About eighty women attended the meeting that Friday afternoon.  It was a treat to have my “girls” there—not only Kelli, Morgan, and Nicks, but Nina Atuatasi, my Samoan “daughter,” who showed up just before the meeting.  Nina, a gifted musician, had arrived in the Los Angeles area a few hours earlier and surprised me by driving over for the meeting.  Before I preached, she sang two songs and ushered in the presence of the Holy Spirit.

“I don’t trust people who haven’t been through something,” I told the ladies.  “And I have a feeling that most of you have been through adversity.  You’ve known some deep pain and heartache.”  Many women responded vocally.  As I began recounting my personal story, I also preached about making choices—how bad choices get us into trouble, but “God choices” get us out.

In the back of my mind, I could hear my father—who sounded just like Archie Bunker on the old All in the Family TV show—saying, “You’re a bad picker, Little Girl.”  Dad was so right about that.  My teenage years were full of bad choices, with disastrous and far –reaching consequences.

I told the women at the Dream Center how Jesse and I had decided we would get married in the summer, after I graduated.  My last year in high school, I was in the DECA (Distributive Education Clubs of America) program, so I only went to class for half a day, and then I went to my job.  One afternoon in late April, Jesse picked me up after work, and he had an engagement ring for me. Standing there in from t of Diamond’s department store, he put a diamond on my finger.

My mother was devastated when I told her I was going to marry Jesse.  “Lori, please wait,” she begged me. “You’re too young.”

“I’m older than you were,” I snapped.

“That’s true—and it’s why I know firsthand how hard it is.”

She looked pained.  Mom had been just sixteen when Dad , who was eighteen, pressured her to get married.

“Besides, you can’t stop me.  I’ll be eighteen at the end of August, and then I won’t need your permission.”  I was stubborn and determined.  “So either you sign the papers for me to get married, or we’ll go to another state and elope.”

Mom kept trying to talk sense into me, but I wouldn’t listen.  She knew that Jesse hated his mother, and that was a huge warning sign for her.  “He doesn’t have a good family relationship,” she said, “and he won’t be good to you.” I turned a deaf ear to every reason why the marriage wouldn’t work.

(to be continued)

Becoming a Hope Craftswoman – Part 1
Becoming a Hope Craftswoman – Part 3