I deconstructed three times. Only now with a great deal of hindsight do I see with humility how God holds us; we cannot possibly hold on to him. But it is His great love that keeps us from losing Him.

At 12 years old my child-mind at the time could not reconcile a good God with an abusive religious community. I wasn’t ready to hang with church-jock-Jesus, but emo-Abba maybe do-able. But God sent a couple of pastors that scared me in a good way. Most importantly they reflected Jesus while holding space for my rage and hurt. Their grace and holy affection held me and reflected God and Jesus in a way that finally made God safe. If it were not for those 2 men at different times in my life, reflecting Jesus so thoroughly, I would not have come through my two more deconstructions still owned by Christ.

God gave us a few names to call him, but the first time we give a name to him, it is “El Roi”, the God who sees me. And the first person to say it is a woman, a slave, raped and forced to give her child to another woman, to be treated as not human and to be subjected to every kind of emotional and physical mistreatment.

When I eventually came back, I needed to see with Jesus’ eyes his people and learn to hold space for their pain as much as my own. I needed to become a wounded healer. People that maybe don’t have answers and maybe will forever walk with a limp in their soul but that have walked through the fire and pressed firmly into God and choose to love fiercely, because he never let them go.

I am not ashamed of my questions or my pain anymore. I am not ashamed that I’m not the thin, outgoing, dynamic girl on the platform anymore.

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the Lord. “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts. As the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, so is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it. You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands. Instead of the thornbush will grow the juniper, and instead of briers the myrtle will grow. This will be for the Lord’s renown, for an everlasting sign, that will endure forever.”

‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭55‬:‭8‬-‭13‬ ‭NIV

To learn more about my journey click the link below, however, please be advised of ***** SA Triggers.*****‬‬

I live in Kitsap County with my husband and two young adult children. I recently changed my career from the world of education to the world of mental health counseling.

In my free time, I enjoy knitting, zendoodling, walking nearby labyrinths, and reading geeky books on my Kindle.

My super-power is the ability to look at a seemingly empty refrigerator and pantry and create an amazing meal. I consider myself a nutrition geek and follow an anti-inflammatory protocol diet. I rarely follow a recipe exactly...it's almost painful to do so. I always double the amount of cinnamon, vanilla or garlic.

My faith has been shaped and formed by multiple losses and much grief. I was raised in a devout United Methodist family. Potlucks, choir cantatas, service projects, youth retreats, and summer camps were highlights of my spiritual journey.

My faith story has dark moments, curveballs, and plot twists I wish never happened.

My brother SA’ed me when I was in middle school. I was told not to say anything. I didn't...until the memories surfaced and made a mess of things. I know the pain of family not believing the truth. That same brother came out as gay and later died of AIDS. The church I attended had no support to offer, no acknowledgment of my loss because it was a socially unacceptable disease, therefore my grief was not valid.

My father died when I was sixteen. I know the pain of unanswered prayers and the pain of simplistic band-aid cliches from well-intentioned believers.

I know the path of betrayal trauma and recovery; my husband knows the path of pornography addiction and recovery. When we sought help, the messaging I received from my faith communities about marriage was to "pray more, submit more, and give him more sex because it's obviously your fault and he has a need you don't understand" This attitude and messaging kept us trapped in unhealthy marriage patterns for far too long. It took several years of counseling and a graduate degree in theology and psychology to undo the harm.

I have two neurodivergent children; one is non-binary. I know the questions that go through a parent's mind. I know the desperate need for connection and community.

I am a bit of a spiritual nomad at the moment. I have more questions than answers. I am in a season of letting go of religious beliefs and trappings that do not align with Jesus' teachings.

Sometimes, I don't know what direction I'm going; I’m seeking my True North.