Beauty From My Ashes

By Gloria Anderson

Some events in our childhood can have a lifelong effect and can shape how we see ourselves and how we believe others see us. They can also influence the choices we make, and some of those choices can take us down a very dark path.

In Beauty

• Language: English
• Publisher: URLink Print & Media, LLC
• Release date: Apr 19, 2023
• ISBN: 9781684863846

Gloria Anderson

Gloria Anderson is a wife, mother, and grandmother. She was born and continues to live in the beautiful mountains of Western North Carolina. She serves as a women's Bible study teacher in her church and leads in worship by singing with her choir. Her passion is helping women, especially hurting women, find the forgiveness, hope, healing, peace, and growth that she found through a personal relationship with Jesus Christ.

Book preview

Beauty

from

My Ashes

Gloria Anderson

Beauty From My Ashes

Copyright © 2023 by Gloria Anderson. All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any way by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the author except as provided by USA copyright law.

The opinions expressed by the author are not necessarily those of URLink Print and Media.

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Published in the United States of America

ISBN 978-1-68486-381-5 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-68486-383-9 (Hardback)

ISBN 978-1-68486-384-6 (Digital)

23.02.23

INTO CAPTIVITY

The clock on the wall ticks in half-time to my racing heart. Though others are in the waiting room with me, none of our eyes meet. The receptionist ignores all of us and goes on about her business. A heavy fog of shame, fear, and regret covers me, weighing me down, causing me to sink even lower in the seat and in my own self-image. My mother and sister sit silently beside me, each lost in their own thoughts about why we are here. I am afraid to look at my mother – afraid to see the shame and disappointment I believe will be there. I had let down the most important person in my life. Though I desperately want and need to climb up into her lap like I did when I was a small child to cling to her and have her make everything all right, I know I can’t. Not this time. She can’t make this better. She can’t make this go away. I sink lower in the seat, thinking back to how I ended up here . . .

CONTENTS

Chapter 1 A Wounded Childhood

Chapter 2 Misplaced Self-Worth

Chapter 3 Self-Destruction

Chapter 4 A Panicked Decision

Chapter 5 Loss of Identity

Chapter 6 An Act of Desperation

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter One

A Wounded Childhood

Hot, lazy summer days. My brothers, neighbors and I playing in cold running creeks. The smell of honeysuckle and locust in the air so thick I can almost taste it. Mosquito bites and honeybee stings. The sounds of birds chirping, singing and squawking, making life seem light and happy. The sound of laughter filling the air as we cool off under the spray of a well-treasured garden hose. Mud pies consisting of the greatest concoctions imagined by a child. Playing Red Rover, One-Two-Three Red Light, Mother-May-I, hopscotch and jacks for hours on end. Going outside in the early morning and embarking on great adventures and fun-loving games until hunger or Mom called us in. Family gatherings that included lots of laughter, fun, teasing and great food. Mother singing, Dad joking, brothers teasing, sisters teaching. Lots of laughter, lots of fun, lots of hugs, lots of . . . . . love.

I have many such memories of my childhood, long-forgotten amidst the years of darkness that invaded and eventually overshadowed the sense of who I was and where I came from. Memories that struggled to breathe through the fog of betrayal, pain, shame and despair that permeated the innocence that was my childhood; memories choked almost to extinction, growing weaker with each passing year until innocence was gone and knowledge of things best left unknown by a child became the memories that dominated my mind.

I was the sixth and final child born to a wonderful hard-working, God-loving couple. Though we didn’t go to church much, they taught us about God’s love for us by sending His Son, Jesus, to die for our sins. I have enjoyable memories of going to Vacation Bible School, making crafts and learning about Jesus. My Mom and Dad treated all people the same, regardless of their color, their money (or lack thereof) or what they did for a living. When you came to our house, you were family.

My parents loved each other and loved their children, and did the best they could to provide for each of us. Though we didn’t have a lot, we were taught to take good care of what we did have and to be appreciative of it. We were expected to eat what was cooked and couldn’t leave the table before we did. It didn’t take me long to learn that warm brussel sprouts tasted better than cold ones!

My mother was a kind, gentle, loving, affectionate, quiet, dependable and loyal woman. She not only worked a full-time job, but she also took care of her family. My father was a strong, loving, affectionate, funny, laughing and boisterous man. Unfortunately, he was also an alcoholic and he came from a family of alcoholics. When he drank,