Pulled from the fire

I. Who I Am

Take my hand and journey with me. I was born in the rugged mountains of West Virginia, and we moved to the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia when I was still an infant. I was the youngest of four. As a child, I couldn't remember happiness or joy. What I do remember is an unrelenting ache and neglect that left me longing for acceptance and love. I was melancholy and highly creative — born very sensitive, affected by the pain of the world. It's not uncommon for creative people to feel things more deeply. When I am doing something creative, I feel at peace. In school, I floated alone, just staring out the windows, escaping as though life was a dream. At night I would cry, and I prayed to God to send someone to love me.

II. What Happened

My father was a rageful, sadistic man; I would wake to find him pinning my mother to the wall. I was afraid to be in a room with him alone. When my sister, nine years older, turned eighteen, she married to escape him. Once she was out of the home, my father focused on me. On a summer night, startled by his rageful voice, I dreaded going inside. He followed me into my bedroom and put his hands up my shirt, then started his pitch, convincing me it was okay — he would reward me with the freedom to hang out with my friends. I felt nauseous as he touched me. Was this a normal thing for a fourteen-year-old to experience? All I could think about was running away from home to get away from him.

III. What My Life Became

I talked my best friend into running away with me. We hitchhiked and were picked up by a man who took us to a motel; on the streets of Richmond, we were told we would have to be prostitutes to survive. A policeman found us and sent us to a halfway house. I was sent back home on a Greyhound. Child protective services removed me and placed me in a foster home, where I felt safe. At my court date, my mother took the stance that I was disgracing our family and stood up for my father; my sister testified about what he had done to her, and then I took the stand. When I finished, the judge said he had no doubt of my truthfulness. That day, my parents lost custody of me. By then I was already messed up, dabbling in the occult and using drugs. From the outside I looked normal, but inside it was dark, and death was calling my name. When I was sixteen, my sister sent me back home. The first night, my father beat me in the face — black eyes and a broken nose. I ran off, drinking and using, on a fast track with one mission: to die. I was promiscuous and strung out for a year. Then the fog began to clear, and unbearable remorse woke my conscience: I knew I could not keep living this way.

IV. What Changed

I was alone at the kitchen table, working on the head of a manikin, when I felt a hand on my right shoulder — a warmth like electricity shot through me from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet. I felt love like I had never experienced. This was the beginning of God drawing me. My sister's neighbor, Evelyn, was kind and a willing witness. Desperate for something, I asked to go to church with her. When we sang the old hymns, I would cry and cry and could not stop. One Wednesday night, a visiting choir sang, and as the lyrics penetrated my heart, I made a vow to God: if I could have what those young people had, I would serve Him. One week later, I gave my heart to God, and my life took a turn. For the first time, I had a deep peace. My rebirth took place on April 30, 1975. God gave me a reason to live, but I had years of work ahead to recover from all that life had dealt me. Over time, through faith, prayer, and therapy, I have been able to recover from much. Forgiveness was central — it is an act of will, a process of acknowledging the pain, releasing the desire for vengeance, and choosing healing.

V. Who I Am Now

Suffering can keep us bitter and stuck, or we can be resilient and grow. Suffering has made me a better person. After trauma and abuse, my ego broke down, and that allowed me to develop a sensitivity to others' pain. That empathy most likely influenced my decision to work as an oncology nurse, navigating the complex emotions and family dynamics of those undergoing treatment for cancer. Through self-care, reflection, and the presence of a loving heavenly Father, I have emerged as a happy, content person who does not need validation to be confident. My response to suffering built tenacity, patience, empathy, and independence. I finished Bible college with a degree in music education and worked my way through nursing school twice, cleaning houses, because God was my provider. Hope and miracles are available even in the most hopeless circumstances. The human spirit, with God's help, can overcome anything. It is not easy to rise; it takes 100% of your desire to overcome. But with the help of your higher power, anything is possible. I am a miracle of God's mercy.