Amanda Lodge grew up with an intense feeling of rejection. Not only was she adopted, but her adoptive mother died when she was young. After a series of children’s homes she became pregnant herself and was forced to give up her own baby for adoption. What followed were years of domestic violence that left Amanda disillusioned and hurting so much.
I looked in the mirror. Who was I? Who did I belong to? Who did I look like? There was no answer. At the tender age of 15, in the midst of my anger about the betrayal I felt from everyone who had known I had been adopted, a wall of steel was built around my heart.
Left in a nursery at birth, I suppose I should have been grateful that at three years old a family had finally wanted me. I lived with my adoptive parents and my new brother until I was 10, when my adoptive mother died of cancer.
I would say there were more storms and thunder than laughter and sunshine in my early life, but I accepted that it was my lot. Spending the remainder of my adolescent years in three different children's homes was unsettling, but I got used to moving around.
By the age of 16 I was pregnant myself, and was moved from my adoptive father's house to a mother and baby home. A social worker persuaded me to have my son adopted because I had no family to support me, but I've regretted it ever since.
And then I was placed in another children's home. I had moved seven times by the time I was 18 and another 19 times since then.
My journey as an adult took me to places where I wanted immediate answers, and God was a big zero in my life. Where was He when I needed help and support? Where was He when I was assaulted? Where was He when I was going through years of domestic violence, having lived in several refuges?
“Great God you are,” I thought sarcastically.
I began to see a clairvoyant to try to find answers for my life. I was living in constant fear of my partner, and I could not see how I could ever escape. But the answers from the clairvoyant instilled even more fear. “Leave your house, he is going to kill you,” she said.
“Then one night I had a dream. In the dream I heard a voice that sounded calm and authoritative but loving at the same time. The voice said: “In my hand I have this meat which is a lamb; you can give it to me, your God, or give it to the devil”. In the dream, I gave it to God. When I woke up I could not understand why I would give it to God.
That morning I moved to a different refuge again. When I got there I threw out all my astrology and occult books and questioned God. I said: “If you are real, give me that house across the road”. God did! And apparently it was almost impossible to get a house in the place I asked for.
After moving in, I found that God provided everything I asked for. It was so amazing to realise there was a God and that He cared for me that I broke down in tears on my kitchen floor.
He continued to speak to me in dreams. He told me He had knitted me together in my mother’s womb for a purpose. I was not here on this earth for nothing – I had a purpose and God’s purpose was for my good, because He loves me. He drew me to Him by His love and coloured in my dark clouds with lovely rainbows.
Amanda went on to find her birth mother and, more recently, her birth father. Today she works as a qualified counselor and mental health nurse, her painful early life having given her the empathy to assist others in their struggles.•