On June 7th, many years ago, I was born to a humble family in Malaysia. Malaysia is HOT and HUMID but it is so incredibly beautiful. I loved and still love my country (I had to add this part because I recently became a citizen and it has been one of the hardest things for me to grasp)!
I grew up being pretty smart...well, by that I mean I got As and Bs and the occasional C. When I hit high school at age 13, I was a big deal. My group of friends and I were, if not the MOST popular kids in school, we were pretty high up there. People knew my name. It was weird. They would say hey to me and I'd think to myself "Who the * is that" Yes. I was a potty mouth. I was living a double life of serving Jesus on Sundays but being completely rid of Him from Monday-Friday. I was mean to kids who weren't popular--I never punched them, but I never had compassion for them either. They just didn't GET IT and who was I to help them figure it out. I was happy to be on top! My life consisted of ME, ME, ME and I was fine with that, Thank you very much. I mean, I was pretty, popular, kinda smart and all the teachers loved me. I was the girl you hate to love. And I wasn't afraid to brag about it either.
Some pretty rude awakenings took place. My Dad left us for America that year, my Mom was in a very deep depression so much so that she would forget to pick me up from school or she'd pick me up, leave me at home, and gamble with her friends. My sisters had their own lives which I didn't mind because whenever they took interest in me, it was to tell me to study and to advise me to ward off boys. There was a strict rule in my house--no dating until college--and I was fine with that because it actually made the boys want me more. HAH! But in all honesty, I was definitely becoming more and more out-of-control. It was not a pretty sight.
Being out-of-control at home made me more rebellious at school because I had control of who I was and what I could do with that power. I lost one group of friends because I didn't go into the smart class with them, so now with my newfound friends, I was even worse! We were all nice to each other of course, but the pride from being popular and involved at school got to all of us.
Thankfully, my internal struggles with the Lord began that year. I say "thankfully" because at least I was in conversation with God. I constantly asked "why me?" and "What did I do to deserve this?" Remember, I felt lots of entitlement during this time. So while it wasn't "Thank You Lord," it did start this interesting wrestling event with God's character. I knew God was good. We sang about it ALL the time. But why was He good? Why did people say that when He allowed so much pain. Yes, the typical "If God loves me, why am I sad?" type questions.
But with all things God-related. Change comes.
Yes. Things started changing. I would like to call these years my sobering years. The deep hurt that I was trying so hard to ignore and in turn lash out at school, started catching up with me. I could no longer ignore the fact that I was deeply missing a Father and deeply needing a Mother. But how does a 13year old voice that exactly? All we know to do is to turn to whomever would show us a glimmer of Love or self-worth. My best friend during that time was who I clung to. He was a year older than me, smarter (like he made ALL As) and he shared my love for music. While he made me feel all kinds of special, I knew somewhere in my heart that God was calling me to something bigger. Something unearthly. Something eternal.
While I would say I became a Christian at the ripe ole' age of 7, it wasn't until my teenage years that I truly had a two-sided conversation with God. I had no one else to talk to, really.
So my birthday started becoming very special to me. June 7th every year was a reminder of what the previous year held and what the next year promised. I spent every June 7th in deep thought and I journaled forever. I made promises to myself, to God; I wrote down hopes and dreams for myself and I recorded every single event that had happened that past year and how I was thankful that it did.
While my self-worth made no improvement, God's clear plan for my life did. I woke up one morning, at 16 years of age, and the silent whisper came. "Go to America. Go be with your Dad."
Fast forward to an early morning on June 7th, 2007 in Gunnison, Colorado. Chas and myself were cycling to the church per usual. It was my 22nd birthday and it was the year I would finally get baptized. See, my sisters and I made a pact that we would only get baptized after our 21st birthday to honor our parents. We were raised Catholic but accepted Jesus on our own. I was excited that this day was here because now I could share my testimony with others about my Catholic upbringing and why Jesus offered salvation to us all, freely, without works.
While about an eye-shot from the church, Chas exclaimed loudly,
"Rachel! It's SNOWING! It's SNOWING! It's SNOWING ON YOUR BIRTHDAY!"
My heart leaped. I knew that God was speaking to me. I knew that this was the beginning of a new journey, with new promises and new dreams.
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