MY TESTIMONY

From Page:1 ... Broken, Defective, Sick, Unfit, Wounded}. There were three boys and four girls, and me being the oldest of the girls. Before the abuse began, I recall happier moments of my childhood. For example, one Christmas, my sisters and I got walking dolls, and my brothers’ got got firetrucks. That was the Christmas of oranges and nuts which we enjoyed by the fireplace. I kept my walking doll in the box under the bed and occasionally would take her out and walk her until the rat chewed up her dress, at which time I played with her until she wouldn't walk anymore. Another memorial moment was when dad and mom took us to a pond in the middle of the summer, knowing not one of us could swim, but splashing in the water was enjoyable enough for us. I still can recall the merry laughter as we played that hot summer afternoon. Sad to say, the bad memories far outweighed the pleasant ones. God gave parents children. Psalm 127: 3 says, "children are a heritage from the Lord." A parent's responsibility is to provide safety, basic needs, and self-esteem needs, instill morals and values to protect from harm, and love unconditionally. My dad worked hard to provide for the family. He was selfless in that he worked whether he was physically up to it or not. I remember the days he took the beenies to get him going and help him sleep after a long hard day's work. I was one year old when dad began driving a truck, and he did so until I was age 36. Dad was also a preacher and not a very faithful one at that, but no one knew but God and the family and would assist whenever needed.

My Abuse Begins: I recall dad was invited to minister in Arlington, GA, one Sunday morning when I was age 6. Seven children, mom, and dad loaded up in the car, and off we went. After service that morning, dad took my siblings and me and headed home. Mom went with Sister Inez King to visit my infant brother in the hospital, who later passed. Once dad and us kids arrived home, I remember dad saying he was going to nap. A while later dad opened the bedroom door and called me in, then closed the door shut behind me. He put me in the corner of the room, and there he penetrated me and told me how much he loved me, then said, "I wasn't to tell anyone of what happened. That was the start of eight years of abuse. On numerous occasions, dad would hidein the bathroom and catch me as I would walk past the door. We were living outside of town in a farmhouse where I remember he called me into his bedside. Reluctantly I went in, and he asked me to let him do certain sexual things to me. I was like David standing before Goliath only difference was, I had no defense, not one little stone. Another incident, we had just moved into our new brick home on Summit Street in Dothan, Al. Late one-night dad came into my room and knelt beside me, breathing heavily, and fondling me. It had to be an act of God that my mother came to the door and said, "Bill, what are you doing in here?" He said, "just making sure the girls are okay." My mother said, "They’re fine, get in bed." With that, my dad left the room.

I was born with asthma and was always sickly and came near death several times. One Saturday afternoon Dad and Mom drove me to Doctor Barnes's office, the town drunk who said the shot he was going to give me would either cure me or kill me. Praise God I'm still here. Battling asthma was enough within itself and the sexual abuse just added to all the traumas. At the age of sixteen, I tried to commit suicide by taking a handful of asthma medication. Only by the grace of God am I alive to tell this story. It was God that woke me up around 4 pm the next day. I vowed I would never do anything foolish ever again. It was after my suicide attempt that God called me into the ministry. It was onWednesday night in 1971 in a youth service when I received my call. When I announced to...

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