In a world filled with war, violence, and terror we all seem to lose faith in the happening of a miracle. Every person seems to have a different opinion on a miracle. Here is my story and your opinion whether this is a miracle is completely up to you, but I have one question. Why not give it a chance?

                I grew up in a small Indiana town a few miles South of Lafayette. My family never had much and was quite solitary. No one in my family showed emotion it was a sign of weakness in the eyes of my father. As a child I was raised rough there was no sympathy when you fell down and skinned up your knee while riding your bike or when you got glass stuck in your foot. As a child I was quite hyper, energetic, and sometimes hard to handle. How did my parents straighten it out of me? Well simply it was calm down or my father would calm me down himself. Mouthing off was factor of many of my punishments. A swift smack in the mouth would send me drenched in tears to my room. As time went on my punishments would lesson due to the fact that I was learning the rules. Basically I was learning to fear my father. We never saw eye to eye and still today we barely speak.

                When my parents split up when I was 12 I thought the world had ended. I would no longer see my mother through the week and I was stuck in my house with my father. My dad’s “friend” as he called her during the duration of the divorce moved in about a week after my mom moved out. My father kicked my mom out with not a thing to her name besides her clothes. My father over the years has proven to be the most controlling person I have met. My dad’s future wife had 3 children of her own 2 of which would be moving into my brother’s room and he would be forced to move into mine. We lived in a 3 bedroom modular. Space became an obvious issue very quickly. Also the other to kids which are now my step brothers weren’t familiar with the word Respect. I don’t even think they could’ve spelled the word. Let alone follow the definition. My childhood home soon became their territory. Trash and dirty laundry went from neatly put into clothes baskets to all over the house. Dirty dishes relocated into every corner of the house besides the sink or dishwasher. These kids soon thought they were the dominance of the house. My father many times punished them. Never did he put a hand on them. I would tell my father of on many occurrences when I would be bullied or pushed into doing something. Bruises became the color of my skin.