Sunday mornings, she would take me with her to church. I liked Sunday school. But I’ll admit, I found that being stuck listening to the grown-up sermon after Sunday school was over was boring to me. I had trouble sitting still. But Grandma always kept toys, such as the magnetic dogs in her purse, which she seemed to only use on Sundays, for me to play with.

Then we’d go out to eat after church. Then we’d play games or go mini golfing again.

One of my favorite memories is when Grandma used to tell me not to be shusshlich (a Pennsylvania Dutch word meaning careless) whenever I was careless. She also used to tell me to mind, whenever I was being out of line. She was my biggest supporter and never let me get away with being disrespectful.

When my grandma took me to Zinn’s Park, I used to sit on the horse swing and make up and sing songs about the sun and the moon. That was one of the very few times I remember not feeling self-conscious. Perhaps it was because my grandma was nearby, or I was just too young to feel that way. It was one of the few times I felt truly free and happy.

I had a great imagination. I loved making up songs and singing them. I still do that these days. Just not in public.

Soon it was time to go home again. Whenever it was time to leave, I’d hide under the bed and Mom would find me every time. In hindsight, I should have found a better hiding place.

Life at Mom’s House

The Early Years

Life at Mom’s was really great. Mom and Jim took great care of my sister and me. While we weren’t the richest family, I had all that I needed. I had lots of toys. We even had an Atari. My favorite game was Centipede. I was also pretty good at Ms. Pacman.

I was a gullible child. My sister used to get me to believe the silliest things. One time, she had me convinced that I was an alien child they found in a dumpster. She also used to trick me into touching electric fences. I can’t believe I fell for it over and over again.

My sister Angy and I used to argue over what to watch on TV, so my mom took the calendar and marked every other day with an A and every other day with a B. On days marked with an A, Angy got to watch what she wanted on TV, and on days marked with a B, I got to watch what I wanted. But my sister, being crafty and I being gullible, used to make deals with me saying that if I would watch what she wanted on one of my days, then I could watch a show that I wanted on one of her days. But when the time came, she wouldn’t honor the deal. So Mom put an end to that.

We used to go camping a lot when I was young. My favorite place we used to go camping was Rickett’s Glen. It was a long hiking trail that leads you past over a hundred waterfalls.

Another place we went camping was Eagle’s Peak. There I was shocked by a video game machine I was playing. We were taking shelter in the lodge/office during a thunderstorm. I guess in hindsight, playing a video game during a thunderstorm wasn’t a very good idea.

Mom and Jim used to also take us fishing. But the only thing I used to catch on a regular basis was me. No matter how securely Mom placed the hook into the handle of my fishing rod, it would always work itself out and end up hooking into my calf. I also caught a lot of sunnies, sticks, trees, etc.

There was one time that my Grammy and Pawpaw took our family to a fish hatchery where there was a pool you could pay to fish from. I thought to myself, Finally, I can catch a fish! But as Pawpaw was taking my rod out of the truck, he broke it. So much for them apples.

I used to do some, shall we say, creative things. I used to put a blanket on my head and pretend to be a nun and go around the house saying, Money for the poor? My mom used to laugh so hard. I also used to sneak into the bathroom and mix together my sister’s various face cream, acne treatments, etc., and then hide the concoction under her bed. This did not make my sister happy.

We had a neighbor named Gus. He was a really nice guy. He used to make the best chili, and not the American version but the authentic Mexican version. It was super spicy. I loved his chili!

Mom relayed this story to me: One time, Gus made us a batch of chili while he was drunk, and he forgot that he already put in the chili powder, so he ended up putting in a whole bottle of it. She also told me that he called her to warn her what he had done and warned her not to give me any of the chili. She then told him that I already had two bowls of it. She told me he laughed and was amazed that I was able to eat it. He told her that even his face turned red and he couldn’t eat it.

Gus was a really fun guy and was a very kind person. One time, after we had been fishing, Jim had cleaned