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Suicidal to Healed and Whole

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“Someone approached us and said, you know, ‘You don't have to get teased anymore if you join the gang,’” started Dora Orozco. “'We'll make you part of our family. We'll protect you.’" Protection, acceptance and love. Things 15-year-old Dora Orozco wanted so badly that joining or “jumping in” to a violent, L.A. street gang was worth it – despite the brutal initiation. “Six men, they were going to beat me up for one minute,” said Dora detailing the initiation. “Just a small sacrifice, a ‘minute for a family.’”

Dora had moved to L.A. at 13 to live with her mom. When Dora was only three her mother left her and her siblings behind in Guatemala for a new life in America. Raised by relatives and friends, she held on to the promise of a reunion. “She will say, ‘I'm coming back once I get enough money to bring you guys here,’” said Dora repeating her mother’s words. “It did get me excited and I hoped that I will have a family at some point.”

While that reunion did come, it was far from a happy one. “That's when the verbal abuse started,” she said soberly. “A lot of screaming, a lot of ‘You're not good. You're not this.' I remember one time I was dragged by my hair to the bathroom. And I just started to believe lies that were spoken over me." Her home wasn’t the only place she felt unloved. The church she’d grown up in taught about a judgmental God easily angered, and slow to give His love. "You had to earn your way kinda for God to love you,” said Dora. “Like if you misbehave, God is going to punish you.”

So taking a beating from a gang to find love and acceptance seemed like a small price. However, Dora would get neither, as her mom moved them to Nashville days before her initiation. Once in Tennessee, the abuse from her mom and mom’s boyfriend became more aggressive. Abused and angry, Dora continued to believe God was punishing her. “I thought God wasn't listening to me,” Dora admitted. “God is not there. You know, He's not rescuing me. It was literally hell every day.”

Through her school years, Dora learned to put on a smile, masking her trauma and anguish. Then at 19, Dora found something that made smiles come a little more easily. “Someone offered me a pill and said, you know, ‘It’s gonna make you feel better.’ It was like I was in heaven," said Dora of her first time using, "cause really it would just numb everything and I will be a different person.”

She became addicted to pills, began cutting, and even made several suicide attempts. Finally, her mother encouraged her to go back to church. Dora continued, “I was so numb, in my mind with not just the pills, but just numb in my spirit. And I said, ‘I don't want that God that you have cause He doesn't work.’” Then, in 2015 after nearly a decade of addiction, Dora was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. To her, it was more proof of God’s judgment. “Despair, like this is my life, you know,” Dora said in defeat. “I thought that because I had gone out and got addicted to pills is the reason God was punishing me.”

Her symptoms progressed rapidly. In the coming months, and she found herself in constant pain, destined to live out her life in a wheelchair.  “It was always pain, torment,” Dora said of her battle with MS. “It was always like that for years.” In December, 2016, Dora decided to finally take control of her life – and end it.
“Bought the rope. Set the date. And I wrote the letter blaming everybody,” Dora said. “And I called my mom and I told her, ‘I’m gonna commit suicide and you're going to have to answer to your God for what you did to me.’"

She went to bed, planning to hang herself first thing the next morning. Then, at 2 a.m. she woke up to three shadowy figures, who began chasing her through the house. “Once we got to my living room, they stopped chasing me. They were shaking and pointing at something like this,” she said gesturing her hand forward shakily. “I had a Bible in my living room, always had it. It had dust on it. Said, ‘Wow, they're afraid of the Bible.’ That’s when I heard a voice, coming out of it. And He said, ‘If you don't want your life, give it back to me.’ And I said, I knew it was God at that time, but I was so angry at Him. So all I said was like, ‘You want my brokenness? You can have it.’"

The figures vanished and Dora quietly fell asleep.  When she woke up later that morning, “I had peace in my heart,” she said somewhat surprised. “And I knew that something supernatural had happened to me.” Something else miraculous had happened.  “It took me 10 minutes to realize that I was actually walking again with no pain in my body,” Dora said with delight. “Said, ‘Jesus, you healed my heart and my body.’ I couldn't believe that He loved me like that. When I said, ‘You can have whatever’s left,’ He just took all of it, and made it brand new.”

All thoughts of suicide and desire for drugs vanished. Her anger faded and in time she reconciled with her mother. Then, at her next checkup, her doctor confirmed she’d been healed. “He said, ‘We're not able to find any M.S. in your system anymore. Your brain is normal.’ And I was so excited. I said, ‘Well, Jesus healed me,’” Dora exclaimed with a smile.

Today, Dora takes the lessons she’s learned and shares them, and the Gospel, with others through mission work. “And I don’t have much to give them, but I do have Jesus,” Dora said sweetly. “It's really just surrendering your heart and saying, ‘You know what, I can't do it on my own anymore, but here you go.' I didn't have to work for His love. He loved me when I was my worst.”
 

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The 700 Club is a live television program that airs each weekday. It is produced before a studio audience at the broadcast facilities of The Christian Broadcasting Network (CBN) in Virginia Beach, Virginia. On the air continuously since 1966, it is one of the longest-running programs in broadcast history. The program is hosted by Pat Robertson, Terry Meeuwsen, and Gordon Robertson, with news anchor John Jessup. The 700 Club is a mix of news and commentary, interviews, feature stories, and Christian ministry. The 700 Club can be seen in 96 percent of the homes in the U.S. and is carried on