From Brokenness to Belonging: My journey to the Father. My testimony.

There was a time in my life when I didn’t know what love was. I knew abandonment. I knew rejection. I knew deep pain. But love? That was something I longed for but had never truly seen.

As a little girl, my mother chose a lifestyle that didn’t include her children. While other kids came home to warm meals and bedtime hugs, I was left to wrestle with silence and loneliness. Schoolwork became my escape. It was the only thing that made me feel normal in a world that felt anything but.

Eventually, we were sent to live with my father, and for a moment, I thought things would get better. But he didn’t want me either. His wife resented my presence, and the environment became deeply unsafe and damaging. It was a dark and traumatic season that still echoes in places of my heart. The pain in that home eventually led to us being placed in children’s homes, where I felt more like a case number than a child.

I grew up with a gaping hole in my heart, and I did everything I could to fill it. I chased relationships, gave my heart and body away freely, hoping to be loved, hoping someone would choose me. I got married for the wrong reasons, more than once, and kept repeating cycles that only left me more empty. I surrounded myself with people and choices that pulled me further away from peace and purpose.

Eventually, I turned to spiritual practices that promised control or comfort but left me even more lost. I was searching for something—anything—that could tell me who I was and why I was here. But none of it satisfied. The emptiness remained.

The consequences of those choices caught up with me. I lost custody of my oldest son—a pain I wouldn't wish on anyone. Then I found myself behind bars for something I didn’t do, all because of the people I had allowed into my life. I had hit rock bottom.

During those darkest days, I wrestled with God. I ran from Him. I cried out to Him. I doubted Him. And through all of it… He never let go.

The turning point came when I changed the people around me and opened the Word of God. I didn’t just read it—I let it read me. And slowly, the healing began. I started to see myself through His eyes: not as broken, but beloved. Not abandoned, but adopted. Not ruined, but redeemed.

I am not perfect. I still make mistakes. Just the other day, I did something I knew I shouldn’t have—and I felt it deeply. But this time, I didn’t run. I brought it to God in repentance. That’s the difference now. I know who I belong to.

If I could go back, I wouldn’t have given myself away to anyone who wasn’t sent by God. I wouldn’t have chased momentary highs or hidden in false identities. I wouldn’t have tried to numb the pain in self-destructive ways. But even still… I wouldn’t change my story. Because all of it—every broken chapter—led me to the arms of my Savior.

I’ve forgiven my mom. Not because it was easy, but because I finally saw that she, too, was carrying a pain only God could heal. And I’ve been set free by the same grace that saved me.

For so long, every time I got closer to God, it felt like everything in my life fell apart. Now I understand why. There’s a real enemy who knew God had a plan for me—and he fought hard to keep me away from it. But he’s already lost. Jesus has the final word over my life.

Now? I still stumble, but I don’t stay down. My heart is healing. My mind is clearer. My life has purpose. And every single day, I thank Jesus for rescuing me. He loved me when no one else did. He called me chosen when I felt discarded. He gave me hope when all I saw was despair.

If you’re reading this and your heart feels heavy, if you’re stuck in patterns that hurt, please know this: you are not too far gone. God has been waiting for you, just like He waited for me.

Thank You, Jesus. You took my ashes and gave me beauty. You turned my sorrow into joy. And I will never stop telling the world what You’ve done.