Personal Narrative: The Starving Maze

Walking away from everything you once knew and starting over is never a picnic. Leaving Iraq, and moving to America has impacted my life more than anything. I was only 4 years old at that time, and the only English I spoke was “excuse me, water please.” My family and I did not know it then, but our lives were going to change; we would become “Americanized”. Learning English was one of the massive changes that occurred, the way I dressed (culture), and even the way I had power to go to school and educate myself.

As we continued along the trail, we were stopped by a very steep hill. Hunter announced that we should dump some stuff from our wagon in order to get on top of the hill. I dump my a tired that I bought recently and a barrel with nothing in it. The trip up the hill was a pain. It took so long to get up the hill I almost fell asleep. My leg was sore and I thinking about giving up. Finally we made it to the top of the hill and we realized that we had to go down the hill. We decided to use our own ropes and slowly descend our wagon one by one. When we descend Curtis’s wagon, Curtis almost fell. He was able to caught himself before he fell down the hill. Well all went down the hill and as we were going down the hill, we saw a divine blue spring

“Hey you want to drive”, my step-dad yelled over the loud engine of blue grizzly 4x4 quad I yelled “yes!!”, so as I got one the quad I put on my helmet and fased the strap on the same color helmet.

While i was heading to the Food shelf, i found myself getting excited to clean the food shelf. From what i remembered from last week, the place was chaotic. From the start of the service learnings, i would think to myself "i wanted to help the food shelf the best I can." and heading towards the class today. i remembers

Go back to a time, when smart phones, and laptop were as thick history textbooks. To a time when a whole gallon of gas cost a little more than a dollar. The year is 1998 and in this year I was born. I was given to a very loving mother and father, that with their extraordinary love gave me the unextraordinary name of David. I grew up in the wonderful city of El Paso, Texas.

We stepped out of the station and it hit me immediately, the glorious smell of carnival style hot dogs and and the pure ecstasy of the sugary goodness that is funnel cakes. I dragged my girlfriend Lauren to the nearest stand and ordered one of each. The hot dog wasn’t the best I’d ever had, but I didn’t complain as I was hungry from the ride over. Then the funnel cake, oh man was that amazing, powdered sugar goodness over freshly fried bread, a delicacy to say the least. Suddenly the roar of a roller coaster flying by with the shrieks of the ecstatic people on the ride filled my ears. I pleaded with Lauren to ride one with me, but she wouldn’t budge, finally, she conceded to at least go on the ferris wheel with me. We bought our tickets and

Growing up with a father in the military, you move around a lot more than you would like to. I was born just east of St. Louis in a city called Shiloh in Illinois. When I was two years old my dad got the assignment to move to Hawaii. We spent seven great years in Hawaii, we had one of the greatest churches I have ever been to name New Hope. New Hope was a lot like Olivet's atmosphere, the people were always friendly and there always something to keep someone busy. I used to dance at church, I did hip-hop and interpretive dance, but you could never tell that from the way I look now.

My grandpa and I were pretty close. We shared the same birthday, February 27th. From the stories I’ve heard, he kept telling my grandma how his granddaughter was born on his birthday. From the first time he held me, he had a connection to me. We called ourselves special friends. My 6th birthday was one of the greatest we ever shared. My whole family came over to celebrate and we had a tremendous time. It was time to cut the cake. When everyone finished singing he told me to blow out the candles. I asked him to blow them out with me but he explained that it was okay, he had enough birthdays by himself, so I could take over blowing out the candles. “No, this will always be our birthday.” I was six years old at that time but that’s the story my family tells me.

As we arrived at the entrance of the maze, I could see a giant forcefield crackling in front of us.

I was born in Salt Lake City, Utah and have lived most of my life there. It was the fifty’s and like most girls my age, my dreams were of growing up to be a wife and mother. I started cooking at my mother’s side from a very young age and realized this was something that I truly enjoyed doing. As the years went by and I gained experience, I discovered that I have a gift for creating and enhancing recipes and that I could change recipes and make them into whatever I wanted. That began my journey to create and develop the recipes for Morsels from Heaven, along with the ones I learned at my mother’s side as a child.

I stumble out my one-night-stand’s apartment grasping on to the nearest railing for support. Sloppily, I buckle my belt and take a swig from my vodka bottle, stinging my throat with every drop. The bottle slips out of my hand crashing at my feet, almost in slow motion. I giggle hysterically and hobble down the steps. My brain is numb and filled with psychotic thoughts. I grab the car door handle and slump into the cushioned seat, nearly passing out, from a night of careless sex and non-stop alcohol can really put a load on a 5’6, skinny guy. Without thinking a grab my keys and start the car pulling out to the abandoned, dimly lit freeway. Everything was better at night.

In one of my recent fellowship group meetings, we were studying Acts 16, and it was pointed out that Paul and Timothy kept going back to places, regardless of the rejection they often received. Their tireless efforts paid off handsomely, rewarding them with the salvation of many souls, for which they always gave thanks to God.

Have you ever felt your heart beating rapidly as you rush down complicated obstacles and rides? Or felt the adrenaline rush of going down a really fast roller coaster? Well, I have and that’s the day I learned that if you believe in yourself, you are already halfway there to overcoming your fear.

The cars continue to zoom by me as I begin to cry. The acrid smell of burning tires and exhaust fumes fill my nose. A horn honks, prodding me to cross, but my own indecision forbids me. My tears only make seeing harder, and now I’m crying both at that fact that I’m immobilized by fear, and at my own futility. I’m a chubby, little eight-year-old girl standing at the edge of the curb, trying cross the street. I am at the final intersection before my school, but all the crosswalk guards are gone. Earlier that morning I woke up late, so I had to ride my bike to school. The cars seem to be going at an impossible speed and veering toward me. I stand there for five minutes, contemplating whether I can cross, before I finally give up and walk back home in shame.

I awoke shivering afraid of the nightmare I had just had. It’s all because of the stories my brother told me, they aren’t true, I told myself. He always called me a loser. He always said “Zack you’re a baby!” Tonight I’ll show him, tonight is my revenge. I kept saying in my mind I’m not afraid. As I walked downstairs to go to my brother’s room in the basement I was passing the happy birthday decorations for me from two days ago. I remember the Dairy Queen Ice Cream cake in my mouth with the delicious frosting that said “Happy birthday fourteen year old!” When I opened the door to the basement I swear I saw something move. I reminded myself I am not a baby, and as I went down to the second step I heard what was down there. It sounded like fingernails being screeched across a chalk board.