Ron Hutchcraft Ministries - Stories

Difficult Times

I had a modest start, complete with an outside restroom and a metal tub to take baths in. I had one brother and three sisters. My father who was everything to me, did not go to church, but knew the Word, lived it and taught it to us. While I was pregnant with my first at 21, I lost him and my father-in-law to cancer within a month. While they were sick, I had never prayed so hard in my life - not that they would be healed, but that they would live long enough to see their granddaughter. This prayer was not answered, at least I did not know God's purpose then. Then 16 months later I lost my brother to diabetes. He was 37, blind, had lost a leg and a finger, and had kidney failure which lead to heart failure. At this point, I was angry with God, got a divorce from my first husband, and rebelled terribly for the next four years. (I call these my years of temporary insanity.) I then met my present husband who brought me back to reality. In 1990 we were married.

The Perfect Man for Me

I thought I had come to my breaking point. Inside I was in agony, and my life was in shambles. I had spent three years of my life in misery with a man who was a compulsive gambler. I was severely depressed. I loved this man, but he was not the one who God had for me to spend the rest of my life with.

Yearning for Love

I was a gay young man that had been sexually abused as a young child until my mid teens. I yearned for the love, attention, and acceptance of my dad that other kids had and I didn't. I came from a dysfunctional family where my dad was an alcoholic and I was his whipping boy. Instead of promoting an atmosphere of love, it developed into a relationship of bitterness and borderline hatred. I yearned to be loved and wanted by my dad. When I was abused by a relative, I turned that love and want into the attention he showed me as a filling of that need.

Desperate to Fill the Hole

When I was five years old, my Mom was on her way back to jail and this time they got her on bad enough charges to keep her for a while. It’s not like she kept us anyway. Her Mom, my Granny, did. I always asked God why He didn’t give me a real family. Mom never recovered from being addicted to cocaine. My brother was eight years older than me and he had a bad temper that resulted several times in stitches and bruises for me and my sister. We all had the same mom, but we had different dads. If my Dad is who my Mom says he is, he died when I was six. I never knew him, his family, or any kind of father figure. Mom ended up with "regulars" to support her habit and I struggled along through my childhood. I questioned where God was while my sister and I did without because Mom had a habit and Granny had means just to barely survive.