Christy's Story

The beauty after the pain How I lost Jake How I met John Watch our video Male Order Delivery

As a relationship junkie, I spent most of my life in bondage to a low self-esteem and rejection. So...I went looking for love to heal the pain. Men were my drug of choice. In romance and relationships I was able to escape issues and reality. And what a great hiding place they were. No one even suspected I was running for cover.

I learned when I was a kid: the best hiding place is where no one would ever look.

Once I found freedom in Christ, I began my recovery from relationship addiction. Today, I have healthy relationships with three of the best men in the world: Jesus, my husband, John, and my son Garrett. But I can't settle for just my own personal freedom. I want other women to be free also.

I'm going back for the captives.

One of the ways that I’m striving to do this is by building an online community with my blog. It’s here where I want other women to connect, to share, to encourage. Christ is our hope but us girls are like the glue that makes it stick. And hey, if you're one of my male readers, no worries...this is not a total chick flick. We need your viewpoints and opinions as well. Plus, my husband John will post from time to time. So don't run away. We don't have coodies. Promise.

Even though I am woman (hear the roar?), I want to be a David—one that kills the menacing giant that is taunting the women in the army of God—one that removes the reproach from Israel—one who brings hope to the women of God who are smothered by issues and perhaps their own addiction to relationships.

There is hope in abundance, but the ones that continue to stumble are the ones who are isolated, without community, disconnected. The ones that thrive are united and joined together with a purpose greater than themselves. If you have recovered from issues that plague others, you have something to give. And if you are suffering from issues, you require something the rest of us need to give.

So come get connected to a community of believers. Together we can kill the giant. Together we can walk in freedom.

Together we can remove the reproach!

The beauty after the pain

Your greatest struggle can be transformed into a platform of strength. I know from experience.

As a young woman desperate to escape the chaos and rejection that were my constant companions, I searched for love and approval. Instead of the safe haven that I longed for, however, I was drawn to a string of unhealthy relationships that disturbingly mimicked what was familiar. Surrounded by loved ones tangled in addiction to drugs, pornography and abusive behavior, my despair grew out of control.

Held captive by my insecurities, my constant cellmates were fear and bitterness in a prison that held me tighter than Alcatraz. I didn’t know that there was a way out until I saw someone else escape. But their escape gave me hope for my own freedom.

I've learned a couple of things about freedom. The journey out of bondage is often a long and winding road. But time and effort well spent. So don't give up. None of us ever fully arive. We also have to maintain our freedom. If we take it for granted, it gets stale. The only way to revive it is to give it away. That's why I'm so persuaded to promote Christ’s hope and healing to others.

I’m passionate about setting the captives free and showing others the way to live a life of exhilarating promise. I could never say it at the time, but in retrospect, I’m actually grateful for the adversity I’ve experienced in my life. My difficulties stripped me of my counterfeit comforters and caused me to look to the only one who can give me hope.

Today I am pouring out to other women the hope that I have received. I long to encourage others to see the beauty beyond their own pain.

How I lost Jake

In 1998, the hardest test of my faith hit when tragedy struck. The weekend of my 20^th High School reunion, my ex-husband was driving under the influence with my two sons, Garrett and Jake, when he hit another vehicle head on. Toxicology results confirmed that he was under the influence of several narcotics. My ex-husband and Garrett survived, but Jake died at the scene.

Losing Jake was the hardest blow life could throw. As hard as it hurt though, I knew one thing: Unforgiveness would only multiply my misery and put me right back in the jaws of bondage. I didn't want to go back. God gave me the strength to forgive and see the beauty beyond the pain.

Freedom is free but still so many refuse to embrace it. The pull back to bondage was too great for some of my other family members. In 2006 tragedy struck again. Two of my nephews overdosed on drugs within nine months of each other. I can't even describe the devastation. Instead, I'll do whatever I can to reach those who will listen. Will you?

click on pics for a short story about each photo

The Faded Three

babybro

all banged up

garrett's first smile

sitting up

Going for a Spin

Sharing Hope

goodbye

a baby's casket

my story

Walking Away

Garrett today

John & Christy Johnson

How I met John

People ask me all the time how I met John. Most assume we met at church since we almost have our names carved on a pew. We probably would if our church had pews. Right now we just have stackable chairs...maybe someday we'll get those initials etched. Not that meeting John wasn't a spiritual experience, but God has other creative ways of bringing two people together. Like the Twister Love Line. If it wasn't for country music and 101.9 The Twister, I would never have met John.

Our first date was on November 14, 1997 at Iceland Skating Rink in Bethany for a Saturday afternoon skate session. I had learned the hard way that first dates are better when it's short and sweet and an easy escape route is available. Turns out, I didn't need one, but you never know.

We were married a little over a year later on New Year's Eve of 98 at the stroke of midnight...at Iceland Skating Rink in Bethany.

Aah...

Shortly after he proposed, we were skating on a date when the Lord gave us both a vision of our wedding at the rink. I was not happy about exchanging vows in a meat locker. I've prayed for a lot of things, but not this. I'm rather fond of elegance and glamour and an ice cathedral was not my idea of opulence. Ever tried to decorate a ginormous ice cube? Plus I like to dress up and blades do not qualify as pumps!

But God not only has a sense of humor, He is the best wedding planner. Our ceremony was the celebration of a lifetime complete with Pastor Mark Crow performing the honors on ice skates.

I now present to you Mr. & Mrs. Johnson

Skating with Pastor Mark

John and I celebrate several memorable dates. Like scenic turnouts, they highlight relationship landmarks.

January 28, 1998 was the day that God knit my heart together with John. No other way to describe it. An invisible but undeniable indwelling. I was never the same again.

A friend of mine helped me create this video for John on our 7^th “anniversary”. We played it as a surprise during Lifeline, Victory’s Singles service.

Watch our video

Small disclaimer before you push play: The video begins and ends with pics from two different Hallelujah Nights. Apparently our last costume was a bit too convincing. While being nerdish is debatable, John and I are not managers at McDonalds. I thought, being a writer, that it would be cute to start and end the “story” in similar fashion. It stirred a bit of confusion.

Male Order Delivery

You can read the rest of the story about how God brought me my man. Proof that God still works in mysterious ways. Check it out...it's pretty funny. Male Order Delivery was a finalist in the Writer's Digest Red Heart Black Heart contest in February 2009.

Male Order Delivery

             I remember the first time I thought about ordering a date. A decade ago, the prevalent mindset was that there must be something seriously wrong with someone who would resort to electronic remedies to locate love. That pretty much described me. I had been single for two years and as far as I could tell, the supply of men was shut up tighter than the city of Jericho.

"I'll take

the Christian low-fat combo

and super-sized the bank account,

please."

Outside of work, my daily haunts included La Petite Academy and Wal-Mart. Even though the selection of bachelors at La Petite was enormous, most of the boys were still being bottle-fed. So in desperation, I brushed up on my Bambi-eyed routine and hung out in the automotive section at Wal-Mart, asking cute guys for advice on which oil grade to select. The first guy I approached had fantastic hair, fabulous shoes and most importantly—no ring. How was I supposed to know he was married and his wife was looking at light bulbs on the next row? Her cart came squealing around the corner so fast she accidentally knocked over the end cap display of wood-grained toilet seats. I calmly strolled off, waited for the clean up on Aisle 10 and promptly came back for my second victim.

           I was just about to casually smile at my next unsuspecting prey when the exasperated associate at the counter who had just reconstructed lavatory lane pointed to the “No Solicitation” sign. “I guess I’ll just have to find another Wal-Mart.” I muttered as I sauntered off with my cart full of 5W-30 Pennzoil.

It was about this time that I noticed Julie at work. This perky little anorexic thing had a lunch date nearly every day. Of course it probably had a lot to do with the fact that she was young, blonde and perfect.

“Julie, where are you meeting all these guys?”

“I joined a Christian dating service,” she gushed. “You should try it. It’s very affordable and they even have men your age, too.”

How thoughtful.

Turned out, Julie’s definition of affordable amounted to $159 for a monthly membership fee.

“Try The Gazette,” whispered my eavesdropping co-worker. “You can place an ad for only $29.95.”

What have I got to lose? I thought as I dialed the number.

“I’m sure you will be very happy with the results.” The rep assured me. “Most professionals today are too busy to meet other singles.”

It was probably just a canned speech designed to help me justify my departure from normal dating venues, but she did have a point.

Good-bye Wal-Mart and La Petite. I’m moving on! Male order delivery took on a whole new meaning to me that day.

I couldn’t wait until The Single’s Gazette came out. Although its target market was a trendy young crowd who frequented cigar lounges and sushi bars, I had installed spyware: The “official initial” for Christian in SWCF was sure to block any malicious tarot card enthusiasts.

Well, apparently, the “C” was extremely effective. I didn’t get one call. Meanwhile, the men waiting in line for Julie had to take a number. That’s when I heard a radio commercial advertising the Twister Love Line. They say it’s darkest before the dawn.

Before computer dating services evolved, telephone dating services were a marvel of technological advancement. By selecting one, two, or three on my telephone keypad, I could indicate my preference for a variety of features. This was a regular Build-a-Date workshop. I ordered a Christian low-fat combo and super-sized the bank account.

I couldn’t get home fast enough the next day. I dialed the Twister Love Line and entered my pin number. The cheery voice announced that I had “two new dates.”

Halleluiah, it’s raining men!

After I listened to each potential date give his personal sales pitch in a prerecorded voice introduction, I was advised that if I was interested, I could leave a call- back number. Unfortunately, the bios sounded more enticing than the intros. A month went by and still no catch of the day. I was growing weary in well doing and was just about to delete the entire campaign when finally I got a bite. He was 6’2”, with blond hair and blue eyes. My only reservation was that his favorite hobby was ice skating.

Was I expected to participate? Sure, waltzing on the ice sounded romantic, but for someone with about as much grace as a hippo on a high wire, anything involving balance on a razor thin blade could be nothing short of humiliating. At this point, however, all remaining logic had evaporated and I left a message. “John” called a few days later. Naturally, he insisted that we meet at Iceland for an afternoon skating session.

            As I entered the rink on Saturday, I thought I must have completely lost it. The teen scene was complete with the Spice Girls jamming over the jukebox.

What had I gotten myself into? I thought. This is so high school. Was I really meeting a guy at the rink? Is this the only place I can find a date? I felt more awkward than a cat in a swimming pool, but I scanned the crowd trying to appear like I belonged. Hmm, was that him over there? I gave a slight smile and nod in case it was John.

“And now it’s time for couple’s skate,” blasted the voice over the intercom.

The mystery man started his approach. As he drew closer, I felt as frozen as the ice on the rink. Oh, my gosh. Please, no!

His exuberant smile flashed a missing front tooth and his unbuttoned coat revealed a never-ending sea of denim. The loose fitting jeans that I had assumed were Lucky brand were actually overalls.

John had described himself as being “semi”-fashion conscious and he certainly didn’t say anything about being dentally challenged. By now I was internally scolding myself. You know better than to trust a guy’s description of himself. They always exaggerate! What were you thinking? How did he get matched with me? I selected Caucasian, not Redneck.

All of a sudden, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

Relieved at the opportunity to purposely avoid the “oncoming traffic”, I whirled around.

My gaze locked with the chisel-cheeked, blue-eyed wonder towering before me. "Is your name Christy?"

“Yes…,” I stammered, trying to conceal my delight. “Are you...John?”

His eyes twinkled as he nodded his head and extended his hand to shake mine.

Bingo. My male order delivery had finally arrived. Maybe there is a FedEx in heaven after all. And hopefully, they packed the bubble wrap. I may need some padding for my behind.

Wednesday, January 14, 2009 (1 comment)