I was born in Northampton, England and lived there until I was eleven years old. My mother met my stepfather, an American and an air force veteran, when I was four years old, and they married when I was five. In time, my dad told the family, “The only way we are going make it is to move to America!”
It almost broke my heart to leave my grandmother and grandfather because of the amount of time I spent with them both. My mother, my sister, and myself, lived with my grandparents a while before my mom met my stepfather, who legally adopted us, a year or so after we arrived in America.
We crossed the ocean on the SS United States, and during our voyage, we hit the tail-end of a Hurricane. My sister slid across the dining room floor strapped into her chair, with the waiters running after her. I was at the table too, but I was too seasick to eat. I remember the voyage as a harrowing experience.
We all returned to England several years later, I was thirteen years old and couldn’t wait to see my grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins, again. One night, at my grandmother’s house, I found my grandmother in her bedroom, sitting in a chair. I sat down, at my grandmother’s feet. Shortly, thereafter, she looked down at me and said, “You will be the Queen of Witches.” I was a little startled, but I didn’t think much about it until I was much older, and my mother told me my grandmother was a witch.
My mother told me some other things, too. She told me my legs hurt me severely, and that I used to scream so loud that one of the neighbors called the police. I believe I was about three years old. I can’t remember anything about it, but I due vaguely, remember the policeman’s hat.
Several years ago, a doctor asked me, “Have your knees ever been broken?” About six years ago, a doctor asked me, “Who broke your back?” I used to have a lot of back problems, and the doctor probably took an x-ray, it’s just too long ago to remember the exact details of that doctor’s visit.
Because of what my mother told me, and what the two doctors asked me, it made me wonder, “What, if anything, happened to me as a small child?”
My mother also told me that she visited a fortune teller, and that the fortune teller told her that one of her children would not out live her. I have three other siblings, and I was the only one she told. My mother told me this over and over again. She told me this throughout my twenties, thirties and forties. The seed of death she planted in me, gnawed at me until the day my beloved mother died on April 11, 2012, due to complications of Scleroderma.
Now, for the “Good News!”
I was nineteen or twenty years old, I can’t be certain, but one thing I do know is that I was a Christian. One day, while I was driving, I stopped the car by a telephone booth, to call my grandmother, in England. I told her about Jesus, and she prayed and asked Jesus into her heart.
After I became a Christian, I witnessed to my mother, often. One day, I was driving home from work (a forty-five minute trip) and my mother called me on my cell phone. When I answered, she told me she had asked Jesus into her heart, and that she was listening to a Christian radio station when it happened. In my entire lifetime, I have never heard my mother’s voice so peaceful.
I have peace in knowing that one day, I will see the two women that I loved the most in my lifetime, in heaven.
In Christian † Love, Susan Osten