This is My Song, This is My Story: I'm Not Who I Used to Be
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About this ebook
The powerful, personal story of how a woman whose entire identity was rooted in homosexuality and poverty thinking became transformed and set free into her true identity as a beautiful, strong woman through the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
When life turns upside-down, who do you turn to? And when you turn to God, what do you do whe
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This is My Song, This is My Story - Terrie L Broom
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I want to acknowledge and thank Beth Anderson for intentionally walking into my life, demonstrating Jesus, accepting me as I was, and encouraging me to grow, next step after next step.
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I want to acknowledge and thank Drenda Marchman who, even though she would speak tough love in my struggle with diabetes, often came to my rescue—a real lifesaver!
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I want to thank Nancy Andrews and Chris Lacek for being proactive small group leaders by going the extra step to get in touch with a counselor to work out my need for deeper healing.
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I want to thank my counselor (who wanted to not be named to keep her anonymity) who loved, discipled and counseled me into a deeper relationship with God, and who taught me about the Father Ladder
that changed the way I see and know my relationship with the Trinity.
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I want to thank Wendy Speaks for being a true friend, even when it meant she had to walk away for a couple of seasons and trust Father God with what was going on in my life. Real friends don’t drag you into sin.
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Thank you, Kim Copeland, for being a friend and sister in the faith, for the support you extended me, and for the encouragement to do the Father’s will.
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Finally, I would like to thank Sallie Brassfield for all the deep conversations, times and roads we shared in this journey to the depths of our Father’s heart.
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Therefore, since we have this ministry, as we receive mercy, we do not lose heart, but we renounce the things hidden because of shame, not walking in craftiness, or adulterating the word of God, but by the manifestation of truth commending ourselves to every man’s conscience in the sight of God.
2 Corinthians 4:2
FROM THE AUTHOR
Ihave always loved music. Whenever I was depressed or lonely, I would always listen to my favorite songs for hours at a time. I always got drawn in by the lyrics, and they would touch something deep in my soul.
There came a time when God would reach out to me through the music I was listening to, often telling me the opposite of what I was hearing. As I tell my story, I look back and include the music and songs and lyrics that touched me as I was on my journey into the heart of God.
This is a book the Lord led me to write, and it is different from any other book I have ever read. This is an interactive book where you can look up the songs on YouTube and play them before or after each chapter. These are the songs that testify of my state of being and my progress along my journey.
I hope it ministers to you and encourages you to see that change is possible if you choose to believe, confess your sin, repent and trust a loving Father who is the Almighty.
Do you not know that the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived; neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor homosexuals nor thieves, nor the covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor swindlers, will inherit the kingdom of God.
Such were some of you; but you were washed, but you were sanctified, but you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and in the Spirit of our God.
—1 Corinthians 6:9-11 (NAS)
Chapter One
I BELIEVE
Iwant to share a true story—not just a story, but a true-life story, a better-than-Lifetime story made for TV.
I want to say from the onset that there are many people who struggle with same-sex attractions, gender identity issues and homosexuality. This is my story, and God is not prejudiced; this could be your story too. If the shoe doesn’t fit, just kick it off. God, he causes the sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous (Matthew 5:45).
It was 2003, and I had just turned thirty-nine years old. I was living and loving life largely. I had just started a new job as a service writer, and I had been selling automobiles for the last ten years. After years of struggling to accept myself as a lesbian, I had finally found the love of my life, and with our pets as our children,
we were as settled as settle could be for us. Except for the fact my parents didn’t agree with my lifestyle, and my partner’s mom was not excited about our relationship as well, all was good.
Now, my brother who was fifteen months younger than me—well, he was happy about me coming out. He had been living in the closet for a long time except with his close friends.
Yes, life was great, all was good and as they say, life is full of fun and giggles until someone gets hurt. Then, it’s a totally different story.
It was the beginning of October, and I had almost forgotten it was coming up on my brother Tom’s birthday. Here it was October fifth, and his birthday was in two days. Luckily I had a computer at work and could get online and shop for him, but I didn’t have time to shop. I had better think of something fast, so I could get it shipped in time for him to get it on his birthday.
It occurred to me that he loved fresh flowers. He always had fresh flowers in his house, especially when I came or anyone came to visit him. So I thought I hadn’t bought him anything in a while, and I usually don’t spend a lot on birthday gifts. And rarely did I spend over twenty-five dollars on something that fades by the hour, but this day I opted to spend seventy-five dollars on flowers— autumn flowers too, which meant probably half of it was made out of dead sticks. Looking back on it now, I am sure glad I spent the money and bought the largest bouquet.
It was only six weeks later; I was trying to catch up with my brother Tom to ask him his opinion on buying a house. My partner and I had been living together for four years now. We had the commitment ceremony
to seal our relationship, and now we were looking for a bigger house than the townhouse we were living in. I had called Tom because we always bounced off ideas and confided in each other about life and the opportunities that might be available for us. I tried to call him several times and left messages on his voicemail twice. It was getting real close to Thanksgiving, so I thought that he and his partner might be vacationing or going somewhere to see his partner’s family for the holiday.
I think it was on Wednesday that I told my partner—let’s just call her name Kayla)—If he doesn’t call by Friday, we are driving to Atlanta and knocking on his door.
This was so highly unusual for him not to call me back, especially when I left a voicemail on his phone about some family gossip… Surely he would have called me back for that alone.
Well, Thanksgiving came and went; Kayla and I ate at my folk’s house and mother asked if I had heard from Tom (because Tom had cut my mother and father off ten years before over a huge offense). I told her I had not, but I had called him several times and was probably going to go see him tomorrow when I got off work.
The next day, Friday, at work I was thinking, If he doesn’t call me, I am leaving and going to drive right on up there and figure out if he is out of town or what.
It was about nine o’clock a.m. and my cell phone began ringing and it read, Tom.
I was so excited, I almost dropped my cell phone as I answered and said, Tom!
Then I heard the voice on the other end and it was Winston, my brother’s life partner. He said, Terrie, this is Winston, and I know you must feel like we were ignoring you, and we kinda were. But that was what Tom wanted.
I said, What is going on? What has happened? Was he in an accident? Is he in the hospital? Is he okay?
I was just shooting up all these questions that had been piling up in my mind for days and days.
Winston said, Are you sitting down?
And I was telling him, They don’t let us sit down here at work. Just tell me!
That’s when he just pretty much blurted it out: Tom died yesterday at one o’clock.
I mean, hearing that was so surreal. All the noise in the service department just went silent, and I couldn’t hear anything. I could not believe what I was hearing.
Winston went on to tell me that they thought they had his medical issues straightened out and he was getting out of the woods.
It was hard for my brother to decide to go into the hospital. He had saved up sick days that amounted up to six weeks and was talked into checking into the hospital as like a time of spa treatment
to reset and balance his system out.
Unfortunately, Tom didn’t get to use up his sick days. Tom had died of complications from AIDS and developed cancer in his colon. He had been hiding the fact that he had AIDS for eighteen years, not even telling his closest friends who were also dying with AIDS. He never told anyone, not even me. I was shocked, overwhelmed and taken for a loop as they say.
Winston did say he was hoping Tom would come out of his coma because he knew we had both grown closer in recent years and wanted permission against what Tom had said in the past about notifications once he got bad.
This is where my whole world turned upside-down. Life was fun until this happened.
Looking back, Tom must have known he was getting worse; our conversations seemed to be getting much deeper and meaningful. A couple of months before, we really talked about our childhood—the good, the bad and the ugly. He was so jealous of my athletic abilities and how easy it was for me to make lifetime friends. I told him I was jealous of how he could study and be so smart and how he could put an outfit together and color coordinate so well. I was a goofball, and he was Mr. Wonderful. I remember how we laughed out loud at each other and also found ourselves holding back tears too.
I had never had anyone who was close to me die—oh my great uncles and aunts, my grandparents, but they were old; it seemed normal. To have your sibling die who was fifteen months younger than you will get your attention real fast. I must have cried every day going to work and coming home from work for over a year. When I would be driving, I would listen to the radio, and every time I heard this song, I Believe
by Diamond Rio, I would just melt. It would be my song of remembrance to Tom, and I so wanted to believe.
Go to YouTube and look up the song I Believe
by Diamond Rio.
Chapter Two
I’M THE ONLY ONE
Life had forever changed me. Time, to me, seemed to stand still. My thoughts were overwhelming me, and I could not process much of what was coming to my mind. I felt like I lost my best friend.
I would for months have this reoccurring nightmare about a story in the Bible. It is in the book of Luke, about a rich man who used to come and go with his wealthy self and walk right by this poor man named Lazarus, who was laid by his gate day after day. This poor man, sitting, just begging for the crumbs from the rich man’s table. Even the dogs would sit and lick the poor man’s sores.
Well, as the story goes, the poor man Lazarus died and was carried off by angels to the bosom of Father Abraham, and as it would be too, the rich man died and it says he was just buried. He was in Hades, and looking far away and up from there, he could see Lazarus in the bosom of Abraham. The rich man, who now was being tormented, cried out to Father Abraham for mercy and asked if he would send Lazarus with a drop of water from the tip of his finger to quench his thirsty tongue, for the flames were too much.
Father Abraham responded to the rich man and said, Child, remember that during your life you received good things and likewise Lazarus bad things; but now he is being comforted here and you are in agony.
I tell you who was in agony! Me! Just the thought of my brother who, by all appearances, could very well be just like this rich man. Tom was very wealthy, and he dressed for the best and put down others who didn’t live to the standard he was accustomed to. Don’t get me wrong—he was generous to some, those he wanted to impress, which were his friends, or friends of family members.
But I was totally being tormented day after day, thinking my brother is in hell, and if he is in hell—well, what about me? Was I going to hell?