So here it is. My blog. To be honest, this kind of thing is all very new to me, so I'm quite nervous, but over all excited.
Purpose of this blog: To show everyone the steps I have taken in my life, which has brought be closer to God than I could ever imagine. If you chose to read it, GREAT!! I'm scared to reveal my true self, but want to change, and part my ways with my "fear of man". (Gal 1:10) If you don't chose to read it, that's OK too. I'm just hear to bear my testimony.
So I guess I can start off by introducing myself, right? OK. For those of you who don't know me, my name is Kristina Jauregui. I would suggest that if you don't know me, not to try to attempt the pronunciation of my last name. I'll give you an unauthorized version of a pronunciation key:(Hou-er-gee).
I was born, and raised in Southern California for 21 awesome years of my life. I lived with my parents, in a small 2 bedroom condo that I could walk from end to end in about 3 and a half steps. We lived in Newbury Park, a suburb of Thousand Oaks (which was ranked #11 of the 25 safest cities in America in 2009). The only problem with that ranking, is that I think my "hood" was completely ignored when they came up with it. You might be thinking that calling my neighborhood a "hood" is going a little extreme, but you would only know what I mean if had you lived there. I always used to call it "little Mexico", or "gangland", whichever term fit best at the time I was using it. My neighborhoods actual name was "Las Casitas", or translated from Spanish, "little houses". I found a lot of irony and humor in that.
My parents were both lower class citizens, and lived paycheck by paycheck. That being said, they managed very well, and did everything to the best of their ability. They didn't live there by choice, but by force. Thousand Oaks and it's nicer suburbs, were by far too expensive for people in their situation, to afford.
My father was born in Jalisco, Mexico in November 1963. Both of his parents died when he was very young, leaving him with six younger siblings, and two older siblings. Education was not a priority when it came to his family, and it was not forced on children in Mexico. My father didn't get to finish middle school. By the time he was 19, he decided that a change needed to be made, and crossed the US/Mexican border. He was determined to make a new life for his family by sacrificing the things he loved most, to work in California. Not just work, but hours upon hours of strenuous, hard labor. He was all alone, at 19 years old. I guess you could say he grew up pretty fast. Of course, being so young, it was so painfully easy to get involved with wrongful things, and be so easily influenced. Drugs and alcohol became a part of his daily ritual, but surprisingly functioned enough to get by.
My mother on the other hand had a much different story. She was born in Mexico, Missouri in January 1958. Her mother was a home-maker, and her father served in the Navy for the entirety of their short-lasting marriage. She has one brother, about 2 years younger than she. When my mother was about four, her parents separated, and her mother forced them to move out of state, to California. She rarely talked to her father, and when she did, it was no longer than a few minutes every couple of months. The image I got from the pictures I had seen of my grandmother, she looked like some-what of a partyer, and was very attractive throughout my mothers teenage years. Like myself, my mother was always the heavy-set girl out of all of her friends, and I don't believe having a mother that looked like a more attractive, younger version of her sister helped her self-esteem one bit. As far as her brother, they were your average, everyday obnoxious siblings. From what I remember in stories she has told me, they have been very close to killing each other, hopefully on accident. My mother married at a young age, to her first husband, and had her first child; my brother. That marriage didn't work out like she had hoped, so they separated when my brother was too young to even remember.
My parents married when my brother was just a toddler. My grandmother, in no way, shape or form, agreed with this marriage. She was actually so against it, that she did not even attend the wedding. My father, was not what she thought was best for my mother. Of course, she was just being a mother, and looking out for her daughters best interest. Just to clear the record, before everyone gets this horrid, "wicked witch of the west" image about my grandmother, I'll just share a small bit of info with ya. Throughout her life, she grew, and changed, and was one of the only people I have ever met that truly FELL IN LOVE with Jesus. She just happened to go through some hard ships in her life, like many of us have.
My parents marriage will probably be revealed throughout this blog, as some situations must be explained to really tell you what I have experienced that made me want to seek God, and accept him into my life.
This was probably a lot to take in at one time, but at the same time, crucially important aspects that should be mentioned in order to understand and relate with my blog.
Until next time, ONE LOVE, ONE GOD, ONE WAY.