A Lost Sheep

Luke 15

The Parable of the Lost Sheep

  Then Jesus told them this parable:  “Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Doesn’t he leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders  and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, ‘Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.’ 

This post is in appreciation, and in memory, of
Jan Evans.

If you have read my testimony, this particular blog will serve to highlight the years

from age 8 to approximately age 15.

Many of the links do not reflect the services provided at the time, but have changed.

It is going to be very difficult to write.



When I was five, I was reunited with my dad, who had moved to Chicago, Illinois.  About a year later,  I was removed (rescued) from his home, after a number of abuses occured. 
During that year, I ran away from home on a number of occasions.  I slept outside, in the prairie.  I asked strangers for money to eat so I wouldn't have to go home.  I went to sleep at night terrified of how I might be hurt.  On the school bus each day, knots would fill my stomach and make me literally dizzy as I wondered if my dad would be nice or hurtful that night.  After a number of outbursts and behavior problems at school, I finally had the courage to tell my school counselor that I was afraid of home.  She told me that she would keep it a secret, but when I got home that day, my step-mom already knew.  I sat in my room, terrified, waiting for my dad to come home. 
My dad told me that I was only remembering things my real mom had done to me when I was a baby, and that I knew about things like sex early, and said that I provoked and wanted the sexual abuse.  He told me to pack all of my favorite things.  I did.  He took the sack of my belongings out to the backyard and burned it.  Then the police came.  I remember my dad telling me that they were sending me to a place for bad kids and liars.  I believed him.

I arrived at Hartgrove Hospital, suspicious, terrified, and, relieved. 
I wasn't home.

They asked me to talk about my life, but I was too scared to.  They said if I didn't have anything to say, they would have to believe my dad.  They kept talking about fixing the family and going back home.  I was so scared of that.  I wanted to go anywhere but home.

After Hartgrove Hospital, I was sent to Paulina House, a couple therapeutic foster homes, and then to Maryville Academy. I was eight.  At that time, Maryville Farm Campus was for both boys and girls, who were undergoing therapeutic treatment for abuses of different natures, as well as general behavioral therapy.

Each child was put on a point system, had a daily "point card" in which both positive and negative behaviors were noted and reviewed, and most children were medicated.  I was put on Prozac and Pamelor.  I was told I would begin working on reuniting with my family. 

It was while at Maryville that I began to really write about what was going on in my life.  I may publish a post at a later time with a couple of the poems I still remember.

While I was at Maryville, there was a large Halloween party.  Children from many different Maryville locations were present.  I would easily guess that there were at least 300 children there in a very large auditorium.  I think I was Pippy Longstocking.  As I moved forward in the long line of kids to get refreshments from the tables, I saw a large cake with a plastic spider on it, and I remember saying something about it.  The volunteer lady gave me my cookies and juice, or whatever the snack was, and I returned to my seat.  Some time later, that volunteer lady found me, out of the hundreds of children, and placed that plastic spider next to my plate.  The lady was Jan Evans.

Months passed, and back at the Farm Campus, a large van pulled in, which was not uncommon.  A lady entered, along with dozens of small cakes, pounds of frosting, and dozens of decorating tools.  Each of us, there were about 10 girls in my unit, we all got to sit down and decorate our very own cakes.  The lady who brought all of those wonderful things, was Jan Evans.

I soon started having visits with Jan, going to her home.  She had a beautiful home.  I can still see so many details: the large, wrap-around, grey couch that you could sink into, the bright white lights in her kitchen, where we were always baking something up.  I remember how luxurious and safe it felt to be, snuggled warm in her guest bedroom (which was one of her daughter's old rooms, I think).  I remember her friend, maybe Tom?  I remember wishing they'd get married.  

She gave me my first makeup.  It was a bag from one of her daughters. I treasured it.

She had a dog named Scruffy.

One time, I had to share one of my precious visits with another girl, named Elizabeth.  Elizabeth and I were rivals, perhaps because we were close in age.  I think we were both a little jealous of each other.  On that occasion, Jan told each of us to go downstairs and select one thing to take home, back to the Farm Campus, with us.  I don't remember what Elizabeth picked.  I picked a fiber optic light that played music.  I felt proud as I saw Jan's look of approval; it was so special.

Reconciliation with my family was not going to happen.  The plan changed to foster care.  My first foster home after Maryville was with a very old woman.  I felt lonely, so I ran away.  I moved a lot after that.  I quickly realized that foster homes have one of two primary functions: to "test drive" foster kids for potential adoption, and in some circumstances, to just gain a few extra dollars or a little company.  Most of my problem was with the first function: I wasn't adoptable, because both of my parents' rights hadn't been terminated, although one sat in a drug-addicted, abusive stupor, while the other was in- or freshly out of- prison.

One time, Jan took me to WGN studios, and I got to see the set for the Bozo show.

At one point, I secretly wanted Jan to adopt me.  I quickly let that pass, though, and never mentioned it to her.  I didn't want her special friendship to be ruined, the way all of my foster families had been.

I would guess that I moved to a new location every six months (often, more than that), until I was 15.  That means, a new school system, a new family, a new community.   

My name was Harley.

I didn't have any friends.

Every time I moved, I lost some of my things.  Foster siblings that I left behind would steal my things, or foster parents would take back what were at one point gifts to me.  I quickly learned to sense the end of a foster time, and I would throw away my own things so that they wouldn't be left with permission to hurt me further.

But, each time I moved, Jan would find me. 

I don't know how she did it.

Out of nowhere, she'd just show up.  And, I'd get to go with her.

It was as if she just trumped all other rules and regulations.  She'd come, and scoop me up, and take me away to a place of love and true respite.  My shepherdess.

She was the only consistant thing in my entire childhood.

She let me drive her brand new car.

She once shared her family Christmas with me.

She gave me her daughter's satin bed set.  I brought it to the Mill and for days, didn't even use the sheets.  I didn't want the other girls to get jealous and ruin them.  But, then, I couldn't resist.  I cherished bedtime after that!

When I was 15, I was transferred to The Mill's TLC program, which was designed to equip teens for adulthood as they "maxed" or aged out of the "system."  Life skills like cooking and filling out employment applications were combined with a bizarre mix of rules that included asking permission to use the restroom, and, for most of the residents, an inability to join the public school.  I was allowed to attend public school, but that was the very extent of a normal social experience.

One of my roommates and I ran away.  She got caught, but I stayed in hiding, until months later, when I reunited with my dad.  Thinking things were different, and feeling guilty for running away,(after years of medications, therapies, and institutionalized living) I was disallusioned about the abuses that took place; I was hopeful that I could establish a normal relationship with him. 

For running away from "the system", I lost all of my belongings.  I lost my personal pictures and all memorabilia.  My high school transcript was kept from me. 

I lost contact with Jan.

I lived with my dad for a couple of months, before everything old stirred up new again.  I got an apartment (I was a couple weeks shy of 16, getting my first apartment).  I worked.  Later, I got my GED and started college. Then, I began my own family. 

My normal family.

I accepted the Lord the year you died. 

I talked to your daughter Tracy today, and found out that your birthday is the same as my littlest one, the one I just miscarried only a few weeks ago.  That news is just so amazingly special and overwhelming to me.

Jan, I wish I could have told you how you rescued me.  You were always finding the one lost sheep.  Always bringing me back to a place of love and safety.  You valued me.  You saw me as a real person, a real little girl.  You saved my life.  Quite literally.

(push play)

Thank you, Jan, for always finding me.  For never letting me go.  For finding beauty, hope, and life, in what I never thought possible...me. 

Then Jesus told them this parable:  “Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Doesn’t he leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders  and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, ‘Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.’   (Luke 15:3-6)

Introducing Heidi

The best way to introduce myself to you, I think, is to tell you how Jesus introduced Himself to me.

In the Old Testament, the Israelites were instructed to go out and gather the manna they would need for each day.  As I imagine them collecting the small flakes of this bread-like substance and filling their jars or containers with it, pictures of Easter seem to slip into my mind.

The celebration of Easter at our church is celebrated in part by a huge (I mean huge) Easter egg "hunt."  More of a "gathering," thousands (I mean thousands) of eggs are tossed along our property grass and while the children certainly don't have to go looking for them, they do have to go out and gather them. 

Excitedly, the children attempt to dash through the grass to collect as many eggs as possible ("I'm gonna get a million!" my son cried last year), but their efforts are constantly thwarted by the brightly colored eggs that lay just in front of them.  The constant race-stop-race-stop is hilarious to watch as the children scurry to fill up their baskets.

If they choose to run off ahead, they pass up dozens of eggs, and even in the process often seem unsure if their gathering "tactic" is a wise one.  There is always a perfectly lovely gift lying just at their feet, beckoning them to bend to pick it up. 

My personal testimony is really more of a life account.  Even before I accepted Christ, He never forsake me, even when I grumbled.  He protected me when my life was dark and terrifying, He healed me when I was broken, He made my bitter waters sweet, and through the hopelessness of misdirection, He made sure my sandals never wore out.  He gave of Himself every single day of my life, and He gave exactly as much as I needed.  Just like the manna. 

 ~~~

                                                               

I was born in Las Vegas, Nevada.  My dad was involved with a notorious and exclusive motorcycle organization.  He was involved in illegal activities, and illegal drugs.  So was my mom.  My parents named me "Harley Dee" and a short time later, after a very messy separation (to include the beheading of our family dog), I was placed in emergency state custody.

An Early Foster Home

I was reunited with my dad when I was 5, who had since then left the state.  I lived with him for about a year, before the police removed me from his home, after I had been physically abused, threatened at gunpoint, emotionally battered, sexually molested, and raped.  Primarily because his "rights" were never terminated and so I wasn't "adoptable," I spent the remainder of my childhood and adolescence in foster homes, institutions, and orphanages.

I found my mom on the internet when I was in college, and partly because I wanted to prove to somebody that I was unscathed from my childhood, but mostly because I really wanted a mom, I flew out to meet her.  She was still in Las Vegas, and she still hadn't changed.

I immediately discovered that I was pregnant!  Having no idea how to be a mom, I bought the best manual there is; I bought a Bible.  Slowly, and privately, I began to have a very special conversation with God through Scripture:



In the book of Acts, chapter 17, Paul visits Athens.  Athens is spiritually scattered at the time, worshipping stuff all over the place.  At this point in my life, I was spiritually scattered.  Having been relocated and transitioned so often, living with so many different people, I was exposed to many different kinds of religions and beliefs.  I didn't believe in multiple gods--I did believe in one.  But, I didn't believe in the trinity, and I didn't know how I felt about such things as evolution or reincarnation.  So many times I'd prayed for God just to carry me through--but I had no idea who He was or what He wanted with me.  By the end of this seventeenth chapter, Paul introduces the Unknown God, my God, to the people...and the people were changed.  I was changed.

Just then, God cut to the chase and told me in 2 Corinthians 5:17 that I am a new creation in Christ, and that my old life had gone away.  Well, that's when I threw myself a bit of a tantrum.  "What do you mean, God, my old life is gone?  What about everything I went through?  What about everything I survived?  What vindication is there for that little girl who had to do things just to stay alive?"

He had me take a step back and brought me to 2 Corinthians 4:17, and gingerly He said, "Sweet child, but that was just a moment, and if you give all of that to Me, I will be glorified through it."

(Well, I had no idea how that was going to happen, but I was intrigued!)

He gave me my answer in John 16:33.  We will have pain.  We will have suffering.  Christ isn't always going to shield us from it, but through Him we can get through it, because He has already overcome it.

I was in!  Jesus is my vindication.  "Now what?" I asked my Father God.

James 4:8 told me, "Take a step, and God will take a step."  I needed to move into my relationship with God.  I needed to take a step, and see that He was also moving even closer toward me.

"In which direction do I go?" my earth bound mind wondered.  Take a step, but where?  What do I DO?

In Genesis 12:1, Abram's father had just died.  Now, I don't know what kind of a dad he was, but I know that he told his family he would take them from point A to point B, and he only got them as far as point A-and-a-half; so at least in that way, he just didn't quite measure up.  Well, I read that as though my "dad" had died.  My physical, earthly role models and protectors, the ones that I needed the very most and who left the deepest impact because they failed so miserably, had "died." Their power over me could be put down.  I could put to rest the burdens of the past, and the memories of the people and events that didn't quite measure up...including the negative ways I was trained to view myself.  God was going to lead me now. 

I just want to say, right here, that accepting Christ doesn't mean immediately drastic, wonderful change.  As you step into obedience, the wonderful change is often revealed in the process.

I received all of these spectacular promises from God during a time that was not very spiritually nourishing.  I wasn't married, and my boyfriend was pressuring me to abort my baby.  A short time later, my son and I moved into a battered women's shelter.  With nothing but this new child and this new faith to cling to, I overcame that obstacle and used it as a bridge to carry me to one of the first lovely places in my life.

An exciting step toward this new creation I became in Christ was shedding the old title I had been burdened with and legally changing my name to Adalheid, which is the German form of Heidi, or princess.  I am a princess of the King of kings.  I am His daughter, and I know that when He made me, He smiled and said, "Now, this is good." and I have peace, knowing His plans for me are always for good.

Today, I am happily married to a wonderful man who first fell in love with my son.  We are a growing, Christ centered family, looking always toward Him as He lovingly and faithfully provides for us- sometimes in spectacular abundance, but always, at least, with our daily manna.  The Lord our God is faithful and always keeps His promises!

I have such a longing to reach out and give a bit back on behalf of the lovingkindness my Father has bestowed upon me, and so,   

I pray this testimony will be a bit of needed manna for you today.

~~~

If you have not accepted Christ as your Lord and Savior, I encourage you to do that right now.  Here are the three steps, and afterward, tell somebody!  Tell everybody!  Tell me!  I would LOVE to pray with you about making this amazing decision.

A. Admit you are a sinner.
"There is no one righteous, not even one ... for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God."
Romans 3:10,23. (See Romans 5:8; 6:23.)

Ask God's forgiveness.
"Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved."
Romans 10:13

B. Believe in Jesus
Put your trust in Him as your only hope of salvation.
"For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life." John 3:16 (See John 14:6.)

Become a child of God by receiving Christ."To all who receive him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God." John 1:12 (See Revelation 3:20.)

C. Confess that Jesus is your Lord.
"If you confess with your mouth, 'Jesus is Lord,' and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved." Romans 10:9 (See verse 10.)