The time Abigail Jones saved me.

I was raised in a very strict christian household. I was forced to wear long skirts, long sleeve shirts, no makeup, no cutting hair, no television, only certain books, no cell phones, no public school and I could only attend my home church. Many read that and first word that comes to mind is "abuse" and I would almost agree. I say almost because at the time of my upbringing I was only ever around kids like me, who grew up the same way. I attended every weekly church service, prayer meeting, youth groups, church clean day, Saturday reach out day, Sunday morning and night service. My parents created the perfect blinding bubble to raise us in to the point where we thought the whole world lived the same way. Our school was private and christian based. Every lesson had to do with God and our classes were separated by gender. I didn't know what I was robbed of until I got my first job working at a grocery store.I begged my parents for months to let me get a job, I wanted to have money of my own to contribute to Sunday offering.

I was 15 years old when I met Abigail Jones, a 16 year old absolute bad ass. She had short black hair, two nose rings and a small butterfly tattoo on her wrist. She trained me for my first week of being a cashier, she also introduced me to my first non church song, "Teenage dream" by Katy Perry. In the months that passed from when I first met her, we became very close friends. We created nicknames for each other, she was "Abs" and I was "Noni" an inside joke between us because I wore skirts past my knees, having "no knees". I didnt share this friendship with my folks, I knew they would give me no choice but to end it. Abs taught me a lot, how to take a selfie, roll my eyes, apply eye shadow, showed me a tampon and showed me how to style my hair in more than just a braid. Abs didn't believe in God, she believed in Mother Earth, Father Sun, Sister Rain and Brother Moon. Any chance she got she would be barefoot, she would say the best way to be one with the earth was to not let anything get in between. Abs wardrobe consisted in thin tang tops, thrifted blue jean shorts and the same beat up pair of converse. Her mother died of a drug overdose when she was 6, abs was the one who called the police. Her father was a drunk construction worker who was never sober enough to hold a conversation with her, so she lived with her grandmother in a little trailer on the outside of town. She was showed the very dark side of life at an early age but you would never know because she was the sweetest most caring person who was always making others laugh. She would often have spiritual talks with me explaining why she believes in what she did and it made me look at things differently. I was taught what kind of relationship I was meant to have with God, what kind of woman I was supposed to be, what age I was going to start hearing God speak to me and how I should live if I ever wanted to get to heaven. It really made me think, have I ever heard God speak to me? No. Have I ever "felt" his presence? No. Did I feel sinful partaking in makeup or listening to music? No. It was making me question my own faith and for that matter my parents. One closing shift I accidently spilled cranberry juice on my skirt, it looked like a different kind of accident. Abs had an extra pair of jean shorts in her bag and offered them to me. I took them, went to the restroom to put them on. Beautiful light blue, high waisted Levi denim shorts with only one butt pocket. I loved the way the made me feel, so confident and different. As I was making my way back to the break room I had the very misfortune of running into my mother. "why in Gods holy name are dressed like a woman of the night" I was so afraid that I just stared at my mother with not a single word coming from my mouth. She with no hestitation yanked me by my arm and took me home. My parents made me quit my job the next day, and I never saw my sweet Abigail again. I often wondered if she was ever thinking of me, missing me or wondering why I never came back from the bathroom.

My parents made me speak with my church counciler once a week, to ensure I wasn't having unholy thoughts. One day at breakfast before Sunday morning service, I asked my dad "Who created God?" there was an overflowing silence in the kitchen, just everyone staring at me as if I had just committed murder. He looked at my mother, then back again at me and said "Church starts in 30 minutes, we better get on the road before we are late" and proceeded to walk towards the front door. I didn't understand why he ignored my question, if God created everything, who created God? The following weeks after that Sunday I noticed my parents were constantly watching me. One day returning home from school I saw that my bedroom door was gone, my father said he was trying to move furniture and scratched the door beyond repair so I would have to wait before getting another because it wasn't in their budget to get another. Which made their watching me more intense. I thought if they could only see what goes on in my head they would drown my in holy water. I started to question the methods of my church, and came to the conclusion that the youth was being groomed. My older brother Jonah was married 2 weeks after he turned 18, became the choir director at our church. Jonah married Bethanne, our pastors 2nd daughter and she was a sunday school teacher. They are expecting their first child in 6 months. I decided I would tell my parents how I feel and how it made me uncomfortable. "Are you so far into the world that you would say such awful things about the church? About God? Do you want to burn in hell? Keeping thinking those sinful thoughts and that's where you'll end up!" That was the last time I ever said anything of the sort to my parents but it was also the beginning of my spiritual journey to finding myself and who I was meant to be.