People have asked me before how I survived my abusive past. I have one simple answer: God. I have honestly felt Him walk beside me since I was little.

My first memories of my life involve attending Sunday School class. I loved singing songs, especially 'This Little Light of Mine," "Zacchaeus," and "He Has the Whole World in His Hands." I remember focusing hard on the lyrics and trying to remember all the actions that belong to each song. I laughed a lot and sang loudly; it was pure joy. I also remember how kind everyone was to me. Oh gosh, if I try hard enough, I can still smell the mustiness of the church basement where the Sunday School classes were held, and I can almost taste the home-baked goodies we received for a snack. YUM! It felt safe there. It is where I met God. Thankfully.

As for my home life, I have fewer memories, and not many of them are good memories. But before I jump into that discussion, I think it would be wise to give you a little background on my parents. My Mom struggled with mental illness. It wasn't diagnosed when I was young, but eventually, she was treated for bipolar coupled with violent schizophrenia. Due to these issues, I experienced many scary outbursts; she was highly critical, and her ability to cope with everyday life was nearly non-existent. From what I recall, my main goals from a very young age were to watch her closely, adjust my behavior if needed, and play quietly. My dad also struggled with issues; he had been a soldier in Vietnam and experienced the many horrors of war, and instead of working through the pain, he tried to bury it deep in his soul like many of the soldiers did at that time. My dad was happy and playful with me, though, despite his troubles. I loved spending time with him.

So, back to my childhood, after I was born, my dad caught my Mom on multiple occasions slapping my mouth or screaming at me when I would spit up or cry. Dad was very concerned, and when he was home, he would try to take the pressure off of her by spending a lot of time with me. However, she was terrible to me and couldn't handle the parenting role. Dad tried to figure out what might help the situation and thought things might be better if they moved to a small town in his home state. This new location was hours from my Mom's family, and ultimately, this turned out to be an incredibly wrong choice; the culture and weather did not suit her, and she felt like a fish out of water, which is not suitable for a gal who already had severe mental health issues and now did not have the support of her family. As I grew, I understood that she was mad a lot, and I also figured out that if I stayed away from her, it would be better for both of us, so I became interested in bugs, animals, reading, and painting, as well as looking forward to Sunday School.

I was excited when my brother became a part of our little family, but knowing who my Mom was, I became a protective older sister. I watched and played with him and tried to ensure he was treated well. My Mom seemed to enjoy him, and things were a little better at home for a while. However, their marriage was strained, and Dad chose to begin another relationship with someone else. This action led to trust issues and tons of fighting, which caused Dad to spend more time away from our family. The more he did that, the more upset she became and the less time he wanted to be home. The cycle continued until the last straw was broken in a heart-crushing event when my dad accidentally hit my brother with at truck, killing him. Understandably, my Mom couldn't function correctly at all at this point and began to blame my dad for my brother's death in a violent fashion. Dad understandably held an enormous amount of guilt over the entire event. It was a terrible time around the house. We were all in a lot of pain, and then the marriage ended.

My Mom and I moved back to my Mom's home State. Once there, it wasn't long before she began dating again, and I ended up with a stepfather. She worked hard to keep me from seeing my dad and his family, and my dad couldn't stand her either, so I didn't have a lot of contact with him. My stepfather was more than happy to help keep me isolated because he was a pedophile. So, from the ages of 9-13, I was sexually abused, so I was raped consistently for years by an adult man who was supposed to take care of me. He wanted complete control of me, so he taped phone calls, often came to my school and ate lunches with me, and would hide in the closet or stand outside my window and watch me while I was in my bedroom. He kept me quiet by threatening my animals (who meant the world to me), my Mom, and everyone I loved if I ever told. Unfortunately, he effectively groomed me, and I didn't share it with a human for a long time, except I spoke to God constantly about it. I also often asked to be removed from the situation, and I can tell you honestly that I could feel His presence during that terrible time in my life. It has always been clear to me that God did not allow this to happen, nor did He make it happen; instead, sin was the root cause. Despite the sin causing so much damage, he walked alongside me through the valley, providing me with more comfort than I can humanly explain to you.

After I turned 12, to my horror, my stepfather started to talk about marrying me. My mother had also been spiraling for a few years; I think she began to understand something was going on; she would scream that I was acting more like a girlfriend than a daughter to my stepfather, and she said she was not going to live through another failed marriage because of another woman. This betrayal of my Mom caused me a tremendous amount of guilt. She also started saying that I looked like and acted like my dad and not her family, and then she began to tell me that she wished it would have been me instead of my brother; this all hurt deeply. Based on what my stepfather said about marrying me and how my Mom acted toward me, I decided to either run away or tell my dad during my next scheduled visit that I would not be going back to live with my Mom and stepfather. Thankfully, my dad listened; he dealt with the legal ramifications of going against the divorce agreement, and eventually, when I felt safe enough, I disclosed information about the abuse.

I then had the terrifying task of facing my stepfather in an actual courtroom packed with people, including his family and my family. I was so terrified about facing him that I threw up the first morning of the trial. When I gathered enough strength to walk into the courtroom, I was seated directly in front of him. I caught him looking at my legs and saw a glint in his eye. It was one of the worst moments in my life. To this day, I have a hard time being comfortable in a dress. Anyway, after a few days of having to describe over and over highly graphic details of my sexual abuse, my testimony finally ended. I remember getting up from the chair with my tear-stained face; I quickly walked out of the courtroom, raced down the hallway as fast as I could in high-heeled shoes, and walked out the doors and as I heard them slamming behind me, I turned back around and stared at the courthouse, and I promised God that I would help others who had experienced what I had experienced.

This website is my answer to that promise. It has taken me almost 40 years from that very moment at the courthouse to begin fulfilling this promise. I have to admit that I have been running from it. I have many reasons for running, but one of the biggest reasons is because it is hard to be this vulnerable again, but I also know that in my weakness, He is strong. So, this website is not about me; it is about Him and how He has taken me on an incredible healing journey that He and only He can provide. I pray that you also accept healing from Him.

I want to publicly Thank you, God, for walking alongside me throughout my life, carrying me when I could not walk, and encouraging me to let my little light shine through it all.

I want to also say Thank you to my family members who have encouraged me to fulfill my promise; you are such blessings from God

Scripture:

2 Corinthians 4:7 says, "We who have this spiritual treasure are like common clay pots, in order to show that the supreme power belongs to God, not to us"

Hebrews 11:32-34 says, "I do not have time to tell about Gideon, Barak, Samson and Jephthah, about David and Samuel and the prophets, who through faith conquered kingdoms, administered justice, and gained what was promised; who shut the mouths of lions, quenched the fury of the flames, and escaped the edge of the sword; whose weakness was turned to strength"

First Corinthians 1:27 says, "God purposely chose what the world considers nonsense in order to shame the wise, and he chose what the world considers weak in order to shame the powerful"

Reference:

The Poem: Footprints in the Sand

One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord. Scenes from my life flashed across the sky. In each, I noticed footprints in the sand.

Sometimes there were two sets of footprints; other times there was only one. During the low periods of my life I could see only one set of footprints, so I said, "You promised me, Lord, that you would walk with me always. Why, when I have needed you most, have you not been there for me?"

The Lord replied, "The times when you have seen only one set of footprints, my child, is when I carried you."