My Journey Out Of The Desert Ever wake up and wonder how I ever got here? My life took on a series of these mysterious awakenings. My name is Justene Martin and here you can find my trip 'Out of the Desert'. I was raised in rural Iowa, born to loving parents and the apple of my grandparent's eye. It was an age of innocence, I was sheltered from the harsh realities experienced by those less fortunate who were unlucky enough to live in the cities during this post-war era. My greatest concerns were keeping my youngest brother off my tricycle (it was bigger than his) and out of my mud pies. The freedom of donning only panties and a little cotton sun dress to embark on a journey of miles and miles of dusty ruts cut deep in the front yard was my greatest joy, a giant figure eight traveled over and over by my pesky little brother and me. I grew up knowing one day I would be a star and practiced daily, singing at the top of my voice from the roof of the chicken house (my stage) to the chickens in the chicken yard. Life was good, that is until the day I started school and learned I was fat. This adorable little charismatic cherub was suddenly NOT the apple of everyone's eye! How did I get here? Entering high school I perpetuated the myth that I was somehow unacceptable, that fat people had no reason to live, I began acting. I was able to act and convince people (and myself) that I really was somebody but I knew in my heart that it was really a sham. No one would ever want me. I was no good in math but great in language and spelling, terrible in sports but proficient in drama and music, but what good would those things ever do? What call was there for fat drama queens? Hence, I would be forever condemned to being a housewife (the only respectable job for a women of that day), that is providing I could ever find someone to marry me. So I set out to find someone who would settle for a fat, ugly, dumb girl who lived in Podunk, USA. How did I ever get here? I finally found him, he was back from the service and lived in Podunk, too. He was quite good looking and drank heavily which made him very interesting to someone who had never ventured far from the chicken house roof. I somehow convinced him that we should marry, (that acting thing) and so began the nightmare of loving an alcoholic, hiding it from myself and family, raising six kids in Podunk while he worked away from home to provide for us. I can't describe the loneliness, the longing for more, feeling chained to a small town, knowing this was all there would ever be for me. Looking for answers I attended church but God had written Ichabod over the door. It was there, however, that I learned that divorce was the unpardonable sin and that I would be forever held to this unhappy vow. Brick by brick the wall of depression was building higher and higher. I found myself locked in this prison so many women find themselves in. This ministry has been birthed to show women that Jesus is the way out of these invisible prisons. My journey went on through my life-threatening illness and finally the loss of my husband to brain cancer. But through it all a presence that could not be denied seemed to guide my steps, through the wilderness and on toward the promised land... These are very shortened versions of our stories, Jana's, Brenda's and mine, but it's not about us, it's all about Jesus. He's the conductor, and the engineer on our journey. Our journey has just begun. We lovingly invite you to get on this Freedom Train with us and ride out of this tunnel and into the light. It's my greatest joy to see women lifted from the pit of depression by the hand of God, and see them set on The Rock. To see their blank, nobody-home stare, turn to joy and fulfillment. The church is in crisis today, their pews are filled with these lifeless bodies waiting to be set free. We feel an urgent call to open those doors and set the captives free... "Arise shine, for the light has come and glory of the Lord has risen upon you!" (Isaiah 60:1) The Story Continues Somewhere there is an unwritten law that states, marriage will make all your problems disappear. Anyway I was sure that was what I signed up for. I began to have children and that was okay, except living in Podunk was really not a cake walk and I began to feel that I was trapped. My husband's drinking was not cute any more because he seemed to enjoy it more than he enjoyed me. Of course I felt it was my obligation to inform him what his duties were. He was to keep me happy, make me a good living, and most of all get me out of Podunk. Unfortunately, he felt responsible to make a living for us and that was hardly possible in Podunk so he had to go elsewhere. Life was getting pretty depressing, I stayed in Podunk, and he went out and made the living. I started getting more depressed with each child. When He came home, I wanted to be wined and dined, He wanted to relax and unwind (usually with his buddies in the bar with a bottle of whiskey.) Of course, since he didn't know how unhappy I was I had to tell him. I cried, he went to work, I yelled, and he stormed out, the coward didn't even know how to fight well. Since he wouldn't listen I told anyone who would listen. I told my friends, my brother, my beautiful sister-in-law. Nothing helped. Finally I decided to try church. After all, wasn't God there? Wasn't he supposed to get me out of this mess? I started going to church, but He wasn't home. I tried again and again, but the people there seemed to be just as miserable as I was. Wasn't this supposed to be what church was all about? I kept going back thinking one day I would find God at home but after years of going to the same address I finally decided He had moved away. Now I'm not too smart, but it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out if someone isn't home for 20 years, they probably aren't coming back. I sank deeper and deeper into despair. After about 18 years one day my friend informed me that I was married to an alcoholic. Wow! Was that a revelation! Eighteen years and I didn't know! (it's called denial) By this time I had 6 children, all of which were showing signs of living in a home where the mother was nuts and the father was absent. Where was God? Where was love? Where was I? Had I moved out too and just didn't know it? Nope, I looked out my front door and saw the prison bars of Podunk staring me in the face. Would I ever get out of here? This wasn't what I signed up for. Was anybody ever going to come and set me free? I turned to food for comfort, liquor wasn't my thing, but still I was miserable. It's not about us, it's not about getting out of Podunk, it's not about being married to an alcoholic, or about having 6 children who don't know who you are most of the time. It's about self pity, and selfishness, and self gratification. It's all about me, me, me. and all the while God waited at His new address and waited for me to come and find HIM. Death Comes Knocking I had just about resigned to living in Podunk. My husband put me through beauty school which had always been a dream of mine, and I opened up a nice little salon in Podunk. It brought new people into my life, people from other towns. People who could take my mind off my despair at least for a while. The kids were in school and I had finally found a purpose for living. I wanted to make the world more beautiful. Besides I had all these people who were a captive audience to listen to my woes. Through all the trials of life, there seemed to be only two people who really knew me and who loved me for myself. My brother, (the kid on the tricycle back in those early days) and my beautiful sister-in-law who seemed to be a saint and came by it naturally. How did she ever get to be so wonderful being raised with my so un-wonderful husband. But she did seem always to encourage me and to love me in spite of my unworthiness. And of course the brother, that little pest that I had always been so mean to, well, he just didn't seem to care that I was such a beast. By the time we reached our adult years, my brother was diagnosed as manic-depressive so he slipped into terrible mood swings but I adored him. He was a musician and went around the country free as a bird and singing here and there. How I longed to be like him, with no cares or burdens, and, of course, he had escaped Podunk. Whenever there was a family dinner, my sister-in-law held it. She was just the most adorable person in the world. Everyone loved her and she loved everyone. Her husband was a strong silent type, but she was a ditzy-blond chatterbox so they were the perfect couple in my envious eyes. How I longed to be adored like she was. All the wonderful times were spent at their house, laughing and talking, sometimes we would talk about God, I, the 20 year church goer, considered myself pretty smart on the subject of God. Actually, hadn't I spent all those years in class learning about him? And it was always easy for me to remember things I had learned. At one of these dinners at her house I noticed that my sister-in-law seemed very pale. She said she had the flu and had been throwing up all night, nothing to be concerned about. But a few days later we were there and she was in bed. She said as long as she didn't move she didn't throw up, so she stayed in bed waiting to get over the nausea. Eventually,a trip to the Doctor and tests revealed she had a brain-tumor. Well, of course, all they had to do was go in and take it out....right? We would be sure and pray for her at church next Sunday. She did have it removed, and it proved to be cancer, but still, it was out and we had no reason for alarm. She had a sort of lengthy recovery period but soon was back to normal, laughing about the many wigs she now had to wear to cover her bald head. How I adored her courage and spirit. God must really like her a lot to let her go through all this sickness I thought, and actually told her so. Eventually the cancer returned and began spreading to other parts of her body. She remained positive and was always encouraging all of us. But after several months she began to deteriorate and I despaired. Why didn't God do something? What would happen to me if she died? Who would pray for me if she weren't around? Her final days were spent sitting in a chair and praying for her family. She would write me letters when she could no longer come to see me or be up when I came. Finally, death came knocking at the door! I wasn't prepared for the grief that ensued, or the deep depression that settled over me. I cried for days, finally I began to write poetry to ease my pain. I found it comforting to write how I felt, then read it back until the pain subsided. It was as if an unseen person slipped into my mind and verbalized the awful feelings that were there. I cried out to that absent God and screamed Why? A return visit from the reaper Not many years after the death of my dear sister-in-law, my oldest daughter was planning her wedding. I suggested she ask her uncle (my now 42 year old brother) to play and sing for the wedding. She gave me the thrill of my life, she asked me to sing with him. At long last, my dream of performing (the little girl on the chicken house roof) would be realized. I was so excited I came down with Laryngitis the day of the wedding. I thought I wasn't going to be able to sing, but the angels smiled and I managed to do it. It was the proudest day of my life. My wonderful brother escorting me, the mother of the bride, to the front of the church, and the two of us singing "Love Lift Us Up Where We Belong". Little did I know it would be the last time I would ever see him. Six months later he died from a heart attack. I was crushed, devastated and distraught. I adored him and now it seemed that God had taken the last person on the planet who cared a whit for me. Once again I grabbed my pen and poured my broken heart into my poetry. Once again I screamed, "Why God, Why?" There, in the darkness of my deepest despair, once more a knock came to my door. This time when I answered it was Jesus Following the funeral, depression and despair seemed to envelope me. I wrote the poetry and wept, I felt abandoned by God and by my loved ones who had died. Finally, in desperation I cried out to God, "God, there has got to be more to you than I have seen." It wasn't enough to sit in that church where God wasn't home. I needed help and I needed it NOW! Shortly I heard about a group of people who were meeting weekly in their homes for prayer. Maybe God was going there? I asked a friend to take me with her but she kept putting me off, finally she gave me the address and my spirit leaped within me! I didn't know who these people were, and I didn't care, I just knew I had to see if God was there! That evening I was so excited I forgot to be shy about knocking on a stranger's door. When the man answered my knock, I somehow knew I had found my new home. I thought my journey was finally over, and I had found what I was looking for. How could I have known I was only just beginning on the ride of my life? |
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