In 1993 I was born in the capital of Ukraine, Kiev. I was raised there and I lived there until I was five years old. My father had gone traveling across the world to earn some money for my mom, and to search for the truth. He traveled to Tibet, across Asia and to the US. There he joined a little gang, because they stole his passport. He eventually killed two of the ‘leaders’, and fled back to Ukraine. There he had great regret of his actions and he told everyone what had done. He was baptized in the International Church of Christ, there He could not find grace because it was still very hard for him to accept forgiveness. He started to suffer from various psychotic attacks, and was taken to a Russian mental hospital. Meanwhile, my mom had a very hard time raising me and my little brother.
When my dad was dismissed from that hospital he went traveling across Europe, to France, to join the Foreign Legion. They did not accept him and he continued to travel to the Netherlands. There he found a place to live and called my mom to move there also.
We moved to the Netherlands, my mom was at that time a very devoted Christian. God answered her prayers and the government gave us a nice house to live in, we were blessed. Our family lived in peace for a couple years (Sometimes my Father was taken to a mental hospital). Then the time came that my mom and my dad started to fight and argue with each other about their beliefs and conduct, my dad professed a Greek orthodox faith and my mom had a more grace based view of the Bible, she was an Evangelical. At that time my dad had different psychotic attacks which made mine and my brother’s time at the elementary school quite hard, because of the reputation our family had in that little protestant town we lived in.
At that time I was thirteen years old, and I had a good time in the town I lived in. I had some close friends and I loved to organize little groups with whom we often build cottages and played nicely together, although we were not the keen lads who played soccer, we often climbed trees and searched the exciting side of life in our adventures throughout the neighborhood. I really had a deep fire and pride within me, and flourished in dreams and the zeal to explore.
Then in a while, my mom started to build a relationship with another man through some kind of dating website. He lived in Russia and my mom decided to visit him for a week, but stayed there for one and a half year, she often called me. Shortly after my mom left the house, my dad began to act strange again and he was very strict to me and my brother concerning religious activities, he was on the streets all day acting weird to people of our neighborhood. They became concerned about us and called a mental hospital to pick my dad up, and after they had taken him, my brother and I were left at our home, all alone. I still remember that I went to the toilet and cried there to God. (there was a window with a view into the sky)
Then God began to change my life, but I was still ignorant at that time of the truth and I was definitely not searching it. I still remember the day when my dad was picked up and that the mother of one of my best friends came to get me to their place which was two blocks further. My brother moved to his friend’s house, not far away from our old house. from that moment my life as a foster child began and continued for two years.
Next: [Part 2] – Misled zeal