Not A Survivor More Than A Conqueror

By Rachel Howington

NOT A SURVIVOR / MORE THAN A CONQUEROR is a journey of life, a journey that reveals that there is nothing that is impossible with God. NOT A SURVIVOR / MORE THAN A CONQUEROR is written with the hope that those who are only surviving will begin to believe in their God intended purpose. NOT A SURVIVOR / MORE THAN A CONQUEROR is a true account of the challenges in life that have been conquered by surrendering to God.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Proisle Publishing Services
• Release date: Aug 31, 2022
• ISBN: 9798986866512

Book preview

Chapter 1

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The Table, my Refuge

Rachel Ann was born in August 1940 and in raised in New Mexico. Already there had been six girls born to my mother Lorene a half Cherokee Indian woman, and my father John Donovan a sheepherder/cowboy. Both wanted sons, they had planned to have many sons. JD, wanted sons to carry on his name and work cattle alongside him. Girls were trouble, useless mouths to feed, yet here is another one. Rage of another girl was the first response this mother felt for this baby girl. Fear of this mother was perhaps the first response this baby girl felt in this world, intense lonely fear. My sisters were delighted yet fearful for me; they already knew the wrath and cruelty of their mother. Too often, they had felt her cruel touch. Gladys was sixteen when Rachel was born. She happily received this new little sister, and tenderly gave her, her first bath, hoping she would be safe. June was fifteen, and Betty Jo was seven. Betty Joe had been given to JD’s sister Nona and her husband Ted when she was two weeks old. Joy was five, and Mary was three. There had been another girl born after Gladys. Her name was Jesse; there were several pictures with Maggie and JD of Jesse as a baby, however at around the age of two Jesse just disappeared. There is no mention of her death in the records of the family Bible. No explanation was ever given that any of the children knew about. Families that lived out on the remote ranches revealed very little information about their lives.

JD as they called my father was gone for weeks and months at a time, taking sheep either to winter pasture or on a cattle drive. He thought of himself as a cowboy, and not as a despised sheepherder. Each time he came home, he fathered another child, yet had little time to be a daddy to his children. However, in many ways, he tried to reach out to them. He would bring home the tall stick of the Yucca cactus for the girls and they instantly became the most wonderful stick horses ever. Disappointment weighed heavily on JD for not having a son. A man had to have sons to carry on his name, ride, and handle this rough life on the New Mexico plains. His first daughter Gladys was dressed as a boy and JD called her Pete, she seldom wore a dress. Therefore, for the time, Gladys was the son JD trained to ride, to rope, and work the cattle with him. Gladys did not mind; she loved her daddy intently as did all the girls. She thought he could do no wrong, even though he spoke harsh words that cut into their heart, saying they were useless and a burden. Maggie wanted to please JD at first, but as the years wore on and she spent many nights alone, she began to want more than just another baby. She turned her attention to other men when JD was gone. Joy tried to care for her little sisters. She tended them the same way Gladys had tended to her, carrying them on her hip, trying to mother them the best she could. So much responsibility at such a young age left its mark on Joy. For most of Joy’s adult life, she would feel inadequate as a mother. Many times her helplessness would cause her to flee when difficult situations would arise in her life, and she would abandon her husband and children. As a little girl, Joy was her daddy’s pet when he was at home. She was his shadow. In the summer when he was away, she spent hours behind the door standing near his winter jacket to smell the mixture of lye soap, his horse, saddle leather, and smoke from the campfire that was the scent of her daddy. Of all of the children, Joy was the one Maggie seemed to be able to tolerate. Joy was much like Maggie, with dark brownish red hair, with deep-set brown eyes. The Indian blood in her gave her an unusual beauty. Joy had an independence that Maggie admired, a quality she too had tried to suppress in her own heart. As Maggie saw her life passing, she began to try her independent wings. When JD was gone, she would venture to town to drink and dance with local cowboys looking for a good time. The children left to care for one another, often for far too many days

Chapter 2

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Intervention

Psalms 27:10 When my father and my mother forsake me, then the LORD will take me up.

My first memory of your intervention Lord was when I was about seventeen months. Can you remember what happened when you are this young? Yes, the memory first came in a dream, and then years later the oldest sister Gladys confirmed the incident. During an outburst of rage, Maggie stabbed me with an ice pick. I crawled away from her, attempting to hide under the table, the table was to become my place of refuge. Maggie was coming toward me with the ice pick still in hand. At that very moment, a figure appeared through the closed door, this must have been you Lord, or perhaps an angel that you sent to rescue me. The moment the figure came through the door Maggie ran into the root cellar that led down from the kitchen. You stooped down and just looked at me with eyes that healed my heart and took away the fear, and then you were gone. Gladys came soon after that and found me under the table, no longer bleeding but wounded. Maggie was still hiding in the cellar. Gladys took me home with her until Maggie came and took me back home. In