Blog Entry
All My Trust // Gordon Park
By #peopleof1910, April 24, 2017

When I think about my life, it would be easier for me to hate my life and be angry with God for giving me the life that I have. There is enough drama in my life to think that there is no real reason for me to believe there is a God, but the funny thing is, that I do believe in God, and I do believe that Jesus died for me and will always be there to catch me when I fall. People have always said that God will never give you more than what you can handle, but as you read this story, remember that I have been to the edge of life and my belief in Jesus is what keeps me here and keeps me going. God will always guide my decisions.

My earliest memory in my life was not one of Disney Land, but of a catastrophe for a 8 month old child. My earliest memory is one of my mother stepping out of a stolen vehicle, and shooting an elderly woman dead. I remember the sound of the gun and the screams of the others around my mom. I remember the spatters of blood and the report of the second shot that was fired by my mother into the second victim killing her as well. I remember being handed to my oldest sister in the back seat of the car that I was in, waiting for her to wipe the blood spray off my face and clothes. I remember the screaming was so loud that it was hurting my ears, and I remember thinking "Wow that’s loud". What I didn’t know until years later was I was the one who was screaming.

After that my sister and I became wards of the state, once my mom and dad were taken into custody and placed in prison. My mom was found guilty of 2 counts of 1st degree murder and my dad went to Huntsville on a bunch of counts of fraud, and by the age of 2, I had lost all of the family I had ever known. I was assigned to a family in San Antonio, and my sister was assigned to a different family. I was subjected to constant abuse, both physical and mental by the other kids because I was not their real sibling. I didn’t have anything or anyone who I could cling to because all I was ever subjected to was contempt. I remember moving every 45 days because I had too many bruises inflicted on me by other kids. I was often kicked in the back and ribs, had busted lips and black eyes. Of course, in those days, it was always the problem kid’s fault and not the fault of the kids who lived there. I remember the shortest place I ever was, I was there for 3 days. Finally, the state decided that I had to be in the same home with my sister. So, I was placed in a home on the Southside of San Antonio where my sister was.

By that time, I had reached the ripe old age of 2, and my sister was 8. I remember that the dad of the house really took a keen interest in my sister and spent a lot of time behind closed doors when the mom of the house wasn’t around. My sister finally lashed out and was put in a box in a closet and blankets placed on top of the box and locked in the closet for 4 days. I remember the mom said, “That is what happens to liars and little kids who cause problems in my house.” It wasn’t too terribly long after my sister got out and I was put in the box for 3 days as well. I remember the pitch black, the smells, the low air flow and, sleeping a whole lot. We left that place after 3 months, and moved to another home where there was no reprieve of the abuse.

At the age of 3 we were finally adopted by a mom and dad that didn’t have any kids but were in the military. This is where I got the first of 7 concussions delivered by either my mom or my dad. When I screwed up or my sister screwed up there was never a time out or self evaluation time. It was a clear case of being beaten with whatever was in or near their hands. It wasn’t a clearly defined “you’re getting 3 licks” kind of thing, either. It was getting hit over and over and over again until mom or dad couldn’t even raise their arm anymore. I remember that I was in the third grade and got hit in the head with a school bag that had math books and English books in them about 7 or eight times until I don’t remember getting hit anymore. My sister said that mom hit me 12 times and then got worried cause I didn’t move for almost 5 minutes and all this because I wore a baseball cap to school. I remember my sister trying to run interference for me in some ways and in others; I had no choice but to face it on my own. It wasn’t too long after this that I suffered my first broken nose and broken hand at the hands of my mom. Before we left Burleson, TX, I suffered 2 broken ribs, a broken wrist, a broken nose, broken hand, and by my best guess, 3 concussions.

We then moved to Devine, TX where I spent the rest of my time until I graduated. The abuse didn’t change and neither did the fact that I grew angrier and angrier and less and less in touch with any other feelings or emotions. This is where my dad became a preacher. He preached in a different smaller community for over a year, and nothing really changed there either. Abuse, abuse, and more abuse; Being called a bastard and being told that you would never amount to anything, and being told that the worst mistake that your mom and I ever made was adopting you. This doesn’t bode well for a child’s self-esteem. I always thought the Bible said that adults were not to treat children like that. It’s not okay for anyone to treat any other person with such contempt. I was 12 years old when I asked my pastor, my dad, what the Bible said about children and how they should be treated. I woke up from that question 3 days later with my 8th concussion.

At the age of 14 I finally found out why my dad and sister spent so much time behind closed doors when mom wasn’t around. My dad simply told me that it was okay for him to do that because he was in charge of this house and he could do as he wished. I remember my sister crying, and my dad simply began reading the paper and drinking coffee. That was just the way things were in our family. It was the only family I knew, and being without a family seemed far worse. It wasn’t until I was 14 when I finally got a taste of what my sister went through with my dad. One of his childhood friends took that same approach with me when I worked out at his ranch during the summer. I remember that it was also the first time I was given alcohol and told that it was okay. He was in charge of me and he could do what he wanted. Most people say that they don’t remember much about their rape, but I remember every detail like it was a movie that was on TV. Every smell, every picture on the wall and to this day I cannot eat certain foods because the smell brings back those horrid memories. After the 4th encounter I left the ranch and walked back to my house 18 miles away, and was greeted with a bloody nose for the trouble. I was called a liar and this was the first time my dad told me that he regretted naming me after his dad. I never told him about the rape because of the simple fact that I didn’t think he would do anything about it.

After that, I essentially went numb. I lost my will to live and I lost my drive to exist, but at the same time I decided that NO ONE would ever hurt me again. I was then 5’8” and weighed about 155, but by the time my freshman year started, I was 5’11” tall and 205 lbs thanks to the steroids that I was taking. I had 6 to 8 percent body fat and decided that if I was going to die it was going to be on my terms, no one else’s. I started playing the most hap hazard football that anyone has ever seen. I played running back and ran like I was running from my past and didn’t care who was in my way. I suffered 9th-12th concussions during this time frame, but I didn’t care. I was still getting bones broken at home from my mom and dad and never really caring. Two more broken noses along with broken hands and fingers. I told everyone that it was from football, but the players on my team knew better.

At 17, I blew my knee out and finished my football career a year early as a junior. Then, I slipped into a depression that could not be breached no matter how much weed I smoked or other drugs I took. I slid a knife into the side of my wrist and climbed into a bathtub of hot water and simply went to sleep. Two days later, I woke up in a military hospital, bandaged, but not dead. My dad had simply stated that I slipped and cut myself and his rank was high enough that no one questioned him. I tried pills, drinking rubbing alcohol, cutting my wrist, and nothing worked. I couldn’t even commit suicide effectively, what was I supposed to do?

With my dad being a pastor, I knew what was being said and done about God and Jesus. But at this point in my life, why the hell would I rely on or trust something I have ever seen? I had solid people who swore OATH’s to protect and love me, drop me as though I was nothing. What could God do for me? Jesus protects children and loves everyone in the world, right? Why not me? What have I ever done wrong to deserve this? My friends tell me that he is the only way to become whole again. My life is in pieces and all they want me to do is go to church and fall on my knees and confess my sins? Really? What about justice? What about the sins committed to me? At this point in my life, I walked away.

It wasn’t long after that God got my attention once again, and once again I had to come face to face with my demons. When a person has demons of any kind it’s like wearing camouflage. I say that because you can function without anyone knowing what you really feel, what you really know, or how you exist. All you can do is put on that camouflage and a smiling face and walk amongst those who see you and let them feel that you are a normal person. People want to see normal people and all they care about individually is the safe little corners that they live in. Most people cannot deal with their demons and don’t know how to see outside of their own camouflage. Taking off that camouflage exposes you to the real feelings and raw emotions that are always below the surface. The things you cannot get out of your head. The things that keep you up at night. The things that give you nightmares.

There comes a time in your life, in everyone’s life, when you run out of options. You are tired of being angry at everyone all the time. This what some call rock bottom. That rock bottom came to me when I had an affair inside of my marriage. My wife found out, of course, and we separated and my in-laws were brought into it. I was staying at the house alone for my last night there and my father in law showed up to make sure I knew I wasn’t welcome there anymore. I told him I knew and that I would be gone the next morning by 10. The following morning I got up and collected the rest of my belongings as a bullet ripped past my head. I ducked and covered and jumped into my old truck as another shot went through the spot where I was. I sped off and to this day I swear that I saw my father in law not far behind.

It took me 3 months to go into a church. I missed my family and I was tired of being angry. I walked into Church on the Rock which isn’t around anymore, and I spoke with a guy named James and his wife Sissy. I finally let it all go. The anger came out of me in a flood of tears. I begged God to give me my family back and help me with making things right with my family. I spoke with my wife and after only 2 weeks of counseling, we were going to make it work. God intervened with her family and we went from shooting at me to sitting down and letting me apologize for messing the family up. I was accepted back into the family and my wife and I have been doing great ever since.

The bigger issue was that by placing all my trust through Christ, I began to heal. He took my pain and everything I have been through, and turned me into a good dad, and a coach for the YMCA here in Boerne. It’s the best way I could pass on my knowledge of sports and help kids through my life. God could heal my life and my relationship with my dad through a single verse, Exodus 20:12. He helped me put down my burdens and get rid of my anger because of Matthew 11 27-30. Luke 18 28-30 was where I get my strength to keep from getting angry all over again. All this through Christ who strengthens me.

I still go through struggles and trials. I have developed severe headaches and nocturnal epilepsy because of the head injuries. I have lost a good deal of income and a whole lot of memory because of the medical issues I have faced, but I know that God will always provide a way for me to make sure that my family is always taken care of. I have faith that God will provide for me. I have and I always will. If we don’t believe one aspect of the Bible then we can’t believe in any of it. What the devil intends for evil, God will turn into good. I look to Job as an example of this. My resolve and my faith in the Lord will continue. I will always allow HIM to be my focal point and allow HIM alone to guide my path and the path of my family. I remember what people used to say that God is Good all the time, and now I understand what that means. Even when you are going through trials in your life, GOD will remain by your side no matter what. I thank him for that daily.


By Jacob K.
Yo This touched me different ways right now, you have such a crazy testimony, all the way through and I had no clue about any of that at all. It shows how good God is for sure, how he can always turn any negative situation or circumatance and flip it around completely.
By Frank Hoover
Praise God. Your a grrat man, a great dad, am I am lucky enough to call you a friend and brother, and my daughters are lucky enough to call you uncle. Proud of you brother
By Scott Lowry
Gordon, we go back a long way, back to my boys in little league & you working at a fast food restaurant. Your story really touch me! It took a lot of guts and belief in our Savior to share it. Bless you and your family! God is great all the time! We just need to be close to him... Again, thanks brother!

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