My Special Relationship with Jesus
by Deborah Ann Grice

I have a special relationship with Jesus. I am a born again Christian and I have accepted him as my Savior. I don't pray as I should, but I feel he hears me through my silent worship. My name Deborah means counselor who advises the military counsel. In ancient times it was a custom to pray before each battle. I feel every person should have a code of ethics and listen to the word of God. He is a master of persuasion and a comfort to lost souls. Jesus saves. All of us should have a love of knowing his works. He is an emotional healer. To walk in His path is what I would like to do. My minister says; "Perfect love casts out fear." 1 JOHN: 4:18

All things considered, I think I am a rebel in my spiritual constitution. It may seem archaic that I reason that God is calling me as messenger. When I was young, I remember lying in the grass looking at the clouds above and hearing a loud voice telling me to reach out and pursue my goal of becoming a gymnast. I felt it was a blessing in disguise. The next time I heard the voice I was playing a game on the curb, running back and forth across the street, when a car came from nowhere and struck a friend, Steve, and me. It hit me in the head. I fell and the left tire rolled over my right arm crushing my elbow in the exchange. Steve was struck in the back and thrown six feet in front of the vehicle. In the emergency room my father asked me to say a prayer to remove the fear. My arm healed in about eight weeks. Steve laid in a coma for several months, my arm healed and I was back to flipping and doing routines again. It taught me not to fear the things that I would go through. I was being tested, and to believe in myself was the reward.

Years went by and I became a religious zealot. I became an active member of St. Matthews Church and attended Sunday school. I counted the offerings and money raised for funeral services. I enjoyed participating in holiday programs, talent shows, pageants and bake sales. My future was bright and I had hope of better things to come. My relationship with God was beneficial. Alleluia Jesus. I wrote songs and we recorded a couple of albums. We toured and I felt singing helped lift my spirit. I joined the chorus and sang songs of praise. My sisters and brothers followed in my footsteps and felt the glory in loving our Lord. My father was a pillar of strength and practiced complete submission to God. He gave us money to spend and paid his tithes earnestly. He taught us how to pray and we prayed together as a family. I give him all the credit for setting an example for good deeds and love for his brothers. I remember the weekly family meetings and discussions on how to live a Christian life.

He always asked me to set an example for the rest and I felt guilty. Seems I was too self-centered. I would do all the things I wanted and not include my family. I guess it was selfishness and my conscience did bother me, but I kept on doing my own thing. To ease my conscience, I did help my Mother around the house and worked at Kohl's Food Store in the deli. I would buy presents for my parents every holiday and take them out to dinner every now and then. Life was sweet and the Lord lived in my spirit. Life was good.

I enjoyed the school days and made my grades without a hassle. I ran track and won the State Championship. I entered the Army Reserves and began studies in communication. Then, all of a sudden, something occurred that changed my whole outlook on life. Another accident. While doing a routine physical fitness test, I fell fifty feet to the floor while performing my routine on the rings. I fractured my skull and did damage to several other areas of my body. Now this was a test of faith. I had to undergo six hours of surgery and was given a sedative that I was allergic to. I almost died on the operating table. It took three months to recover and I survived a coma, but I was released on September 11, 1969. Little did I know that I would experience traumatic episodes later on in life.

I continued to live with the Lord's blessings. Managed to attend college where I majored in law and behavioral disability. It took eight years to do this, but I went back for a PHD in 1978. I am doing an internship with Doctors William Bauer and Jay Bhore. My biggest concern is that I suffer from schizophrenia where I have trouble getting my thoughts across. I am in therapy and rehabilitation. Emotionally, I suffered from lack of love and communication with my husband. I was married before my accident and a proud parent thirteen kids, six boys and seven girls. Life has been very rewarding. My husband is an architect and has a degree in human services. He lived the horror of believing I was dead. They sent me away for five years to Germantown in order to prepare me for another operation on my heart. I have a life support device that monitors my every move. It is hard to explain how I loved my husband, but decided to divorce him for lack of concern for my health and my children's well being. He was away for several years playing football. We kept in touch, but our relationship dwindled. God spared me the reality of leaving this earth and I walked around for years like a zombie. In the meantime, I separated and went to work for the University. Politics played a real role in my profession. I learned how to handle myself in public. But the love of my life was shaken with harsh reality. I joined the Eastern Religious Group and paid homage for those searching for a homeland.

Five of my boys are ministers, so all the parenting I did paid off. I attend services as often as I can and go to bible study three times a week. Seeing that I am emotionally unstable, the boys helps me concentrate on Jesus. This has given me the strength of character I need to go on. I've been hospitalized five or six times in the last few years and I've been a patient at County Behavioral Hospital and St. Michaels Hospital. I attend Our Space for recreation and therapy. One of the therapist that works there is an occupational therapist. I receive exercise therapy for a government survey and my physical therapist got me interested in writing this essay. I volunteer at Saint Anne's Rehabilitation Center and I'm a member of the Goodwill Employment team. I enjoy writing about the problems I have had in life and need to show mental maturity.

I get sad when I think that, after all the things I've done, I am no step closer to the end of my hardships. Faith has kept me going though out my younger days, but I still fall short of perfection. I hope to be a strong person and give sound advice to others. Jesus died so that we may turn fruitful and multiply. But children are overlooked. I give my kids a reason to believe they will not endure the pain I have suffered. I have received kindness from most everyone I met and it makes me love mankind.

My goals are to rid myself of my ills emotionally and return to society and become a survivor. I'd like to travel and teach some deprived individuals, help them to join Jesus Christ's ministry and find the joy of reading the bible. My youngest is three years old. I have more than enough time to show her how to love. My closest friend has had a head injury. He was a wrestler and was thrown from a scaffold. He doesn't remember how alive and full of zest he was before the accident. We talk about letting go. It's hard to think of life in the past tense. The future is looking better because I went out and made things happen. I attended a seminar on Crisis Intervention and was surprised to hear how the works of the mentally disabled can only talk about respite beds and how the public doesn't know how to deal with mental illness. I feel we need more evaluating and less labeling.

My family has stuck by me one hundred percent and the managers and nurses help me get over the stigma of being crazy. But there needs to be more within turning my priorities on Jesus and prayer could be the answer. My last real upset was the death of my grandmother. She died when my child was six months old. She had diabetes like I have. Infection set in her toes and she had to get her leg amputated. I never cried so much as I did at her wake. That was the last time my family was together. I was in a different world. The sight of her being lowered into the ground stiffened me. I tried, but I couldn't remember her. I see my grandma in my daughter, Leanne.

The happiest time was this summer for the Fourth of July. My parents and siblings took a trip up north on their land called Griceland. It rained for twelve hours the first day and we had worship with my brother, Cassell, who's a minister. My daughter asked us to pray for her and we did. We enjoyed good food and each other. The Fourth of July turned out to be a perfect day. I rode there and back with my sister, Janice, and my daughter, Monica, and felt renewed.

Story edited by John Veierstahler and published by HopeToHealing.com
with permission of Deborah Ann Grice.
© 2004 Deborah Ann Grice