Fast forward one and a half years. It was 1994. I was nineteen years old. My boyfriend had dumped me. I guess he was tired of the drama. One afternoon he left me, standing in the middle of the road, watching his red Mustang drive off for the last time. My heart was broken...again. People leaving me seemed to be a pattern in my life.
I did still have my job at the bank. I also still had a fear of just about everything. And I had something new...a very good friend. Nuria Lopez. Nuria was a teller with me at the bank. She was old enough to be my mother but she didn't treat me like a child. In fact, the love she showed me was different from any other love I had received. We had almost all of our breaks at the same time. It was unbelievable how that worked out. She talked to me about things I hadn't thought about in years during those ten minute breaks. Mainly about God. About how He loved me. About the difference He had made in her own life. I had yelled at God before. When my daddy left me, standing in the middle of the road, watching his truck drive off for the last time. I had shaken my fists toward heaven while screaming, "Why?! Why would you do this to me??!!"
I was about to get my answer.
Nuria invited me to go to church with her. I went. I went again. In fact, I went every Sunday. And then every Sunday and Wednesday. I heard things that were good. I heard God speaking directly to my heart. I heard that God really did love me. That He loved me so much that He sent His only son, Jesus, to die...for me. I heard that God knew every dark corner of my heart and every dark corner of my mind. The corners that said it was my fault that my dad left...because I was too mean. The corners that said it was my fault that my boyfriend was beaten and we were almost killed...because I was too loud. He knew every sin I had committed. And He loved me.
I decided to love Him back...