My Spiritual Autobiography

But as I make meaning of the story that my life encapsulates – I was a damaged soul, damaged by abuse by my own father. I can't even say I have a father, because I grew up without knowing what father's love felt like. My earthly father had a gambling problem and had multiple affairs outside of marriage. The pains of my childhood robbed me of my identity, confidence, security, trust in men, joy of living and believe in myself. I struggled greatly even as I grew into adulthood, but, God has healed me, and He is still healing and redeeming me from the wounds of my past. Through many challenges in life, as I grew into adulthood, I find myself asking Him, “God, why, oh God, why do you give me such an emotionally challenging childhood?” Though I did not receive a clear answer all these years but he taught me one thing, and that is to live my life with open hands, to allow God, the Author to do what He so choose to do. It is He, God, the Master of my life, and as for me, to live a life surrendered to my Master. Only then, did I realise that that's how I am able to taste his endless richness of His grace. God has redeemed me and has blessed me so much. Today, I can say that I am blessed and I give thanks to God. Now that I am here, in SBC, studying this work of Benner, it is totally sobering to be called into the work of soul care. Having taken the journey that I have, this reckoning gives me true meaning of what I have experienced in my past; it is that

Just like him, I did not have much of a relationship with God when I was younger. It took a miracle to make me see that God was really there. He had the miracle of surviving the war, while I had the miracle of my younger brother surviving when all odds were against him. Before my brother went into the hospital, I did not think much of God. I had learned about him in school and was taught how he died so we could live, but my life never seemed very impacted by him in any way. He was someone I knew about, not someone I specifically believe in. However, once my brother got sick that all

When I was growing up, religion was around me but I didn’t really pay too much mind to it. I would go to church rarely, a couple of times with my grandma and sometimes with my dad. My mom didn’t care about

I know now that it’s not what I think. And that’s not bad. It took me a long time to discuss this with my parents. Although, after doing it, I found out they aren’t near as religious as my child-brain saw them as. They were both accepting, simply wanting me to do what I wanted.

As a child, I was very quiet, observant and obedient. I would attempt to excel in everything I did in order to make my parents proud.Up until I was a teenager, I followed their will without excessively questioning their decisions. I was raised to have faith in God, go to Church and do as I was told. I spent 12 years of my life going to Church with too many unanswered questions. I didn’t know why I had to attend church, I didn’t understand how this so-called God we believed in was so powerful and why he wouldn’t make world peace possible if he was as amazing as he was perceived. None of it made sense to me. During school my favorite books to read consisted of primarily non fiction books about animals and the world in general, mythological, and books concerning the supernatural. I have always been intrigued by unexplained stories, but in the end, although I acknowledged the slight possibility of supernatural existence, I also understood the difference between facts and mere theories. During summer, my reading list consisted of fables and biblical stories. To me, everything I

It started about when I was in Junior High School; this was the time when my little bother was born. My family and I no longer went to church as often because they did not want to bring a baby to church and disrupt the service. Around this time my father’s sibling passed away and this made him question his religion and ask himself if there really a God or not. This played a big factor in how our family started to view religion. I can say religion was no longer essential or important in our daily life as it was before. Another factor that plays into this is that we live in a neighborhood where people’s main religion is Judaism. My family and I feel like we are outsiders because they do not have the same traditions like us. For example all of our neighbors know each other because they all go to the same synagogue and we barely know our neighbors even though we have lived in this neighborhood for twelve years. Also on Christmas it is a very important holiday for us so we like to decorate our house with lights, with a statue of Jesus, Santa Claus and during this time we feel more like outsiders because we are the only house on the block that decorates and celebrates Christmas. We feel like they see us as outsiders as well so now instead we just decorate the inside of our house with our religious figures and outside we just decorate it with a snowman, reindeers, lights and other things like that.

Since we are children we are told what religion we practice or should be influenced by , but when did we truly get an option to explore and learn our own faith? I have and extended diversity, when it comes to different cultures, religions, and even personalities. Both of my parents claim to be catholic but we never really practiced our religion. I wasn't knowledgeable of catholicism or the bible, i just knew there was a God. That changed for me when i was ten years old. My little sister almost didn't make it at birth, reason being is that her heart wasn't completely formed. However, the doctors managed to save her life, and it was the happiest yet scariest moments for me and still is, but the dread doesn't stop there. I spent most of my childhood in

I grew up in a very religious household with both of my parents behind the wheel. My parents are very religious people and they believe deeply in Gods existents. So in result, my parents want me and my siblings to be just like them. As soon as possible I was enrolled into a Catholic school called Saint Mary’s Ballston Spa. Saint Mary’s was a catholic private school that taught kindergarten through fifth grade. This is where I learned all about

In November of 2012, I got sick. For three days my mother kept me out of school, for a mild fever. I don 't even remember feeling ill; it was simply three days off for fun. After the fever broke, I went back to school as normal. All I remember next is my head never stopped aching. Day or night, school or home, medicine or no medicine. Nothing ever made me better. It is now October of 2017, five years, and I can 't tell you the last day I remember my head not aching.

In going with the definition of how to construct the spiritual autobiography, I would start with the events, the people and the places that influenced the relationship with God or a higher being. According to Knight, those who were raised in a religious home their journey starts at birth and grows through age. (Knight, 2011) Parents who teach their children about God and who pray with them and worship with them have a close relationship with their God. Knight also states that should you find God later in life you may attribute that to a person or an event in your life. I would encourage someone to write down the people, places and events that influenced their religious journey and how that journey has brought them to the place in their life that they are today. For me personally, God fills my life and has provided me with Christian parents and four brothers and sisters who are also Christians. I would help someone write their autobiography by asking a lot of questions and writing their responses. It would be interesting to find out if, in their family they had the freedom to choose their own beliefs or if they were coerced into being what everyone else is. For instance, if I were interviewing someone from another country, there may be cultural differences in how each family practices their religion and going outside of that may be troublesome. Teachers and pastors as well as family all have a role to play in our lives and our beliefs, so do, the places we go such as

I grew up in a somewhat Christian home. God was mentioned and I knew about God from a young age due to the Mother’s day out program I attended at a local church. We typically attended church once or twice a year, never on Christmas or Easter, for fear of being “those people” that only came for holidays. Growing up, I lived with my mother, who is chronically disabled with Multiple Sclerosis, and my grandmother. My parents separated when I was two but I still saw my dad regularly. I was also very close with my aunt, a flight attendant with no kids whose favorite saying was, “No moms, no rules”. I grew up as an only child and the youngest in my family, circumstances that easily made me the center of attention. I took dance lessons and theater classes, I began preschool at the most prestigious private elementary school in town. Before beginning school I recall not knowing anyone that did not love me, however I had little thought that God loved me most of all.

I crawled into bed with her one night. Under the blankets and wrapped in her arms, I whispered, “Why did the doctors take your hair away?” To this, my mom softly explained to me the process of chemotherapy. I was four years old at the time, and two years prior to this my mother was diagnosed with Stage 4 Non Hodgkin's Lymphoma. Having never drank, smoked, or done drugs, her diagnosis came as an incredible shock. She fought it for the next three years of her life, and though I was very little at the time, I have very vivid memories of being with her through this. I remember rubbing her bald head while we watched movies, I remember painting her pictures daily, and most often I remember doing yoga with her on the beach.

At thirty-six, I began to experience a rather turbulent and difficult period in my life after my father had passed away from congestive heart failure. Regrettably, I stopped attending church and began working extra hours the weekends to stay busy in an attempt to alleviate the pain that existed due to suppressing the hurt I experienced after the death of my father. Subconsciously, I was searching for peace and comfort that can only be obtained through Jesus Christ. I felt a deep emptiness dominating my innermost self with a combination of an extremely, heavy burden afflicted my broken heart.

One Saturday night, my family and I rushed to the hospital. The thought of my grandfather dying terrified me. God has provided miracles in my life, but at this moment I resented God. I did not understand the reason for my grandfather’s stroke or what God planned.

At an early age my parents taught me about God. For example, every night before my parents and I would go to bed, my mom said the Our Father to me. Eventually I learned it as well and we would all say it together. However, I don’t exactly remember how I learned about God, or who he was. What I do remember is what I thought about God. I thought about God as a protector of my family and loved ones. This was the image of God at the time because during the times we prayed at night my mom said things like, “God, please protect my family here on Earth and take care of my mom in Heaven with you.” From the start I believed in God as well as believe that my relatives that had passed away were up in Heaven, with Him.