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The Needle (Part 2)

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Despite the fact that pains, such as the “needle” make me cry twice at the moment, I have a wonderful life. My reward for being strong was a family, fishing, animals, water, and nature. Not always in that order. I think that if you were to cry in front of me over my story, it would bother me. Everyone that I share my story with cries like you wouldn’t believe. Man had a will and man chose to do what they lusted after. God was there for me and helped to rescue me all of my life and every day. I have a story and I am going to keep bugging you. I think that eventually, maybe you will read some of my story.

I prayed for almost a year for God to deliver me of an object that had entered the center of my foot. In the second and third grade, (Clyde, Texas), Ernie had been taken away, I had been breast feeding a brother four years my senior, had been caring for two toddlers, and being sexually abused by my step father, my eldest brother, and my eldest brother’s friends, and the constant horrific pain in my foot. I got to where I had to ride the bus, because I couldn’t stand on my foot, much. It was horrible pain that a second grader should not have had to endure, but I did. I would cry and now I didn’t have my brother Ernie to help me. Big old tears, pouring down my face, as I hold my breath so the little ones do not see me crying. You can almost rupture an ear drum doing that. But, I prayed to God.

Almost a year later, a needle worked through the center of my ankle. The eye came out first. It wasn’t a super large needle and it wasn’t one of those tiny needles, it was just right. I lay in the bed, praying. My ankle just started itching like crazy. I started scratching it felt this point. I jumped up and looked at it. I knew immediately what it was.

I ran to my mother’s bedroom and woke her up and said, would you like to get this needle out of my ankle. She got tweezers and pulled it straight out. She had called me a liar when I told her something was in my foot. I would limp and she would hit me and call me names. Now, she had pulled the needle out and her mouth was wide open. It didn’t hurt at all.

Later, I would have the memories of the pain and my foot would start hurting just as if the needle was there. But, now, I feel no body memory as I share this story with you. The Lord has worked through others to help me to heal. I am ever so grateful. I cried many times twice concerning the pain of the needle as it worked through the center of my foot and made it out through my ankle. What a tough little girl I really was.


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