My Journey To Jesus

By Kristie L French

This book is written from the author's heart. In the beginning, she didn't understand who Jesus or the Father was. Through struggles and fears, her journey began. Making the wrong choices led her to more difficulties in knowing which direction she should go. One day, a little bundle came into her life and brought joy and love. Now she had more choices to make because she wasn't alone. The day finally arrived when the author learned of unconditional love and salvation. She was now finding her way to the right path. Soon to follow, heartache and sorrow entered her life. A trial crept in and challenged her to the heart.

The author has written this book with honesty and truthfulness. There were times when she had to ask Father if he was sure he wanted her to write down certain events. Of course, he always said yes.

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• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 8, 2024
• ISBN: 9798890432902

Book preview

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My Journey To Jesus

Kristie L French

ISBN 979-8-89043-289-6 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-89043-290-2 (digital)

Copyright © 2023 by Kristie L French

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

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

About the Author

Chapter 1

Growing up in a home that didn't follow Jesus or taught who he was kept me from knowing the truth. I went to church as a child with our neighbors. I heard about Jesus but never let it penetrate my heart and mind. My grandmother was a faithful churchgoer, and I went with her on occasion. By the age of eleven, I quit going. Learning about God no longer interested me because, after Sunday school and church, I went back home to a life that never practiced what I learned. This same pattern followed me into my adult life.

As I grew older, the turmoil at home led me to leave at the age of eighteen and not look back for a while. The summer after my high school graduation, I left early one morning and didn't tell my parents I was going. My friend Sylvia and I went up to Leavenworth, Washington, to spend the day. While we were there, I decided I would not go back to living in the home that pushed me into attempted suicide at sixteen. After a couple of days, on a Saturday, I went back for my stuff. Sylvia and I shoved most of it out my bedroom window because we didn't want to keep walking past my parents. Communication with them was limited, but one of my oldest brothers became my family confidant. I moved in with my friend's family.

I declared independence that summer, but I also lost my precious gift to my future husband that summer, my virginity. From then on, the giving of myself to men didn't matter. I was never taught this was wrong. Even if I was, it didn't matter to me; I only wanted what I wanted. The summer didn't hold anything of excitement or accomplishment for me.

In the fall, Sylvia and I moved into a little mobile home and went to work at a fruit warehouse. A few months after summer, Sylvia moved to Oregon, and I found myself moving into a stinky one-bedroom apartment. The neighbors kept their lives secret, and I never saw any of them. The apartment was located in an area of town that wasn't safe. In my bedroom was a locked door that the manager told me not to open. This was a mystery I soon decided was not worth knowing. I asked my parents if I could move back with them. There was still distance between my parents and me, but I needed a place to live. A few days after I was home, my two younger sisters kept fighting with each other. I couldn't deal with it anymore, so I left to buy some shampoo. When I got home, my mother told me they have been crying the whole time I was gone because they thought I wasn't coming back again. I knew they were my family, but I didn't feel a connection to them. I never felt close or needed to be with them.

When I wasn't home, I didn't miss them. Growing up with the turmoil kept me from developing bonded relationships with my sisters, parents, and oldest brother. My other brother, Mike, and I became close when we got older. While I lived